Page 1 of Witching You A Charmed Christmas

Chapter 1

Delia

—Three Weeks Until Christmas—

The gingerbread cookie looked more like a zombie than a man. Its limbs were bent at awkward angles, and its head was smashed in on one side. I wrinkled my nose at my lackluster baking skills and added an extra glob of white icing, then sliced off the lumpy head between my teeth.

With zombies, you always aim for the head, and when life gets you down, you add extra sugar. Considering it was the start of December, and I was still single and sitting at the bottom of the witchy corporate ladder at my job, I squeezed a dollop of icing straight into my mouth and chased it with a long sip from my white wine spritzer.

“Stupid fortune teller,” I muttered as I reached for another ghastly cookie. “That’s the last time I get life advice from a mystic.”

Though to be fair, Madam Destiny was the most respected psychic around. She had a waiting list a mile long, and her visions practically came with a guarantee. When she’d claimed by the end of the year, I’d be promoted to agent and that Simon Delacour, my long-time office crush was actuallythe oneand I’d finally capture his attention, I was thrilled.

But then just last week, I was passed over for the job—again—and Simon barely knew I existed.

I cringed, imagining the not-so-festive weeks in front of me. Another holiday of pitying looks, “you’ll get em next time” shoulder bumps, and lame attempts to shove me under the mistletoe at the upcoming office Christmas party.

Off came another gingerbread head.

The headless cookie in my hand was starting to look appealing.Can you show up to a Christmas party with a gingerbread man for a date?I could ice him a suit and cast an animation spell. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

But it was probably a bad idea. Everyone would think he was my sugar daddy.

I snorted into my wine, laughing at my own joke. Rock-bottom, meet my absurd and highly underappreciated sense of humor.

The cookies were nearly gone, and tv was heading into late-night infomercial territory when I kicked the blanket off my legs and poured myself into bed. An intermittent buzz dared to drag me from my sleep, and I grabbed my phone from the bedside table.

“If you called to tell me how amazing your ski vacation is, I’ll take a hard pass. It’s late, and I’m grieving a lifetime of mediocrity while trying to slip into a sugar coma,” I grumbled into the phone.

My best friend and coworker at the agency, Sage, made a tsking sound and asked, “Cake or candy?”

“Neither. Cookies. I baked an army of gingerbread men and then ate their heads in protest.”

“Savage. Those were innocent victims.”

I pressed a hand against my stomach as it rumbled and twisted from too much flour and sugar. “My developing heartburn says otherwise. But I’m awake now, so you might as well tell me, how are the mountains?”

Sage hesitated. “That’s why I’m calling. There’s a bit of an issue. It’s a long story that involves an avalanche that might—sort of—be my fault, and now I’m stranded inside a remote ski village for the foreseeable future.”

“How was an avalanche your fault?”

“That’s not important. What’s important is I need a huge favor. I’m supposed to work on my next case this week, but since I'm trapped in a winter-not-so-wonderland, I want you to cover for me. Upper management already cleared the case transfer, and the research is done. All you have to do is read the case file, work a little magic, and deliver a Christmas miracle! Easy peasy.”

I rolled upright and clutched the phone tighter, the breath catching in the back of my throat. “Upper management is going to let me take a case?”

“I put in a good word for you. It’s a trial run, but completing this job will put you in line for a promotion. Christmas miracles are the gold standard at the agency. You’ll be a shoo-in. Plus…” Sage paused for effect. “The office next to Simon’s is currently vacant. It could be yours in a matter of weeks. He'll definitely take notice of you then. First, you'll share a wall, then a meal. Next thing you know, you'll be sharing a penthouse overlooking the harbor.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and fist-pumped the air.Don’t ever discredit a fortune teller, especially one named Madam Destiny.

“You’re the best Sage. I’ve never been so happy for an avalanche.”

Sage groaned. “Well, I’m glad someone’s happy. I’m the one snowed in. Go into the office on Monday and collect my case file. You won’t be sorry, and we can celebrate your new office and future boyfriend when I get back. Oh, and Del?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to murder any more gingerbread men.”

I stifled a grin. “Deal.”