New Town, New Witch: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Starting Over Series, #1

By Amy Gregory

In the quaint and somewhat strangely named town of Assjacket, West Virginia, Chloe Woolsworth finds the escape she's been craving. A refuge from the frosty indifference of her mortal-world-obsessed parents, Assjacket promises nothing but quiet solitude and a place where Chloe can finally unfurl her true self. Raised in a family that masked its supernatural roots, Chloe's solitary personality is her armor, her strength. Immersed in the comforting hush of this remote town, with nothing but a towering stack of books for companionship, Chloe relishes in her independence. But as she delves deeper into the lore of her bloodline and uncovers secrets buried in the pages of her books, she'll soon discover that Assjacket may not be as quiet as it seems. Unseen mysteries In ripple beneath the surface, and Chloe may find herself needing more than just her books to navigate the intriguing conundrums that await.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Gregory
• Release date: Jun 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223401520

Amy Gregory

When asked ‘when do you have time to write’, Amy Gregory simply laughs.  The real answer is, “in bits and pieces”.  She and her husband live in Kansas City with their three fantastic kids that keep them running in three very different directions.  Because she sits so much, she always carries a notebook with her at all times. She has an off the wall, snarky, off the cuff sense of humor that often shocks even those who’ve known her for years.  And she loves that her children have all been blessed that ability to make others laugh as well.  At least she’s grateful most of the time!  Her husband often teases her about how she “makes this stuff up” when he’s reading a piece of her work. … The answer—“it just comes to me when I’m typing”. Scary thought, huh!

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Miss Chloe Woolsworth

Have you ever been told you have a resting BITCH face? And I mean that in like literal shouty caps! Jenny said and rolled her eyes.

I have lived with this brainless teenage witch for way longer than I’d ever imagined, I thought to myself. I glanced at her and replied, No, but thank you, with a humph, making sure to keep my demeanor cool, calm, and collected.

You’re seriously devoid of all emotion. Like if I had a teacher that spoke so monotone like you, I’d put frog piss in his tea every day, Jenny continued.

Again, thank you. And it sounds like you have done that before. I’m almost proud, I retorted. My mother had been crying for a solid three minutes, which was quite the theatrical production, and she kept grabbing at my hand, which I held fiercely to my side.

But Chloe, we like you, Victoria Woolsworth stated with a snide smile.

Oh, that was always her way. ‘Like me’. Good Goddess, I was her daughter after all. If I stayed in this living room much longer, I might just vomit my entire lunch all over her precious white Persian rug.

It matched the rest of the house. White, white and more white. Marble counters, marble tile floors, white leather furniture as cold to sit on as the house felt walking in the door. Everything else was glass. Don’t dare leave a fingerprint behind either. The only color was on the second floor where my parent’s and sister’s suites were. My room, down here next to the pristine kitchen, again all white mixed with only the best stainless steel appliances money could buy for the chef. It sure as hell wasn’t because my mother had ever cooked a day in her life. But appearances were everything to the Woolsworth’s and if it didn’t look like it belonged in a magazine, it wasn’t worthy.

No, Mother. All you care for is your closet full of fancy labels, a face, that is years younger than you should look, your social standing at the club amongst your mortal friends, and your affection for bourbon.

Don’t speak to your mother like that, Victor Woolsworth chimed in.

Truth hurts. I always thought it to be a term of endearment, telling someone the truth so they could learn from their behavior, I replied. I mean, really, these people were a bunch of nutcases. Do not worry. You three will be rid of me by sundown, left to your miserable lives filled with fake people and material things. I’ve never fit in, and I assure you—I will never try to.

I turned to walk down the short hall to my bedroom, the only one on the main level, and of course the smallest one with no bathroom attached, unlike the massive suites upstairs. I lived as a servant would. By now, you should have gotten to know me. I am Chloe Woolsworth. I have always been someone who appreciated silence. I love to read—anything. I’m twenty-seven years old, I have not had a real career fall in my lap, and I am damn sure not going to work anywhere mortals do.

It’s not that I’m against work, just people. Like I said, I like my quiet. If I could read for a living, that would be the perfect job for me.

Where will you go? Mother asks.

As if she really cares. I’ll be out of her hair, and she won’t have to make excuses for my absences at any of her uppity events she hosted. One knows when they’re not accepted by their own parents and so-called family. I’ll find my way. Do not bother to look for me. You’ve done more than enough to warrant my need for a change of address. Spinning on the heal of my boot, I left the room.

I actually hadn’t thought this through very far, just enough to cash out all my savings, my trust fund, and my own checking account. I have more than enough to live on for a very long while. Hopefully, it will be somewhere far from Connecticut. I had never devised a plan of leaving, only thought about it every single waking moment I was around them. I grabbed my suitcase and a retired gym bag from my attempt at a yoga class. As it turns out I’m not made of rubber like some of those women are.

I stuffed both the bag and the suitcase with the contents of my dresser and closet but found plenty of room to spare. Some minimalist out in the atmosphere somewhere would be quite proud of what little I actually owned.

My own immortalization was never something we spoke of in the Woolsworth household. They tended to their social circles and pretended they were something completely different than they were. I, on the other hand, knew I was different. I was able to get master’s degrees in English, French, Spanish and Latin. It only took a couple of years and without joining in all the dumb college stuff, the staff had let me use credits so I only needed two years of undergrad anyway. Now I was stuck back in the hell hole. I thought being on a college campus was bad, but it didn’t take long to get back and decide this house was so much worse. I’d had no availability to anything like spells, immortals or any of what I needed access to at school. It was the second reason I’d gone, to seek out something on my heritage. Turns out that isn’t something that libraries carry in the mortal world.

I inhaled and closed my eyes taking a breath and thinking. Here goes nothing. So many years, I’d lay awake in my bed, thinking of a spell. What would I say? What would I ask for? Then my mouth was moving, and the words just tumbled out.

Dear Goddess above you see the world I’m in

Can you help me find a place to be

With those who might accept a person like me

I promise to do right by my new town

And maybe even be able to come out on my own.

If I can find work, hard I’ll do

To thank you for the help I hope you’ll provide

A whooshing sound came from nowhere, especially since I was indoors and not out in the land where Dorothy might be outrunning a tornado. I held tight to the bags I'd packed as my hair whipped around in all directions. The smell of pine trees and flower gardens came out of nowhere and had me wanting to see what was going on. Where was I? Our family brick stone neighborhood was certainly devoid of all things beautiful in nature.

Everything quieted as the wind stilled, and I heard birds singing. When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing under a trellis covered in vibrant purple flowers with a gate to a quaint cottage nestled among trees covered in climbing ivy vines. It was as if the Goddess herself had plucked it from a fairy tale and placed it here, just for me. Everything was opposite of my childhood house; this felt like a home.

I was in disbelief, wondering how the Goddess knew exactly what I’d secretly dreamed about for years. I stood there in awe, admiring the stunning gardens that surrounded the hidden bungalow made of stone and logs. Despite my lack of green thumb, I felt thrilled at the thought of giving it a shot and asking