“Interesting—after all your naughtiness, they still toast you,” Anteros said.
“I am the God of Love…”
Anteros rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s time for your next therapy session.”
“Do I really have to go?”
“It was part of your sentence. You have to talk about your feelings.”
“How long do I have to do this?” Cupid asked.
“As long as it takes,” Anteros said.
“You think this is funny,” Cupid said.
“Of course I do,” Anteros replied. “You deserve every moment in therapy.”
“Why aren’t you in therapy? We had the same parents.”
Anteros smirked. “Because I got the heart, and you got the ego.”
Cupid laughed. “Fair enough.” They closed in on the healer’s residence. “Thank you, though. I doubt I would have been able to bring this together without you turning Ava in.”
“My pleasure.”
Cupid shook his head. “And those foolish fairies think I do this stuff by myself.”
Anteros laughed. “If they only knew…”
“Be nice, brother.” And Anteros took Cupid’s arm, leading him to his counseling session for his meddling behavior and narcissism.
About the Author
Candice Gilmer lives with her family in Kansas, admiring the beautiful skyline, watching out for tornadoes and occasionally writing. She can be found around the Internet here:
Website: www.candicegilmer.com
Blog: candicegilmer.blogspot.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/candicegilmerauthor
Twitter: www.twitter.com/candicegilmer
Look for these titles by Candice Gilmer
Now Available:
Fantasy Girl
The Reluctant Prince
Mission of Christmas
Guys and Godmothers
Under His Nose
Before His Eyes
Just His Taste
Sometimes even a fairy godmother needs to call for backup.
Before His Eyes
© 2014 Candice Gilmer
Guys and Godmothers, Book 2
When Fairy Godmother Lilly Bloom gets her latest assignment, the rules send her into a minor panic attack. She must bring two people together—using as little magic as possible.
Photographer Bruce Matthews has finally found someone who really, really gets him. He and Greta like the same things, laugh at the same jokes. There’s just one thing—he’s never actually seen her face to face. Her social media profile bears no picture.
Much as Greta Vandecall yearns to leave her small town and meet her online prince charming, secrets chain her to the past and force her to hide her face from the world. Secrets she knows would destroy the friendship she values most.
A steampunk convention seems to be the perfect way to meet face to mask. And in the excitement of the moment they connect in a very warm, real way. But cold, hard reality isn’t far behind. And if Lilly fails, this time she’ll lose her fairy godmother status. For good.
Warning: Stupid decisions, a love of steampunk, and a fairy godmother willing to do whatever it takes to bring two people together.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Before His Eyes:
He’d had multiple reasons for giving Greta the cell phone number. Partly because it would be easier for her to text him if she didn’t have to go through Facebook, since she didn’t have a smart phone. The other part, though, was more personal.
He’d hoped she would share a photo with him.
So far nothing.
He didn’t know how he should feel. Both pumped about talking to Jason, and a little sick.
He’d friggin’ asked Jason to get him a photo of Greta.
It had come to him in a blink of clarity—albeit drunken clarity—at the bachelor party. He’d been chatting with her for six months now, and not once had he seen her photo.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
She put up a photo of her toes when she’d gotten a pedicure and had little gears on each nail—very awesome and steampunk. And Bruce loved all things steampunk.
Even toes.
He wanted to know more about those toes.
Snap—his best friend was a private investigator. Jason could find out anything.
Two unconnected ideas came together.
Pics of Greta.
Staring at his phone, he wondered if he should call Jason and tell him to forget it. Everyone had their reasons for privacy.
But Bruce was a photographer. He saw things differently. Pictures were his world, and not knowing what Greta looked like made him nuts.
He didn’t care if she was fat or thin or short or tall. He worked with all sorts of people, and saw the beauty in even the most asinine things.
Especially steampunk toes.
He was beginning to think he was a little obsessed with this woman. Maybe the pictures would be a good thing. Then he’d know what she was hiding—and he was sure she was hiding something—and maybe he’d be over this obsession.
Might even want to go on a real date again.
Because spending the night drinking beer and texting Greta did not make a real date.
Might have been more fun if you were there… - Bruce
He walked into his condo, flipped on the lights, turned off the security alarm. His ten-year-old Labrador, Steve, with as much energy as someone who ate the entire turkey on Thanksgiving, turned his head toward Bruce, yawned, stretched, and curled back up in his dog bed in the corner.
“Such a meanie, aren’t you?” Bruce said. The dog made a grumble and went back to sleep.
The old boy didn’t have much energy left. Regardless of the daily walks and regular vet visits, Steve’s days were numbered. Already he’d gotten gray around his nose and mouth. Those big fatty tumors all over him and the arthritis made getting around harder for the dog.
Bruce took a seat on the couch, setting his phone on the coffee table. Or would have, if he hadn’t seen the reply from Greta.
Hardy har har… - Greta
He slipped off his shoes, smirking.
Knew that was coming.
Steve groaned, hobbling over to the couch, and climbed up. The dog grunted and laid his head in Bruce’s lap. He stroked the dog’s head, and in a flash the dog snoozed again.
So he answered Greta’s text.
You woulda had your pick of hot guys… - Bruce
Even if I was the last woman on earth, I would never invade a bachelor party... - Greta
If you were the last woman on earth, then who’d be getting married? - Bruce
He picked up his tablet, grinning as his email loaded, because he couldn’t wait to see what she’d say. Not that he wanted to see if he had any new work orders come in. He was much more—
Ping.
Maybe you all are gay, and what would I want with you? - Greta
He laughed, waking up Steve. “Sorry pal.”
The dog snorted and lay back down.
Must reply…
Thought women loved to “turn” gay men. - Bruce
After hitting send, he wondered if she’d laugh. And then wondered what her laugh sounded like. Again it hit him that he’d never seen her smile. Didn’t know what color her eyes were.
He shook off the rather sentimental thoughts and turned to his emails. Work beckoned. Three new cover art request forms, two photography inquiries, and seventeen spam messages.
Bruce started with the cover art requests, scanning the forms Clandestine Publishing, an ebook publisher, had sent. God, he hated the name of the company. But even if he did, their checks never bounced.
The first two were pretty simple. He could knock those out pretty fast—the authors were veterans of the
publisher. They sent links to photos, and were pretty simple in their requests.
The third had a little more—good God, she wanted a goat on the cover?
He rolled his eyes.
He started doing ebook cover art a few years ago because his sister Denise had asked him to do a cover for her first release with Clandestine Publishing. And hey, he was a good brother. Why wouldn’t he? The publisher liked his work, so he started doing more.
The book covers supplemented his photography work, and whenever he could, he used his own stock, which helped both businesses. Now he did between four to seven covers a month—and on a couple of rare occasions, as many as fifteen.
Jason and Roark didn’t know about the cover work, though Bruce kept a small gallery of it on his photography website, since he used his own photos. Which showed how much his friends actually looked at his website.
He knew his friends would razz him forever. So he didn’t bring it up.
His phone beeped.
Some women like a challenge. - Greta
Now that couldn’t go unanswered.
You can’t outrun love, especially when it runs on four legs.
Love’s a Witch
© 2014 Roxy Mews
Hart Clan Hybrids, Book 2
Since a very real set of vampire fangs sank into her arm, Mary Fields has accepted that she’s part of a magical world where all her dreams and visions finally make sense.
As she journeys to find a Wiccan mentor who’ll help her get a handle on her new powers, she clings to the one relic from her former life—a sketchpad. She also tries to ignore the red mating aura she’s beginning to see around her only companion on the trip—the hottie she used to read to at the library.
Mary’s readings were once a fun distraction from the cruel joke the supernatural world played on Craig Hart. He’s supposed to protect her from vampires out to make her their personal blood supply, yet he can’t bring himself to keep his paws off.
As Mary digs deep for the inner strength to protect herself, one stumble off her magical path sends her straight into Craig’s arms. Where love burns…but so does a truth that could turn that red mating aura into a river of blood.
Warning: This book contains outdoor sex without the benefit of bug spray, and erotic biting that could result in involuntary eruptions of fur.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Love’s a Witch:
Great. Don’t leave me alone with a candle. Yet another thing I could consistently screw up. I was only doing twenty or so other things wrong on a daily basis. It’s a good thing we found something new to keep up the variety.
My best bud, Amber, let me keep my name, Mary Fields. At first I thought it was because she didn’t want me to lose my identity, but now, cleaning up the burnt remnants of the hotel curtains for the second time in as many days, I’m starting to wonder if she just didn’t want me to screw up my name too.
I’m not a pyromaniac, I swear. I was trying to trance. I was trying to use the magic I’m supposed to have as a witch. When I let go of my consciousness I must thrash around a lot more than I thought. Or maybe the drapes were doused in gasoline. Normal curtains don’t really burn that fast, do they?
I’ve had psychic dreams for, well, as long as I can remember dreaming. Swirly electric wisps, neon blue hazy clouds, and various other things pop up when I am sleeping that would make any normal person believe they got a bad batch of weed. Those are the dreams I need to pay attention to. Those are the ones that come true. Even with the freaky psychic stuff, though, I’d rather not clean up these curtains. How far up the wall did the smoke go? I put it out fast, but fire is pretty speedy.
Working with the local Wiccan coven in Chicago was supposed to help me train. It worked out okay for a while. They tried to teach me some basics, but a klutz isn’t welcomed into the circle during athame work.
I learned two things the night they let me hold the knife. First, making a high priestess bleed when she wasn’t expecting it…not cool. Second, when you live with vampires, coming home smelling like blood is a lot like walking into a Weight Watchers meeting with powdered sugar on your shirt.
Did I mention that? My best friend is a vampire now. A larger-than-life vampire/werewolf hybrid actually. Amber towers above me by at least half a foot and even though women that tall aren’t common, undead women who can shift into a giant dog are even rarer.
I had a dream the night before she turned vampy, with all the neon blue clouds and green and purple electric swirls. In the dream I walked into the parking lot in front of Amber’s building and saw her there, standing in front of her own tombstone. She laid a flower on the ground and crushed the stone with a bad ass stiletto boot and one swift kick. Then she turned to me and told me it was time to go. The clouds surrounded us and that was all I got.
When I woke up, I knew this wasn’t one of the dreams I could wait to play out. I knew this time I needed to suck it up and let my best friend know I was crazy. Turned out I wasn’t. Just uninformed. A phone call with Amber didn’t tell me much, but the next twenty-four hours gave me an education I never expected to get outside of a horror flick.
I can admit to being kind of freaked out. A lot of my dreams have heavy symbolism. The witches said it’s because I don’t know how to tap into my natural psychic ability, and it leaks out at night. Hence the trancing and the subsequent cleaning up of the curtains that obviously weren’t flame retardant.
The smoke was still heavy in the air when the door to my room burst open. The chain gave way with a loud clang and the knob was ripped from the hollow paneled door. Craig Hart stood there, sniffing the air, then let his hand fall to his side and his sleek golden eyes narrow.
“Do you want to go back to sharing space with two hybrids still in their honeymoon phase? If you keep burning down our hotel rooms we’re going to be forced to get menial jobs, or drastically cut expenses.” Craig was mad. He always seemed to be on edge around me. The way I kept setting things on fire I couldn’t blame him.
Craig was in charge of the Clan’s financial matters. Amber had decided a group of hybrids would be called a ‘Clan’. Not that I needed to know any of this since she wouldn’t let me play her reindeer games, but Amber was the first female leader of a group of hybrids who had broken away from both the vampire and werewolf traditions.
Even though both she and Jake lead the group together, she had the ultimate power. Normally this was a man’s world. Like everything else in her life now, Amber ignored any tradition she didn’t like. She was making up a whole new set of terms. Nobody was willing to call her a queen yet, but that didn’t stop her from trying.
Craig’s a werewolf. Amber and her mate had offered to turn him into a hybrid, but he said no. Since Amber had almost died when she turned, I can’t say I blame him.
“You got me, Craig. I meant to burn the place down. It’s all part of my master plan to send smoke signals to the vampires who are trying to kill my best friend. ’Cause I’m a heinous bitch like that.” Sarcasm is the one thing I do right. You could say I’m fluent. “And he who rips doors off the frame, shouldn’t throw stones.”
Craig held up the knob I don’t think he realized was still in his hand and cursed. “I’ll go pay for repairs. You might as well pack up. They usually kick us out when we cause this much damage.” He didn’t even look back at me as he let the door slam shut behind him.
Of course it bounced open again, due to the lack of a doorknob.
There was no denying it. There were a lot of hotels on our way west that had pictures of the four of us on their DO NOT RENT lists. Luckily, we had a pretty good nest egg which Amber’s dad had set aside for us when we made our speedy escape.
I really missed Amber’s dad. I used to go to their family dinners all the time. Now that I understand everyone in attendance had been a werewolf, the epic amounts of food made a lot more sense. Alpha Paulson, and
his beta wolf, who we all called Doc, stayed behind when we ran.
Did you catch the part about vampires trying to kill us? That would be Amber’s mate’s father, Kevin Meyers. He is the Matheo, head vampire dude, to the Meyers Family vampires in Indianapolis. At least he was living there when we left. The Matheo was less than excited about his son, Jake, mating with a local werewolf.
It’s a long story.
Jake and Amber lead the Clan I’m traveling with. Amber is a force of nature. She’s loud, crude, and I am pretty sure she has no brain-to-mouth filter. Jake is her mate, and I have never seen a couple overcome so much to be together.
We all had to drop out of college to run from the vampire Family who wanted to carve Jake’s brain from his head to harvest his miasma. That is what the vampires called the photographic memory bonded to his grey matter. Amber stole Jake and his magical brain away, so she was on the chopping block. I just saw too much. Being that vampires enjoyed drinking from humans, and the werewolves wanted to avoid becoming a science project, it was better for me to disappear. Run or find out how they planned to deal with me. The choice wasn’t hard.
The whole fight began over fifty years ago when Amber’s dad found out the Matheo of the Meyers vampires was mated to the shewolf who attacked him and his family. Shit got real. A treaty was put in place. To ensure the safety of the children involved, there was to be no fraternizing between the hybrid baby, Jake, and kept-in-the-dark wolf, Amber.
I could have told these yahoos that whenever you vow to keep a girl and guy apart they are destined to fall in love. Read any epic romance novel. The people who shouldn’t be together always make for the sweetest happily ever afters when they finally make it to the end.
In this end, Amber was turned into a hybrid. She ended up with some extra strength and became the first female to lead a supernatural sect. Sure, all of that came with a death sentence from her father-in-law, but seeing the beautiful mating aura that surrounded those two… I was honored to run for my life with them. Although I’m still not sure why, Craig came with us too. He was the only other member of Amber and Jake’s Clan. I am the fourth wheel. The one that spun out of control on occasion and set things on fire.
Just His Taste Page 19