Bewitching Andie Baga Shores
Paranormal Witches & Wizards Romance
July 7, 2022
Kindle
203
Her only choice is to fight magic with magic. His only choice is to summon his ancient gift. If they fail, they lose
everything.
Single mom Andie McCraig couldn’t buy a spell if it was free. It’s bad enough she’s the only witch in the family whose potions turn to vinegar. When her son courts danger by flaunting his emerging Draiocht gift, she has no other choice to protect him: fight magic with magic.
But she can’t do this alone. She comes home to Baga Shores to find a mentor to help her boy understand magic is not a game. Nowhere on her list of candidates is Brett Austin, a roguish Draio with a past—and an unforgettable smile.
Brett, who minored in business and majored in beach, renounced his gift after he couldn’t prevent a good friend’s
death. Since then, he’s cultivated a solitary life into an art form. He’s nobody’s role model and intends to stay that way. Yet the quiet boy charms him—and Brett’s grown-up childhood friend Andie is too irresistible to ignore.
Although the child’s future is the only thing they have in common, everyone but Andie and Brett thinks they are a perfect match. But the more they are together, the more another kind of magic works its spell over them.
When a frightening prediction comes true, the boy’s life and their chance at love are on the line. How far can Brett and Andie trust each other to summon their ancestral gifts to save the child? If they fail, they could lose everything they hold dear.
Author Interview with Candace Colt
Interview by Sherry Perkins
A novel’s setting (time, place, environment) is more than simply creating a stage for the characters’ performance. To
me, the setting is as important as the characters and that applies to all genres. The setting provides the context for the story and provides the ‘sweet sauce’ for a character’s evolution. Let’s look at some examples that might illustrate this.
Let’s start with Outlander just because I love that series! The setting? 1743 Scotland—need I say more? But of
course, I will. Imagine Claire Fraser going through the stones only to find herself on the other side in the same time
and place. How boring would that have been! Where would the story go then? She learned to draw on her internal
strength to survive by going back in time. I’m not sure she would have developed the same way if she would have
stayed in the 1940s. And talk about the conflict that the setting introduced in this series!
Author Leigh Duncan writes fabulous small-town romance. Her second-chance romance stories in and around the
Sugar Sand Inn give readers all the feels. It wouldn’t be the same if she took her characters and put them in outer
space. On the other hand, there is a massive audience for sci-fi outer space romance. Who says you can’t have a
second chance at love in space? Skilled genre authors can make that happen blindfolded, though it’s harder to type
on the keyboard that way.
All my books are set in small towns where Ordinaries and magicals live—but not necessarily in harmony. Half the
fun of writing is watching how the magical characters interact with non-magicals. The towns are always foremost in
my mind, and I spend as much time developing the setting as I do the people who will live there, all before I sit
down to write.
The same can be said for historical novels, sci-fi, fantasy…all of them. A well-developed setting is as memorable as
the human (or, in my case…parahuman…) characters!
2. Which do you think readers find easy to connect with–the imaginative, magical, and fantastic universes or characters with everyday struggles?
I think the characters’ everyday struggles and conflicts create the story’s meat. We don’t want perfect characters
either at the beginning or at the end. We want them to be real. The universe (there’s that setting thing again)
provides the vehicle for character growth. Maslow’s triangle of needs says that a person must have the basics
satisfied before progressing to the top level. If Lee Child’s character Jack Reacher has five guys with guns pointed at
him, he’s concerned about his life, not if his steak dinner will be perfectly cooked. The character arc is basically
watching how the author moves someone through Maslow’s hierarchy.
I’m an Avenger groupie. Think a minute about those characters’ real-life struggles, whether in a big city setting, on
a spaceship, or on a magical island. They have to save the world, sure. But how about the Hulk’s real anger
management issues? Just saying.
Familiar with Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock Holmes? That guy had some serious personal struggles. Without
them, the story would have been pretty flat. Cumberbatch’s version was excellent because Sherlock used his
exceptionalities to solve cases.
We like to identify and connect with someone else’s everyday struggles as a way to work through our own. When
these are amplified in a fictional character, it’s a win-win.
3. If you would, tell us about the joys and challenges of writing sweet romance.
The joy of writing sweet romance is focusing on the character’s development. I have to get to know my characters
and what makes them work. Occasionally they keep secrets from me that aren’t revealed until the story begins. And
that’s great! Writing sweet is all about building relationships and watching characters work through their “everyday
struggles” (see above). I like stretching my creativity to show how the love story progresses while at the same time
hinting at a physical attraction.
The main challenge is maintaining a balance of how much physical contact to include. Adult romance readers know
sex happens—shocking, right? But not all readers want to see it on the page. Each genre has a heat level with its
associated criteria. For any author, it’s critical to stay true to their brand, the genre, and their readers’ expectations.
That translates to marketing, as well. An author can’t market sweet to steamy and vice versa. It requires market
research, so authors don’t waste time, talent, and treasure mismatching stories to readers.
4. So, cats…does every good story have one?
I admit my bias since every one of my stories has a cat in it. So my answer is yes. Beyond entertaining and cute,
which I hope my readers find them to be, the cat plays a vital role in the story. If you know and love the aloof
independence that most cats possess, you might understand why I add them to a story.
I write paranormal, so each cat has some sort of magical ability. Some are mind-readers. Some are time-travelers.
Most speak at least to their owner. They can be annoying wise guys, but at the same time, they are loyal and
protective. Often they are wise beyond their years due to their many past lives and take the role of guide on the side
to nudge the main character to make a decision or get them out of trouble.
5. How do you come up with topics to explore in a blog? What’s your favorite blog that you’ve written, and what about it resonates?
That’s a great question. You’d think blogging would come easy to a writer. That’s not always true. Right now, my
blog series is about the Tocobaga Indians, an ancient tribe that once lived around the Tampa Bay area. When I say
old, I mean 1100 years ago. I’m writing the Baga Shores Romance Series right now; that name wasn’t an accident.
The setting (see what I did there?) is contemporary times in the bay area. The small coastal town where the stories
take place is named after that tribe. I’ve been digging into the tribe’s history as best as I can. There’s not a lot out
there since they were small, peaceful, and now extinct. But it makes for some interesting short vignettes. And the
magical vibe in the town can be attributed to the ancient people who once lived there. It’s interesting material, that I
hope helps readers connect to my stories.
THANKS!
EXCERPT FROM “BEWITCHING ANDIE”:
Chapter One
Stop and go. Stop and go. Stop and stop.
Noon hour traffic on the W. A. Goodfellow Causeway across Tampa Bay was horrifying. Something Andie McCraig had forgotten, and for two good reasons.
First, it was a pain to keep shifting gears in her MINI Cooper. Second, they’d come to a dead halt at the top of the
bridge. Andie hated bridges, even relatively low ones like the Goodfellow.
She squeezed one hand around the gearshift handle and the other on the steering wheel as she waited for that blessed moment they’d start moving again. It didn’t look promising from the obnoxious red stripe indicator on her car’s navigation screen. And it didn’t help her attitude that oncoming traffic sailed past.
Her seven-year-old son, Sam, had been patient for the six-hour drive from the Florida panhandle across I-10 and the
crawl through bumper-to-bumper traffic on south I-75. But she could tell he was getting antsy. The truth was, so was
she. Relaxing was a top priority once they got to her grandmother’s house.
“This will break up any minute.” She hoped that was true for Sam’s sake. It had been a long time since the last rest
stop.
Andie craned her neck to see around the SUV, but nothing moved ahead. There must have been a wreck. She
glanced in her rearview mirror to get an idea of how many were lined up behind. And to watch that guy still sitting
on a motorcycle behind her. If he’d revved that engine once, he’d done it ten times. Did he think that would make
this line move faster?
Her stomach rumbled again in a not-so-gentle reminder that she hadn’t eaten anything since McDonald’s three hours ago. Sam tapped her arm and held up an open bag of chocolate chip cookies. That he could hear that muffled growl was another reminder of the child’s gift of sharp senses.
“Thanks, honey.” She popped one of the last broken pieces in her mouth.
By some miracle, cars in front of them began creeping forward. Andie put the Cooper in gear and edged along with
them. Once they were back up to speed, and there was a space in the next lane over, the motorcycle man gunned it
and dashed around her. She watched him change lanes again before he disappeared up ahead.
While parked on the bridge, catching glimpses of him in the mirror had been an enjoyable distraction. She had
imagined him to be tattooed from toes to nose. He probably had a bevy of girlfriends, but she noticed the Harley
didn’t have a passenger seat when he passed her.
She had given entirely too much time to this daydream. It was time to refocus on Sam and how this meeting with his
great-grandmother would go. It better go well since this was Andie’s only hope for help.
Finally, the “Welcome to Baga Shores” sign was in sight. The last four blocks were a breeze. The house was just up
ahead and not a minute too soon.
Andie McCraig swerved into the driveway and slammed on the breaks.
Impossible. That Harley and that rider?
The man swung a long, muscular leg over the seat and dismounted. Standing with his back to her car, the man
removed his helmet and scuffed his fingers through his brown hair. The man turned, and his annoying scowl softened as he slipped off his sunglasses.
She got out of the car and leaned against the door as the man walked toward her. The corners of his eyelids crinkled
as his face brightened into a smile.
“Hey, Andie,” he said in a deep, heart-grabbing voice. “That was you in front of me?”
The neatly cropped beard and mustache caught her off guard. So did his body-hugging T-shirt, which outlined the
impressive arms and broad chest she’d shamelessly ogled earlier in the rearview mirror. She stared a few more
moments.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” he asked.
Holy mother-of-pearl! Brett Austin? The skinny dweeb who’d hung around here with her brother, Jason? Of all
places in the world, why had he parked a motorcycle in her grandmother’s driveway?
Sam had gotten out and stood in front of the four-car garage in a split second. Before she could gasp a breath or utter
a polite greeting to Brett, Sam had raised a finger, and without touching anything, he opened one door halfway. Andie tipped her head to the heavens.
As if raising this boy by herself wasn’t hard enough.
After an exhausting all-day drive, she didn’t want to say anything to set him off. Besides, he’d been a little trooper.
Before dawn, they’d left the only home he’d ever known. She doubted he understood they would never go back
there, either.
What choice did she have? Her ex-husband’s monthly support payments barely covered expenses. Every job lead
dried up as soon as people associated her name with the powerful McCraig family. Coupled with stories about Sam, spun so out of control it seemed they were about some other kid, it didn’t help that he kept lifting things.
“Honey,” she said in a measured tone. “Please put the door back down.”
Sam paused, his finger frozen in the air, and flashed Andie a mischievous grin.
She knew that look too well. “Slowly, Sam. Do not slam—”
He dropped his hand to his side. The crash of heavy wood hitting concrete chopped her words at the knees. Andie’s
heart double thumped.
So much for that.
“Very interesting,” Brett said.
If anyone, Brett should know about interesting. He and half the people in Baga Shores had magical gifts. Sam’s
demonstration paled compared to what Brett had done as a kid.
“That’s my boy.” Andie gathered her ankle-length denim skirt, bent to Sam’s eye level, and geared up her stern
mom voice.
“Honey, what did we talk about? You cannot move things with your fingers.” Especially where every eye in town
could be on them.
Sam’s gaze met hers before it flicked away toward a gecko in the bushes.
She softened her voice. “Honey, I want you to meet Uncle Jason’s friend Brett.”
Brett squatted beside them and held his hand up for a high five. Sam stared at the man’s palm, three times larger
than his. He gave Brett a quick hand slap and wiggled away, searching for the lizard.
Brett held Andie’s elbow as they stood. “Long day?” he asked.
Longer than he could imagine. “Yeah. But we made it.”
“Can I help unload?” Brett asked.
“Uh. No thanks.” She turned away quickly to beckon her son to her side. Odd that Brett knew she’d driven a long
way today. Who’d told him?
Once Sam was beside her, she offered him her pinky finger. “You know the drill.” He hooked his finger into hers.
She caught Brett’s confused frown from the corner of her eye, but she continued.
“With mine in yours and yours in mine, we seal a promise by fingers twined.” Andie locked her gaze on Sam’s.
“Now, please don’t lift things.”
Since Sam’s magic had emerged, they’d repeated this promise a hundred times when he opened doors. Or tossed
trash bins. Or lifted the school principal’s office chair with the principal still sitting in it.
Pinky promises were two-way deals. Keeping her end of each bargain was easy. Since the divorce almost a year ago,
her pitiful attempts to revive her gift had been laughable failures. Andie’s grandmother, Miriam Pennywick Tanner,
or Mimi, descended from a long line of witches. Fat chance she’d support any bargain not to use the craft.
To Andie, there were enough witches in the family to carry on the tradition, and did they ever carry on.
Sam squeezed Andie’s hand as the trio walked up five marble steps to the massive wood and glass door of the three-
story house known to everyone as the sandcastle gone wild. Family lore was that Andie’s grandfather had built this
house to look like St Pete Beach’s Don Cesar-lite. For all intents, he’d succeeded.
Andie let Sam push the doorbell. She’d lived here most of her childhood. Why did she feel like a stranger who had
to request entrance?
“Sam, remember our promise,” Andie said.
Brett sniffed a laugh. “My mom’s warnings never worked on me.”
She started to say something but decided against it. Though mute, Sam made up for it with keen hearing. Instead,
she flashed Brett a “don’t go there” grimace.
Inside, a vacuum motor shut off, and a woman approached, her features distorted through the door’s beveled
windows. Was this another of Mimi’s Ordinary human housekeepers? None of them ever stayed long. Who could
blame them? Her grandmother’s habit of inviting anyone and anything to visit could be an annoying interruption to
household chores.
Two visitors flashed through Andie’s mind immediately. One, an eighteenth-century colonial time traveler who’d
been gobsmacked by television, soon caught on and lasted an extra two weeks so he could binge-watch Outlander.
Andie hadn’t been much older than Sam when a shifted male coyote appeared on the deck. Hungry, smelly, and
stark naked. She shuddered at the memory.
The front door opened, and a pleasant auburn-haired woman greeted them. She flashed a sky-wide smile.
“Hello, Brett. And you two must be Andarta and Sam. I’m Grace Henderson, Ms. Miriam’s housekeeper.”
More like the latest housekeeper. She caught Sam’s confusion. “Honey, Andarta is my long name. Like yours is
Samuel.”
Sam hopped from one foot to the other.
“Excuse us a moment.” Andie ushered Sam past Grace and into the guest bathroom. She stood outside the closed
door as Sam used the toilet. She claimed victory when she heard the reassuring sound that he’d remembered to flush.
He started out the door. “Hands, please.” Andie escorted him back to the sink. While he washed, she fiddled with
strands of her hair and dug into her purse for lipstick.
“You’re lovely, my dear.”
Sam snapped to attention and spun toward the woman who stood in the hallway.
Trim and youthful, Mimi hadn’t aged a minute. Her eyes were still clear and sharp blue, and her skin smooth as that
of women half her age, though her age was anyone’s guess. She projected a Vogue supermodel image. Her soft
silver hair hovered over her shoulders, and her classy white blouse was tucked into navy slacks.
Mimi’s embrace was the reassurance that bringing her little boy here was the right decision. Mimi released Andie and stepped back. A broad smile crossed her face. “Well, Sam, aren’t you the fine one? My, how you’ve grown.” Tears briefly brimmed her eyelids. “Come here, young man. The bathroom’s not a place for a formal greeting.”
Andie put a hand on Sam’s back and softly urged him forward. He took a few hesitant steps into the hallway, then
stopped.
“You remember Mimi?” she asked.
Sam’s baffled frown confirmed that he didn’t. How could he? His father had forbidden trips to Baga Shores. All
Sam had ever seen were photos of his great-grandmother.
“My goodness, you are handsome.” Mimi leaned down and hugged the boy. With one arm around Andie’s waist,
she held Sam’s hand and led them through the house. Surprisingly, Sam kept his grip, too petrified to let go.
“You must try Grace’s gumbo,” Mimi said.
In the kitchen, Andie watched Brett open one cabinet after another. “All these hinges need is some wood caulk in
the screw holes,” he said. “No biggie. I can grab some from the restaurant and come back later.”
Brett Austin, the little kid who used to pull Andie’s pigtails and hadn’t seen since she left Baga Shores nearly ten
years ago, maneuvered around this kitchen like he owned the place. When Andie and her brother, Jason, grew up in
Mimi’s house, Brett hung out a lot. Had he become a regular around here?
Brett owned a restaurant from what she gleaned from small talk during lunch. Quite a settled-down kind of thing for
Baga’s party-boy poster child. His relationship status was a question mark. No news flash there.
“Sorry to break up the party, but I have to leave.” Brett took his dishes to the sink. “Andie, I’ll be back later. How
about I take you and Sam on a boat ride to check out what’s changed?”
Boat ride? Andie chewed her bottom lip and glanced between her cherubic-faced son and Brett. Sam swam like a
tadpole in a pool, but what if he fell into the Gulf of Mexico? For all she knew, maybe Brett had just been released
from prison. Or was on the lam from drug dealers. Or would he bring some sex-starved floozy with him?
It was important for Sam to try new things, but it had been a very long day, and his routine had been screwed up
enough. And Andie certainly wasn’t ready to be semi-alone with Brett.
“Thanks. Maybe another time,” she said.
“No worries.” Brett turned his gaze to Sam. “Good to meet you, buddy.”
Sam, usually wary of strangers, flashed Brett a quick smile to Andie’s surprise.
“Oh, wait,” she called after Brett. As she hopped off her stool, her boot heel caught in her hem, resulting in an
embarrassingly loud riiiipppp. Once again, finesse had eluded her.
“I need to move my car,” she said as she untangled her shoe.
“I can get around it.” Brett waved over his shoulder as he left.
Grace stopped beside Andie on her way to return the vacuum to the storage closet. “If it makes any difference, I trust
Brett completely.”
“Absolutely.” Mimi paused. “Of course, your decision, dear.”
It certainly was her decision.
“It was a nice offer, Mimi, but not the right one for us. Anyway, we should unload the car.” She tucked in her torn
hem before going to the door.
Sam raced ahead and then stopped short.
His mischievous smile should have alerted Andie. She hesitated a split second too long.
He turned back and wiggled a finger toward the door. When the latch clicked, Andie forgot her rule not to yell at
him.
“SAM!”
He dropped his hand to his side.
“Well, what have we here?” Mimi stood with her hands folded behind her back.
While Sam fiddled with objects on a nearby bookshelf, Andie exchanged glances with her grandmother and Grace.
“Speak your mind, child. Grace is a friend,” Mimi said.
In Baga Shores, a friend meant they were Ordinary humans who understood magicals.
“When I said I wanted to come back home, I left a few things out.” She hesitated and searched for the right words.
“It seems Sam’s a bit of a wizard.”
Andie spoke softly so Sam wouldn’t overhear. He understood a lot more than people gave him credit for.
“His thing right now is doors. Last month he obsessed over lifting things.” Andie didn’t have a clue what he’d try
next.
Mimi’s smile brightened the room. “I knew it! I just knew there was another reason you came home.” She raised her
hands in joy. “Praise the souls of our ancestors! We must plan a celebration.”
Andie pressed her hand to her forehead. She came here to help Sam forget the magic, not celebrate it. “Please, Mimi.
Don’t encourage him.”
“But my dear, our Sam inherited the ancient Draiocht gift! This is a significant milestone.”
Right. A significant milestone for a nonverbal magical Draio.
Sam halted as they stepped out on the porch, and Andie slammed into him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Sam sat down on the stairs and ran his hand over … nothing.
“Ah, he discovered Alika.” Mimi had followed them outside. “Andarta, there’s something I should have told you,
too.”
Relief washed over her as a beautiful black cat came into focus. “You have a new familiar?”
That would be the good news. The bad? Sam saw it before it materialized. Andie would need a lot of help with this
boy.
“Alika is not mine,” Mimi said.
“I don’t understand.” Andie darted her gaze to either side. “Whose is it, then?”
A shimmering cloud of pink and purple descended and swirled into a tight funnel. It burst into bright fireworks that
rained overhead as Sam gleefully tried to capture the sparkles in his open hands.
The psychedelic display dissipated, revealing a woman with ginger dreadlocks wound into a topknot. She was
dressed in an embroidered teal blouse over bohemian harem pants. Her bare feet were adorned in tinkling ankle
bracelets.
Open-armed, the woman approached Andie.
Despite the warm June afternoon, a cold chill skimmed over Andie, and she tightened her fists behind her back.
“This is what you failed to tell me?” Andie whispered to Mimi.
“Guess we’re even.” Mimi gently pressed Andie forward.
“Darling Andarta, how long has it been?” The woman hugged Andie.
Andie returned a lukewarm one. “A very long time.” Mother.
ABOUT CANDACE COLT:
enchanting small towns.
with the help of their unique gifts. She’s written about psychics, shape-shifting falcons, witches, wizards, and time
travelers. Oh, and at least one snarky, talking feline appears in every book.
Florida, BEWITCHING ANDIE is the first book in the Baga Shores Romance Series. Newly divorced, reluctant
witch Andie returns home for help raising her 7-year-old wizard. But everyone seems to have a different idea of
what help looks like!
guards her heart and her privacy. Content to live a quiet life, her world turns upside down when she falls for a
handsome buttoned-down Ordinary.
wealthy! An interesting combination, right?
witch hunt. Her main character is a psychic who can bring the dead forward. She thought she’d retired from that business until someone knocked on her door with a strange letter.
minds. All of them can talk.
prequel to the Cat’s Paw Cove Romance series.
CONTACT CANDACE COLT AT:
Author website: https://candacecolt.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CandaceColtAuthor
Candace Colt’s Readers Salon: https://www.facebook.com/groups/candacecoltreadersalon
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16717563.Candace_Colt
Twitter: https://www.instagram.com/accounts/login/
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BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/candace-colt