Welcome to Hairy Wart!

Home of the SOUTHERN FRIED SASS DETECTIVE AGENCY and the DRAGONETTES - proof that it's not the size of the scales but the SASS in the flames that makes the Guardsma...ahem, I mean,GUARDSWOMAN.



Where the Tofu is always Southern Fried and the Soul Food is vegetarian, 'cause it just wouldn't be right to eat your neighbors.


When the mood strikes and the need for change is too strong to ignore, most people move to the big city or the mountains, heck, some even head to the beach.


Not me. No way. That would be too easy. No L.A., Aspen, of Miami for this Witchess with the mostest.


Hairy Wart, LA, is where I landed.


Not only is it the southern fried tofu capital of the world, but this blink-and-you-miss-it ‘burg with a population of Ninety-nine-point-five, (Do not ask.) and a mayor who happens to be a seven-foot Pink Bunny when the mood strikes just may be the home of the craftiest chicken-napping, knife-wielding crazy killer I've ever come up against.


To say I might have bitten off more than I can chew is an understatement, but I absolutely refuse to admit defeat. Especially not with Sherriff Sexy Pants dogging my every step and making me all hot and bothered. Whoever said a Gator Shifter can’t make a couple yards of denim happy they became a pair of Wranglers never met Beauregard St. Croix. He’s takes a bite outta crime in an up close and personal kinda way that I’m liking a little more every day.


With a mighty swish of my wand and my sisters by my side, I have made it my mission to rid Hairy Wart of all things nefarious and make the streets safe for everybody – scaled, furry, feathered, or otherwise. No case too small, no lawbreaker too evil. We’re here to help!


Bubble, bubble, are you in trouble? Not to worry, we'll be there on the double. No need to fear. No need to fret. We're Southern Fried Sass, Baby. We won’t even break a sweat!


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It's Laugh Out Loud Paranormal Romance!



Welcome back to Hairy Wart! I missed the heck outta all of ya’! And, I know you won’t be surprised that we’re once again raisin’ hell and forgettin’ to take names.

Rosie, here, buckle up, Buttercups, I'm the Witch your momma warned you about, but in an epically awesome way. Promise. 

Everything was fine. I mean, normal…for us. Faith and I were arguing as usual, my bossy Gator-in-law was butting his snout in where it didn’t belong, and Daisy was runnin’ interference when she could keep her eyes open. Just another sunny day in Hairy Wort…right? 
Sure, but dadgummit it was shorter lived than a flea fart in a windstorm. Gettin' outta the house (away from Faith) Taffy and I happened upon a dead body in the rubble of the Marshall Mansion that literally got up and walked away when we weren’t lookin’. No! I am not messin’ with you. I swear it happened.

Now, Beau and Faith are losin’ their minds, the Dragonettes are beside themselves, and Daisy, well, she’s sleepin' but that beside the point. Just when I thought things had fallen to the bottom of the swamp where the creepy crawlies creep and crawl, a tall, handsome Panther with a quick smile and a glint in his gleaming emerald eyes appeared smack dab in the middle of this mess and he's tellin’ everybody who’ll listen that he’s my Mate.

What the H-E-Double-hockey-sticks am I supposed to do with that pile of Grunch crap? Good Goddess, if you love me, send a hundred-pound box of chocolate and three gallons of Miss Bunny’s sweet iced tea.

One thing's for darned sure, when the Goddess and the Universe team up, with Destiny and Fate on the sidelines, well, it's more than a Witch can endure. Come on down, hang out a while, ‘cause Heaven knows I could use your help.

Dragonettes, Honey Buns, and one dead Piggy Princess! 
Hang On, Hairy Wort, it’s Lazy Daisy to the rescue…well, sorta.

Pat-a-cake, Pat-a-cake, Baker Bear’s Witch,
Oh, dear me I just flipped that switch.
There’s a pig in the oven as dead as can be,
Without a heart, or a lung, or a danged kid-ney.

With a zip and a zap and a tappity-tap,
I’ll fix this mess even without a catnap.
Got Miss Bunny, Doc Downey, and Granny Cleo,
One, two, three, and away we go.

Bubble, Bubble, we sure got some trouble.
Another Piggie’s missing, so now it’s double.
Somethin’ sure stinks, but that might be the skunks,
Or the Cats, or the Possums, oh heck! They’re all punks.

See ya’ in Hairy Wort.
It’s sure to be a snort!
Come ‘on down!
There’ll be laughs all ‘round.
"Oh, my Lordy be, what a hell of an opening night!" Tossing the terry rag I was using to clean the bar top into the hamper like I was an NBA forward at the buzzer of the seventh game of the finals, I cheered, "Hell yeah," as I did a little boot-scootin' to the music coming from the jukebox.

“Guess Hairy Wort was ready for the Hairy Hangout to reopen?” Thibaut, (Pronounced T-boe for all y’all who aren’t from around here, like me.) snickered with a grin that said he was very pleased with himself.

To be honest, I'd had a crush as big as Cupid himself on that sexy Wolf when he first strode into town. Even convinced my sisters to help him fix up the burnt-out shell of a bar that Miss Bunny said had been an eyesore on the main strip of our little town for over ten years. Then I figured out he wasn't my true Fated Mate and we ended up buddies instead of lovers. (Just so's ya' know, I do know who my Mate is, but he slinked off to parts unknown, and as far as I'm concerned, he can darn well stay there.)

Giving Thibaut a nod, I teased, “Yeah, I guess we did alright,” as my feet were achin’ from runnin’ around like a chicken with my head cut off behind the bar and my arms felt like wet noodles from mixin’ drinks and pullin’ the handle on the draft beer all night long. “Maybe tomorrow night there’ll be a real crowd.”

Catching the dirty towel he threw at me in midair, I laughed, “You gotta do better than that, Wolfboy.”

“That’s Wolfman to you," he joked, picking up a chair and turning it over on the table. "I don't know how to thank you, and your sisters for helpin' get this place up and runnin' in record time. Havin' to pay cash to old man Mooney damned near took every last penny I had."

Patting the top of the shiny wooden bar, I shrugged, "And thank you for givin' me a job. I'm not sure this whole detective thing is for me." Scooching a coaster with the logo of my favorite beer on it in circles, I sighed, "I mean, havin' a family is better than sliced bread. Never had that before and I just love it, but I'm not a paperwork, listen to old lady's talk about heir missin' cats who are really their grandchildren tryin' to escape their helicopter parentin' kinda girl, and don't get me started about Portia."

“I hear ya’.” Thibaut stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder with a ‘that-girl-is-crazy-as-a-bed-bug look. “I finally had to pretend like I liked fellas to get that peculiar Pink Pixie to leave me alone. She is one scary little girl.”

“Dude, who are you…”


The barely audible sound of my name coming from somewhere under the beer coolers had me stopping midsentence and asking, “You hear that, T?”

“Hear what?”

 “Jamie! Jamie MacElfresh!”

A little louder and undoubtedly more insistent, the voice yelled again, and this time I dropped to my knees and hunkered my head to the floor. Peering under the clear glass case housing six silver beer kegs, I whipped Wanda, my trusty wand and the only thing I had left of my momma, outta my back pocket and pointed the tip into the darkness.

“Illuminate,” I murmured, examining every nook and cranny for who or what was hollering at me.

“What the hell are you doin’?”

Bumping my head on the edge of the stainless-steel sink as Thibaut appeared on my side of the bar and scared the living daylights outta me, I dropped Wanda on the floor, grabbed the back of my head, and snarled, “Gettin’ a damned concussion. Ever hear of tellin’ somebody you’re sneaking up on ‘em.”

Leaning on the counter and rolling his crystal blue eyes, the Wolf scoffed, “And what good would that do? If I’m tryin’ to sneak, I’m not gonna tell ya’ I’m coming.” Grabbing a towel and some ice for my head, he added with a chuckle, “And, I wasn’t sneakin’ up on you. I was comin’ to see if you’d finally lost whatever was left of your mind.”

“Ha-Ha-Ha.” Taking the icepack, I lifted it to the goose egg on the top of my head and explained, “Someone or thing was callin' my name, and it was comin' from there." Pointing at the spot where Wanda was still laying on the floor, I asked again, "You sure you didn't hear anything or have taken up ventriloquism?"

“Darlin’, you’re the only dummy I know.” Laughing out loud and jumping backward when I tried to slap him, Thibaut put out his hands and motioned with his fingers. “Come on, let me help you up and then I’ll see if I can find your ghost.”

Getting back on my feet, I moved back a step or two but stayed close. I wanted to be right there when old Wolfie found out I wasn’t losing my marbles. Watching and waiting, I made it about ten seconds before asking, “Well, do you see anything?”

“No, he doesn’t, Jamie. Now stop messin’ around and help me.”

Spinning one way and then the other, I yelped, “There! There it was again. Now, don’t tell me you didn’t hear that, Thibaut Mouton. It was as clear as a bell.”

Standing up and handing me Wanda, the Wolf laid his hands on my shoulders, raised his eyebrows, and talked to me like all my ducks weren’t in a row. “Maybe you oughta just go home. I think you might’ve had just a little too much excitement.”

Twisting my shoulders and dislodging his hands, I stepped right up to that arrogant so-and-so, and while poking him in the chest to emphasize every word, I ground out through gritted teeth, "You. Are. An. Asshole."

“Yes, yes, he is.”

Whipping his head to the side and looking right down at the spot we’d both already checked out, Thibaut looked right back to me. Brows furrowed and lips turned downward, he growled, “What the hell?”

Swatting his arm, I threw my hands in the air and declared, “See? See. There? I’m not ready for the looney bin.”

The sound of tiny nails scratching the terracotta tile had us both spinning like tops and staring at the big-eared, gray-furred, long-tailed Greater Bilby known better in his human form as Billy Crankshaw. Dropping to my knees, I slapped my palm on the floor right next to the Australian ‘Mouse’s’ head and seethed, “We’re you trying to send me over the edge?”

"No," came his simple reply.

“Then change back into your beanpole self so I can kick your ass all the way back to the Swamp.”

Standing up on his hind legs and looking as irritated as I’ve ever seen a marsupial that resembles a gray mouse with long, pointed ears ever look, (This was the first time, but ya’ never know when it’ll happen again. This is Hairy Wort after all.) Billy boy snapped, “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Thibaut exclaimed. “What’s wrong with ya’? It’s not like you can forget somethin’ like that.”

Shaking his little head and rolling his beady black eyes, Billy groaned, “I didn’t forget. I’ve been hexed. I can’t change back, you, stupid dog.”

“I’mma put the pointy toe of my boot right up your little rat’s ass,” Thibaut snarled, trying to move me to get to Billy.

Holding back the pissed off Werewolf, I couldn’t help but ask, “You’ve what? How in tarnation did that happen?”

Looking at me like I was the one wearing fur and hangin’ out under the beer cooler in a bar, Billy’s whiskers twitched so fast they just a black and white blur, as his high-pitched scream nearly broke my eardrums. “I don’t know, Broom Hilda.” Scurrying forward, he added with a hiss, “You’re the freakin’ Witch. Figure it out.”

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