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within these Vegas walls waiting for me to find it.
    The first novel I published was Masquerade . It was a love story about a young couple I followed in New Orleans in 1945. By complete accident it landed in the hands of my cousin and best friend, Holly, and after much prodding and harassment, she convinced me it was worth sending in to test the publishing waters. I didn’t even want to dip my little toe into those waters, much less immerse my life into the actual literary world. Writing was so personal. It felt like I was sharing innermost thoughts from the pages of my journal.
    “Seriously, you have to publish this.” Holly pored through the freshly printed pages of Masquerade , while holding a glass of red wine.
    We had spread out on my living room floor with the chapters divided between us. “I love Josette and Luke’s story, and there are so many people out there who would love them too. It’s amazing and beautiful and tragic all at the same time.”
    Holly tightened the ponytail holding back the locks of her raven hair. Most people wouldn’t guess we were related at first glance because of my long, blond strands and light complexion compared to Holly’s olive tones and shoulder-length brunette curls.
    Holly lived the same life of magic I did. She too was blessed with a gift, and on more than one occasion, I wished I could have had her part of the gene pool. She was an Eraser . Not in the scary way you might think, but she could erase parts of people’s memories. She used her skill to help ease pain, sometimes fear. I asked her to teach me, but it never transferred and I couldn’t master the technique. Maybe she kept erasing the instructions so I couldn’t perform the spell. Erasing was a unique and special gift only appointed to people with kindness and compassion, and Holly was the perfect witch to have the gift.
    I took another sip of my wine and reached for a few pages out of her lap. “I don’t know. I did it for fun. You know, to escape from everything at work. And to stop thinking about you-know-who. It kept me busy and away from the tub of chocolate ice cream in my freezer.” My cousin rolled her eyes. Neither of us wanted to talk about you-know-who. My ex wasn’t welcome in this conversation. “The chances of someone at a publishing house even reading this and liking it are probably less than 1 percent. How about a wine refill, and we talk about you and Mike instead?” I hopped up and reached for the bottle on the end table near the couch.
    “Mike? He’s just so human sometimes. It’s getting harder and harder to keep the magic from him. I’m thinking of breaking up with him.”
    “Break up with Mike? That’s crazy. He’s nice and cute, really cute. You can’t break up with him because he’s not a witch.” I poured us both refills. “You can have both things in your life.” I was determined my relationship with magic wouldn’t prevent me from dating the men I wanted.
    Holly sighed. “You’re the one who always wanted a regular boyfriend and a regular life with no magic. Not me. I want to be able to share it. I don’t want to hide my life from him. He’s just not the right guy. There’s someone out there I can be magical with and not worry every second I’m going to slip up.” As if in defiance, she shot a ball of glitter from her palm and watched the glitter sprinkle onto my manuscript.
    “I’m sorry. You two looked so cute together. It shouldn’t have to be so complicated for us all the time. We should be able to date whoever we want.” Holly raised her glass to that.
    Holly, Ian, and I grew up as the three witchy amigos. She lived about an hour from us with her mother, my mom’s sister, Pansy. Our summers were filled with playing Kick the Can, Flashlight Tag, and coming up with ways to torment Ian. The summer we both turned ten, our mothers set up camp at the beach for the entire school break. One of those nights, we sat on the dunes near our family cottage and counted