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    The Scarecrow & Ms. Moon
    The Scarecrow & Ms. Moon
    The Scarecrow & Ms. Moon
    Ebook86 pages1 hour

    The Scarecrow & Ms. Moon

    By Barbara Raffin

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    About this ebook

    From Award-Winning author, Barbara Raffin, enjoy the hauntingly humorous The Scarecrow & Ms. Moon.

    Never make a witch mad. Jackson Wolfe did and he’s now a scarecrow in her garden. Jessie Moon doesn’t like liars and, in a fit of anger, turned the man she loves into a scarecrow. Now, four months later, she’s exhausted every spell she knows to restore him, been put on probation by her coven, and is still angry at Jackson for lying to her.

    On All Hallows Eve, the coven assembles at Jessie’s house to restore Jackson to his living, human form at the stroke of midnight. But there’s a condition. This is a test for Jessie, a test that will determine whether or not she will be allowed to remain in the coven. Since impulsive anger is this novice witch’s problem, Jessie is given the twenty-four hours of Halloween in which to learn to control her anger and love Jackson enough to let him go or lose her place in the coven.  And one more condition. If she fails, not only will she be cast out of the coven, Jackson will be turned back into a scarecrow…forever.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBarbara Raffin
    Release dateSep 22, 2013
    ISBN9781536584660
    The Scarecrow & Ms. Moon
    Author

    Barbara Raffin

    Award-Winning author, Barbara Raffin, grew up a country girl, but loves to visit the big city and live the hurried pace now and then. Blessed with a vivid imagination, she’s created stories and adventures in one form or another for as long as she can remember. But it is a love exploring the human psyche, telling stories, and making her readers laugh and cry that keeps her writing. Whether a romantic romp or gothic-flavored paranormal, her books have one common denominator: characters who are wounded, passionate, and searching for love. When not writing or reading, you'll find Barbara playing with her Keeshonden Katie and Slippers. Find her on Facebook and you'll find plenty of pictures of her pups mugging for the camera or running an agility course. Visit Barbara’s web site to learn more about her and her books. www.BarbaraRaffin.com  Signing up for her newsletter http://eepurl.com/bZPt69 will get you a free read and insider news.

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      Book preview

      The Scarecrow & Ms. Moon - Barbara Raffin

      About the Book

      From award-winning author of the St. John Sibling series, Paranormal Romance The Scarecrow & Ms. Moon

      ––––––––

      When Bliss O'Hara's perfect hero walks off the pages of her latest novel and into her life, it's to accuse her of stealing his life.

      ––––––––

      But Former Navy SEAL Jake St. John’s confrontation backfires as the solution is to work with Bliss to edit out anything troublesome to his Saint Security.

      ––––––––

      One missing brother, an ambush that puts them in the middle of a gunfight, and an attempted kidnapping by a secret society later, Jake realizes Bliss isn't a thief but likely his salvation. All he has to do is get past his belief that he's too broken to mend.

      Also by Barbara Raffin

      ––––––––

      Contemporary Works

      ––––––––

      Taming Tess: St. John Sibling Series: Book 1

      Finding Home: St. John Sibling Series: Book 2

      Craving a Hero: St John Sibling Series: Book 3

      Seeking Bliss: St. John Sibling Series: Book 4

      Saving Andi: St. John Sibling: FRIENDS series

      The Mating Game

      The Sting of Love (short story)

      ––––––––

      Paranormal/Suspense Works

      ––––––––

      The Scarecrow & Ms. Moon (novella)

      Jaded (novella)

      The Visitor

      Time Out of Mind

      Wolfsong

      ––––––––

      Historical Works

      ––––––––

      The Indentured Heart

      Connect with Barbara Raffin

      Website: http://barbararaffin.com/

      Blog: http://barbararaffin.com/barbsblog/

      Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/BarbaraRaffinAuthor

      Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bZPt69

      Chapter One

      Be loyal in love, but if he is not then forget him.

      ~The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Wicca and Witchcraft, Third Edition

      by Denise Zimmermann and Katherine A. Gleason

      ––––––––

      A blood red moon one sliver shy of full cast long shadows from the broken, barren corn stalks, darkening the dirt path I paced. But, in spite of the deep shadows, tripping didn’t even enter my mind. I, Jessie Moon, had been pacing the same path long enough to have ground any fallen stalk, leaf or cob into mulch.

      I paused in mid-turn at the end of the corn rows and peered up at the rising moon. Time was running out. Briefly, I wondered what more trouble could I be in if I wasn’t prepared when the others arrived.

      Not eager to find out, I sighed and strode back to where the scarecrow hung from his perch. Drawing a shoulder-squaring breath, I faced the pole on which I’d hung him more than four months ago.

      This is your fault, I muttered at the weathered biker boots he wore. I slid my gaze up faded, frayed jeans, stopping on a split just above his right knee. I stared at the straw poking through the only rip that had been there when I’d hung him out. But four plus months of sun, rain, and wind had wreaked havoc on denim that had already been well worn.

      Well-worn in more than one sense of the word. I could almost remember how the long legs had filled out those jeans—could almost still feel... In an attempt to divert my carnal thoughts, I lifted my attention to the hay raggedly fanned from the plaid, flannel shirtsleeves. But that only reminded me of long, thick fingers toying with my long, dark hair and a deep, back-of-the-throat voice teasing, Paint it purple and pierce every inch of your body, but those doe brown eyes of yours, cupcake, will still give you away.

      My heart stuttered at the memory. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to press my cheek against the scarecrow’s black t-shirt and feel the warmth of flesh beneath. But a light autumn breeze fluttered the draped flannel shirt across the dozens of straw tufts sprouting from tiny holes in the rotting cotton. There would be no warmth beneath that t-shirt. There hadn’t been since—

      That night just over four months ago.

      Don’t linger.

      But I was lost in my battle of memories. Most good. One very bad.

      I closed my eyes. Which did I want to remember? The bad one justified all that had gone wrong these past months. The fight prompted by his lie. And I’d known he was lying when he hadn’t been able to face me. Where was he going that night that he’d had to lie to me? Such falseness was as good as being disloyal. And I hadn’t wanted him to be disloyal to me. Not him.

      I opened my eyes and looked up into his angry, blue pair. Okay, moonlight washed out all color so they were gray at the moment. But, in sunlight, they were blue. In any light they were angry, and that wasn’t just my take on them. Mrs. Kozakowski, my nosy neighbor, had commented the same when she’d folded her arms imperiously over the fence separating our yards and watched me hang him up. I really needed to put up a taller fence.

      Planting my hands on my hips, I glared into the angry eyes of my scarecrow and howled, "Every tormented minute I’ve suffered these past four plus months is your fault! Got it? All your fault!"

      With adrenalin-charged strength, I wrenched the scarecrow off his perch. I swear I heard an ‘ouch’ inside my head. I hoped I had. It would serve him right.

      Taking him by the feet, I dragged him out of the garden and across the yard, surprised that a man of straw could be so heavy. I tugged him up the stairs of my side porch, his head bouncing over each step. I wished I could take the time to enjoy the trio of ouches I heard inside my head, whether real or imagined. But I had a job to do.

      I towed the scarecrow through my kitchen into the dining area, leaving a trail of straw. I tugged and pulled and pushed him up onto the table situated between the couch and kitchen counter. Even with the drop leaves raised, his legs hung over the end. It would have to do.

      A glance at the clock told me I’d wasted far too much time in the garden pondering things long done. I swept up the path of straw we’d left, cleansed the table area, then changed out of my ordinary clothes. Hurrying now, I gathered the necessary accoutrements for the evening.

      Setting out the last candle, I gave my handiwork on the table an appraising once-over.

      The candle between his thighs

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