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  Both women were high-earning, career-driven women. Boss Babes as the internet liked to call them. Her mother was the CEO of a major cosmetics company while her sister designed handbags. Unfortunately, neither woman thought quite so highly of Juniper’s blue-collar career choice. Especially her sister, who couldn’t fathom why anyone would give up a posh modeling career traveling the world, to fix up dirty old houses—her words, not Juniper’s. Needless to say, she also wasn’t a fan of Jack’s, or Bohemian Lake for that matter—which she called Bohemian Mistake.

  And while her dad had visited many times, her mother and sister had only been down for her and Jack’s wedding where their botox had worked overtime from attempted brow furrowing. Surprisingly they’d both loved the Gothic Inn—the one-hundred-year-old second-empire Victorian—but Juniper wasn’t sure they’d like their latest flip? Farmhouses weren’t exactly boss babe style. And this one had been in particular bad shape although it was looking great now. So good in fact, that Eve and the Bohemian Festival Committee had insisted Jack & Juniper let them use the property for the Annual Easter Egg Extravaganza.

  After the Halloween debacle at the Gothic Inn, Juniper swore she’d never make that mistake again, but Eve was relentless and eventually she wore both Juniper and Jack down. She swore up and down that the council would take care of everything. All they had to do was finish the kitchen so Pike and the local catering crew would have cooking facilities onsite.

  Juniper turned away from the frozen meat sitting in the sink and surveyed the rest of the kitchen. It was one of her favorite rooms in the farmhouse. She just loved the reclaimed wood from the busted up front porch that they’d used to make the island, the salvaged pine cupboards, and the exposed wood beam ceiling. The addition of a chalkboard, and farm-fresh flowers in a pitcher, only added to the room’s rustic charm.

  Juniper sighed.

  It would be hard to let this one go once they were done, but that was the hazard of flipping houses.

  There were footsteps on the porch and the kitchen door swung open.

  Jack stood in the doorway smiling, bundled up in a hoodie and jean jacket holding out a sack of potatoes. He dropped the sack onto the counter and snaked an arm around her waist, tugging Juniper so close that her insides turned to jelly. Jack wasn’t just her handsome business partner anymore, they’d been married for eight months now. Eight blissful months.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Jack?” Juniper whispered when his lips released hers. “Because I am so lost on this cooking thing.”

  He loosened his grip around her waist and pulled his mother’s cookbook from the drawer, setting it next to the other dinner ingredients—thyme, carrots and garlic. “We will be just fine. I have a magical book right here,” he said. “And if that doesn’t work, Mom said she could be here at the drop of a wineglass. Stop fretting!”

  Ginger, Jack’s mom was a wonderful cook. She and Jack Sr. lived on a vineyard just outside of town and most of the family meals were done there. Juniper wished she’d left well enough alone, then she wouldn’t be attempting to learn in twenty-four hours what should take twenty-four years.

  “How about your mother and sister? When do they arrive?” Jack asked.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Juniper said. “At least that’s the current plan.”

  He leaned up against the counter. “You’re nervous about them coming, aren’t you?”

  She felt guilty for even thinking it, let alone saying it out loud.

  Juniper shook her head. “No, I am thrilled they’re coming. I just…I want them to be happy for me.”

  “And if they’re not? You’ll divorce me and move back to New York?”

  “No, of course not,” Juniper told him.

  “So what does it matter? It’s your life and you’re the only one who needs to enjoy living it.”

  “Handsome and wise,” Juniper said. “How did I get so lucky?”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it,” he said. “You’re a smart girl and you know the right choice when you see it. Like this farmhouse—what a perfect find? Who knew these floors would come up like this?”

  “Uh-hmm.” Juniper cleared her throat. “I believe I did.”

  “That’s right. It was you. See, so many good choices.”

  “Is your sister planning to stay with us as well?” Juniper asked, changing the subject.

  Jack grinned. “No, she’s staying at the Vineyard with my parents,” he said. “You know that.” Juniper did know this. It wasn’t the first time they’d talked about begging his sister to stay at the farm to help balance out the dynamic. “She’s excited to see you but let’s save throwing her—”

  “… to the wolves.” Juniper interjected.

  “No… together with your mother and sister for another time.”

  Juniper chuckled. “Like Christmas? No pressure there.”

  “One step at a time,” he said, his hazel eyes twinkling. “And since this is their first extended visit, it makes sense that it’s just the two of them and you.”

  “And you,” Juniper pointed out. “You’re not trying to bail on me, are you, Jackson Montgomery Young, are you?”

  “Oooh… we’re using middle names now, huh,” he countered. “No, I was just debating letting the three of you have a girl’s night, you know. Bonding without all of my toxic masculine energy around, as your sister likes to call it.”

  “She didn’t seem to mind your masculinity when you fixed that broken water pipe that time and your white shirt got all wet.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “No, she didn’t seem to mind that at all,” he said. “Of course, that was before we broke up. I don’t think she ever forgave me for dating someone else. Anyway, let’s play it by ear. You’ve put enough pressure on yourself with this dinner; and that stupid BFC Easter picnic, you hardly need more stress.”

  And just like that Juniper felt the weight lift off her chest. That was just one of the many reasons she loved Jack. He always had her back.

  “Alright, enough lollygagging,” he said, pushing away from the counter. “We have twenty-four hours to get this place into tip-top shape.” He folded her into a bear hug and placed his mouth over hers.

  More footsteps hit the porch and Juniper recognized Eve’s fake kissing noises at the screen door. “Get a room, lovebirds?”

  “We do have a room, we have several, Eve, and you’re standing in one of them.” Jack countered.

  “Well, excuse me for wanting to inform you of the festivities that will be happening on your property.”

  “And that’s my cue,” he said, pulling a hammer from his toolbelt and heading outside.

  Juniper turned to face Rebel and Eve who was dressed like a teenage girl in overalls and high-tops. Her reddish-brown hair done in boxer braids down her back. Juniper refrained from commenting. “Alright. I’m listening. Give me the low down on this, here Easter festival.” Juniper said. “Is it like a church picnic? All about the resurrection, or what?”

  “Well, the church participates of course, but it’s a celebration of bunnies,” Eve said.

  “And chocolate—ooey-gooey yummy eggs.” Rebel added.

  “And guns of course.” Eve said, pretending to be Pistol Annie.

  “Guns? Just what kind of Easter celebration is this?” Juniper asked.

  “Oh, don’t worry. It’s all normal. We dress up as bunnies and hide eggs and monitor the little ones in the bouncy castle,” Rebel said. “The bigger kids don’t do the bouncy castle—they get the big maze instead,” Rebel said.

  “So you two have to wear like, giant bunny mascot suits?”

  “No, although we do have those in the maze. But they scare the little ones so I wear bunny ears only,” Rebel explained. “Eve, on the other hand, goes full playboy.”

  Eve gave her the finger while Juniper tried really hard not to laugh.

  “I can’t help it if my original costume from the very first picnic still fits.”

  “Fits, good one.” Rebel laughed
, “You’ve had that baby let out, three times. Just admit it.”

  “I have done no such thing.” Eve turned her nose up to the vintage Edison bulb fixture.

  “Okay, so the festival starts and ends on Sunday, right? Cause I’m hosting dinner here, Monday and I don’t want a bunch of strangers running around.” Juniper said.

  “Strangers,” Eve questioned. “Why Bohemian Lake folks are hardly strangers, dear. Anyway, it opens Sunday morning with the Easter Bunny Hop.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That’s the boring part. You know, face painting, balloons, and a bouncy castle. Then there’s the Easter Bunny Brunch where we get to shove our face full of pancakes then hunt for eggs with the Easter Bunny. After that the mini tyrants tend to nap or go home and the teens have their fun in the Bunny Ball Bonanza.”

  “What’s that?”

  “An Easter maze where all the kids hunt for the prizes and shoot at each other to take out the competition. It’s a real hardcore event—some adults even enter. Watch out for Principal Leavenworth, he takes no prisoners.”

  “Don’t forget about the veterans from the old folk’s home.”

  “Exactly. It’s cut-throat. The event most years includes about 2000 hidden eggs with prizes. After that it’s fireworks and we announce the winner of the grand prize: the Faberge Egg and then it’s goodnight Irene.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot to fit into one day,” Juniper said.

  “It is,” Eve said. “I’ll be bouncing all over overseeing things but the teenagers with guns usually need the most supervision.”

  “And that’s where you want Jack and me?” Juniper asked.

  “You got it, Pontiac,” Eve said. “That and I need you to pick up the grand prize for me.”

  “Okay, where and when?”

  “The Bejeweled Box. Tomorrow.”

  Juniper sighed. “Seriously? You guys are making me deal with the shark?” Bunny Børressøn was the owner of Bohemian’s Bejeweled Box and the head fund-raiser for the BFC which meant she was in charge of procuring prizes and auction items. She was also tall, blond, and strikingly beautiful in that way that Nordic people were. Less attractive was her hair-trigger temper and ruthless nature. Some in the community—namely, Eve—referred to her as the shark. Of course, in Juniper’s opinion, after having purchased wedding rings last year, the nickname was unfair to sharks, everywhere. “You two know I can’t stand her.”

  “No one can dear, but she’s ridiculously good at hounding people which makes her a natural at fundraising.”

  “Why can’t one of you pick it up?”

  “I’ve been there twice and so has Rebel. She’s late on the egg delivery, and face it, Junie, it’s your turn.”

  “Fine.” Juniper sighed, “I’ll deal with the snarky, sneaky, notoriously picky, manipulative witch.”

  “It’s like your reading the highlight section of her resume.” Eve snorted at her own joke, “Anyway, back to a lighter topic: kids and guns.”

  “What?” Juniper struggled to switch gears.

  “You know the paintball maze you’re running. The local teens know better, but, of course, that won’t stop them from trying to shoot innocent bystanders. So, you and Jack need to be watching closely.”

  Rebel gave Eve a look and nodded.

  “Last year, little Johnny McLean climbed to the top of the maze and shot the pastor in the giblets. And I don’t mean in the turkey,” Eve winked, “if you catch my drift.”

  “Why would a little kid do that?”

  “Well, little Johnny’s not so little.” Rebel explained.

  “Yeah, he’s just dumb as a stump.” Eve added, “Failed seventh grade like three times now. And the pastor caught him smoking the week before and tattled.”

  Juniper sucked air in through her teeth. “Got it.”

  “Yeah, and someone painted up one of the mustangs in the car show,” Rebel said.

  “There’s a car show too” Juniper said.

  Eve grinned. “Not no more.”

  “Hmmm,” Juniper grumbled. “They better not paint my house.”

  “Oh no, that’s why we’re puttin’ the maze way out in the field this year. They’d never get near your house.”

  “Last year, we made the mistake of holding the car show and the maze side-by-side,” Rebel said.

  “Anyway, I’ll be strapped. So, any one of those punks tries anything and you let me know. I’ll be aiming for right between the eyes.”

  “You’d really going to shoot a kid in the face with a paintball?” Juniper asked.

  “Hell no, rubber bullets. That’ll teach the little bugger.”

  “Eve!” Rebel scolded. “I told you, no! You could take an eye out.”

  “Yeah, yeah. They’ve been warned and I’ll take full responsibility for it,” Eve said. “Oh, I almost forgot. There’s also a big screen at dusk and people can watch the movie Hop in their vehicles. And of course, there’s all sorts of snacking and desserts. The desserts are the best part.”

  “Naturally,” Juniper said. “So what time do you need me and Jack on the paintball maze?”

  “I’d say around six thirty,” Rebel said. “We don’t open the maze until it gets dark. Once that’s finished, we start the fireworks to signal the final closing and the winner of the grand prize.

  “I’m praying this rain takes a hike,” Eve said. “Ever tried wearing a corset, bow tie and furry tail in the rain—not the warmest. Maybe I’ll get myself one of those translucent rain coats.”

  Juniper frowned. “That’s really all you’ll wear, Eve? Aren’t you worried about catching pneumonia?”

  “No, I take my fish oil every day. I’m as healthy as that half-dead alley cat you see it town.”

  Juniper shook her head. “That cat doesn’t seem very healthy.”

  “Well, he’s outlived every damn person in this town so far. And, anyway there are little wrist cuffs too,”

  “Oh, well, you’ll practically be in a sauna then.” Rebel teased.

  Juniper shook her head and looked out the window in the direction of the farmers field. “We don’t need to help build the maze, though, do we?”

  “No. The tractor should be here soon to clear a section of the field and the local farmers donate the hay bales. The local CrossFit team is taking care of set up. It takes some muscle to lift all those hay bales and haul around the props for the military scene. And the event company we hired will bring the paintball guns.”

  “So all Jack and I have to do is register the kids as they arrive and wave them on to the arms dealer?” Juniper asked. “Is that the gist of it?”

  “Yep, other than that. Pike will be running the catering out of your kitchen,” Rebel said. “I usually test the food for her. You know, quality control.”

  “Count me in. I’m much better at tasting that cooking,” Juniper said. “Speaking of which,” Juniper asked, “either of you know how to cook lamb?”

  “Never served lamb but I know how to take one down.” Eve said.

  “Oh, geez. No thank you. I’m pretty sure that parts been taken care of. At least I hope that’s a frozen carcass. If it gets up and winks at me, I might pass out. By the way, how’s the new role going, Eve? You did a great job getting Clara’s doll back. You replacing Penny as head P.I or what?”

  “Naw,” Eve said. “No one could replace our Lucky Penny, but I am always happy to fill in. What I lack in skills, I make up for in superior explosives supply,” Eve said, proudly.

  “No truer statement has ever been made,” Rebel agreed. “Especially, during the chili cook-off.”

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  About the Authors

  Rachael Stapleton lives in a Second-Empire Victorian home with her husband and two children in Canada where she dashes about aged wood, arched dormers and snowy hills, making up holiday themed whodunit stories.

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  A Note from Rachael

  Welcome back! I put a Hex on you and now you’re mine. Can you tell I watch too many paranormal shows? Speaking of which, I am so excited for the next season of Sabrina to begin. Who’s with me? And, if you enjoyed this hell-raising book, you’ll be excited to know I have three more planned, featuring our newest witch of Bohemian Lake, Seraphina Popescu. In these books, you’ll find out what becomes of the Witch Hunters Order. Who is the head of it? Could it be someone we know? Dun-Dun-Duh!

  Anyway, thanks for keeping up. Now before I get back to finishing up the next Haunted House Flippers—Easter is hopping up on me—I should probably introduce you to my lovely co-author DeAnn Howe. DeAnn first hit my radar about a year and a half ago when she joined my Advanced Reader Team. For anyone who’s unsure what that means, it’s the people who volunteer to read the books right before their published. They’re the last stop for errors and the first ones to put up reviews. I love my ARC Team and DeAnn was one of the first.

  Immediately, she stood out to me. Her eye for detail was annoyingly amazing. (I say that with a smile because anyone who knows me, recognizes I love it when editors slash at my work.) Not only that but she spent the time going over my backlisted time travel series—without prompting, looking for errors. She was actually taking the time to go through her kindle and making emailed notes referencing page numbers. Well, that was far too much work for her and personally a lot of work for me (plus I don’t like numbers) so I asked her to become a Beta reader and I started sending her the actual manuscripts so she could track change edit. Whew! Saved us both some work.

  After a year and a half, and with several authors knocking at my door to co-write in my world, I felt I owed Deann the first crack at it. Something in my gut, told me we would work well together and I was right, we fell into step like dancers in the night. DeAnn has agreed to work on several more books with me and I’m looking forward to it. Please be sure to give her a warm welcome and support her when she steps out on her own.