Everyone has a secret or two. Mine is that I’m a white witch who grants wishes.

Not the coin-in-a-fountain, sparkles-and-glitter kind. Real wishes. Deep, soul-rooted ones that tug at the seams of a person’s life. Being a white witch means no curses, no hexes, and definitely no dramatic magical displays. My work is quiet. Gentle. Powerful.

And, yes, it comes with rules.

And my black terrier familiar, Lucky, is convinced I have a problem with following them. To be honest, I do go off script, but only when necessary, and it is tiresome to have your dog constantly tell you how much smarter he is. Yes, Lucky can talk—though only I can hear him—and right now his voice is tight with disapproval as I grab my bag from the hallway hook.

“Patience O’Reilly, as you very well know, that’s not how this works. We have a plan.”

I wince at the use of my full name. “Yes, I know, but this woman sounds desperate.”

He rolls his eyes. “Everyone is desperate to have their wish granted.”

I pause at the door, my fingers resting on the knob. “That’s true, but something about this mystery calls me to act now.”

“How convenient, but you simply can’t change your mind this way. It’s not how wishes are selected.”

I close my eyes, breathe in the cedar-and-cinnamon scent of my little cottage, and steady my pulse. Lucky’s right—there are procedures for deciding which wishes are granted, so we don’t waste our time on the selfish or frivolous requests. I was a private investigator before I found my calling, and I respect a good checklist. But sometimes a witch has to put her foot down.

C. A. Phipps is a USA Today best-selling author from beautiful New Zealand. An empty-nester, Cheryl lives in a small town with her wonderful husband, ‘himself’. Her extended family keeps her busy, and when she’s not writing, there is just enough space for a crazy mixed-breed dog who stole her heart! She enjoys spending time with family, baking, and her quest for the perfect latte.

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