Second Chance Magic Read online

  Second Chance Magic

  A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel

  Michelle M. Pillow

  MichellePillow.com

  Second Chance Magic © Copyright 2020 by Michelle M. Pillow

  First Electronic Printing February 18, 2020

  Published by The Raven Books LLC

  ISBN 9781625012401

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Michelle M. Pillow.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.

  Michelle M. Pillow® is a registered trademark of The Raven Books LLC

  Contents

  About the Book

  Order of Magic Series

  Author Updates

  Author Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Third Time’s A Charm

  The Fourth Power

  About Michelle M. Pillow

  Newsletter

  Paranormal Women’s Fiction

  Free Reading Guides

  Please Leave a Review

  About the Book

  Secrets broke her heart... and have now come back from the grave to haunt her.

  So far, Lorna Addams’ forties are not what she expected. After a very public embarrassment, she finds it difficult to trust her judgment when it comes to new friendships and dating. She might be willing to give love a second chance when she meets the attractive William Warrick, if only she could come to terms with what her husband did to her and leave it in the past.

  How is a humiliated empty nest widow supposed to move on with her life? It’s not like she can develop a sixth sense, séance her ex back, force him to tell her why and give her closure. Or can she?

  Order of Magic Series

  Second Chance Magic

  Third Time's A Charm

  The Fourth Power

  The Fifth Sense

  The Sixth Spell

  Visit MichellePillow.com for details!

  Author Updates

  Join the Reader Club Mailing List to stay informed about new books, sales, contests and preorders!

  http://michellepillow.com/author-updates/

  To the Pillow Fighter Fan club on Facebook for voting for which cake the ladies will enjoy, and some of the character names. Thank you for playing along with me in the group.

  * * *

  To my fellow Fab13 PWF authors. A group of strong women and fantastically talented authors. It has been a pleasure working on this project with all of you.

  * * *

  The Fab 13 include: Michelle M. Pillow, Mandy M. Roth, Shannon Mayer, K.F. Breene, Denise Grover Swank, Jana DeLeon, Elizabeth Hunter, Darynda Jones, Kristen Painter, Robyn Peterman, Deanna Chase, Eve Langlais, and Christine Gael

  Author Note

  Being an author in my 40s, I am thrilled to be a part of this Paranormal Women’s Fiction #PWF project. Older women kick ass. We know things. We’ve been there. We are worthy of our own literature category. We also have our own set of issues that we face—empty nests, widows, divorces, menopause, health concerns, etc—and these issues deserve to be addressed and embraced in fiction.

  Growing older is a real part of life. Women friendships matter. Women matter. Our thoughts and feelings matter.

  If you love this project as much as I do, be sure to spread the word to all your reader friends and let the vendors where you buy your books know you want to see a special category listing on their sites for 40+ heroines in Paranormal Women’s Fiction and Romance.

  Happy Reading!

  Michelle M. Pillow

  Praise for Michelle M. Pillow

  Second Chance Magic

  “The perfect combination of spine-tingling magic, paranormal fun, and the strength of female friendships. Michelle M. Pillow delivers an emotionally powerful, must-have read.” - K.F. Breene, Wall Street Journal, USA TODAY, and Washington Post Bestselling Author

  * * *

  “Michelle M. Pillow brings us yet another hilariously touching story, this one set in the world of paranormal women’s fiction, and you won’t want to put it down. I know I didn’t! Then again, she had me at séance.” - NY Times Bestselling Author Darynda Jones

  * * *

  "When the past and the present merge…awesome author Michelle Pillow brings secrets from the grave and other things that go bump in the night into a fantastic story of second chances in the second act of life." - Jana DeLeon, NY Times, USA TODAY, & Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author

  * * *

  "Second Chance Magic starts with a bang and does not slow down! It’s a beautifully written story of starting over and finding your inner power. Highly recommended." - Elizabeth Hunter, USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  * * *

  "Michelle M. Pillow's Second Chance Magic proves that sometimes all it takes to get a second chance after a massive betrayal, is a little luck, a lot of magic, and the help of your best friends." - Mandy M. Roth, NY Times & USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  * * *

  “Michelle M. Pillow's Second Chance Magic is full of delicious secrets! What's not a secret is how much you're going to love this book and this heroine. I'll take book two now!” - Kristen Painter, USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  * * *

  “Delightfully heartfelt and filled with emotion. Psychic powers, newly discovered magic, and a troublesome ex who comes back from the grave. Michelle M. Pillow delivers a wonderfully humorous start to a new paranormal women's fiction romance series.” - Robyn Peterman, NY Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  * * *

  "Second Chance Magic is full of heart and everything I love in a paranormal tale. Great friends, second chances, and physic powers... what's not to love?" - Deanna Chase, NY Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Chapter One

  Nickerson, Vermont

  This is not where Lorna Addams wanted to be. Tears filled her eyes and she was afraid to look down, so instead she stared at a flower arrangement. Her hand rested on top of satin and the smooth texture slid against the wood underneath.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Lorna nodded, not seeing who spoke. She wished people would stop saying that. They meant well, but she didn’t want to hear it.

  At the sound of murmuring voices, she turned toward the gathering crowd. The funeral home continued to fill as people came to pay their respects to her dead husband. She only recognized about half of them but assumed the expensively dressed men and women knew Glenn from work. Her husband had a few nice suits but he wasn’t—hadn’t been—pretentious. Not like this crowd. He had liked to keep his home life away from his job. He called his family his oasis.

  Why were these people even invited? If Lorna had been in charge of the arrangements and not a trustee, she would have kept the event for family and close friends only.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Jackie, her cousin, forced a hug on her. Lorna stood still, letting it happen as she counted the seconds until she was released.

  Over Jackie’s shoulder, Lorna glanced toward the front row of seats where Nicholas, Jacob, and Jennifer huddled together. Though they were all technically adults, they’d alwa
ys be her babies. Jennifer’s dark head rested against her twin’s shoulder, trembling as Jacob tried to comfort her. It broke Lorna’s heart to see her strong daughter brought to such sorrow. Jacob’s lips were pressed tight and he had been staring at the same spot on the floor for nearly an hour. The two had always been close. They even planned on starting at the same college in the fall.

  Nicholas, the oldest, looked the most like his father, reminding Lorna of when she’d first met Glenn. He was almost finished with his undergraduate degree in accounting. He should have been at his summer internship, not here. None of them should have been here.

  Jackie finally let go as she made a bit of a scene, gasping and sobbing. Lorna wanted to remind her cousin that they weren’t close. Jackie barely knew Glenn. The last time they’d seen each other had been nearly five years ago at a family reunion.

  Some people appeared to glide through life—an average family, quiet dramas, envious paths. Their struggles, though real to them, seemed small compared to those of the rest of the world. Their bads were never as bad, their goods consistent. They looked to have all the answers to happiness. That was Lorna’s life before this day—perfectly uneventful, no made-for-TV-drama. In fact, for long stretches, she would have admitted her life was even dull.

  She’d give anything for boring right now.

  Lorna finally forced her gaze to the casket. The funeral director had tried to tell her it would look like Glenn was sleeping. It didn’t.

  Lorna frowned. Glenn’s hair had been combed all wrong. He hated when his bangs were pulled forward. It matched a large portrait of her husband displayed near Glenn’s head. Lorna had never seen the picture before. In fact, she’d never seen the suit they’d put on him. It wasn’t the clothes she’d dropped off for him.

  Glenn had appointed a trustee he’d met through work to take care of all his funeral arrangements. Honestly, Lorna had been grateful not to have to make any of the decisions. But then, she’d assumed the trustee would make sure everything was perfect.

  She leaned forward to fix Glenn’s hair, brushing it back. There was nothing she could do about the portrait. It looked like it belonged on an ID badge from the consulting firm Glenn worked at.

  “How did you know my husband?”

  Lorna turned at the strange question. Her mind was in a fog and it was possible she’d misheard. The woman who spoke looked like she’d stepped off a movie set in her tight black dress and large-brim black hat. A veil covered her face, making it hard to see all of the details.

  Lorna glanced behind her to the chairs. She now recognized less than half the crowd. This lady clearly belonged with them. Who were these people? Lorna’s dress was shabbier by comparison and had come off a department store sales rack years ago. She didn’t have many reasons to wear black.

  Lorna stared numbly as the woman leaned over to smooth Glenn’s bangs down to match the photo. The large diamond of the lady’s ring begged people to look at her hand like a shiny distraction. Lorna glanced at the plain band on her finger.

  “Please, stop,” Lorna tried to lift her hand, but it didn’t feel as if it belonged to her body. Nothing felt real. “He hates his hair like that.”

  The woman pulled the veil over her head, away from her face. Her makeup was perfect, including the thick black lines around her eyes. If Lorna had put on makeup, she would have cried it off long before now.

  “How exactly did you know my husband?” the woman repeated, her tone annoyed as she directed a withering glare in Lorna’s direction.

  What was going on here? Was this a sick joke?

  Glenn had been her husband for twenty years. These were their children sitting in the front row. This tightness in her chest was a wife’s grief. This day was stressful enough and it was all she could do to stay upright. Who said such a thing to a grieving widow? Now? In front of the deceased’s three children?

  “That’s not funny,” Lorna whispered, not wanting to create a scene to upset her kids.

  “Omigod, you’re her, aren’t you? That’s why his funeral is in this dump of a town, and why the man handling the estate couldn’t look me in the eye? Glenn just had to get one last dig at me. You have some nerve showing up here.” This time the woman’s voice was louder. “Leave now or I will have you thrown out.”

  “I don’t know what your deal is, but—” Lorna instantly stopped talking when Jacob appeared next to her.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” Jacob took a protective stance in front of her. Lorna wasn’t sure how to answer. To the other woman, he said, “I think you need to leave.”

  “What’s going on here? Cheryl, are you all right?” One of the tailored gentlemen appeared next to the lady.

  “No, Frank,” Cheryl hissed. “I need you to get Glenn’s mistress out of here before I scream. I can’t take much more. I swear to God I can’t.”

  Mistress? Lorna gasped at the insult. Jacob looked at her in confusion. Lorna wasn’t sure what to say to her son. How could she explain whatever this was? She didn’t understand it herself.

  Cheryl reached into her small clutch and pulled out a cigarette from a metal case. Frank automatically retrieved a lighter from his suit jacket and lit it for her.

  “Ma’am, you can’t smoke in here.” Mr. Wilkens, the owner of the funeral home, stepped forward to stop her.

  Cheryl blew smoke in his direction. “Shut up or I’ll have you fired. Can’t you see I’m grieving?”

  Mr. Wilkens glanced at Lorna in question but backed away from the hostile woman.

  “This is my mom, and that is her husband and my father,” Jacob stated, his tone condescending enough to match the woman’s. “I don’t know what kind of scam you’re trying to pull, lady, but it’s you who needs to leave. I won’t have you disrespecting my father’s memory, and I sure as hell will not stand for you upsetting my mother.”

  “Father?” Cheryl swayed on her feet, eyeing Jacob. She waved her cigarette toward Frank who instantly took it from her fingers. He wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her upright. “Did you say my husband fathered…”

  “He’s our father. Not your husband.” Jennifer appeared next to Jacob. She held her cellphone. To her twin, she said, “I’m calling the police.”

  Cheryl’s eyes landed on Nicholas and she visibly stiffened.

  “I think you should get your friend out of here, mister,” Jacob said to Frank. “I don’t know what kind of psychological issues she has going on, and I hope you get her help, but my parents have been happily married for twenty years.”

  “I’ve known Glenn since we were five. This is his wife, Cheryl. I think it’s you who better go,” Frank answered.

  “That young man looks just like Glenn.” Cheryl clutched Frank’s arm as she continued to stare at Nicholas.

  “We’ll get this sorted, Cheryl,” said Frank. “I’m sure it’s not true.”

  Lorna saw everyone staring at them. The conversation had become loud and they were being watched like reality television. Her friends and family looked on in pity and confusion. The strangers in their suits and fancy dresses watched with disdain, some shaking their heads as if she’d done something wrong.

  Under her breath, Cheryl said to Frank, “I don’t care how many illegitimate bastards Glenn has, they’re not getting a dime of my money.”

  “He’s my husband,” Lorna yelled. She’d had enough of this. “Mine!”

  “Make them go away,” Cheryl demanded just as loudly, “Get them out of here!”

  “He’s my…” A sharp pain erupted inside Lorna and she pressed her balled fist to her chest. At first she thought it was another wave of grief but, as she felt herself falling toward where Glenn’s body lay in the casket, the world spun into blackness. She didn’t try to fight it.

  Chapter Two

  Warrick Theater, Freewild Cove, North Carolina

  Three years later…

  Lorna watched the young ballerinas prance across the stage. This was only a rehearsal. What they lacked in talent they
made up in pure enthusiasm. At six years old this is how dance should be—fun. Her only concern was whether one of the little tutu-wearing mice would bounce right off the edge.

  She sat alone in the back of the theater. It was a small venue with only a hundred and four seats, and had been set up for both live performances and movies. The gold and burgundy sponge-painted walls, art deco light fixtures, and paneled ceiling had been that way since long before she’d taken over the management of the building. She’d petitioned the city for updates, but only managed to acquire a used set of spotlights. Three of the eleven were broken. Lorna was sure the council had only given her that much funding as a way of shutting up the new woman in town.

  A plaque on the front of the building indicated the theater had been commissioned by local businesswoman and suspected witch Julia Warrick over a hundred years ago. The colorful description of the woman sounded more legend than fact. Apparently, she was part of the Spiritualist movement and had held séances in the theater to talk to the dead. People would travel hundreds of miles to go to one of her shows. Julia’s granddaughter, Heather Harrison, now owned the building and the old theater drew an entirely different kind of clientele.