Witch Hazel Lane Mysteries: Paranormal Cozy Boxset Books 1-4 (Witch Hazel Lane Mysteries Boxsets) by J. L. Collins

Author:J. L. Collins
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-09-15T22:00:00+00:00

2

Special Guests

I leaned against the van door, thankful to be outside of it. Glancing around at the rest of the crew, it was obvious I wasn’t the only one.

TJ was fanning herself with a crossword puzzle book she’d picked up inside the first gas station we stopped at. Beads of sweat slowly slid down her temples only further highlighting her hard-set jaw.

Cinda nearly fell out of the passenger seat as she opened the door and let out a long groan. “I don’t think my hips will ever forgive me for that.”

“At least it wasn’t the very back. Quit your whining and grab me a water from the cooler, will you?” TJ jutted her thumb back toward the inside of the van as Cinda froze and gave her the side-eye. “What?”

But Cinda just pursed her lips and went and fished around in the small red cooler for what was sure to be the only bit of cold anything left inside the vehicle at this point. After the van lost its A/C somewhere in the panhandle yesterday, we were sweating like pigs, stuck with rolling down the front windows and begging for a breeze in the back before we pulled into the motel to stop for the night. And today was no better.

Even Frannie seemed to be having second thoughts on renting the van. She studied the outside of it for a moment, then pulled the sparkly pink phone case from her purse and punched in a number. “I’m making sure they give us a new rental on the way back,” she whispered to me.

I nodded and pulled away from the van, the back of my t-shirt peeling away from it only to stick to my skin. “Give ‘em the business, darling. Don’t take no for an answer.”

Geena slammed the trunk shut and dragged her suitcase over to us. “That’s everything in the back. We just need to make sure we’ve got everything from inside before we go into the terminal.”

Parked on the bottom level of the parking garage stationed right outside the ship docks, we weren’t able to see much of anything. One by one we trailed behind Frannie, our cruise leader as it were, out of the parking garage and into the muggy world of Tampa Bay, Florida. I’d been to Florida a number of times—had some fun here and there, but I’d never really taken in something like this.

The Magnolia on Water wasn’t the only cruise ship docked under the blinding light of the sun, but it was certainly the biggest. It towered over two smaller ships and seemed to glisten with its own kind of special ambience.

People rushed past us out of the garage as we stood there all looking up at our temporary home for the next ten days.

TJ let out a long whistle, but Frannie strode forward. “No use in standing around gawping at it! Let’s move it, ladies!”

The traffic snarled around the cruise terminal with pedestrians crossing at each intersection left and right, and I

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