Title: Sugar and Ice
Series: Kitten and Blonde, Book 1.5
Author: Eule Grey
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 11/21/2023
Heat Level: 1 – No Sex
Pairing: Female/Female
Length: 26100
Genre: Holiday Paranormal, Contemporary, paranormal, lesbian, British/Yorkshire, holiday/Christmas, news bloggers, mystery, witch, ghost hijinks, bakers, holiday baking, humorous, over forty, disability-confident, neurodivergence
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Description
Sugar, ice, and bumps in the night…
After a thrilling year of ghost-whispering, monster-chasing, and blogging for the Echo, Mave Kitten is keen to abandon her witchy hat for a well-earned break. Snowflakes are drifting in; the office is stuffed with fruit cake. How to win the pub karaoke without cheating (too much) is all that’s left to worry about.
Aside from fiddling the office’s debts and choosing a suitable karaoke costume, Lisa Blonde is also ready for the party season, not forgetting a crate of beer. As long as Mave’s happy, Lisa’s happy.
But best-laid plans can come unstuck for witches and their leather-clad familiars. The ghost of Jacky Frost blows in with the snow, demanding a playmate. How can Mave and Lisa say no to the dancing queen of ice? Even ghosts deserve a Christmas.
The playful ice queen goes viral, and the Echo unexpectedly gains hundreds of readers. Only a few gremlins remain: What of the Echo’s overdraft? Who’ll win the karaoke? Where’s Lisa’s motorcycle?
Kitten and Blonde: Holiday Baking Hijinks Mostly Paranormal. Sometimes alien. Always gentle.
Excerpt
Sugar and Ice
Eule Grey © 2023
All Rights Reserved
The short walk from the bus to Jalila’s shop took way longer than it should have. Once at the courtyard—a pretty enclave of ten shops and businesses built from Yorkshire stone—we unapologetically dallied. Laughed, kissed, and cuddled. A childlike, irresistible glee snuck up and then seized us both. I was sealed within a capsule of a single moment, for once, the pressures of a mind tossed and turned by several timelines faded into the ether. I could laugh wholeheartedly and enjoy being with my woman without encroachment from spirits or the physical world. Just Lisa and me. It was a magical few moments I’d remember forever.
Maybe the sudden joy which took hold of us was a consequence of easing my earlier fears, or perhaps it was simply down to the weather. Firth Park had become a glittering world of beauty, accumulating much more snow than Litten. Sugar-white icing covered the pavement as more silver snowdrops feathered down. The park looked like a Christmas card. Although we’d experienced snow many times before, it was as if the previous times had occurred while we watched through a glass divider.
Other people laughed and yelled, too, as they made snowballs and played hide and seek with abandon, all cares forgotten.
Lisa, always energetic, was delighted to discover the courtyard had become a slippery playground. She quickly invented an assault course starting with a parkour loop, which traversed two walls and a child’s swing and ended with a death-defying glide down a slope. She shot past me, shouting like a kid. “Oh, my God! This is the cat’s whiskers.”
Jalila must’ve seen us through the shop window. She hurried out into the blizzard wearing an expensive-looking coat, laughing at Lisa’s antics. She hugged us both. Amidst the snowy fun, I evaded the anxiety I’d so dreaded. Together we slid down the slope, holding hands like firm friends instead of friends by proxy. Armour? Mask? Who needed them? Not me!
Eventually, the cold drew us inside. It wasn’t easy. The slope which led to the shop had become so dangerous that both Lisa and I fell, though not painfully. After a period of hysterical slip-sliding, we managed to get inside by crawling on our hands and knees.
Still reeling from a playful afternoon, I butted Lisa’s bottom bovinely. “Moo.”
She, of course, reciprocated. “Mooooo.”
We staggered inside the brightly decorated shop like drunken louts. By then, the positive damage inflicted on my armour by a bit of fun was done. I forgot whether my hands were still because I was too busy enjoying myself.
Despite the million-dollar respite from worry and my heightened awareness of the supernatural world, I hadn’t forgotten about the entity. Underlying my appreciation for hot chocolate and fruit cake was an understanding: the unexpectedly enjoyable afternoon had been a gift from whichever spook had made itself known during the bus ride. It wanted me to laugh and to be freed from care, if only for a while. It had seen how much I’d needed a break from my chaotic head.
Meeting a sensitive, kind entity who understood what it was like to be an empath was a new experience and not one I’d ever anticipated. Maybe entities and I had more in common than I’d realised. Were ghosts—forced to exist in several dimensions and therefore subjected to several languages and forms of communication—neurodivergent?
Not one to waste good food, Lisa chomped through three cakes without coming up for air. “Tell Mave about the ghost.”
Jalila pulled a face as bitter as a lemon. The shimmering aura holding us safe in a shield of happiness ended abruptly with her forthright words. “I’m glad you’re here, mystic Mave, because if this thing doesn’t fuck off, I’m bankrupt. Casper, the friendly ghost? It’s more like a canker in my bank account. Yesterday, I had to throw Dad’s cakes away because there were no customers, which broke my heart.”
The bubble of happiness popped with a snap. My equilibrium dissipated. A rush of emotions, sensations, memories, and impressions hit me with the ferocity of a truck. Back inside my head with no safety shield, I all but physically reeled.
Amidst the sensory rush, silent words piped up, spoken in a ‘voice’ as insubstantial as dandelion seeds flying on the breeze.
Bye, Mave! See you soon!
The message wasn’t conveyed in words, more in the style of words, uttered with lilts and intonation.
The entity fled, leaving a trace of lingering laughter and lightness in the room akin to warmth after a heart-to-heart with a loved friend. Straightaway, I missed the friendly spirit.
Come back, I wanted to say, but my freedoms were limited with Lisa and Jalila nearby. Instead, I made a mental note not to laugh too loudly. The invisible mask-of-Mave slotted into place. “Tell me more. Not sure I’ll be able to help, in any case. I’m not so good at telling ghosts what to do.”
I could have sworn Lisa had an antenna sensitized to any comment about me which wasn’t complimentary. She piped up instantly. “’Course you’re good. Mave can deal with anything supernatural, even ghost planes. She’s brilliant.”
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Eule Grey has settled, for now, in the north UK. She’s worked in education, justice, youth work, and even tried her hand at butter-spreading in a sandwich factory. Sadly, she wasn’t much good at any of them!
She writes novels, novellas, poetry, and a messy combination of all three. Nothing about Eule is tidy but she rocks a boogie on a Saturday night!
For now, Eule is she/her or they/them. Eule has not yet arrived at a pronoun that feels right.
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