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240 pages, Paperback
First published December 12, 2012
The women in my family were witches also – obviously – but they were also spastic at times. Much like Clove, Thistle and I, they were ridiculously close. It didn’t help that they ran the bed and breakfast together – and were constantly on each other’s nerves – and at each other’s throats.
“No,” I shook my head. “That’s been our family home since it was built in the 1600s. Witches don’t usually become ghosts.” (p. 19) The Overlook is the biggest house in the county. It’s an old Victorian that the Winchester family built in the early 1900s.(p. 22).
If I came back as a ghost, I’d be bitching like nobody’s business. (p. 140)
“Yes, well, your family hijinks are clearly more important than my recent death.” There it was, the typical
teenage narcissism. One of the many reasons I was wary about ever having children.
“Now,” Clove said primly. “What do you want for lunch?”
“Middle-Eastern.”
“We just had that the other day,” Thistle complained.
“I’m hobbled. Don’t you think I should get the food that I want?”
“Oh, nice. You managed to walk down here fine – I don’t think that you deserve special treatment, especially considering how you hurt yourself.”
“If she wants Middle-Eastern we can have Middle-Eastern,” Clove caved.
“You always take her side,” Thistle muttered. “I don’t want Middle-Eastern.”
“What do you want?”
“Mexican.”
“Uh,” I groaned. “I don’t want Mexican today.”
Clove glared at us both. “You’re going to have to decide.”
“You’re the tiebreaker,” Thistle said.
“I don’t want to be the tiebreaker,” she argued.
I stuck my lower lip out and dramatically rubbed my ankle when she glanced over at me. “Fine, Middle-Eastern it is.”
Thistle opened her mouth to protest.
“We’ll get Mexican tomorrow,” Clove added.
Thistle didn’t look like she was entirely placated, but she also didn’t look like she wanted to engage in World War III over lunch – and I was prepared to dig my heels in.(p. 202)