Spell Like Hotcakes by Rebecca Regnier

Spell Like Hotcakes

Spell Like Hotcakes by Rebecca Regnier (Widow’s Bay Book 7)
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.8 MB

Rebecca Regnier is an award-winning journalist, television host, humor columnist, and author. Rebecca’s diet humor videos and blogs have been featured everywhere from Oprah.com to Shape! Her paranormal mystery series, Widow’s Bay, launched in 2018. The books are a witty mix of True Blood and Desperate Housewives.

The Mother of the Groom rides a broom!

Marzie Nowak, is forced to contend with several major dilemmas in Spell Like Hotcakes. The most vexing? She has to find a stylish mother of the groom dress! Luckily the latest dead body in Widow’s Bay appears to have died of natural causes. But in this enchanted small town things are never as they seem. Not only does intrepid reporter, and hot flashing witch, Marzie Nowak, have a dead body to investigate, she’s also trying to cover traffic reports aloft, on her broom. That ends with a bang and nearly ends with a witch splat!

Amidst the chaos Widow’s Bay is home to its first-ever bake off. To make matters more hectic, Marzie’s son announces he’s about to get married to a complete stranger. Local delicacies are flying off the shelves while Marzie’s new enemies are flying off the handle in every direction. She’ll have to stop a vampire attack, intercept cheating at the bake off competition, and somehow find a mother of the groom dress that doesn’t make her look like her three-hundred-year-old aunt. Marzie will need to deploy every magical skill she’s acquired to keep her town on track, a killer from striking again, and her potential daughter in law from bringing down a curse on the entire clan.

Welcome back to Widow’s Bay, the town run by seasoned witches, overrun with Yooper Naturals, sprinkled with snarky cats, and home to handsome vampires. An untimely death, a high stakes baking competition, and evil inlaws clash during one hot Northern Michigan summer.

“Get as much b-roll as possible, the baked goods, the signage.”

“Yep.”

I instructed my photographer slash intern, Taylor Jean Cadillac—yep, that’s her name—

to get the shots I needed. Taylor was all legs, all energy, and at an age where, when she sat on the floor, she could pop back up again without concerning herself with consequences.

Taylor was in my life thanks to the expansion of Your U.P. News.

The online source for news was now on cable. My boss had made a deal to secure broadcasts on several cable companies that broadcast in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

And I got the new photographer, thanks to my repeated rescuing of my boss, Garrett DeWitt.

I saved his periodically furry backside on the regular, and now I was in charge of a small staff at the Widow’s Bay Bureau of Your U.P. News. I would like to claim my superior reporting skill also led to my rise in the company. But I had come through for Garrett in unexpected ways. So, now, my new titles were bureau chief and lead reporter.

Not only did I have the willowy Taylor, cub photographer, to shoot my video, but also, every other day, I had a full-time producer! Garrett had doubled my staff with the stroke of a pen.

Pretty magical, and I didn’t have to find the eye of newt to make it happen. Though I could do that too if needs be.

It was a new thing, having a staff, and sharing an office. Thank goodness I was the boss, such as it was, since the staff members were all the same age as my kids.

When I was a news anchor in Detroit, after I turned thirty-five, my bosses were usually a decade younger than me. Which was irritating. I got older, they got younger, and somehow they all knew best about how to do my job.

Here, I was able to lead this small but mighty little band of young journalists. And my boss, Garrett, deferred to my experience. It was a rare set up in news. I knew it, I appreciated it, and I thanked the goddess every day that it had worked out like this.

My producer was almost family; I’d hired my friend Georgianne’s son, Jacob. Jacob was a freshly minted journalism graduate, home from college. Journalism jobs were few and far between. But Jacob was willing to work here, in our tiny town, for a starting wage—

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