Clarissa's Manster

Clarissa’s from a long line of self-proclaimed witches, so when her great-aunt leaves her a sprawling eight bedroom McMansion in Manitou Springs—a Colorado mountain town thick with supernatural energy—she creates an occult-themed B&B that will attract visitors from across the country. But first, a soft opening and a girl’s weekend where she leads her friends through a spell where they manifest their perfect partner.

Dallas is a nomad, a drifter, a beach bum in the summer, and a ski bum in the winter with a job and a bank account that allows him to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and wherever he wants. He doesn’t know what drew him to the paranormal B&B versus an extended stay hotel, but the moment the innkeeper opened the door, he knew he found a place to settle his wandering spirit. Clarissa is like no woman he’s ever met, and while her witchy vibes are adorable, he’s not sure he believes in witchcraft, but he does believe in her.

She never expected him—the one man he’s been dreaming of since she was a teenager—to knock at her door. Picture perfect down to the small scar on his chin and his big hands, he’s everything she’s asked the goddess to bring her, but when he tells her he’s a non-believer, can she trust what’s standing in front of her?

I’m cursed.

I mean, I knew I was cursed in love. My grandmother and aunt told me when I was six and came home with a declaration of love for Bobby Pond. 

I remember the day they sat me down and the words they said: Clarissa, you may one day find contentment with another, just like I did with your grandfather and your mother with her husband. You’ll have rich and meaningful friendships throughout your life, but if you embrace your powers and practice your gift, you will never know the soul-deep love of another. It’s the price our ancestors paid to imbue our feminine line with the Goddess’ blessings.

I didn’t understand the choice I was making at the time, practicing the craft with my aunt whenever my mom wasn’t around. She refused her gift after my father died—a man she truly loved. I don’t remember him, but after he died, she moved us away, settling twenty miles away in Spring City. There she remarried and had more kids—my half-sisters—but if my aunt was right, she’s never been in love with the guy I grew up calling dad.

But that’s not the curse I’m talking about right now. 

I’m talking about the recent string of bad luck inflicting my home—a structure with a long magickal history.

First thing, right after my girlfriends left on Monday, my water heater died. Then, when I plugged in a new toaster, my fuse box surged and blew most of its fuses, frying two wires. I’m lucky the entire house didn’t go up in flames. 

That was the last three days. This morning, my computer started beeping, letting me know my brand new website’s chat function is live. Then my phone started ringing. Now there’s somebody knocking at my door, but considering I have water spraying all over the guest bathroom, I can’t answer any of it.

I haven’t even had my coffee yet.

“Hello?” A deep voice, smooth like melted butter, calls from my front door and above my head, my spirit guide, Nayla, whispers, answer him. 

I roll my eyes at her and yell, “Are you a plumber?” I’m in absolutely no mood for Nayla’s nonsense as I attempt to tie the towel around the copper pipe. “If not, come back later.” 

“Can I give you a hand?” Startled, I turn to find a man—tall and broad with dark hair and golden eyes—smiling at me from my bathroom doorway, his arms crossed over his wide chest.

“The pipe started leaking this morning, and every time I touch it, it gets worse.”

“Do you know where your main shut-off valve is?”

I bite my lip. “I think it’s in the basement, but honestly, I don’t know where.”

“Do you mind?” He waves his hand toward the rest of the house. 

I exhale a heavy sigh of relief. “There’s a door to the left of the staircase that will lead you to the basement. It’s a bit of a mess down there, so I apologize.”

He nods, a small dimple revealing itself in his left cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Blessed be. I’ve invited a potential serial killer into my house, letting him scope out my basement to see where he can bury my body later, but at this moment I feel too stupid to care. I should know something as basic as where the main water valve is.

Next week is the grand opening of my occult-themed B&B, and things have been breaking ever since my girlfriends left our spooktastic weekend. It’s almost like some unseen force doesn’t want me hosting strangers in this house, which makes no sense. When my aunt was alive, she was a very welcoming individual, and according to the neighbors, threw the best parties. 

I’ve been racking my brain all night trying to figure out what I did this past weekend to upset the balance of the house, considering I’ve had no problems since I moved in almost eight months ago. Outside of laughing with my girlfriends, lots of drinks and good food, the only thing I can think of is the attraction spells we cast on Sunday night. But for the life of me, I can’t think why that would affect this house—unless…

“You can let go now.”

Mister tall, dark, and handsome reappears in my bathroom doorway. I pull the towel away from the pipe that was hemorrhaging water for the last fifteen minutes to find it near dry.

What the hell?

“Do you want me to take a look?”

I step out of the tub. “If you want to. Are you a plumber?”

“Not a licensed plumber, but I’ve dabbled in a bit of everything.” He kicks his shoes off and then removes his socks, stepping barefoot into my tub. 

“It appears you have a crack in your pipe. It looks old, actually. I wonder why it started spewing water today?”

Thinking about it, I roll my eyes and slump against the door frame. “Because I’m a dumb ass. I’m getting ready for my grand opening, and I noticed a piece of tape on the pipe. I thought it looked tacky, so I pulled it off to make everything pretty last night, not realizing it was serving a function.”

He tilts his head and looks at the pipe again. “That’s odd.”

“What’s odd about it?”

“Well, this pipe only fills with water when you turn the shower on, and considering you’re dressed, you obviously didn’t do that. And if you pulled the tape off last night, why did it only start leaking fifteen minutes ago?”

“I don’t know.”

He continues, “Come to think of it, shutting off the water main should’ve had no effect on this, because it’s not possible for this pipe to be randomly spewing water.”

I motion to my shirt and my hair, both of which are drenched. “Clearly it was a gushing fountain.”

His eyes zero in on my chest, and he grabs a dry towel from the bar, handing it to me. I look down and realize I’m flashing serious nipple in a shirt that is near see-through. 

“Dammit,” I mutter and cover my chest. It’s only then that his words register in my brain. “Wait. How do you know this has been going on for the last fifteen minutes?”

“Because I’ve been messaging and calling you for that long.”

“All those messages are yours?” 

“Probably.”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

He steps out of the tub and wipes his hands on his jeans before offering one to me. “My name is Dallas. I saw an ad for your B&B, and it intrigued me. I was hoping you had a room.”

“Clarissa.” Electricity shoots up my arm as soon as our palms touch, an otherworldly sensation running through my veins. My breath hitches, and my voice cracks. “I’m not open until next week, and at this point, Goddess knows if I will be.”

“Do you have a trusty handyman on speed dial?”

I frown as he drops my hand, the sensation vanishing. “Finding qualified, reliable, and honest workmen has been a chore since I inherited this house. I’ve had a couple people in and out, but no one I can trust to be here time and time again.”

He smiles. “Well then, can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

Blessed be. He’s confident and smooth, casual and easy, as if we’ve known each other our whole lives. Still, a woman can never be too careful. I arch my brow conspiratorially. “Are you a serial killer?”

He’s not a serial killer, Nayla tsks. 

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “I’ve done a lot of things in my thirty-three years on this planet, but that is not one of them.”

Told you so, Nayla muses. 

In my head, I roll my eyes at her. After years of practice, I’m used to hiding our relationship from strangers. “I have coffee in the kitchen. Would you like a cup?”

“I’d love it.”