Love Spelled Out, page 1
LOVE SPELLED OUT
THE BEWITCHED & BEWILDERED SERIES
BOOK TWO
ISABEL MICHEALS
Copyright © 2025 by Isabel Micheals
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.
This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.
The Author of this Book has been granted permission by Robyn Peterman to use the copyrighted characters and/or worlds created by Robyn Peterman in this book. All copyright protection to the original characters and/or worlds of the Magic and Mayhem series is retained by Robyn Peterman.
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CONTENTS
Foreword
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Note from the Author
About the Author
FOREWORD
Blast Off with us into the Magic and Mayhem Universe!
I’m Robyn Peterman, the creator of the Magic and Mayhem Series and I’d like to invite you to my Magic and Mayhem Universe.
What is the Magic and Mayhem Universe, you may ask?
Well, let me explain…
It’s basically authorized fan fiction written by some amazing authors that I stalked and blackmailed! KIDDING! I was lucky and blessed to have some brilliant authors say yes! They have written brand new stories using my world and some of my characters. And let me tell you…the results are hilarious!
So here it is! Blast off with us into the hilarious Magic and Mayhem Universe. Side splitting books by fantabulous authors! Check out each and every one. You will laugh your way to a magical HEA!
For all the stories, go to https://magicandmayhemuniverse.com/. Grab your copy today!
And if you would like to read the book that started all the madness, Switching Hour is FREE!
https://robynpeterman.com/switching-hour/
BOOK DESCRIPTION
She sees everyone's future but her own. He trusts facts, not fortune-tellers. The fate of their town depends on them working together—if they don't kill each other first.
In Assjacket, where the mayor's hat has its own agenda and pastries can be weaponized, fortune-teller Delilah Hart finds herself stuck with the one man she can't read: Sam Wolfe, grumpy werewolf detective extraordinaire.
Someone's stealing magical artifacts across town, and this reluctant duo must set aside their differences (and Sam's allergic reaction to "woo-woo nonsense") to crack the case. But when their investigation reveals a silver-haired witch with sinister plans, they discover their magical connection might be exactly what makes them targets.
With a sudden transformation turning Sam into the world's most dignified puppy, a mysterious melody haunting the townspeople, and magical resonance that makes sparks fly—literally—Delilah and Sam are in for one hell of a ride.
Solving the case is complicated enough without catching feelings... especially when those feelings might be exactly what their enemy wants.
1
Crystal-tinged light danced across the worn floorboards of Crystal Clear Visions as Delilah Hart arranged her scrying tools. The morning sun caught in dozens of hanging crystals, painting rainbows across the cramped consultation space. Her fingers lingered on a polished obsidian sphere before selecting a small silver pendulum instead.
"I'm terribly sorry about the mess," Delilah said, nudging aside a stack of tarot cards with her elbow. "Spring cleaning got interrupted by an emergency vision about Mr. Peabody's missing dentures. Turned out they were in his koi pond. Don't ask."
Mrs. Shufflewick perched on the edge of her chair, spine ramrod straight, silver bun gleaming in the prismatic light. Her tweed suit had begun showing faint traces of lace at the cuffs—a sure sign she was channeling Miss Havisham from Great Expectations.
"I've never consulted a... psychic before," Mrs. Shufflewick whispered, pronouncing "psychic" as if it were a mildly scandalous word.
"Clairvoyant," Delilah corrected gently. "And don't worry, your wedding ring wants to be found as much as you want to find it."
A loud crash from the corner made both women jump. Jinxie, Delilah's calico cat, had leapt onto a shelf and sent a row of crystal balls rolling. The three-legged feline looked entirely unapologetic, mismatched eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Jinxie! We've discussed this," Delilah scolded, but the cat merely began grooming her paw with imperial indifference.
Mrs. Shufflewick clutched her handbag tighter. "Perhaps this was a mistake. I should try the lost and found at the library again."
"The spirits don't need tidiness to communicate, Mrs. Shufflewick—they just need an open mind and someone who can hear them over the sound of falling crystal balls." Delilah extended her hand. "May I see your other rings? It'll help me connect with the missing one."
Hesitantly, Mrs. Shufflewick removed two rings from her right hand and placed them in Delilah's palm. The moment of contact sent a jolt up Delilah's arm—the familiar precursor to a vision.
The shop dimmed around her as images flashed behind her eyes: gardening gloves, dark soil, a ceramic gnome with a chipped hat, moonlight on silver.
"You were gardening three nights ago," Delilah said, eyes still closed. "Planting something that blooms at night... evening primrose? You took off your ring because the soil was getting underneath it."
Mrs. Shufflewick gasped. "Yes! In my night garden!"
"There's a gnome," Delilah continued, the vision sharpening. "The one with the broken hat. Your ring is buried at his feet, about two inches down."
The vision released her with a snap that left a dull throb behind her eyes. Delilah blinked, the familiar post-vision headache beginning to build.
"That's... extraordinary," Mrs. Shufflewick whispered, her outfit now sporting full Victorian lace cuffs. "Herbert gave me that ring forty-three years ago."
Jinxie chose that moment to knock a bottle of lavender oil onto the floor, filling the shop with calming scent.
After Mrs. Shufflewick departed with profuse thanks and a generous payment, Delilah added the cash to a disappointingly small pile in her register. Bills were piling up faster than clients these days.
She glanced at the wall of testimonials—handwritten notes, newspaper clippings, and photographs of grateful clients. Mayor Grimble's florid handwriting stood out on expensive municipal letterhead: "Miss Hart's extraordinary talents recovered my lucky governing gavel, without which Assjacket would surely have fallen into administrative chaos! Her services to this municipality cannot be overstated!"
Delilah smiled despite her headache. The mayor had been wearing his "crisis containment" bowler hat when he'd picked it up—complete with miniature sandbags around the brim.
Jinxie meowed loudly from atop the bookshelf, where she'd somehow managed to climb despite her three-legged status.
"I know," Delilah sighed. "One satisfied customer doesn't pay the electric bill. But it's a start."
The bell above the door of Bread of Heaven chimed a cheerful G-major chord as Delilah entered—her mood apparently registering as "cautiously optimistic" on Fabio's enchanted doorway. The bakery enveloped her in warmth, cinnamon, and the distinct scent of magic-infused sourdough.
"You're late, darling!" Fabio called from behind the counter, his auburn hair dusted with flour that somehow made him look more glamorous rather than messy. "The others are already dissecting Ivy's garden drama."
"Sorry," Delilah weaved between tables where pastries occasionally floated a few inches above their plates. "Client emergency. Missing wedding ring in a gnome garden."
In their usual corner booth—protected by a privacy charm that shimmered like heat waves around the edges—Zelda and Ivy were already deep in conversation. A half-eaten selection of pastries crowded the table, including Fabio's infamous Mood Muffins, which changed flavor based on what the eater needed most.
"There she is!" Zelda's green eyes sparkled as she waved Delilah over. "We were about to send a tracking spell. How was the date with Accounting Guy?"
Delilah groaned, sliding into the booth. "Pass me a Mood Muffin before I have to relive that disaster."
Ivy pushed a plate toward her, eyebrow raised. "That bad?"
"It was going great until I accidentally predicted his kidney stones... in explicit detail... during dessert." Delilah bit into the muffin, which immediately tasted like chocolate-covered strawberries—comfort food with a hint of optimism.
"No!" Ivy's freckles seemed to darken with her sympathetic wince.
"Oh yes. I got a vision when our hands touched over the check. I tried playing it off as a medical intuition thing, but when I mentioned the exact size and which kidney—"
"He bolted?" Zelda finished, licking buttercream from her fingers.
"Faster than Fabio at a clearance sale."
From behind the counter, Fabio shouted, "I heard that, Miss Hart! And I'll have you know I got these shoes at seventy percent off, which practically makes them an investment!"
The dough he was kneading briefly flashed indignant pink before settling back to a pleased golden hue.
Ivy leaned forward, her flowing sleeves narrowly missing a hovering éclair. "Speaking of predictions, my moonflowers are showing the strangest resonance patterns. Similar to when I first met Rafe, but stronger, like they're responding to something bigger."
"Magical amplification?" Zelda asked, suddenly serious.
"Maybe. Rafe thinks it might be connected to—"
The bell chimed again, this time playing a warm, earthy melody as Mac ducked through the doorway. His tall frame and broad shoulders made the bakery seem suddenly smaller.
"Ladies," he nodded, heading toward their table, his sapphire blue eyes landing warmly on Zelda. "Fabio, the usual please."
"One Shifter Special coming up, handsome!" Fabio called, dough instantly forming into paw print shapes.
Mac stopped at their booth, "Good to see you, Dee. Heard you found Mrs. Shufflewick's ring. Nice work."
"Just doing my job," Delilah smiled, noting how different Mac was from most shifters she'd met—calming rather than intimidating.
"Actually," Mac lowered his voice, "we've had reports of magical items going missing all over town. Nothing major yet, but if you notice anything unusual..."
Zelda exchanged a quick glance with Ivy. "The resonance patterns..."
"Could be related," Ivy nodded.
"I might need your help soon, Delilah," Zelda said, stirring her tea with a cinnamon stick that dissolved into tiny sparkles. "Something's shifting in Assjacket's magical fabric."
"Isn't something always shifting in this town?" Delilah sighed, but her second bite of muffin suddenly tasted like black coffee and determination—her taste buds apparently more honest than her casual tone.
Delilah climbed the narrow staircase to her apartment, each step creaking its own distinctive note—a peculiar melody she'd grown to find comforting. The afternoon sunlight filtered through her dormer windows, casting prismatic rainbows across the mismatched furniture as it passed through hanging crystals.
"Home sweet chaos," she murmured, dropping her bag on a velvet armchair that had once belonged to a Victorian medium.
Jinxie announced her presence with an imperious meow from atop a stack of divination books. The calico stretched her three legs in sequence before hopping down to weave between Delilah's ankles.
"Yes, I missed you too, despite seeing you literally four hours ago." Delilah bent to scratch behind the cat's mismatched eyes. "Mrs. Shufflewick says hello. Actually, she said you were 'delightfully peculiar,' which coming from a woman who collects garden gnomes is quite the compliment."
Jinxie purred, then abruptly trotted off to bat at a forgotten catnip mouse under the coffee table.
Delilah moved to her collection of houseplants crowding the windowsill—a spider plant with babies cascading down like falling stars, a temperamental African violet, and a pothos whose vines had been trained to spell "BREATHE" along the wall.
"Breakfast was informative," she told the violet as she misted it. "Ivy's plants are acting up again, which means something magical is brewing. Last time that happened, she met Rafe and got her happily ever after."
The violet's leaves seemed to perk up.
"Don't get excited. That's not happening for me." She moved to the pothos. "I'm perfectly content with my glamorous life of finding lost objects and talking to houseplants."
From across the room, Jinxie made a sound suspiciously like a snort.
Delilah settled at her small desk, opening her client journal. "I need to organize these files before I forget the details. Mrs. Shufflewick's ring had residual energy from her garden. Mr. Thornwood's missing spectacles were in his—"
A sharp pain stabbed behind her left eye. Delilah dropped her pen, recognizing the familiar pressure building in her temples.
"Not now," she whispered, but the vision was already pulling her under like a riptide.
A weathered brass compass resting on dark wood, its needle spinning wildly. The background resolves into Moonlit Brews' back room. The compass glows with an inner light, pulsing in time with something unseen. Two shadows stretch across the table, merging at the edges, though their owners remain just out of sight. The compass needle suddenly stops, pointing not north but directly at the joined shadows. A crack appears across the glass, spreading like a spiderweb. Danger. Protection. Loss. Connection.
The vision released her with a gasp. Delilah found herself on the floor, Jinxie patting her face with gentle paws. The pain behind her eyes throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
"That's new," she muttered, crawling to the kitchen for her migraine medication. "I can see everyone's path but my own, which is probably why I keep tripping over Jinxie's toys."
The cat made an offended noise.
"Sorry, not your fault." Delilah swallowed the pills dry. "But that compass... it's important. And those shadows..."
Jinxie hopped onto the counter and pawed at Delilah's phone.
"You think I should call someone? Who? Zelda? Mac?"
The cat stared at her with mismatched eyes that somehow managed to convey extreme judgment.
"Fine. I'll go to Moonlit Brews myself." Delilah massaged her temples. "But if this turns into another 'Delilah gets involved in magical trouble' situation, I'm blaming you."
Jinxie purred, looking entirely too pleased with herself, and knocked a business card off the counter. It landed face up, revealing the embossed logo of the Shifter Security Agency.
"Subtle, Jinx. Real subtle." Delilah picked up the card, studying it with a frown. "Since when are you Team Werewolf anyway?"
The back room of Moonlit Brews hummed with tension. Five shifters hunched around a circular table, their faces illuminated by enchanted lamps that cast an eerie blue glow across the cards. The lamps weren't just for atmosphere—they revealed marked cards to those who knew how to look, a fact Sam Wolfe was counting on tonight.
Sam kept his expression neutral as he studied his cards. Three kings. Not bad, but his real focus was on the brass compass sitting innocuously beside the pot. The artifact had been reported stolen last week, and now here it was, being used as collateral in a high-stakes game.
"I'll raise," he said, sliding chips forward. His enhanced senses picked up the elevated heartbeats around the table, the subtle scents of anxiety and excitement.
Mac, positioned at the bar as backup, wiped a glass with exaggerated care. Their eyes met briefly—everything was proceeding according to plan.
"Too rich for my blood," muttered a lanky shifter with patchy facial hair, folding his cards.
The bulky man across from Sam—Decker, their primary suspect—grinned, revealing canines slightly too sharp for human comfort. "Call. And I'll throw in something special." He placed a small velvet pouch beside the compass. "Family heirloom. Worth more than money to the right buyer."
Sam's pulse quickened. If that pouch contained what he suspected—
The door burst open with a bang that made every shifter at the table flinch.
Delilah Hart stood in the doorway, her hair wild as if she'd run the whole way, eyes locked on the compass. Without hesitation, she strode to the table and snatched it up.
"Sorry, gentlemen. This isn't yours to play with."
For three heartbeats, nobody moved. Then chaos erupted.
