Owl Be Enchanted (The Owl Star Witch Mysteries Book 17) by Leanne Leeds

Author:Leanne Leeds [Leeds, Leanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Badchen Publishing
Published: 2024-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

Mrs. Stamper’s house was everything you’d expect from a sweet old lady in a small town—if that sweet old lady was into ancient mythology and the absurd. The quaint bungalow, with its well-kept flower beds and gently sloping roof, appeared innocuous at first glance.

However, as we continued up the path, the eccentricities became more apparent.

Garden gnomes peered out from behind lush rose bushes, their cheeky grins visible even from afar. However, closer inspection revealed that these were not your typical pointy-hatted lawn ornaments. Instead, each gnome was a miniature representation of a Greek god, crafted down to the smallest detail. A diminutive Zeus, no taller than my forearm, stood beside a birdbath, his tiny marble features set in a regal scowl as he clutched a lightning bolt that resembled a gold-painted toothpick. Nearby, a miniature Poseidon brandished his trident at a bed of daisies, while a miniature Aphrodite posed next to a garden hose reel.

Once more, before anyone even knocked, the door swung open.

Mrs. Stamper was the very picture of a kindly grandmother, all soft edges, and warm smiles, her silver hair pulled back in a neat bun. “Well, bless my soul!” she said, her voice warm. “If it isn’t young Melvin Platt and the Arden sisters! Come in, come in, don’t let the heat in!”

We did.

A wave of competing scents hit me—lavender, cinnamon, and something that smelled almost like balsam. Mrs. Stamper’s interior was an eclectic mix of cozy grandma chic and... well, I’m not sure what to call it. Ancient Greek fraternity party decorations?

The pagan kind.

Not the college kind.

“Melvin, dear, how’s your father?” Mrs. Stamper asked, ushering us into a living room that appeared as if it had been decorated by a time-traveling interior designer with a fondness for both doilies and Dionysus. “Still working too hard at that gas station, I’m sure.”

Melvin, bless him, looked like he was trying to process the visual overload of Mrs. Stamper’s decor. “He’s... uh, he’s good, Mrs. Stamper. Still working hard.”

“Of course he is,” she clucked, patting Melvin’s cheek. “That man wouldn’t know how to relax if relaxation bit him on the nose. Now, you girls,” she turned to Ayla and me, her eyes sparkling, “I can’t tell you how excited I am to have genuine witches in my home! Can I get you some sweet tea? Maybe some cookies?”

Before I could decline, a blur of white fur came barreling into the room, yapping excitedly. Make that two blurs of white fur. Mrs. Stamper’s Maltese dogs, sensing new people to charm, had decided to make their presence known.

“Oh, hush now, Romulus and Remus,” Mrs. Stamper scolded gently, though her smile never wavered. “Don’t be rude to our guests.”

I blinked. “You named your Maltese dogs Romulus and Remus?”

“Well, of course, dear,” she replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “They may be small, but they’ve got the hearts of empire-builders.”

As if to prove her point, Romulus (or was it Remus?) jumped up onto the couch, demanding pets from Ayla.

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