IN HER PUMPKIN PATCH

I dare you to be down in the dumps while reading! –FS, Amazon

In Her Pumpkin Patch is an uproariously funny contemporary romance. –Nina, Goodreads

This sequel in the Svensson Brothers series features handsome hunks, sweet treats, and steamy sex. In Her Pumpkin Patch is the ultimate hot Halloween hookup! – Amanda K., Copy Editor, Red Adept Editing

Garrett and Penny had me laughing so hard I almost couldn’t breathe! – Kristen, Amazon

Once again Alina Jacobs creates a storyline that you cannot put down! – Melinda, Goodreads

Chapter 1

Penny

Fall—a time of hayrides, pumpkins, apple picking, cozy sweaters…and failure.

I was travelling by train to my small hometown with a torn duffel bag filled with my meager possessions and broken dreams. At least I had a temp job as an account manager at Svensson PharmaTech waiting for me. It wasn't my dream job as a journalist, but hey, I’d taken what I could get. Going home, tail between my legs, would be unbearable if I was going to be unemployed.

The worst? I didn't even have overbearing parents or a childhood bedroom to crash at. Instead, I was going to be staying at my now-deceased foster mother’s house. Her granddaughters, the twins Morticia and Lilith, lived there now. Yeah, they were identical and creepy and finished each other's sentences, but it was a free place to stay—though the twins claimed the house was haunted. But beggars can't be choosers.

A haunted house would be fitting, though, since it was fall, which was, in my opinion, the best time of the year. I loved sweaters, apple cider, and pumpkin-spice anything. Too bad I couldn't afford nice new fall outfits and accessories. I had barely been able to scrounge up some business-casual clothes for my new job.

Be positive, I ordered myself. It was my favorite time of year, and I was going to enjoy it, dammit, even if I did have a crappy temp job and a failing baking YouTube channel. I was going to make soups, pies, and cheesy pasta. Mimi's house had a large kitchen, though it was old. I was going all out for Halloween. The fall holiday season in Harrogate was fun! There was the Halloween festival and handing out candy to trick-or-treaters…

I sighed and stared out the window. It was overcast and drizzly. The weather didn't even have that wow factor of the crisp blue sky and orange, yellow, and bright-red leaves. My small hometown was improving, mainly thanks to the investment from the Svenssons, but the train still sucked. It was packed with people going back to Harrogate from various weekend trips away.

The child in the seat next to me sneezed, getting snot all over my plaid skirt. Where were his parents? I tried not to swear as I blotted the fabric. To cheer myself up from the reality that I had officially failed as a journalist, I had dressed for fall, complete with boots, a scarf, and a cute sweater with smiling pumpkins, which also looked like it had snot on it.

The kid sniffled. His nose was running. I sighed and pulled a tissue out of my purse and handed it to him. He looked at me.

"Seriously, you need me to wipe your nose for you?" The kid blinked. He was a little greasy but otherwise cute: chubby cheeks, blond hair, and big gray doe eyes. I gingerly blotted his nose.

"Where are your parents?" This kid was tiny—probably a toddler. He had his ticket pinned to his shirt.

"Who does that?" I muttered. "I thought that was something that happened in the olden days on orphan trains." I was suddenly nostalgic for rainy days in Mimi’s attic, reading American Diaries books and eating caramel popcorn.

"You're not going to bite me if I look at your ticket, are you?" I asked the kid, curious about how far he'd come. Maybe he was a child of a broken home, sent to visit his father for the weekend.

He pulled at the ticket, and I unfastened it for him then peered at it.

Davy Svensson – unaccompanied minor. Yellow Ridge Wyoming to Harrogate

"That’s—" I took out my phone, "fifty-seven hours? You've been on the train for fifty-seven hours? Who sends their toddler on a train for fifty-seven freaking hours by themselves?" Where before I had found the kid weird and annoying, now I was feeling protective. My mother had been terrible and would leave me alone randomly, hence my stint in and subsequent aging out of foster care.

I felt terrible for the kid. And incensed. How dare his parents treat him like this?

"Who's your dad? Is that who you're going to meet?" I demanded. "A Mr. D-bag Svensson, I assume?"

The kid whimpered and looked sad.

I took a turkey sandwich with brie, apple slices, and arugula on ciabatta out of my bag. I had stopped by the Grey Dove Bakery before I left Manhattan. Yes, I splurged. Now that I’m not paying rent, I can do that, right? Don’t judge me! I’m terrible at money and math. That’s why I majored in journalism.

I fed the kid bites of sandwich as I stewed about his neglectful father. "Eat that, and you can have a cookie. It’s a special Halloween cookie!" Yeah, I really went all out. How could I not? Chloe, owner and baker extraordinaire, had carefully wrapped the sugar cookie in Halloween-themed tissue paper.

"I have three cookies," I told Davy when he had eaten his half of the sandwich. "You want a bat or a witch or a pumpkin?"

He pointed to the pumpkin. "Thank you," he said softly, cookie crumbs raining all over his shirt.

"We’re train buddies," I told him as I dusted him off. He grabbed my hand then immediately fell asleep next to me.

I had always wanted a giant family with a bunch of kids. I wanted to host elaborate Halloween parties, and my huge house would be decorated top to bottom, and the kitchen would be filled with yummy baked goods.

Life did not work out like that. Now I had three children named student loans, credit card debt, and poor decision-making skills to keep me company. I ate the other two cookies and the rest of Davy's. He'd just sneezed on me, so I guessed I already had whatever germs he was carrying.

I stewed as I thought about someone sending their kid on a train alone like that. He must have been so frightened! That sent me into a spiral thinking about my mother. Trisha had left me with my father when I was just a kindergartener to run off to Europe with her much older boyfriend. She rarely called. When she did, it was just to make promises she had no intention of keeping. When my father died, the state of New York tried to contact my mother, but she had dropped off the radar. She didn't resurface until I aged out of the system. Like a dummy, I welcomed her back into my life again and again. She would always dangle nice things in front of me. Trisha was now an editor at the Vanity Rag, and she was constantly promising she would run one of my articles.

My phone rang, playing spooky Halloween sounds. Davy stirred, and I hurried to answer it before he woke up.

"Penny, darling!"

Speak of the devil—or rather, speak of my mother.

"Hi, Trisha," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"Why don't you ever call me Mom?" she complained. "You are my daughter, after all."

"Are you calling about the article I sent you?" I said, gritting my teeth. I had submitted an article about the Wild West of knitting: people stealing yarn, sabotaging projects, and lying about patterns. It was nuts and would make a fascinating article. I was sure of it.

"Our readers don’t want to hear about that," Trisha said with a fake laugh.

"Oh. Okay. Well, I appreciate you calling to tell me in person."

Ugh! I couldn't believe I had fallen for her lies again!

My mother snorted. "I didn't call about that. I heard through the grapevine that you are going to be working at Svensson PharmaTech."

"I'm not technically working for them, I’m just a temp."

"Of course you are."

There was that underhanded dig. Every time I had to talk to my mother, my self-confidence did a nosedive, and I had to self-medicate with copious amounts of cake.

"Great conversation, Mom."

"Don't get snippy with me, Penny," Trisha said, a harsh undercurrent in her voice. Then it softened. "I was calling to see if you had availability to do some freelance work."

In spite of myself, I perked up. Was this my big break?

"I have a fantastic idea for the next issue," my mother continued. "The Svenssons have been in the news recently with the popsicle scandal, and people are interested. They’re the new hot topic—all those good-looking brothers, polygamist cult victims turned billionaires. We want you to do an in-depth exposé on them. Really get to know them, learn about their family, their habits, their interactions."

"That sounds a little unethical…" I said uncertainly.

"They’re public figures," Trisha insisted.

I blew out a breath.

"If you can write a good story on them, you could parlay that article into a book, a TED talk, a Good Morning America appearance, maybe even a movie," Trisha said. "You could be one of the top investigative journalists of your generation."

Against my better judgment, I saw dollar signs and glory pass before my eyes. Then I thought better of it.

"I don’t know, maybe I shouldn't," I said.

"Trust me, Penny," Trisha said, using that tone that always made me believe whatever she was saying. "The Svenssons are terrible people. Men like that don’t become billionaires by being nice. They have skeletons in their closets. Ask me how I know. Evan Harrington’s investment firm bought our magazine last winter, and they are determined to wring every cent out of it. We want you to expose them."

"Can I think about it?"

"We need an answer now. There are other people we can ask, too, you know. You're not that special." She sniffed. "Look, we really want this story to happen. We’ll give you an advance."

An advance! Well then. Penny had bills to pay. But when I had signed up to be a journalist, I’d had visions of being like Erin Brockovich and exposing things people in power were trying to sweep under the rug. I had imagined saving lives and making a difference, not airing someone's family drama all over the newsstands.

I looked down at Davy asleep on my lap. Good men don't send their sons across the country by train all alone.

I had never been able to stand up to my mother on my own behalf, but maybe I could be in Davy's corner.

"You know what?" I said. "Sign me up."

"That's my girl!" my mother said.

Against my better impulses, I felt a flush of joy that my mom seemed proud of me.

***

I woke Davy up as we pulled into Harrogate station. There was a break in the rain. The sun was setting; the historic buildings and the tall clock tower were silhouetted against the orange rain clouds.

I loved Gilmore Girls, and the New England town of Harrogate feels like the closest you can get to Stars Hollow. It even has a town square with a bandstand. The Halloween festival is held there every year. I snapped pictures of it from the window as the train chugged into the ornate station.

"I’m so excited for Halloween in Harrogate," I said to Davy as he yawned. "You're going to love it!" I picked him up and carried him off the train. He had a small grocery sack holding a few clothes and a stuffed animal.

I bounced him in my arms and looked around the train station.

"Look at the decorations!" There were workers in the station stringing up fake spiderwebs and arranging displays with hay bales, pumpkins, and colorful leaves. I breathed in. It smelled like fall. "It's going to be so awesome! You can go trick-or-treating."

He nodded and wiped his eyes.

"Davy!" a deep voice barked.

A tall man with gray eyes, broad shoulders, and military-short hair stalked over to me. He was wearing a suit with a black overcoat that brushed around his knees. Must be Mr. D-bag Svensson in the flesh.

"What are you doing with him?" he demanded, glaring at me with steely eyes.

"And a Happy Halloween to you, too," I said tartly as the tall man snatched the kid out of my arms.

He glared down at me. He was hot in a sort of growly, dangerous way. Unfortunately, he did not seem to like me. And honestly, I didn't like him very much.

"You shouldn't have let Davy travel across the entire country by himself!" I scolded. Davy's lower lip was trembling. "He didn’t even know what stop to get off at! You’re his father. You should have gone and picked him up." I jabbed my finger in his face as I chastised him. Actually, he was so tall, my finger came up at chest height. I poked him. "He could have been hurt." Jab. "Kidnapped." Jab. "You are a terrible parent!"

The man grabbed my hand with his larger one then seemed to realize he had touched me. He released me and stepped back.

"I’m not his father. Davy is my little brother."

Davy's trembling lip turned into full-blown crying. I winced as he screamed like a murder victim in a haunted house and reached for me. I held out an arm to him.

His older brother snatched him away.

"I don't need judgment from a girl who wears a sweater covered in pumpkin pom-poms," he sneered. "Of course someone like you is infatuated with such a childish holiday. I bet you drink pumpkin-spice lattes and decorate cookies and post pictures of orange candles on your Instagram," he barked over Davy's screams.

"And I bet you sit at home alone on Halloween with the lights off, refusing to hand out candy to children!" I screeched.

We glared at each other.

"I don't know why I'm even wasting my time on you," he huffed.

"Poor Davy. He should come live with me. We'd bake cookies and make candied apples. He shouldn't be subjected to some Halloween-hating Grinch."

"That's—those aren't even the same holiday. You know what? Never mind. Stay away from my family," he snarled.

I watched him stalk off. Now I was doubly glad I had taken that freelance job for my mom. That Svensson was going down.

Chapter 2

Garrett

"I can’t believe the nerve of that woman," I snarled as I buckled Davy into his booster seat.

My little brother was still screaming. I've been trying to rescue my brothers from the cult at younger and younger ages. I had a plan. The noose was tightening around my father. I refused to leave any more of my siblings in that environment. I’d hated every minute of my childhood that I’d spent stuck in that polygamist cult with an inattentive mother.

I loved my family and would do anything for them. Which was why I had lost my temper when that curvy redhead had looked at me with such scorn, as if I was going to hurt Davy.

He was still letting out that ear-piercing scream, and I patted him on the head as I finished securing the booster seat.

I could not deal with that girl right now. I had several irons in the fire. My brothers were useless, I was trying to make sure my company, Svensson PharmaTech, stayed well ahead of the competition, and then there was the small problem of Halloween approaching.

The holidays always made my brothers various shades of morose. I had no patience for it. Yes, our childhoods had been toxic and would make a salacious Netflix miniseries, but we couldn't dwell on the past. But my brothers’ mood swings were coming, and it was just one of those things I had to plan for.

The phone rang through my car speakers. Legally, in Harrogate, we are not supposed to talk on the phone while driving. Deputy Mayor Meghan Loring had had the law passed to mess with Hunter. Their unrequited-love situation had to be resolved soon. I needed to check my calendar and see when I could work on that. With Mace and then Archer each having their own crises, dealing with Meg and Hunter had fallen by the wayside.

"Garrett," Hunter said over the speaker. "Bad news… What is that? Do you have a banshee in the back seat?"

"I don't need Halloween references from you right now," I said shortly. "It's still September. Halloween season should not start until October first. Thanksgiving season begins on November first, and Christmas shouldn't start until Black Friday. I don't understand why commercial entities seem to think otherwise. I will not be pushed to celebrate holidays any earlier than I deem appropriate," I said over Davy's screeching. "I do not want to see Halloween decorations in August."

"Whatever. Listen, we—"

Police lights flashed in the side mirrors as sirens blared. Fuck. I pulled over to the side of the road.

Of course Davy had gone silent and was staring wide-eyed at the blue lights. Maybe I could use Davy as an excuse. He was cute, though a little smelly. I rolled down the window.

"Be charming," I ordered my little brother.

Susie, one of the Harrogate city police officers, walked up to the window and sighed. "Garrett, you can’t talk on the phone, even if it's on speaker, while operating a vehicle. You know that."

"Yes, Officer, I understand," I said, handing over my license. "See, one of my younger brothers just came in to town. Surely you understand how that is." While I have many admirable traits, being charming and flirty is not one of them. Archer might have been able to talk himself out of a ticket. It would seem I was unable to do so.

"This is your last warning," Susie said, taking out her notebook and my license.

"I know. I won’t do it again, Officer."

"No, this is your last strike," she said, shaking her head. "You just lost your license."

I opened my mouth. No sound came out. I shut it. "I need to call my lawyer."

"Step out of the car," Susie said.

"Officer, it's cold. Look, I have the kid. He's sick and shivering."

Susie poked her head into the car as I stepped out. Davy smiled and waved.

"Could I have one more warning? Please?" I tried to smile. It might have been more of a grimace.

"Nope. You can wait in the cruiser for your ride."

I called Hunter from the police cruiser, Davy wriggling on my lap. "This is your fault," I spat into the phone. "You need to come pick me up. I lost my license."

Hunter was struggling not to laugh. "You know the law."

Wrong fucking thing to say. "Don't you dare. This is your fault," I hissed. "If you hadn't mistreated Meghan, none of this would have happened."

Davy, the novelty of the police cruiser wearing off, had started screeching again. He continued screaming for the next sixteen minutes. I know because I counted.

This town isn't that big—how does it take Hunter sixteen minutes to drive over here?

The big idiot finally showed up, completely unremorseful.

"Sorry I'm late. We had the town hall meeting," he said over Davy's screams.

I ignored him as our brother Parker loped over to my car.

"Be careful," I warned him. "Don't scratch it."

"I don't see why you care," he scoffed. "How long do you lose your license for?"

"Twelve weeks," Susie said. "Shorter if he does some community service."

"What am I going to do without a license?" I snapped at Hunter.

"Maybe Remy can drive you in the bus." Hunter was not acting as contrite as I thought he should.

"At least now that he's in a bad mood, we can tell him we lost," Parker said.

"You lost? Jesus, you all had one job. I knew I should have been at that town hall."

"Wait?" Susie said, pausing at the police cruiser. "The plastic straw ban actually passed?" She looked miffed. "I’m not sure if I want to drink my iced tea through a paper straw."

"You can also use the metal ones," Parker said unhelpfully.

"This is not going to work for me," I said. "I cannot drink my coffee out of a metal straw. Or paper. Neither of those will work for me."

"It's better for the environment," Parker said with a smirk as I buckled Davy back into the booster seat. "Put him with Hunter. I don't want to ride with him. Davy smells like stale popcorn and salami."

***

Davy cried the whole way home. I rolled down the window to let the cold fall air in.

Usually after bribing my father to send one of my little brothers to me, I dumped the kid off on Mace. But Davy was the first new kid since Josie had come into the picture. Now Mace spent all his time with his new girlfriend. Not that I minded—it made him less of a Neanderthal.

Archer was the next-best bet. Though obnoxious, he was good with the kids, probably because he was basically one. Lord knows how he managed to talk Hazel into agreeing to be his fiancée. I needed to make sure Archer didn't do something dumb to drive her away. Again. He split his time between Manhattan and Harrogate. When he was in town, he was at Hazel's café. It was doubtful Hazel would want a small child running around her business.

His conference center should be a success as soon as I could disabuse him of the notion that he would be treating it like his personal fiefdom. I patted myself on the back for making sure Archer had chosen a good site. His other option had been the now-defunct zoo. I still couldn’t believe he had wanted to bring in penguins.

Maybe Parker could be in charge of Davy?

My younger brother fiddled with the radio.

"I know what you're thinking," Parker said, "and I'm busy. I'm working. I'm the only person developing cutting-edge technology. Svensson PharmaTech would be nothing without me. I have to concentrate."

He was defiant. I was determined to stamp that out. I stared at the side of his head. Most of my brothers were wary of me. Some of them were out-and-out afraid.

"Are you really?"

Parker snorted and drove through the gate and down the drive to the roundabout in front of the estate house. My older brother Remy was waiting on the wide stone steps that led up to the huge front door. The building was a nineteenth-century mansion. It was too ornate for my taste, but it was the only place large enough to hold my entire family. And there was an excessive amount of Svenssons.

Hunter pulled up behind us as I took Davy out of the car.

"Davy!" Remy said, sweeping our little brother into a huge hug. Davy tugged at Remy's bushy beard.

"I have a present for you!" My older brother took out a stuffed goat. Hunter scowled as we walked into the house. I had half a mind to buy Remington a goat one of these days. He constantly talked about it, and Hunter always shot it down. Davy sniffled as he petted the stuffed animal as my two dozen youngest brothers crowded around him.

"Don’t let him get it dirty. He needs a bath," I ordered.

"My friend will like this," Davy said his a high-pitched voice.

"What friend?"

"From the train."

I ground my teeth but forced myself to stop. Who did that girl think she was?

I was adding her to my shit list along with Hunter and Mace and Archer. In fact, I was putting the whole town on the list. First I lost my license, then the straw ban passed. How would I even get to the office tomorrow? I ran through the list of people I didn't care for right now as I sprayed Davy off in one of the upstairs bathrooms. He hollered as if I was burning him alive.

"He is cute now that he’s clean!" Archer said when I brought him down to the kitchen. Several of my younger brothers were there, eating a snack Josie, Mace's girlfriend had made for them.

Josie, picked up Davy and snuggled him. "He's so warm!" Davy immediately started crying. "Wow, tell me how you really feel!" Josie said, handing him to Hazel.

"I know you have more important things to do," I told her point-blank. "There's no need to coddle Archer."

"I don't mind being over here," Hazel said as she, too, tried to make Davy laugh.

"Find a YouTube video," Archer suggested. "Kids love YouTube videos."

"I'm not setting him in front of the TV so he can grow up like you," I scoffed.

"We made him some pizza toast," Josie said, shoving a plate at the screaming Davy.

"I brought stuffed animals," Archer said, pulling a raggedy stuffed jack-o’-lantern out of his bag.

"Where did you even find that?"

"The dollar store. It makes a noise."

The toy made the sound of a dying pigeon. Davy kept crying. He reached for me.

Mace snickered. "He only wants Garrett, poor kid."

I looked at Mace. He froze, and the smile fled from his face. I picked Davy up. He immediately stopped crying and looked around.

"This is not going to work for me," I said. "I have to work."

"But it's almost Halloween!" Josie gushed. "Aren't you excited?"

"Can we have a Halloween party?" Nate, one of my middle-school-aged brothers, asked.

"We have the fall festival," I said irritably.

"You shouldn’t have asked in front of him," Mace said to Nate. "Garrett hates fall and Halloween."

Hazel gaped at me. "How? Fall is the best time of the year."

"I don't hate it. I wouldn't waste that much energy. It’s merely an annoyance. I dislike fall. It's damp. There are dead leaves and all the Halloween junk and the pumpkin-spice everything. There are the excessive amounts of smelly candles and the creepy straw decorations. Plus all the inane parties and costumes."

Hazel looked at me in bemusement. I snapped my mouth shut.

The girl from the train station had been like fall personified.

But she’s not wet.

I beat that thought down as if I was taking a shovel to a zombie.

Chapter 3

Penny

I grumbled as I dragged my duffel bag through the train station. I tried to put the asshole Svensson out of my mind. Poor Davy. I hoped he would be okay. I also hoped his brother stepped on a rake.

Where were the twins? They were supposed to pick me up. A horn blared, and an antique black hearse pulled up in front of the train station, seeming to appear out of the dark. Morticia, or maybe it was Lilith, rolled down the driver's window. The twins had the same alabaster skin and long black hair.

"Get in," Morticia said, tapping her black-painted fingernail on the steering wheel. "Lilith, scoot over."

"New ride?" I asked as I tossed my bag into the back and squeezed in next to Lilith. Morticia sighed and pulled away from the curb. We passed the blond Svensson, highlighted under a streetlamp, stuffing a still-screaming Davy into the car.

"We have to drive an antique," Morticia explained. "It's the ghost. He doesn't like anything but classic cars."

"Right." I leaned back in the itchy horsehair seat. I was squished next to Lilith. "Why don’t you modify it to have more seats?"

Morticia turned to me, teeth sharp. "Then we wouldn't have room for our art pieces… or a coffin."

***

Salem, the twins' black cat, wound around my legs after I staggered out of the hearse. I looked up at the creaky old Victorian house. It was the closest place in the world I had to a home. Four stories tall, with a glass-enclosed turret, the huge house was a true Victorian mansion. It had tall ceilings, a wraparound porch, and a third-story ballroom that Mimi had always used to host big holiday parties.

I picked Salem up while Morticia dragged my duffel bag up the steep wooden steps to the front door.

"Watch that third step," Lilith warned. "The board is rotten. You'll crash right down to the cellar."

Morticia fitted an ornate skeleton key into the lock. It turned with a loud clank, and the front door creaked inward.

The first time I'd ever come to this house, I’d been barely a teenager. Mimi, Morticia and Lilith's grandmother, had welcomed me with open arms. She had been my foster mother until I’d aged out of the system. Even after, I would always come back to the house for holidays. Halloween was Mimi's favorite. She would dress up as a witch and turn the whole foyer into a mini haunted house and decorate the yard. She had died a year ago. I missed her every day.

"Did you have issues with the house when you moved in?" I asked the twins.

"A bit. It was vacant for months," Morticia explained as I followed her into the kitchen.

"I told her we should have sold it," Lilith added.

"No!" I protested. "You can't sell this house! I love it!"

"It's so large," Morticia said, setting the kettle to boil water for tea. "We really only need the carriage house out back. It wouldn’t be right for the house. It needs a rich couple to fix it up."

"If I had money, I would buy it, and you could live in the carriage house," I said wistfully.

Morticia snorted as she measured tea leaves. "Honestly, we’d give it to you, but Mimi took out multiple loans on it. Plus the upkeep costs are insane. It really needs a full remodel. And art doesn’t pay that much."

"You have some work for the Harrogate art trail," I countered.

"It's not going to last," Lilith said, passing out cups. "We’ll be done with our contract by Christmas."

"After that," Morticia said, sipping her tea, "who knows."

"Thanks for letting me crash here anyway," I said.

"How long is your temp position?"

"Until I get fired probably."

Lilith smirked. "Maybe you'll find a rich man. There are loads of them bopping around Harrogate now. We have quite the startup scene."

"I can't rely on a man. I need to make my own fortune. If I could make my baking YouTube channel profitable…"

"Your sex ASMR baking channel?" Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response videos, short hand for videos that feature sensual sounds like whispering, soft petting, or nails running across silk, all usually done by pretty girls. But of course if you asked the men that watched them, it was totally about how relaxing the sounds were. Girl? What girl? You mean a girl was doing it? Nope, never noticed.

"It's not sex baking!" I exclaimed, face red. "I just talk in a soft, calming voice while I make cakes."

"Yeah, but I've read the comments on your videos. You have a lot of guys who get off on watching you bake and do your sexy voice."

"I don't read comments," I sniffed.

"Start a Patreon and do baking in your underwear for your paying subscribers," Lilith suggested. "I bet you'd make enough money to buy this house in no time."

"That's unsanitary! No, I need something else."

I looked up at the ceiling. It was cobwebby and needed to be cleaned. And I needed to come clean to the twins about my mother.

"I cannot believe you're going to trust her," Morticia said once I'd relayed the conversation and Trisha's job offer to write a tell-all on the Svensson brothers.

"Could be bad," Lilith said. "This could be your epic and bloody downfall."

Morticia swirled her tea around in her cup. "We should do a reading. We'll see how your fortunes will fare in Harrogate. With something this serious, it's the only way."

***

After tea and snacks, I slowly walked through the house, the happy memories flooding back and bringing tears to my eyes. The furniture was exactly as Mimi had left it, though it was all covered with white sheets. The place felt a little spooky, like a real haunted house.

There was the bedroom with the hundreds of dolls and the study with the creepy animatronic animals from the Mast Brothers' chocolate factory, where Mimi had worked until it closed. Now it was going to be a swanky conference center. I hope they kept some of the creepy elements. It would be so cool to have a Halloween party there.

As I walked through the house, I hated to admit it, but the twins were right; the Old Victorian house had fallen on hard times. Several light bulbs were out or at least flickering. The stained woodwork was dusty, the tall windows were dark and dirty, and the chandeliers were covered in cobwebs. Mimi hadn’t had the energy to keep the house up in her old age. Then it had sat vacant. It did need someone who could afford to take care of it.

At least Mimi hadn't gone full-on Grey Gardens, mainly because the twins kept her in check, though they weren’t all that much better. I had been out back to their art studio. It was a pack rat's nest.

I pushed aside one of the heavy drapes that hid a secret passageway for the servants. Playing here as a kid had been magical. I still loved the house. I took my bag up the narrow back staircase to the turret. It was my favorite room, and it was very cozy with the rain pattering on the large panes of slightly wavy glass.

As I set down my bag and pulled the sheets off the furniture, a whistle shrieked. It was from the speaking tube. Back in the day, the servants would blow a puff of air into one end of the tube, and the other person knew to open their end to talk.

"Hello?"

"Tarot reading in the music room," Morticia said, voice tinny through the metal funnel.

In the library, the twins had removed the white sheets from the furniture. An old pipe organ that took up most of one wall lurked over us.

"We need to see what the future has in store for you," Morticia said. It was still raining outside, giving the room an eerie vibe. The Victorian-era gaslights flickered on the walls. Lilith and Morticia sat side by side, their angular faces, high cheekbones, and pointed chins spooky in the flickering light.

"Sit," Lilith said. Sage burned in a ceramic dish on the table. I sneezed.

"New man in your life?" Morticia asked, setting the tarot cards on the table.

"God, no. Geez, is this that kind of reading? I'm here for my work life. I have loans and credit card debt to pay back. I haven't even been within the spray zone of a man since…" Since an hour ago.

That does not count! I told my brain furiously.

I tried to ignore Morticia's gaze as I shuffled the oversized tarot cards then cut the deck. If I was going to deal with Douche-face Svensson and my mother, I needed all the help from the spiritual realm I could get.

Morticia studied the three cards in view. Lilith clicked her tongue. Mimi had used to do my tarot card readings. I suddenly missed her horribly. She was more of a mother than my own had ever been.

"What does it mean? Am I going to have riches and success in my future? Was I clear on the fact that I am up to my tits in debt?" I asked.

"The tower, the wheel of fortune, and the magician," Morticia said in a rapt voice.

"That's good, right? Wheel of fortune means my financial condition is about to change, and it can only get better."

Salem meowed, rubbing against my leg.

"Yes, but the tower means you are flirting with danger."

Thunder boomed, and I jumped. "That's literally my life."

"The magician means that new opportunities are coming, and possibly where you least expect them."

"So unexpected enormous riches are coming my way if I can be risky and ballsy." I pumped my fist. "Good to know."

"Or it could mean you're going to gamble and lose everything."

Chapter 4

Garrett

Mornings at the Svensson estate were chaotic. My two dozen youngest brothers acted like a pack of wild dogs, fighting for food and squabbling. Josie used to cook, then Archer’s girlfriend, Hazel, had taken over. I’d had to put the kibosh on that, because the two women had more important things to do than make meals for thirty-odd people three times a day.

Now we rotated. It was Remy’s turn for breakfast today.

"Breakfast burrito?" he offered. "It’s steak, hash browns, eggs, and cheddar."

I took it from him wordlessly.

Remy bent down. Davy was plastered to my leg.

"I have a mini burrito just for you."

I sat Davy down by Billy and Oscar and the rest of my youngest brothers so I could read the paper in peace. Davy's lower lip started trembling. I swiftly picked him back up. I had had to listen to him shriek for hours the previous night, and I did not want to repeat the experience. Davy sat on my lap and munched on his mini burrito while I tried to read the local paper. It was all about the Halloween fair and the Macbeth play the community center was putting on.

"They’re still looking for volunteers," Archer said. "Can’t you do community service to get your license back sooner?"

"I would rather pay the fine," I growled.

"But then you'd have to wait," Mace said. He and Archer were identical twins, which meant I held them both in identical contempt.

Before I could say anything, Davy tried to climb down from my lap, almost squeezing his burrito out over my suit.

"Davy, you and I are going to have to come to some sort of agreement," I told him in a low voice. "You’re ruining my image."

"Come here, Davy," Archer said, reaching over to try and grab him. Davy shrank back.

"He only wants Garrett," Mace said with a laugh.

"I don’t know why," Archer grumbled. "He's the least good-looking."

***

Davy was too young to go to school with the rest of my younger brothers. Fortunately, I had had the foresight to insist that one of the amenities offered at Svensson PharmaTech be a day care. Davy did not appreciate it. He screamed as soon as I handed him to Donna, one of the day care workers.

"He’ll stop eventually," Donna said, patting Davy on the back softly.

His screaming was giving me a headache. Had I still possessed my driver's license, I would have picked up cold-brew iced coffee on my way to the office. That sure would have eased the tension in my forehead right now.

"You need another assistant, Mace," I snapped at my brother. Ever since the situation with his last assistant had gone south, my older brother had become gun-shy. He was the CEO, and his office suite included a room for an assistant. Archer had recently moved his things into it.

"I need coffee," I told him.

"I can’t drive you," he replied.

It was irksome to have to rely on my brothers. Curse Hunter and the cell phone law.

"Also, I don’t know how you’re going to drink it with the straw ban," Mace added.

I fumed. "What are you doing that is so important?"

"We have the temp coming in."

"Excuse me?"

Mace gave me a mild look. "She’s going to help with the accounts."

"I don’t need help."

"We are chasing that acquisition for Thalian Biotech. It would be huge for PharmaTech if Sebastian sold us his company."

"I have it under control."

"Fine," Mace said. "Then you can use the temp to take you to the coffee shop. Actually," Mace said, clapping his hands together, "that’s a great idea! The temp can be your chauffeur-slash-assistant."

"Is this what you’ve been up to lately?"

Mace nodded. He seemed terribly pleased with himself. Moron.

"I refuse. Send the temp back."

"Too late!" he said. "The receptionist just sent me a chat saying Penny is here."