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I was gifted a ARC of "Suddenly Sorceress" but HAD to buy a copy too. I loved Erica's debut novel "To Katie with Love" so I was very exited for this novel. I seriously enjoyed every minute. Erica had me hooked by the end of the first page. Then she kept me fully entertained until the last word.
This book is very well written and the characters are extremely well developed, as well as hilariously funny at times. Actually most of the time. Oh who am I kidding, all the time.
The concept is awesome and surprising. Imagine finding out you have magical abilities when you turn your cheating ex fiancé into a skunk? Trust me when I say you really need to read this book as soon as you can get your grubby paws on it. Then do yourself a favour and get her other book too.
Here is a small excerpt to wet your appetite:
Prologue
“You’re too sexy, my ass!” I tried
to tune out the Right Said Fred ringtone as I fished my fiancé’s cell phone
from the pocket of his discarded Dockers. I glared at the flashing caller ID.
“You just don’t give up, do you?”
That was lucky number thirteen.
Thirteen missed calls in the span of an hour. Thirteen calls he was unable to
answer.
Because of me.
After pressing ignore one more time, I shoved the phone back into the pocket where
it belonged, hoping it would muffle the sound somewhat. I didn’t know why I
didn’t just turn off the damn thing. I’d endured his ridiculous ring tone more
times than anyone should have to, obviously determined to punish myself.
Between the maddening song and the horrible smell, I certainly felt punished.
Even if it wasn’t nearly enough.
Way down deep in my bones, I knew
my life had been forever changed. Even
if I could somehow fix things—put them back to normal—nothing would be the same again. Not ever.
Swallowing against the crystal
ball-sized lump in my throat, I dropped Matt’s pants where I’d found them,
along with his shirt, his boxers, and his shoes, and I collapsed onto the
rumpled blankets on the bed.
That sort of thing didn’t happen in
the real world. Only small children or crazy people believed in… no, I refused
to even think the word, let alone say
it. It’s impossible. But I’d seen it
with my own eyes, and whatever it
was, it definitely wasn’t normal.
My scruffy housecat made another
frantic orbit around my feet as the phone sounded again, the self-centered
lyrics looping, making me cringe. Apparently, he’d also grown weary of the
tune.
If only I could say the choice of
ring tone was ironic, a product of his wry sense of humor. But he didn’t have
much of a sense of humor. Matthew Green was exactly
that arrogant. Despite every despicable thing he’d done to me, every insult,
lie, and betrayal that had led us there, I truly wished Matt could answer his
stupid phone himself. Unfortunately, wishing didn’t seem to be on my side that
morning.
Stifling a groan, I pulled myself
from the warmth of the bed to dig the phone out of Matt’s pocket again. Geez, persistent much? With a deep,
cleansing breath, I mashed down the button to accept the call.
“Matt! Where are you?” Matt’s
receptionist, Ginger, snapped before I had a chance to say hello. “Friday’s
your busiest day. Do you have any idea what time it is? You’ve already missed
two appointments.”
Even without caller ID, I would
have recognized her breathy Betty Boop voice. She sounded as though she’d been
sucking helium all morning. I didn’t know her well, but I suspected she was
banging my fiancé.
“We’ll be lucky if there’s enough
time for a quickie before the next patient arrives,” she continued in a
whisper.
Yep…
definitely banging him.
“And another thing.” Her sweet baby
voice morphed into a feral growl. “Candy’s been standing outside your office
all morning. I thought you said you were done with her? I’m not kidding, Matt,
if I find out you’re still screwing her, I’m going to cut off your balls.”
Apparently, I was engaged to a
pathological cheater. Of course, I hadn’t known that when I agreed to marry
him. There were a lot of things I didn’t know about Matt. Then again, there was
a lot I didn’t know about me.
“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“Uh… hi, Ginger.” I cleared my throat and
resisted the urge to “say anything.”
“This is Ivie. Matt can’t come to the phone. I… uh... don’t think he’s going to
be able to… uh… make it into work today.” I managed to stammer through the
basics without my voice cracking.
“Oh, hi, Ivie.” Her voice changed
again; she sounded as if she’d been sucking lemons. She didn’t even have the
decency to be embarrassed. “What’s wrong with Matt? He hasn’t missed a day in…
Actually, I don’t think he’s ever called in sick.”
My eyes darted to the closed
bathroom door, and I shuddered. “He’s really not feeling like himself today.”
Understatement of the century.
“Is he sick?”
“Um… I definitely don’t think
anyone wants what he has.” I tiptoed around the answer. I wasn’t good at coy,
but I gave it my best shot.
“Oh… Well, in that case, maybe it’s
best if he stays home.” I could almost see her coiling a lock of her thick red
hair around her finger as she spoke. “Just tell him I hope he feels better, and
not to worry. I’ll reschedule his appointments for him. Do you think he’ll be
well enough to come in Monday?”
I tamped down a flicker of panic.
“I really hope so.” But I seriously doubt
it.
After listening to Ginger rant for
a minute about missed appointments and the difficult task of rescheduling, I
ended the call, staring at the bathroom door as if I expected a silent command
to open it. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the door swinging wide and my
fiancé sauntering out. I popped open one eye. The door hadn’t moved—not even a
crack.
For far too long, I’d avoided that
room. With three tentative steps, I closed the distance between myself and the
master bathroom, covering my mouth and nose with one hand as I cracked the
door. I’d almost gotten used to the foul odor in the bedroom. It was bad but
not unbearable. The stench in the bathroom was overwhelming. The fumes poured
out, bringing tears to my eyes. The small space reeked worse than when I’d
locked him in there last night. It smelled as if someone had cooked up a potion
of burning tires and rotten eggs in a boiling vat of sour ammonia, and even
that comparison wasn’t quite bad enough.
Blinking back the sting of tears, I
scanned the room. I didn’t see him anywhere, just a puddle that looked
suspiciously like urine in one corner and in the other, a makeshift bed
fashioned out of—were those my good bath towels?
No Matt.
A quick rush of adrenaline
kick-started my heart. What’s happened to
him now? This is bad. Very, very bad. As if things weren’t bad enough
already. What sort of person was I? What I’d done was unspeakable, so horrible
even I didn’t know what I’d done.
Just as I was about to have a
full-blown panic attack, he slinked out from behind the hamper. I should have
been relieved he was still alive, but I wasn’t sure if his current state was
much better. He stared up at me—his beady little black eyes blinking in the
harsh fluorescent light—so much smaller than he used to be and covered in a
thick pelt of black and white fur. My fiancé.
The
skunk.
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