Olivia Boler books

The Flower Bowl Spell

From the backseat Romola screams, “The kitty!” and Tyson grabs it one-handed, dives into the passenger seat, and pulls the door closed. As I drive, the cat snarls, scratches him, and makes a beeline for the gas and brake pedals. I scuffle my feet at it until it scrabbles under the seat. “What the...