The Last Challenge
Sharon Karaa
Author Bio
Sharon Karaa is a mass of contradictions but two facets of her character have always battled for supremacy; her logical self (let’s call him Frank) and her artistic side (lets her call Misty).
Until recently, Frank won every battle, forcing Sharon into a life based on most probable outcome and, to give him his credit, it has led to a fairly comfortable if rather boring life so far.
Then Misty took up kick boxing and gave Frank a good kick in the goodies.
Sharon lives with her husband in a little village north of Newcastle upon Tyne, England. She doesn’t have a cat.
Description
Lauren Rutherford knows she is many things: a failed baker, an orphan, and a computer programmer. She also suspects she is ever so slightly nuts given that she often has conversations with her multiple personalities and Bad Luck is a man who seems to enjoy tormenting her at every opportunity.
What Lauren doesn’t know is that she is also a witch. She needs to learn, and fast, because the only thing between her and certain death is Agnes, her long-dead ancestor who has a foul mouth and a passion for G-strings, and Daniel, a sexy as hell male witch who drives her to distraction.
As the last descendant of a long line of witches, Lauren is the victim of a four hundred year old curse. Her life depends on her surviving a challenge set down by three damned souls, a challenge that will take her to hell and back. Literally. And Satan doesn’t do tea and scones!
Book excerpt
Despite the catastrophe that was my life at the moment, I slept surprisingly well. That is, until Agnes pulled open the curtains, allowing the harsh sunlight to invade my previously tranquil space.
“Wakey, wakey, sleepy head! Time to face the day!” She turned to the bed and grasped the end of the duvet, giving it a good tug.
I grabbed at the quickly receding cover and managed to catch it in a vice-like grip, hoping to pull it back over myself and ignore her, but Agnes was amazingly strong considering her four-hundred years, and I eventually gave up and let go. I heard her fly across the room and looked up to see her sprawled across the floor with her legs in the air, treating me to yet another delightful view of her underwear.
I slapped my hands over my eyes and groaned. “For the love of God!”
Cat was gone from his seat, no doubt making his escape as soon as the harpy arrived. I walked around the bed and stepped over Agnes, still lying prone on the floor, before making my way to the bathroom. When I came out, I heard Agnes swearing in the kitchen. Ignoring her, I dressed and then went to see what all the commotion was about, just in time to rescue the kettle as Agnes tried to stand it on the hob she had eventually mastered lighting.
“No!” I shouted, swinging it out of her grasp. “It’s electric. It doesn’t go on there, you plug it in!”
She looked on, confused, as I sat the kettle on its base and switched it on. “Ah!” she glanced between me and the kettle and grinned. “My, I could get used to all these fancy gadgets.” She settled herself around the table and clasped her hands together expectantly. “No oats?”
“I don’t do porridge but there’s granola in the cupboard.”
She looked confused again and I sighed, stamping my way across the kitchen and pulling out utensils and cereal to accommodate my unwanted guest. I slammed them down on the table in front of her and she proceeded to pour herself a generous helping as I returned to the kettle to make the coffee.
The next thing I knew, a piece of dried fruit struck me off the back of my head as Agnes spat the cereal out of her mouth at top speed. “What the fuck? This is rabbit food!” she stared in obvious revulsion at the contents of her bowl.
“Agnes, you’re supposed to put milk or yoghurt in it first, you don’t eat it dry,” I explained.
“Call Selina, get her to bring McDoodles,” she demanded, waving her finger at me.
I snatched up the phone in exasperation but Selina was one step ahead of us, and just as I dialled, the doorbell rang. “Too late,” I told Agnes. “She’s here!”