I swear I didn’t mean to bind my secret high school crush to me, it just happened.
I made a promise to my family that there would be no spell casting while they were away. It was well known in the Turner household that my spells tended to go a bit, shall we say, wonky. Like turning my ex-boyfriend into a frog when I’d been trying to conjure breakfast in bed. Complete accident, though my sister claimed he was better in frog form. She wasn’t wrong. So, for the next two weeks I would look after our family store, hang out with my cat, Hex, and enjoy having the house to myself for once. Peace and quiet and no hinky spell work business.
Then he blew into my store–literally. Michael Endicott the third. Or fourth? Maybe fifth? It didn’t matter. What did matter was that I was staring at my high school crush–who clearly did not remember me. Unfortunately, he still made me forget how to form words into a complete sentence. Seems a vengeful one-night stand had placed a bad luck spell on Michael, and he needed help. My help. I mean, what could go wrong? It was just an easy reversal spell. No problem. Only somehow instead of reversing the spell, I managed to bind us together.
