New Paranormal Romance on KU! WERES AND WITCHERY by AK Nevermore ~ Includes an Excerpt!

In an ocean of small towns, Havers-by-the-Sea was rock bottom, and Jena was drowning.

She closed her eyes and fought to steady her breath, 1970s elevator music and the frequent beeps of the other cashiers’ scanners too loud in her ears. Jesus take the wheel. Paper or fricking plastic. That’s all she’d wanted to know.

But instead of answering the damned question so she could bag the twelve pound Sunday roast with all the fixings, the eminent Ms. Mary Montgomery of the Westside Montgomery pack—absolutely not the Eastside, bless your heart—had taken it as an opportunity to launch into yet another sermon categorizing Jena’s many failings. The third? No—fourth one this week, which was two more than Adelene Pritchett had given her, and three less than Martin Kind, who was not, in fact, kind at all.

This. This was why Jena had left.

Well, that and Ms. Montgomery’s stupid son, Chase. The hulking prick leaning against the neighboring register’s divider, staring in her direction from beneath the curled brim of his ratty ball cap, his caramel waves spilling out around its sides. People edged away from him as a muscle in his square, stubbled jaw twitched. Looked like he had something to add to the conversation, and it was killing him to not open his mouth.

Good. She hoped he dropped dead along with the rest of them.

He crossed his arms over his massive chest, and she swore she could hear the fabric of his t-shirt scream as his muscles flexed. How he’d gotten even bigger than that last night she’d seen him at the bonfire… A wash of rage went through her. Whatever. Fricking weres. God, she hated him.

The checkout line behind Havers’s royalty had grown three deep. Clevis Blackford stood behind them with a six pack of beer and nail fungus cream. Then came Sherri-Lynn Page. She failed to hide a pregnancy test beneath the latest edition of Starr Magazine. Brenda Spitz brought up the rear with an economy-sized box of diapers and three pounds of ground chuck on clearance that should’ve been thrown away at the beginning of the week.

There were other checkouts, sure, but as far as entertainment value? Jena’s line had the rest beat. All of them listened to Ms. Montgomery’s diatribe, rapt, as though they hadn’t had front row seats to the dumpster fire that’d been Jena’s formative years.

As if they hadn’t sat back with popcorn and watched her family die, one by frickin’ one.

Jena pulled out a paper bag and snapped it open. The shrew blinked hard and took a step back, one hand rising to clutch her dollar-store pearls. The real ones were just for church because apparently our Lord and Savior appreciated that kind of thing, but a pink tweed pants-suit and kitten heels could be worn anytime. Before nine a.m. on a Saturday morning certainly didn’t seem to be an exception.

“I prefer plastic.” Ms. Montgomery huffed, taking a big breath and diving right back in where she’d left off, despite having stated her preference for paper this past Tuesday.

“My mistake.” Jena smiled, and it was. Coming back had been a huge—

“There a problem here?” Sal, the store manager asked, sauntering over like he hadn’t been watching everything play out closed-caption style from the comfort of his office. God, he was a troll. Literally and figuratively. He hiked up his waistband, his flopping gut doing more to hold up his sagging chinos than the tired belt strapped somewhere south of his non-existent waist.

“No, sir,” Jena forced her smile wider and shoved a bag of vegetables at the bitch. “Ms. Montgomery was just reminding me that despite my Bachelors degree in business and an MBA in finance, I’m still townie trash not fit to lick her shoes.”

Clevis brayed out a laugh, and a .02 oz. blob of phlegm spattered onto Jena’s cash register scale. Behind him, Sherri-Lynn went green and dry-heaved. Girl was definitely in the family way.

Ms. Montgomery gasped and looked between Jena and her manager. “Well, I never—what kind of an establishment are you running here, Salvator? Are you going to let her speak to me like that?”

“Ah, I—No, no, of course not Ms. Montgomery!” He wet his blubbery green lips, and Jena pulled the tie of her apron in anticipation, her finger tips tingling with intent. Say it, say it, say it… Sal took a deep breath. “You’re fired.”

Thank God.

Jena ripped the bundle of cheap fabric up, over her head, tossed it at him, and was out the sliding door before it’d opened halfway, already texting Felix.

I owe u nachos

        laughing emoji FR?

        What did it? NM who?

Montgomery

        Which one?

Head bitch

        Hah. Called it. Tournament ends @ 2. Meet u @ Snaps

Jena gave the last message a thumbs up and pocketed her phone as she headed down the picturesque, tree-lined street. She rubbed her arms in the early autumn chill. Damn it, she’d forgotten to grab her sweater. Oh well. No way was she going back for it now. Hopefully it would be in the lost-and-found when she picked up her last check.

Worst case, the town was small enough she’d see it on whoever stole it and could hex them. The karma she’d burn would be a wash if they did something to deserve it, and theft definitely qualified.

She sighed, tucking a pin-straight lock of raven hair behind her ear and looked up through the changing leaves at the bright, sidhe-blue sky above Main Street. Havers-by-the-Sea—Havers, to the locals—might be rockbottom for her, but she had to admit it was pretty, in a Norman Rockwell with pixies kind of way.

Too bad everyone in it thought she was spit.