The Solstice Swap (The Solstice Swap Duology #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

If one more person told Andrea Wickham that “everything happens for a reason,” she was going to flip her broomstick and go full-blown Wicked Witch of the West. Now if only she had some flying monkeys at her disposal.

She wouldn’t need many. Two, maybe three.

However many it would take to carry her cheating oaf of an ex-boyfriend off to Oz.

With a frown, she slid a glance over to a glass cake stand where three perfect pecan-apple tarts perched, overlooking the dine-in area of her chic patisserie.

The shop was not yet open for business, and with a flick of her hand, she levitated one of the tarts into the air, letting it spin slowly as she admired the way the shafts of light from the overhead pendants bounced off the caramelized glaze.

She was also contemplating how satisfying it would be to hurl the tart full speed at said ex-boyfriend and notable food critic, William Noble.

An ill-fitting surname, to be sure.

Behind her, the door to the kitchen squeaked open, and Andrea jolted. Her magical hold on the floating tart slipped as she spun around toward the sound, and the pastry buzzed past her business manager’s head and hit the wall beside the door with a thud.

Paige Farrow jumped at the near-miss, but quickly recovered and considered the pile of crumbs littering the parquet floor before frowning up at Andrea.

“If you want to play target practice with the pastries, might I suggest the banana cream tarts instead? Pecans are hellishly expensive this time of year.”

A tiny smile jerked at one side of Andrea’s lips. “I suppose the whipped cream would make for a more satisfying splat.”

“Hmm. But you’ll be on the hook to leave an extra big tip for the cleaning staff,” Paige returned dryly.

“Done. Bring on the banana cream tarts!”

Paige, still considering the mess of crumbs and sugared pecans, folded her arms over the large iPad that seemed glued to her fingertips at all times.

Although she was the shop’s manager, she wore the same short-sleeved chef’s coat as everyone else at Sunset Sweets, the fabric dyed a plum-hued purple, to match the elegant patisserie’s interior.

It also happened to be a color that was flattering on a variety of skin tones, a small detail, but important to Andrea nonetheless.

Paige wore the look well, with her subtle curves, fair skin, and platinum blonde pixie cut.

“I’m assuming this—” she gestured to the mess at her feet, “—is Billy’s fault?”

Andrea winced. “Don’t call him that.”

“But that’s his name…?” Paige’s brows knitted closer together. They were micro-bladed, like every other woman in LA. Pop culture trends didn’t stop at the magical border between the City of Angels and its secret magical district, known colloquially as Hecate’s Kitchen.

“His name is William,” Andrea replied, tossing her head to shake back her short blonde hair, the ends just long enough to brush the collar of her own chef’s coat.

“Or Mr. Noble, if you prefer. I would also accept ‘that cheating-rat-bastard from Magic Bites,’ though I doubt he’ll be stupid enough to come back here in his official capacity. ”

Paige gave a slow nod, as though considering how deeply she wanted to wade into these particular waters. “What happened now?”

“I just got off the phone with my mother,” Andrea replied, her tone clipped. “She called to ask for my advice on what to get William for Christmas.”

“She doesn’t know about the breakup?”

Andrea breathed a dry laugh. “She does now. Do you know what she said when I told her he was cheating on me? She asked how often I was ‘putting out,’ to borrow her oh-so-charming phrase. Oh, and then she said I should consider rejoining the gym and cutting back on the sweets.”

Paige muttered a curse under her breath.

“Yeah,” Andrea scoffed. “It was a new low for her, to be sure. But hey, on the bright side, any lingering guilt I had over not spending the holiday with her this year is now magically gone!”

“Andi,” Paige started, drawing out the nickname in a way that grated at Andrea’s nerves.

Andrea straightened and shook her shoulders, as though dusting off her mother’s uncharitable words. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just needed a little stress relief—” She looked down at the destroyed tart and began to conjure a spell to gather the crumbs.

“I’ve got it,” Paige said, taking over before the spell could finish. She set her iPad on the counter and squatted down and used her hand to scoop up the mess. Paige was a witch, too, but her magic wasn’t very strong. Andrea could count on both hands the times she’d seen her use it over the years.

“You need to get ready for your interview,” Paige added, giving Andrea a glance as she swept up the mess. “There isn’t time to worry about Billy—I mean, William—or your mother today.”

Andrea exhaled. “I know, I know.”

“Now, the focus is on the book, of course,” Paige continued. “But they did send over the questions and some of them are about your personal holiday traditions and plans.”

Andrea’s frown deepened. “Hmm. You think they want to hear about my plan to drown myself in a pool of merlot and watch slasher flicks until New Year’s? What was the name of that one everyone was talking about this summer? I never did get around to seeing it.”

Paige stood to her full height and took the cupped mess to the nearest trash. “Andi…”

“What? I heard the special effects were quite good.” Andrea shrugged. “And I’m certainly not in the mood for sappy holiday rom-coms.”

“Just tell them you plan to make sugar cookies for all of your neighbors and that you’re whisking your friends and family away for a magical ski trip in Tahoe, all right?”

Andrea smiled. “Are you my PR person now, too?”

Paige brushed her hands together, ridding them of any final crumbs.

“We both know you’re not paying me enough for that.

I just happened to be the one who answered the phone when they called to make sure you got the confirmation email, and promised to pass on the message.

” Paige retrieved her iPad from the front counter and tapped the screen a few times.

“There was one other thing—oh, right, they want an exclusive recipe preview from the upcoming book.”

Andrea snorted a humorless laugh. “That was ballsy.”

Paige hesitated, her finger over the tablet’s virtual keyboard. “Is that a ‘no,’ then?”

The pit in Andrea’s stomach yawned open a little wider as she envisioned the tangled mess of half-finished recipes and scribbled notes strewn across the L-shaped desk in her home office, making the array look like a murder board from a crime show.

Except she was the one in danger of getting bumped off.

At the very least, her agent, editor, and publisher all had her on their naughty lists.

She was on her third—and supposedly final—extension with the publishing house, and at a complete standstill.

Her creative muse had packed up and left for Christmas vacation weeks ago, even before this mess with William.

She was beginning to wonder if it was less of a vacation and more of a complete abandonment.

Could she get away with offering a recipe from her last cookbook? Would anyone notice if it was a duplicate? Her editor would, but a monthly food magazine surely wouldn’t have time to double-check such things.

Would they?

Paige cleared her throat, still waiting for an answer.

“I—I’ll get something together before Cliff gets here,” Andrea replied, hoping Paige wouldn’t notice the cold sweat that broke out along her brow. “Can we boost the AC? I swear, Mother Gaia did not get the memo that it’s officially December.”

A glance through the shop’s front windows revealed the sun-drenched streets, with a forecast set to be in the mid-70s.

It would be impossible to know it was Christmastime if not for the festive decorations on every building and lamppost—glittering lights in a myriad of colors, enchanted snowflakes set to fall each evening at dusk, and every streetlight and parking meter wrapped in shiny ribbons and garlands.

“Are you sure you don’t want some time off?” Paige asked, drawing Andrea out of her anxious thoughts before they could spiral into full-on panic. “No one would blame you. The goddess knows you don’t take personal time. You’re well past due as far as I, or anyone else here, is concerned.”

Andrea forced a winning smile—the one her mother had made her perfect before she left elementary school, thanks to her time in the Little Miss Witch pageant circuit. “I’m fine. I can handle it. William isn’t worth another thought, honestly.”

Paige’s lips twisted to one side. “Andi, you two were together for almost four years. That’s longer than my parents’ marriage lasted.

It’s okay to be sad and need some alone time.

You should actually go to Lake Tahoe, you know, curl up in one of those gorgeous lodges, drink hot toddies, and flirt shamelessly with a ski instructor.

I get that you’re mad at her right now, but I’m sure your mom would love a festive girls’ trip. ”

Andrea shuddered involuntarily. “Yeah, so, we won’t be doing that. She’d just whine about me quote-unquote losing William. Besides, I already took her on a trip this year.”

Paige arched a perfect brow. “That wasn’t a trip, Andi. It was your book signing in Chicago. In February.”

Andrea tossed her hair once more and adjusted the collar of her chef’s coat. “The hotel had an indoor pool.”

Paige snorted. “I meant something like an actual vacation. If you don’t like the snow, you could go somewhere warm. Someplace with sand and fruity little drinks and cabana boys. Er, cabana men? Boys sounds slightly icky, doesn’t it?”

With a dry laugh, Andrea batted away the suggestion. “Be serious. That’s the last thing I need. Besides, knowing my mother, she’d spend the entire trip day-drinking and hitting on the whole fleet of cabana men until we were oh-so-politely asked to leave by hotel management.”