A Little Too Familiar Read online

  Praise for Lish McBride

  Wildly inventive, thoroughly romantic, and cozily delightful, Lish McBride will leave you head over heels for this world and her characters.

  Gwenda Bond, New York Times bestselling author of The Date from Hell

  Big laughs and an even bigger heart, A Little Too Familiar gives the high-competence, low-angst romance you need right now.

  Chelsea Mueller, critically acclaimed author of the Soul Charmer series and Prom House

  Laughs, danger, and a cast of characters you’ll die to hang out with, A Little Too Familiar has everything I want in a romance. Louise is intriguing and passionate, Declan is honorable and undeniably hot, and when you throw in Dammit, the phoenix, you have a recipe for one unputdownable story! Give me book two now!

  Kristen Simmons, critically-acclaimed author of the Article 5 series and The Deceivers

  A romp of a paranormal romance in the best possible way! Solid world building, a family you’d love to belong to, and a couple you root for the first page. I need the sequel, STAT!

  Jeanette Batista, best-selling author of the Moon Series & Books of Aerie series

  Intricate world building, sexy and smart leads who can’t live without each other, a diabolical villain you will delight in hating, vengeance pigeons, murder ferrets—all while sneaking in beautiful messages about the family of the heart. What more could you ask of a story?

  Molly Harper, author of the Half-Moon Hollow & Mystic Bayou series

  Full of charm, found family, adorable animals and the sweetest alpha ever, A Little Too Familiar is a wonderfully cozy delight. Here’s to many more books in this series!

  Stephanie Burgis, author of Snowspelled and Scales and Sensibility

  Lish McBride’s A Little Too Familiar is so much fun, but “fun” alone doesn’t do this book justice. Lou and Declan’s love story is told with warmth and compassion, has an amazing cast of characters, and more heart than any book I’ve read in a long time. All while making me laugh so hard it hurt. I couldn’t ask for more.

  Jaime Lee Moyer

  As both a longtime Lish McBride fangirl and a romance author who has been banging the ‘take big swings’ drum for a few years now, I cannot express the depth of my glee that Lish has taken a big crack at the genre; her romantic debut is utterly hilarious, warm, romantic, and unlike anything you’ve read before. A Little Too Familiar is written with a wise and quirky pen, unique but also deeply relatable. A Little Too Familiar is a knock-it-out-of-the-park, magic on every page delight.

  Christina Lauren, NYT Bestselling authors of the Unhoneymooners

  There was a time when I read a lot of urban fantasy and then I didn’t. I moved on, to Romance, mostly. Every once in a while, though, I still want the world-building that Urban Fantasy provides; the rich, immersive world that is this close to the world we live in, but with magic. I honestly didn’t expect to get that same world-building in a Paranormal Romance, where the nature of the genre means that the characters and relationships must take center stage. Imagine my delighted surprise, then, when I read A Little Too Familiar and discovered within its pages the perfect blend of a fully-realized magical world and the emotional satisfaction and Happily Ever After necessary for a good Romance. There are also all of the snark and snappy dialogue and pop culture references that I have come to expect from Lish McBride. Plus food porn and adorable animals and found family and sexy sexytimes. I’m incredibly happy that this is the book that Lish needed to write during the pandemic, because it is exactly the book I needed to read. I’m really looking forward to spending more time in this world and with these characters and seeing all the HEAs to come.

  Billie Bloebaum, Bookseller & founder of Bookstore Romance Day

  A Little Too Familiar

  An Uncanny Romance Novel

  Lish McBride

  Copyright © 2022 by Lish McBride

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design & illustration:Jenny Zemanek

  Book design: Vladimir Verano

  Published in the United States by

  Devo-Lish

  Contact email: [email protected]

  lishmcbride.com

  To everyone who kept the world spinning over the last few years—especially medical workers, teachers, scientists, delivery people, and food industry folks. You made it possible for me to stay safe and none of you got the respect or support you deserve. Thank you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Lou

  Chapter Two

  Declan

  Chapter Three

  Lou

  Chapter Four

  Declan

  Chapter Five

  Lou

  Chapter Six

  Declan

  Chapter Seven

  Lou

  Chapter Eight

  Declan

  Chapter Nine

  Lou

  Chapter Ten

  Lou

  Chapter Eleven

  Lou

  Chapter Twelve

  Lou

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lou

  Chapter Fourteen

  Declan

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lou

  Chapter Sixteen

  Declan

  Chapter Seventeen

  Declan

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lou

  Chapter Nineteen

  Declan

  Chapter Twenty

  Lou

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lou

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lou

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Declan

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lou

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lou

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lou

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Declan

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Lou

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Declan

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lou

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Lish McBride

  Chapter One

  Lou

  Mrs. Davis perched rigidly on one of the plastic chairs in the exam room, her large handbag taking up the other seat. The exam room walls were painted a soothing blue color, complemented by idyllic scenes of animals in nature. We’d brought a designer in specifically to make this room the visual equivalent of a cup of chamomile tea. And yet, the client appeared very unsoothed. She actually looked the opposite of soothed, like the faintest nudge would make her crack into several jagged pieces.

  I nervously adjusted the little plastic badge that said apprentice on it as I tried to decide the best approach.

  She held her hands, which were encased in high-heat-resistant gloves, out to me like an offering. I leaned over the exam table to get a better look at a puffball the color of flames nestled in her gloves. Oranges, reds, and a little tuft of yellow over bright obsidian eyes. The baby phoenix chirped at me, the note musical and clear, and my heart totally melted. How cute was he? Answer: so fucking cute.

  Sometimes, I loved my job.

  Other times, well…let’s just say I wear scrubs for a reason.

  The phoenix shook his fledgling feathers and sparks cascaded down. I spritzed the floor with more water just in case. Birds weren’t always my favorite—pigeons, for example, could test anyone’s patience. For having brains the size of a walnut, they had an astounding repertoire of dirty jokes. And nosy—you couldn’t keep secrets from pigeons. But this little guy? I just wanted to squeeze all his cuteness into a cup and drink it.

  Wait. Was that weird? It was probably weird. I needed to spend more time around people.

  “Here.” She pushed the fledging almost into my hands, even though I wasn’t gloved yet.

  Surprised, I sidestepped, trying to read her body language. Was she just desperate to hand off the fledgling? I would be the first to admit that I didn’t always read humans well. Animals make sense. People…don’t.

  “I can’t live like this.” She leaned closer, brushing his feathers against my scrubs. I yelped, jumping back, smacking the fabric with my free hand. The stench of singed cotton filled my nose. Our clinic saw phoenix fledglings so rarely that I hadn’t really been prepared when I’d entered the room. I was kicking myself for not grabbing one of our leather aprons. But I’d been so excited to check the little fella in—a baby phoenix!—that I practically sprinted into the room. There was no way Dr. Larsen, or as I called her off the clock, Mama Ami, would miss the singe mark, either.

  I had a “your heart is in a good place, but you need to slow down and consider consequences” speech coming my way, which was a classic I’d heard many times before. But come on—baby phoenix.

  The woman was being careful to keep the sparks from touching her own slacks, which was good, because though I may not know designers or labels, they looked expensive.

  I set my spritzer on the exam table, trying to decide how to respond while simultaneously attempting to feel out the situation. You don’t just find a baby phoenix in your sink one morning. Phoenix parents were fiercely protective, nurturing their young for the first few
months. That was a good thing, because fledglings couldn’t control their flames very well. Hence her thick leather gloves and my squirt bottle. If she’d had an adult phoenix, neither would be necessary.

  Or if they were bonded, which was where I came in. Or at least, where I wanted to come in, once I was able to finally remove the apprentice badge from my scrubs.

  I closed my eyes for a second so I could concentrate on my magic. There was no familiar bond between the client and the fledgling. Maybe something had happened to the parent? It was possible she had found the baby and brought it in, hoping we could bond them quickly. That would be safer for everyone involved.

  “I admit he’s a little more….” I struggled for a polite euphemism, because I’ve never really gotten the hang of that sort of thing. But I was trying. “Your prospective familiar is a little more temperamental than most, but the trade-offs—”

  “I don’t want a familiar.” She scrunched her nose at the baby phoenix. “I came by him on accident and now I don’t know what to do. He almost burnt down my breakfast nook. He eats salamanders—the real ones, the tiny flame lizards? Do you have any idea how hard it is to store food that burns?”

  Since it was part of my job, of course I did, but I knew from experience that stressed-out clients don’t want to hear “I know.” They want to feel heard.

  So I made my sympathetic noises. I’m good at sympathetic noises.

  It was much easier to make those than lie politely. Animals don’t lie. Except for cats. Cats do what they want. But my mentor, Dr. Larsen, was very clear on the topic of cats—respect them for who they are, but don’t be one.

  I needed to think like a golden retriever. Sweet, affectionate, and helpful. The client had an animal she wasn’t prepared to care for. It happened, and it was a situation I knew how to solve. Besides, it wouldn’t be difficult to rehome the bird, they were highly sought-after. The fledgling chirped, and if it was at all possible, I melted again. Rehoming would need to be done carefully, because it would be hard on the phoenix. Like a lot of avians, they imprinted, and as far as he was concerned, the woman holding him was mama.

  I reached out with my magic, making sure to inject soothing warmth into my mental voice. Hello, little one. What’s your name?

  The phoenix perked up, proudly ruffling its baby feathers, making him look like a little fluff-ball of fire. As he got older, he’d shift into a mix of blues and purples, only staying red on the edges. I am called Dammit.

  I blinked, looking up at the woman, struggling for a second to remember her name. Davis. “Mrs. Davis, did you name the fledgling?”

  “It’s Ms., and no.” She held him over the exam table. “I didn’t want either of us to get attached.”

  Which meant he’d probably picked up his name from her yelling things like, “Damn it, don’t roost on the sofa!” I couldn’t hold Ms. Davis too accountable for that. If you weren’t prepared for a baby phoenix, raising them was difficult. Naming him, though, caused some problems. He would be more attached. Maybe he didn’t need to be rehomed. I could feel out the situation, see if she just needed some support to help her keep him.

  I dug through the drawer, pulling out a pair of my own heat-resistant gloves, cooing at Dammit. “How did you end up with him?”

  Ms. Davis quickly dumped Dammit into my waiting hands. She shifted away, mumbling something as she tugged at the fingers of her gloves, deftly removing them.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Cradling Dammit, I placed him on the metal scale.

  Ms. Davis tucked her gloves into her bag, fussing with it for several seconds before resettling into her chair, her chin held high. “I thought he was a yoni egg.”

  I frowned, trying to jot down the bird’s weight while scooping him up off the scale. He was a little underweight, but nothing worrisome yet. I searched my memory but came up dry—I’d never heard of a yoni. Which wasn’t that strange. Lots of creatures out there, and I was still learning. “I’m afraid you lost me.”

  “They’re eggs carved out of semiprecious stones, like jade. You stick them up your”—she dropped her voice, before looking down at her hands clasped in her lap—“you know.”

  I did not know, and I’m sure my face conveyed that. I tried to think of all the places you could stick an egg. It was a short list, and I wasn’t sure it was a good one.

  I stroked the bird, checking his eyes and beak. Despite being underweight, he looked healthy. His color was good, his eyes bright and alert. I decided to guess. “You stick them in your vagina?” Please let that be it. I mean, adults, do what you want with your bodies, but I personally had no desire to stick an egg up anything.

  Unless it was a sex thing? Please let it be a sex thing. I was a lot more understanding about sex. The animal kingdom had given me a fairly broad interpretation of “sex,” and as long as it was between consenting adults, I was all for it.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding, and it took me a second to remember she was responding to my vagina question. “It’s supposed to strengthen your muscles and help you meditate.”

  I would find it really difficult to meditate with anything stuck up my vagina, but then I had a hard time meditating, period. “Phoenix eggs aren’t cheap.”

  She shrugged. “I got it off Mage’s List. Someone was selling it at decent price, and it was pretty.”

  There was so much to unpack there. How much were yoni eggs that a phoenix egg seemed cheap by comparison? Or had the seller not realized what they had? Was it listed as used? I really hoped she’d sanitized it, because you didn’t want to introduce foreign bacteria into what my roommate Van referred to as “Fort Vajay.” Van also sometimes referred to sex as “storming the gates.”

  Focus. I needed to focus. I was teetering dangerously close to judgmental cat thoughts now, which, while fun, weren’t always helpful.

  “I can see that. They’re very pretty.” And I could. Phoenix eggs were gorgeously jewel-toned.

  She fidgeted with her hair, smoothing a few wisps that had escaped her ponytail. “I tried using it, but then it got hot. Really hot. I have to go to the doctor after this and make sure everything is okay down there.” She shook her head. “I’m going to sue the person who put this up as a yoni egg.” Ms. Davis grabbed her purse. “Are we done here? My doctor appointment is in thirty minutes and I want to leave time for traffic.”

  I blinked at her. “You’re just going to leave? You know birds bond, right?” I lifted Dammit up. He chirped. So cute. “He thinks you’re his mother. If you need help learning to care for him, we have some literature—”

  Ms. Davis scrunched her nose. “I already told you. I don’t want a familiar.”

  Okay, back to my original plan—rehoming. “I understand. We can help you find a good home for him. With my mentor’s help, we can transition the bird over to his new owner in about a week if we really—”

  “A week? Absolutely not.” She scowled at me.

  I looked down at the fledgling in my hands. But he was so cute. Dangerous, but cute. “We’d work around your schedule.”

  She shook her head, already turning away.

  “You’re not even going to say goodbye?” I lifted Dammit up. Surely she couldn’t say no to—

  “No, I’m not going to say goodbye! It’s a bird!” She threw me another scowl over her shoulder. “It’s not like they have real feelings, you know.” She waved her hands at me and Dammit. “Bird!” She opened the door, muttering about “weird animal mages.” As soon as Dammit saw she was leaving, he got agitated, flapping his tiny wings. My heart broke for the little guy.