A Charmed Cocktail Cozy - La série

What’s worse than a bunch of elderly witches in provocative Halloween costumes? One dead one. Hi, I’m Marissa Hale. I should’ve known that mixing cocktails, costumes, and meddling would end with a corpse. One of the best things about living at the Willow Hill retirement condos with Gran is that Halloween is a month-long celebration. One of the worst things is that the elderly witches gorge on more gossip than treats. These magic mavens love to get the scoop, as long as they aren’t the headline. When the informant for the condo newsletter ends up dead at the Halloween party, there are more suspects than skeletons in these closets. While I’m trying to figure out whodunnit to the hostess most likely to be stabbed, the thirsty rambunctious residents raid my charmed cocktail station. My furry sleuthing side-kicks and I might need a few tricks to ensure that things don’t get even more deadly…

A chatty black cat travels by tote bag to help solve a murder. Hi, I’m Marissa Hale. I took a summer job as a cocktail waitress at a nightclub in Florida to escape the cold Pennsylvania winter, and to visit Gran. Although staying with Gran at the retirement condo with a bunch of nosey witches becomes the least of my worries when I stumble upon a corpse in the club freezer. My coworker, Burton, is suspect number one. If you met him and looked into his dead eyes you might understand why. Unfortunately, I’m a close second suspect since it appears spelling was involved. My spelling skills might not be up to par—but I’m no killer. I can only hope to avoid making this a permanent vacation in the slammer by solving this murder mystery with the help of Gran, a talking cat, and a demon with a real devil-doesn’t-care attitude.

How can one tiny spell create such a mess? Hi, I’m Marissa Hale and I’ve spelled up some trouble. You see, I live in Boca, Florida. Most of the time all the mishmash of paranormal play nice in the sandbox—except when it’s an ice rink. Of course I’d be the one to test the boundaries of the “no spelling” rule at the hockey arena when Staci begged me to go to a game. My careless spell to conceal the nacho cheese disaster, which happened when a big blob landed on Staci’s treasured jersey, caused more trouble than the wrath I avoided from my hockey obsessed friend. Due to the ridiculous rule, Staci inadvertently gets blamed and tossed into the arena’s jail for illicit magic…and I might have accidentally spelled one of the players. When I try to make things right, my sleuthing skills uncover secrets, and more trouble than I bargained for. I might need more than my chatty cat and charmed cocktails to solve this mystery…

I don’t see dead people, but my dog does. Hi, I’m Marissa Hale. When my friend, Grace invites me to visit the Inn she inherited, I’m high-tailing it back to my home state of Pennsylvania. Like most things in life, there are strings attached to her inheritance—and these ones have twinkly lights. The Inn, and the town, are Christmas themed. No witch worth her broom would choose Christmas over Halloween, unless that witch’s bloodline is the magic mainline for keeping the yuletide spirit alive. Her aunt’s death was already suspicious, but then we stumble upon a dead body amongst the poinsettias that resembles one of Santa’s fabled elves. It sure seems like someone is trying to force Grace to sell Kringle Inn. I’m going to need all the help I can get to solve these crimes, and save Christmas, but when the only witnesses are a pig, and a ghost, I’m not sure that’s going to be enough…