Wicked Whoopie Pies Addison Moore (the false prince series TXT) 📖

bounce Lyla Nell over to the refreshment table, right here at the B&B for Charlie’s big family reunion. Lily and Suze just arrived with multiple pink boxes with the Cutie Pie logo on them. And behind them Sergio Sorrentino and Charlie walk in holding five large pizza boxes apiece.

“Everett, it was a nightmare.” Lemon’s chest bucks against my own. “My mother lost the key to her room! The building could have burned around our poor baby girl.” She gives a quick glance over her shoulder. “Thank God Greer and Winslow were in the room with Lyla Nell. And here’s the kicker—they think she could see them!”

“What?” I inch back as if she struck me. “Okay, that’s fine. We’ll take it in stride.” My heart ratchets up as if it’s about to drill a hole right through my chest. It’s not every day you need to come to terms with the fact your kid just might see the dead. “We knew this might happen. Lyla Nell is special. We’ll have to keep that in mind. But the sooner we start the narrative that other people don’t see disembodied spirits, the better.” I suck a quick breath through my teeth. “We’ll have to tell Evie.”

A hard groan comes from Lemon. “No offense, but I’m not sure this is a secret she can keep.”

Charlie tucks her head between us. “Who can’t keep a secret?”

Before Lemon can say a word, Evie pops up and hooks my neck toward her with her arms.

“You know the secret?” Evie dots a kiss to my cheek.

“That you’ve forgiven me for showing up on campus?” I ask.

“And mortifying me into an early grave? Pfft.” Evie rolls her eyes. “You wish. You geezers pull that stunt again and I’ll be forced to call child protective services. I’m talking about Charlie.” She turns to Lemon. “Mom, Aunt Charlie can see ghosts! She says some freaky family haunts this place. And she said the female ghost, some chick by the name of Greer Giles, had the hots for Dad! And Greer’s got a two-hundred-year-old boyfriend named Winslow Decker, and they adopted this creepy kid. She’s a six-year-old girl who walks around this place with her hair combed over her face and a machete in her hand, and her name is Azalea. Oh, and they have a black cat named Thirteen who can talk. How cool is that? Dash and I are going to see if we can get Azalea to come out and play.” She bolts off and Dash is right there by her side.

“Her name is Lea!” Lemon shouts before turning to her look-alike and scowling. “She hates to be called Azalea, and you know that. It only sets her off. If Evie and Dash suffer an unfortunate follicular fate by way of a supernatural machete, it’s all your fault. And what’s with you shooting your mouth off to everyone here about ghosts? The transmundane community in Vermont doesn’t roll that way, in the event you were wondering.”

Charlie blinks over at her sister with a look that lets us know she doesn’t care how anyone rolls outside of herself.

“Fine, I won’t tell anyone else.” Charlie turns her nose up at us. “It’s not like anyone was taking me seriously anyway. My lips are sealed. I’m actually quite good at keeping secrets. Just ask Carlotta.”

As if on cue, Carlotta pops up. “Who said what, when, and where?” Her eyes bug out at her younger daughter. Despite the fact Charlie’s hair is a touch darker, she and Lemon are nearly identical. “What lies are you spewing now, Cha Cha? I knew I should have sewn your lips shut while I had the chance.”

“Carlotta.” Lemon gives a dull laugh. “It’s no wonder Charlie has been telling everyone she sees about her sixth sense. It’s clear you never gave her the attention she deserved. I was simply explaining to Charlie that we don’t care to share our supersensual abilities with the fine people of Honey Hollow.” She turns to her sister. “Or anyone else on planet Earth. I’ll deal with Evie.”

“And I’ll deal with you,” Carlotta growls over at Charlie before looking at Lemon. “Lot Lot, you deal with Sexy. He looks tense, and angry, and just shaking to get you alone. Miranda told me the two of you went off to look for magical chickens.” She narrows her eyes my way. “The woman is an amateur. Come on, Sexy. You know a few moves that can get this post-baby game started. You’ve been honing your chops for years, finding new and innovative ways to make haste and get down to the nitty-gritty in the most inconvenient of places. There’s no excuse for you to miss out on the best my Lot has to offer.”

Charlie clucks her tongue. “Please, they’re sleeping together every night. Neither of them is missing out on anything.”

“Not true,” Carlotta says. “They’re not sleeping together in the way God intended. Little Yippy Yappy has Fox blood coursing through her veins. She’s all but programmed to stop the two of them from having a good time. And don’t think Foxy is all torn up about it either. So far she’s the best weapon in his arsenal as far as putting a rift between these two. Foxy has programmed that little baby bomb to go off in fifteen-minute intervals, and while Lot and Sexy lose brain cells by the hour, he’s snoozing like the King of Sleep safely across the street to the blissful sound of his own snoring.”

Now this is one theory of hers I can buy into.

“Carlotta.” Lemon laughs. “You make it sound as if all I am to Everett is a play thing.”

Charlie moans as she looks up at me. “Sign me up. I’ll play with you day in and day out—no rules, no, limits, no end to the fun that could be had.”

Lemon leans her way. “Tough luck, sis. Both Noah and Everett are off-limits to you. Keep your greasy pizza hands to yourself. Find someone else to pick