The Perfect Brew: Perfect Brew, #1

By Jo-Ann Carson

When evil rises, one clumsy witch must save the world. 
Cassie Black inherits from her crazy Great-Aunt Ophelia a sentient coffee-house, complete with an inter-dimensional portal. Determined to find her aunt's murderer, Cassie becomes well-acquainted with her aunt's life and her dream of creating a haven for supernatural beings. What Cassie finds lurking beneath the small town is a nest of infinite darkness ready to invade the world. She alone can stop it.
Warning: This story involves a seductive warlock, a tall, dark and annoying detective, and a snarky cat that may steal your heart.
As this is a "cozy" there's no sex or violence on the page but be prepared for some serious romance, mystery, and magic. Buy The Perfect Brew today to start your own magical adventure in the town of Mystic Keep. This is the first book in The Perfect Brew trilogy. *****

Readers love The Perfect Brew:

"This book has all of my favorites: coffee, witches, murder mysteries, and a bit of romance. The quirky characters are lovable and intriguing….  reader review, J. Kimbel

A "… fast-paced, laugh-out-loud paranormal mystery romance…." reader review, J. Reads

"An entertaining read filled with more than enough twists and turns to keep the reader enthralled …" reader review, J. Guidoccio

I "Love her demon kitty familiar. …" reader review, Kindle customer

It has "Humor that had me laughing out loud, a cozy mystery, surprises, twists, a hysterically funny cat (Sid, her familiar) and a quirky witch, hunky warlock and handsome cop all made for a very enjoyable story. I loved the coffee quotes at the beginning of each "chapter" of the story." reader, B

• Language: English
• Publisher: JRT Publications
• Release date: Mar 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781989031162

Jo-Ann Carson

Jo-Ann Carson ~ paranormal mystery and romance ~ Reports of Jo-Ann Carson’s death on a Gulf Island are greatly exaggerated or, at the very least, premature. An award-winning fiction and non-fiction author, blogger and podcaster Jo-Ann loves to tinker with words. Her latest two series the Ghost & Abby Mysteries and the Gambling Ghosts feature eccentric characters, such as a Viking ghost with existential issues, a broken-hearted Highlander and a Casanova-man-witch. At the center of each tale is a strong woman trying to make sense of life and love.  A firm believer in the magic of our everyday lives, Jo-Ann loves watching sunrises and walking the beaches near her home in the Pacific Northwest. You can find her at her author website: http://www.jo-anncarson.com/. Blog/ Twitter/ Author FB/ Pod FB/ Pinterest/ Instagram / BookBub Page

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

The Perfect Brew

When a witch inherits trouble …

An unexpected inheritance turns Cassie Black’s world upside-down, and she finds herself the owner of a sentient coffee-house that comes with an inter-dimensional portal and a side of ancient curse. When Cassie is summoned to attend the funeral of her great-aunt Ophelia, she finds the picturesque village on the edge of the ocean is not at all what it seems. Her benefactor’s death is suspicious, and to make matters worse, after Ophelia’s lawyer explains her will to Cassie, he drops dead in a plate of cookie crumbs. That makes two unexplained deaths, which is two too many for a good witch to swallow.

Up to her neck in mysteries, and weighed down with a curse, Cassie canvases the town to find the murderer. Of course, there are many unusual suspects, a tall, dark, and annoying human detective keeps getting in her way, and a seductive warlock offers his assistance.

Will Cassie catch the villain before he kills again? Will she be able to free herself from the curse? Will Sid, her beloved cat familiar with a naughty mind, convince her to play dirty with the boys?

This is the first story in The Perfect Brew paranormal, cozy mystery series, set in the modern world where magic remains hidden or at least tries to. There’s no sex or violence on the page, but be prepared for some serious romance, mystery, and magic.

The Perfect Brew can be read as a stand-alone.

PREFACE

This story takes place in a time when magic folk live quietly among the muggles, mundane or whatever you choose to call humans who believe everything in the world can be explained.

We know better.

CHAPTER 1

Human nature runs on coffee.

One hour before sunrise on the thirteenth day of March, Cassie Black searched for signs of dark sorcery. She drove along a narrow, windy road above a small town perched on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. Cassie’s rental car, a cherry-red Mustang convertible, offered a grand view of the rugged coast, but she wasn’t there to sight-see. She searched for evil. The mystery of the untimely death of her great-aunt Ophelia weighed heavily on her shoulders. If she could find out what happened to the old witch, then her family could find peace. But could she, do it? Cassie wiggled her nose. She couldn’t even boil water with her magic, and her only training in the art of detection came from her love of reading mystery novels. Worst of all, she was accident-prone. No, she wasn’t suited for the job. Her determination would have to be enough. She breathed in the fresh air. How hard could it be to find the truth?

Cassie had done her research. The town called Mystic Keep lay on the west side of Soteria Island, southwest of Seattle. It had a population of two thousand, a hodgepodge collection of fishermen, artists, and shop keepers. Tourists flooded into the area during warmer months of the year and disappeared when the winter rains started. Little statues of the town’s Keep, along with paintings of seagulls and nature poetry written by the town’s librarian sold well. One hospital, three schools, and a city hall provided basic services. Mystic Keep sounded by all accounts like a pretty little seaside town.

Sid, her familiar, sat in the passenger seat and yawned loudly. While she thought of herself as the most beautiful black cat in the world, others did not see her that way. A black cat with tufts of hair sticking out of her coat here and there, she looked as if she had just jumped out of a clothes dryer or lost a fight with a tomcat. Sid spoke in Cassie’s mind, I don’t care what the town looks like, as long as they have fish.

Cassie found no mention of magic. Not in the tourist information, which focused on hiking, fishing, and camping and made Cassie buy bear spray; not in the historical records, which chronicled who begot who until Cassie fell asleep on her keyboard; not on social media posts, which focused on where the fish were biting, and made Cassie eat a lot of salmon sandwiches; not anywhere. It made no sense. Few, if any, places on earth held so little magic. Why did Ophelia choose to live here?

In front of them, on the side of the road stood a sign, The Lookout. Cassie eased her car onto the shoulder and stopped. We may as well stretch our legs and have a look at the town. With Sid at her side, Cassie followed a dirt path through fir, cedar, and arbutus trees until she came upon a platform made of cedar planks built in the side of the cliff. The view was magnificent. The bay, with its tiny hamlet, lay snuggled below in a blanket of morning mist. In the shimmering pre-dawn light, the fog began to dissipate, and the distant coastal mountain range appeared, rising high above the blue ocean.

While she had expected to find an evil sorcerer, or at the very least a coven of black witches, this town appeared perfectly normal. That is human and without any supernatural influence. But that couldn't be, she thought. She couldn't go back to her family and tell them Ophelia died a natural death in an ordinary town. No, something lay hidden here. She was sure of it. Beneath the mist and the well-cultivated tourist image, something sinister lurked. How else could Ophelia have died the way she did?

Cassie and Sid went back to the car and followed the road down the mountainside into the sleepy town. The ocean breeze tasted salty and tingled Cassie’s face. Seagulls canvassing the water’s edge for food screeched above her. The high-pitched sound of an eagle calling to its mate echoed through the morning stillness. The beauty of the Pacific Northwest seeped into her very being giving her a sense of peace, but she shook off the thought of nature being so powerful. Must be jet lag.

In the growing light, they drove along quiet side streets lined with brightly painted houses and well-kept yards. She continued her tour. The back streets, with rambling, ranch-style homes and chickens roaming in large yards had more of a rural feel. Overall, everything looked tourist-guide-perfect. Nowhere did she detect a whiff of sorcery.

They reached the center of town. Small, quaint shops built in the last century lined the main street. Cassie cataloged a spa, two bakeries with display windows filled with decadent delights, a convenience store, and a travel agency offering deals to tropical locales. Cassie tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she inched along. A group of six joggers whizzed by them, with sweat glistening on their tanned faces. The place had an enchanting charm that would fit nicely in a Norman Rockwell painting.

That was the problem. It was far too ordinary a place to draw in someone with Ophelia’s wild temperament. In the only photograph Cassie had ever seen of her great-aunt, she stood on top of a New Orleans bar in a silver-sequinned gown with a microphone. Ophelia’s sultry voice drew people and put them into a euphoric trance-like state, or so Cassie had been told. Undoubtedly, the tales of the grand dame had grown over time, but the common thread in all the family stories was Ophelia’s witchy version of joie de vivre.

That undeniable love for life, lived in a wild, witch way, led the family to ignore Ophelia’s escapades, or at least not talk about them in front of the children. Her parents kept their distance from Ophelia, and as a result Cassie had never met her.

With a whooshing sound, a peregrine falcon dove from the sky, and hovered right in front of the car’s front window for a few seconds. Cassie jammed on her brakes. Sid arched her back and hissed. With a flick of his blue-gray wings, the bird rose and disappeared into the morning sky. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. As she watched the majestic predator fly away, a prickly sensation ran up her spine.

Cassie took a deep breath and drove on down the main street. The morning mist had lifted and sunlight brightened the landscape. A new day had started. In a couple hours she would attend her great-aunt’s wake in the funeral hall and later she would see her aunt’s lawyer about the will. Although Cassie had five sisters, three living parents and a cauldron full of aunts and uncles, she would be the only family member attending these events. Everyone had something else to do, or so it seemed, and to be truthful, none of them did death well. Her birth father told her she had pulled the proverbial short straw of the broom and been designated the family representative. Cassie could have said no, but she saw this as her opportunity to create some karma-points with her parents, especially if she found out more about Ophelia’s death. It had all seemed like a good idea the night before. But in the light of day, she wasn’t so sure.

Oh well, she thought, once she finished with the formal stuff, she would leave this strange town and return to Amsterdam. She had a Sunflower painting to finish and a strained relationship with her boyfriend to repair. There was no reason for her to stay in this small town any longer than necessary.

Sid swivelled her head this way and that way, as if she sensed something, but if she did, she kept it to herself. Cassie shrugged. Cats!

There was no reason for her to stay in this small town any longer than necessary. With a little magic, she would sort and pack Ophelia's estate and belongings and be on her way within a day. While she put things in order she would find out more about Ophelia’s death. Someone in this town had to know something.

Sid, whose full name was Lady Obsidian Black, sat up straighter than usual and pawed the air. They had been driving for a couple of hours. Cassie slowed the car as they approached a coffee shop. I need caffeine, she said as she flipped on her turn signal and backed her car into the space beside the curb.

The crunch of buckling metal reached her ears, and her stomach knotted. With the thought of all she had to do on her mind, she had lost her concentration and backed right into a car. Fudge. She turned and looked closer. Double Fudge. It wasn’t just any car. It was a restored classic MGB—a real beauty, polished to perfection. A large yellow, Labrador retriever sitting in the driver’s seat howled. Cassie leaned forward and rested her head on the steering wheel.

A minute later, knocking on her car door caught her attention. Denim blue eyes, blazing with anger, stared down at her. If human looks could kill, she thought. Cassie opened her car door and stepped out. The howling mutt jumped onto the pavement and trotted over to stand beside the angry man.

I’m so sorry, Cassie said.

As the dog padded closer, the hackles on Sid’s back rose. Even on good days, she didn’t care for the canine species, and howlers never lasted long around her. They had a way of mysteriously disappearing. Cassie gave Sid a mental nudge to behave.

The handsome, human, six-foot male stared down at her, which she wouldn’t have minded under different circumstances. He had an unsettling alpha-intensity, short, black curly hair, and stubble on his square chin. His tight black tee shirt spread nicely over broad shoulders; the kind a woman could lean into for a long snuggle by a wood fire. Cassie reminded herself that she had no time to be thinking of such things. His scent, rugged and oh-so-male, tugged at her senses waking up all her female body parts. She already had a boyfriend. Alessandro wasn’t talking to her at the moment, but still, they had an agreement.

Avoiding his stare, she cast her eyes down. His cowboy boots looked worn and comfortable, his jeans well pressed and his belt buckle impressively ornate.

He squinted. Who are you?

She looked up at him. Cassiopeia Black. Cassie for short.

What are you doing in my town?

Look, I’m really sorry … She pulled out her wallet.

He shook his head. I asked you what you’re doing in town?

She leaned back. I said, I’m sorry.

Got that. He strutted back to study the damage to the front of his MGB. As he leaned over his sports car to trail his hand along the metal of his bumper, she examined his derriere, a sight she wouldn’t soon forget. Not that she was looking. But it was truly magnificent.

What were you thinking? he said over his shoulder.

I wasn’t.

Clearly, he muttered.

Look, let me explain.

He stood his full height and folded his arms. I’m listening.

There was a familiar quality to his voice, she couldn’t quite nail. Was it from a movie? She loved movies. His voice had a low, gravelly edge to it, a bit like Johnny Cash, a bit like John Wayne, and a whole lot like …. Oh dear. You’re a cop!

Yep. Gavin MacGregor, at your service. His stare intensified. "I am a cop, and this is my car, he leaned closer, which I’ve worked on her every day for the last year."

It’s just a bumper. A cop! She wished for the thousandth time in her life she could conjure the magic needed to fix all things, but she couldn’t. Her magic was of the garden variety, a little of this and a little of that and not at all what anyone might call dependable at the best of times. If she tried to hex him, he would more likely turn into a toad with a wart on his nose than an agreeable guy.

His eyes widened. License and registration, ma’am. I’m calling this in. He whipped out a cell phone. The yellow lab wagged his tail as if to say, Gotcha.

Sid hissed.

Ma’am? Did he call me Ma’am? She reached into her glove compartment for the documents and felt his eyes appraising her body. In one fluid motion, she scooped up the papers and handed them over to him, making a silent