Kissing the Frog, page 1
Kissing The Frog
VIRGINIA NELSON
Contents
About the Book
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Also by Virginia Nelson
About the Author
More Magic and Mayhem
Copyright © 2023 by Virginia Work
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, but not limited to, the training of or use by artificial intelligence, or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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.
Created with Vellum
Dedicated to Bash, Roro, & Wolfie
About the Book
Teagan Taradiddle didn’t experience teenaged angst about her witchy family—cherished from birth, her parents made sure she had anything she wanted, so long as she stayed safe at home.
But while playing with her favorite golden ball near the swamp one day, she meets a frog who swears he’s a prince. Suddenly, her normally reasonable parents expect her—the princess of priss, as her sisters call her—to bring a stinking, slimy amphibian with her everywhere she goes.
One stupid deal, and Teagan fears she might find herself…Kissing the Frog.
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/
Prologue
Teagan never experienced teenaged angst, so she never understood the movies or television shows which featured kids wanting to get away from their parents. Her parents, Eleanor and James—they were great. After waiting years for the arrival of their precious daughter—and back in the days before a lot of modern fertilization discoveries—they never forgot to be grateful for her. They vowed to give her everything her heart desired. Plus, they were witches, so if they couldn’t buy it, they could use magic to make whatever she wanted.
From her nursery, a room adorned with pastel-colored walls and pastel, plush toys and curtains, Teagan’s world was one of comfort and love. Eleanor spent hours cradling her, whispering sweet lullabies, and gently rocking her to sleep. She taught her child to paint, to help animals, and she enjoyed the baby immensely. The role of mother came easily to Eleanor, and she never had a problem taking Teagan to whatever practice or shopping trip she thought up, so long as they could hang out together. If she was working, sure, she’d get distracted, but when she focused on Teagan, it was magical.
James proved a doting father. He’d play his guitar softly, filling the room with melodies to which Eleanor’s sweet soprano added the perfect counterpoint. The sound of their combined voices wrapped around Teagan like a warm embrace. As she grew, her world expanded, but always within the protective cocoon of her home. Her parents filled her days with books, art supplies, and all sorts of games. Sometimes, her father would travel specifically to find a new treat or treasure for her.
They built their backyard into a magical playground, where Teagan could let her imagination run wild. In the center of the magical playground, there stood a castle, a treehouse nestled high in the branches of an ancient oak tree. The leaves would rustle when Teagan climbed to the highest tower, her secret sanctuary where she could dream and read to her heart’s content. She could be a pirate, a ghost, an adventuring tomb raider—whatever her imagination could create, she could explore in her little magical castle.
Eleanor, a skilled chef, prepared exquisite meals, turning their dining room into a feast of flavors and aromas. Treated to a world of culinary wonders, Teagan’s tastebuds developed to become very sophisticated. Her parents made sure her education included lots of room for the art of cooking and baking from an early age. After all, what good witch can’t brew up spells and concoctions as well as pastry delights? Eleanor claimed it was something her mother always said—though they never went to visit her mother—while she baked cookies with her daughter in the beautiful West Virginia autumns. Their home would fill with the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, wafting through the home on the same gust as laughter and love.
Although her education remained well rounded, it also catered to her needs and interests, tailored specifically each year to include things which captured her interest and encouraged future growth. Eleanor and James hired the very best tutors and teachers, ensuring her well rounded education spared no expense while Teagan never had to leave the safety of their home. Her curiosity was nurtured, and she devoured books on a wide range of subjects—from history to science—and she peppered her parents with endless questions formulated in her clever mind.
Yes, Teagan had whatever she wanted and needed…
So long as she stayed safe at home.
Despite the cocoon of safety and love, Teagan longed for the world beyond their front door. She yearned to feel the sun on her face, the wind through her hair, and the adventure of life beyond the boundaries of their backyard. Whenever she mentioned it or asked questions about traveling, her parents would look at her with this mixture of pride and worry that filled her with guilt. After all, she knew that as their cherished daughter, they’d want her to one day spread her wings and explore the world they spent so much time and energy teaching her about, right?
For literal years of her life, Teagan would lie in her bed and feel the warmth of her parents’ love wrapped around her at night. She knew it created a secure blanket to protect her from all the slings and arrows of the world. Few grew up so cherished beyond measure, so she could close her eyes and dream of her future. Someday, her heart’s desires would lead her on a journey beyond the safety of Assjacket and their home. She’d go out into the world and discover her own adventures, and perhaps, if she was lucky, she’d find a love as deep and enduring as the one she shared with her parents.
Yeah, it wasn’t teenaged angst so much as mid-thirties angst which frustrated Teagan Taradiddle. It turned out that the “blanket of warmth and security” was more like a heavy weight, tying her to their home and their rules. Sure, she could have anything she wanted or dreamed of, could learn anything that perked her interest, and explore the pages of any book she imagined.
But she couldn’t go anywhere. She couldn’t see any of the places she read about, nor meet any of the exciting characters. She wouldn’t live out any of the dangerous adventures, because the worst part about dangerous adventures is the dangerous bit. Her parents wouldn’t recommend she go anywhere or do anything that might provide the slightest risk of woe or malcontent.
Juggling her silver ball from one hand to another, Teagan climbed the stairs to her now somewhat rickety tower in the swampy backyard of her parents’ home. Her cat familiar, Cutie—named when she was far too young to name anything, poor thing—followed her, a silent black shadow as she bitched. “It isn’t fair.”
The familiar snorted. “Life’s not fair, and close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”
“I’m being serious, Cutie,” Teagan said, stomping her synthetic leather moss green modern clog. “Even you have to admit it’s not fair.”
The cat leaped into the windowsill to stretch luxuriously in the afternoon sunshine. A rusty colored leaf fluttered down from the tree to dance in a sunbeam behind him as he slow blinked his large yellow eyes. “I have to admit no such thing. You’ve lived a life of absolute luxury with nothing more dramatic to be concerned with than a hangnail. I hardly think you comprehend fairness, not to mention your dramatics over your situation seem vastly unwarranted. What could you possibly want that you can’t either magic into existence or have your parents fetch for you?”
“That’s just it,” Teagan agreed, flopping down onto a bed-sized, hand-woven square Nordic floor pillow with a grunt of annoyance. “Between filtering through paragraph long descriptions on shopping websi
Two more blinks were the only response the cat deemed worth giving.
“But seriously, you do get me,” Teagan grumbled.
“I do,” Cutie agreed, because although he’d been named when she was a small child, he’d been with her over the intervening years as well. Due to that, he enjoyed a front row seat to the coddling and protecting her parents ensured their princess receive at all times. “You want to stretch your wings.”
In a moment of fury, Teagan tossed her lovely silver ball—made from a glob of aluminum foil she carefully hammered, sanded and polished—out the window. “Why give me wings if I can’t even use them? Why bother teaching me anything at all if I’ll never go anywhere or do anything? Why give me life if I’m never allowed to live?”
Cutie blinked at her, surprised by her emotional outburst. “Oh, Teagan,” he began before going silent, not sure what to say.
“Who is stopping you from spreading your wings, princess, if not yourself?”
Teagan blinked, surprised, her gaze darting around the battered old treehouse. “Who said that?”
“Who said what?” Cutie asked. The cat didn’t seem terrifically interested, though.
“I did,” the voice responded, and Teagan realized it came from outside the window. Leaning out with her hands on the frame, she peered at what used to be her swimming hole—overgrown, riddled with algae and cattails from disuse, like most everything else in her personal playground.
“Who is down there?” she asked, but she couldn’t see anyone around the pond or anywhere else in the back yard.
“Just me, which is a good thing, since you nearly killed me with that silver cannonball,” the unfamiliar voice replied, but Teagan still couldn’t spot the speaker.
Which didn’t make sense. From the distance the voice seemed to be coming from, she should clearly be able to see whoever spoke, yet she saw nothing—just the empty, abandoned and depressing skeletal remains of her sheltered and coddled childhood.
“Come on, Cutie. We need to check this out,” Teagan said, grabbing the cat.
“Check what out?” Cutie replied. “I said I didn’t even hear anything.”
Ignoring him, Teagan hustled down the stairs as quickly as possible, which proved no small feat in the clogs. Once she reached the bottom step, she dropped her feline familiar unceremoniously onto his feet and went back to searching for the source of the voice.
“I’m over here,” the voice offered helpfully.
Teagan pushed past a tangled mass of blackberry bushes before revealing a small well she didn’t remember from her childhood. Which made sense, since the overgrowth of brambles likely had been left as a deterrent for her as a child. The well looked like any wishing well from fairy tales of old—rounded, earthy toned stones held together with mortar in a ring topped by a cheerful triangular rooftop. In the center, where a bar had likely once hung to pull up and down buckets of water, instead there remained nothing—the bucket and wood and rope all long since gone. Besides the well, nothing much else seemed to be hidden beneath the window of the treehouse, so Teagan spun in a circle, searching for the source of the voice.
“Do you think it was a spell, Cutie? Or a phone left on speaker as a prank, or what?” Teagan speculated.
“Does he think what was a spell?” the voice asked, and this time it was so close, Teagan jumped.
“Who said that?!” she demanded, pulling her cell phone out and wielding it like a light saber. “Come out now or else.”
The voice erupted into peals of laughter before a bulbous and somewhat lumpy amphibian jumped out of the well to land on the ground near Teagan’s feet.
“Yaaaaah!” she shrieked, before beginning to try to stomp the thing to death. “Kill it! Kill it!”
“Don’t kill it!” the amphibian replied as it leaped to dodge her stomping feet. “Huge fan of not killing it!”
Its skin mottled with color, fading from a septic green to a corpse-like cream. Black slits crossed the alien speckles of green in the thing’s glassy eyes, and as it breathed, the loose skin at its sagging jowls wobbled in a gelatinous way. Altogether, it was the largest, ugliest, most horrifying toad she’d ever seen.
And it talked.
After a couple of seconds of unsuccessfully stomping it to death, however, Teagan gave a last horrified shudder, flapped her hands with a final, “Ew,” shriek, and danced a few feet back into the bramble. She and the amphibian eyed one another while catching their breath. Cutie, untaxed by the commotion, stepped up to the creature with curiosity. “You can talk?” he asked the amphibian.
“Can’t everyone?” the questionable, slimy bodied thing asked.
“Not most frogs,” Teagan asked with an additional shudder. She wasn’t sure what was so horrifying about human words coming out of the frog shaped mouth and frog shaped vocal cords, but something about the uncanny nature of the conversation unnerved her.
She tossed a glance at her familiar—it shouldn’t unnerve her, since she spent most of her days talking to a cat, but it did anyway.
“I’m not a frog,” the frog replied. “I’m a toad, I think.”
“Is that better?” Teagan asked.
The toad seemed to consider the question for a few long moments before replying, “It makes more sense for the sense of the original fairytale if I’m a frog, I think.”
Teagan tilted her head, glanced at the audience, then back to the frog. “Yeah, no one cares.”
The toad nodded. “I’m Ryan Reynolds, nice to meet you.”
Teagan squinted. “Why would you lie about your name?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I met you a moment ago after you tried to kill me with a silver ball, so…It isn’t like we’ve got a relationship formulated on a solid structure of trust.”
“Fair enough,” Teagan agreed. “I’m Teagan Taradiddle.” She moved her hand out as if to offer to shake his hand, considered his webbed foot, then placed her hand back in her jeans pocket.
“Jon Starcher,” he replied. “Or I was Jon Starcher before an evil witch cast a spell on me.”
“Define evil?” Cutie asked out of curiosity. Teagan was glad he asked, as she too wondered if the witch in question was actually evil or if the creature deserved his fate.
“She turned me into a frog,” Jon replied, clearly assuming that was sufficient evidence.
“A toad, actually. Yeah, but why?” Teagan insisted. “You can’t just claim she’s the evil one when we don’t know why she cast the spell.”
The toad sighed. “Why did I assume the one who tried to murder me with a silver ball would be sympathetic?”
“It isn’t silver,” Teagan pointed out, remembering her ball and looking around in the weeds to see where it landed. “It’s aluminum, by the way.”
“What is?” the toad replied, hopping after her with wet slaps of sound.
“My ball. I made it from foil,” she explained, before sucking her fingertip where a bramble caught her.
“Ah, it went down the well,” the toad responded, hopping that direction. He peered down into the darkness. “I could probably get it for you.”
“Yes, please,” Teagan replied, joining him by the well. She remembered the long hours of hammering, sanding, polishing…although she threw it in a fit of temper, she’d rather have it back for sentimental reasons.
“I’ll get it for you if you let me hang out with you until I can find a princess. I’d like to live with you, in a house preferably, and go back to being a normal person again. See, the terms and conditions of my spell—” the toad began.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait up. What do you mean, you’ll get it for me for a price? A second ago, you said you could probably get it and now there’s a trade involved?” Teagan held up her hands and backed away a couple of steps. “I know better than to make deals with talking frogs.”
