The Unexplainable Fairy Godmother (The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont Book 1) Read online

  The Unexplainable Fairy Godmother

  The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont™ Book 1

  Sarah Noffke

  Michael Anderle

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2021 LMBPN Publishing

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US Edition, March 2021

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-64971-626-2

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-627-9

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Sarah’s Author Notes

  Michael’s Author Notes

  Acknowledgments

  Books By Sarah Noffke

  Check out Sarah Noffke’s YA Sci-fi Fantasy Series

  Books By Michael Anderle

  Connect with The Authors

  The Unexplainable Fairy Godmother Team

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Dave Hicks

  Veronica Stephan-Miller

  Micky Cocker

  Dorothy Lloyd

  Deb Mader

  Zacc Pelter

  Jeff Goode

  Angel LaVey

  Larry Omans

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  The Skyhunter Editing Team

  Once again and a thousand times more, for my muse, Lydia.

  — Sarah

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  — Michael

  Chapter One

  If love was what made the Earth go ’round, then it was about to freeze on its axis. Few people knew the repercussions of love being created or, more importantly, of love being lost.

  A fairy godmother knew. It was her job to ensure matches were made and love achieved. The problem was fairy godmothers weren’t what they used to be, and it was creating a domino effect across the globe.

  Marylou Goodwin stood behind a concrete pillar in the London Underground. She wore a long blue gown with a hood over her gray curls to keep the cold chill off her shoulders and head. She wore it like that for practical reasons but also to keep her cover. It was always better if fairy godmothers weren’t spotted by those they were spelling.

  The old fairy godmother had been patiently waiting for her “Cinderella” to arrive on the platform. Hopefully, the woman, a Miss Amelia Rose, would show soon, or the timing of matching with her Prince Charming would be off. Also, Marylou’s feet were throbbing from standing for so long. She wasn’t as young as she used to be, and she felt her age more with every case.

  “I’m getting too old for this,” she muttered under her breath, willing the blood in her feet to circulate as she toggled her weight between them.

  The truth was that Marylou had been old when she became a fairy godmother. Most were, and after a few centuries of matchmaking, this tired fairy godmother was out of stamina. There were bigger issues as well, and they were about to become very apparent for the rest of the world.

  “Oh, about time,” Marylou said as she caught sight of Amelia Rose striding down the walkway to where her train would be stopping in five minutes.

  The Cinderella was on her cellphone chatting with Bryce Tyler, the man who had been pining for her affection since they graduated from college last year. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a braid, and she had only a small bit of makeup adorning her face.

  Amelia forced a smile, which on her elegantly beautiful face still lit up her large brown eyes even though it was absent of any joy. Her words were barely audible over the clacking of her smart high heels and the rush of the other trains on neighboring platforms.

  “Yeah, I’ll talk to you soon,” she replied to the guy on the other side of the line after a pause. The smile on her pink lips disappeared. “I miss you too.”

  She didn’t. Marylou knew that much. Bryce Tyler’s mother missed him. The friend he’d had since preschool missed him. His sister who worried he’d never get married missed him. But Amelia Rose had never missed the redheaded financial advisor, even though she appreciated his friendship.

  Lasting relationships were built on friendship, but more importantly, they started with a spark. Those relationships that made the world go around, anyway.

  Amelia Rose ended the call. Her lack of enthusiasm over Bryce Tyler was heavy on her face as she passed a well-dressed man standing on the platform, his attention on his own mobile device.

  Marylou twirled her finger around and pointed at the two from her hiding place behind the pillar.

  A handkerchief slipped from the back of Amelia Rose’s purse and gr
acefully floated to the concrete, where it landed close to the man—Mr. Grayson McGregor.

  The old “drop the handkerchief” technique was tried and true, and Marylou had used it for centuries to get the attention of a Prince Charming for one of her Cinderellas.

  To the fairy godmother’s surprise, Grayson McGregor didn’t notice the handkerchief. Marylou sighed. She hoped this wasn’t going to be as difficult as the last case. She poked her wrinkled, bony finger in the air and stirred the embroidered handkerchief around the legs of his slacks.

  That got his attention. Grayson glared down and picked up Amelia’s possession. He was eyeing the initials when Amelia spun and spied him with her handkerchief.

  “Excuse me.” She strode back in his direction and reached for the linen square. “That’s mine.”

  He brought his blue eyes up and smiled playfully pulling the handkerchief out of her reach. “Can you prove it? What are your initials?”

  She sighed and looked for the train. She’d be late for work if it didn’t get here soon. One more time and she’d get fired. “They’re A.R.”

  He shook his head. “These are B.T.”

  She frowned. “Those are my boyfrie—friend’s initials.”

  “Well, is he a friend or a boyfriend?” Grayson still held the cloth, a flirtatious expression dancing in his eyes.

  Amelia narrowed her gaze at the stranger—her one true Prince Charming.

  Marylou let out a frustrated breath. This wasn’t going well…again. She wisped her finger in a small gesture and made a gust of wind take the handkerchief from Grayson’s fingers and send it down the platform.

  Amelia regarded him incredulously when he simply watched it fly away.

  “Well,” she said in a demanding tone. “Are you going to get that for me?”

  He glanced in the direction of the handkerchief flying down the Underground, their train speeding in their direction. “Sorry, but my train is coming, and I can’t be late.”

  Amelia’s mouth popped open. “But you lost it.”

  “I did not!” he argued at once.

  “I’m wearing heels.” She pointed at the red heels that matched her striped skirt and blouse.

  “Well, I don’t know why your impractical decisions have to affect me,” he countered, anger flaring on his face.

  She balled up her fists, her face growing as red as her shoes.

  Grayson rolled his eyes. “Oh, fine. But I better not miss my train.” He sped off, racing after the square of cloth flying on the wind directed by Marylou. By the time he’d recovered the handkerchief, the train had come and gone, but Amelia had stayed, growing more furious by the second. She couldn’t lose Bryce’s handkerchief. It meant something to him. However, now she was late.

  Marylou knew that if the two shared a taxi, they would feel the spark, and the rest would be history.

  Grayson threw up his chin, the handkerchief crushed in his hand. “Seriously? I missed the train! Not today.”

  Amelia held out her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m probably fired now.”

  He cut his eyes at her hand and then her face. “Well, my apologies. Maybe I can offer you a job at my company, McGregor Technologies.”

  She blinked at him. “McGregor Technologies? That company turned me down for a position last year when I graduated from college.”

  He was supposed to offer her a job, and she would accept, and they’d work together and fall in love. From the angry expression on both their faces, romance was not budding between them—the exact opposite. There was a fine line between the two.

  He shrugged. “We like our candidates to have experience.”

  “I have experience!” she argued. “Plus, I’m a quick learner.”

  “But you’re not quick on your feet,” he pointed out between breaths, taxed after the run to get Amelia’s handkerchief.

  She yanked it from his hand. “Do you always insult people whose stuff you take?”

  He grinned at her. “I didn’t take it. You dropped it. So you make poor clothing choices, can’t run after your own things, and you lose stuff. Never mind the job offer.”

  Amelia’s mouth formed a hard line. “What is your name?”

  He lifted his chin proudly. “Grayson McGregor.”

  She nodded. “Grayson, consider yourself warned. Your company is utter rubbish to me.”

  The guy laughed, his teeth perfectly straight on the top and cutely crooked on the bottom. He was very handsome, with his short brown hair and boyish dimples. “And who will I have the pleasure of attributing my downfall to? If it happens.”

  She started down the platform, her heels clicking against the concrete. After a few steps, she whipped around and narrowed her eyes at him. “Amelia Rose. One day you’ll hear my name and know I’m the one who undercut your prices, stole all your customers, and sank McGregor Technologies.”

  “I cannot wait, Amelia Rose. Bring it on.”

  The two stormed in opposite directions, each raving mad.

  Marylou groaned and leaned against the pillar. The thing about a spark was it had the potential to ignite a brilliant love affair or to burn the bridges between two lovers. It was a delicate balance, one a fairy godmother was supposed to be good at keeping. It appeared, yet again, that Marylou Goodwin had failed. She knew the repercussions of Amelia and Grayson not falling in love would have far-reaching effects and would undoubtedly hurt the world at large.

  Chapter Two

  Strong hands grabbed Paris Westbridge’s shoulders, yanking her hard off the giant she was assaulting. He was easily double her size and a lot uglier by anyone’s standards.

  “Don’t,” she hissed as she struggled to get out of the grasp of the detective who was trying to pull her off the giant. Detective Nicholson was stronger than Paris, but she was nimbler. She dropped her body weight, diving under his arm and backing up several feet as the stupid giant Madow threw his fist. The attack was meant for her but slammed straight into Detective Nicholson’s face, sending him back several feet.

  Gasping, Paris grabbed him as he stumbled and kept him from falling to the ground. Madow, realizing he’d made things ten times worse for himself, turned at once and sprinted down Roya Lane, fleeing the crime scene like the coward he was.

  Detective Nicholson held the side of his face as he turned and looked at Paris. He shook his head and squinted with his one open eye. The fairy lowered her chin, knowing there would be no fleeing for her. She had to face this and knew from experience it wouldn’t be pleasant.

  With an authoritative glare, Detective Nicholson pointed at the building at the end of the street. Paris had been in there many times. Hell, she lived there lately, but not by choice.

  Swallowing her pride and not needing any more directives, she marched in the direction of the Fairy Law Enforcement Agency, where she was certain there was a jail cell with her name on it. At this point, she should keep a toothbrush there as if it was a boyfriend’s place—if the boyfriend was a warden who served really bad food and kept her rap sheet on his desk since he referenced it so often.

  Trudging toward the office, Paris sighed. This was her third strike in so many terms. She wasn’t getting a slap on the wrist, and both she and Detective Nicholson knew it.

  Paris Westbridge was in a world of trouble, and there would be no talking her way out of it this time.

  Chapter Three

  At the glass door to the Fairy Law Enforcement Agency, Paris caught her reflection. She grinned, proud that she looked a lot less messed up than Madow. The fairy was pretty sure she’d given the giant a black eye and loosened one of his teeth with her fists. She chuckled, thinking it was an improvement on his ugly face.

  In contrast, Paris’ shoulder-length blonde hair was hardly mussed and fell straight around her face. Her blue eyes blinked back at her, and she was grateful to see no scratches or swelling from the fistfight. To her disappointment, her favorite leather jacket had a rip in the arm, and her boots were scuffed. As she and most fairies in the mod
ern world usually did, her periwinkle-blue wings were glamoured not to show, but she was confident they were unscathed.

  “You know where to go,” Detective Nicholson told her when they entered.

  Paris nodded and walked past the reception desk where Charlotte sat filing her nails as her sparkly blue wings fluttered behind her. Since she hardly left the magical area known as Roya Lane, she never bothered to glamour her wings.

  “Oh, good to see you, Paris.” The receptionist popped her gum. “Do you want some green tea? I have a new Moroccan mint flavor.”