Protective Much? — Patti Larsen

Witches Brew

The mason jar was about three quarters full, a sixteen ounce pint of fume laden, home grown goodness.

I took a swig, pretty sure I knew what was in the bottle. Choked on the vile stuff, gagged a little, swallowed anyway, but kept it in my hot little hand. “That is disgusting.”

Their hooting and hollering told me I had just been initiated into some kind of moonshine goddess witchy spellcasting clique and I was okay with that. For tonight at least.

Reese struggles to understand not only what the Lovely Witches want from her but to find out exactly where her film is going. Disillusioned and frustrated, she has no idea her bad luck has a very real cause, one that's so close to home it's right behind her…