by Ashlyn Chase
“You can’t leave yet anyway,” Charlotte said.
“Why not?”
“There’s a visitor coming up the walk. She’s a lot prettier than the one from last night. This one is a ten. Last night’s date was an eight at best, and I’d knock her down to a 7, if that’s what she calls, ‘good in bed.’”
“Oh, for the love of—”
The visitor used his antique door knocker.
“Ding dong!” Charlotte sang out. “Avon calling.”
Ethan muttered, “Yeah, that never gets old.”
He made his way back to the living room, fixed the couch cushions, and threw open the door, surprised to see a member of the Triquetra coven on his doorstep. “Brigit!”
“Uh, hi, Ethan. Are you busy?”
“No. Not at all. Come in.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Oh sure. Now you’re not busy. Before you couldn’t wait to get out of here.”
Ethan tuned her out, as he always had when someone didn’t know his house was haunted. “Come in, Brigit.”
The beautiful brunette witch strolled past him and glanced around, admiring the interior of his eighteenth century house.
“What a lovely home. You never told me you lived in something so historic.”
He shrugged. “There are thousands of historic houses in Portsmouth.”
“But this one must have survived the huge fire of 1813. And it’s wood, not brick.”
He smiled. “Yeah. It was moved from another location.”
“Really?”
“Have a seat. I imagine you didn’t come here to talk about my home. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Yes, please. Do you have any tea?”
“I’ll see what I can scare up.”
No sooner had he entered his kitchen when he heard Brigit scream. Charging back into the living room, he saw her edging her way around his sofa, staring at the air in front of her.
“What is it?”
Brigit pointed with a shaky finger. “Who’s the woman with the knife in her head?”
Ethan straightened. “You can see Charlotte?”
“You know she’s here?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know she had a knife in her head. I can only hear her.”
Charlotte chuckled and said, “Boo.”
Brigit backed up another step. “Call her off, will you?”
“Charlotte, leave Brigit alone,” he barked.
“She’s a nervous one, isn’t she? Oh well. She’s out of your league anyway,” Charlotte said.
Ethan’s mouth became a thin line.
Brigit began to relax. “It’s okay. She’s backing off.”
Ethan approached Brigit slowly and extended his hand. “Here. Come into the kitchen with me. Charlotte is harmless. She’s just…well, she’s Charlotte.”
“Charlotte the harlot. Go ahead. Tell her my nickname. It’s what everyone used to call me.”
Brigit grasped Ethan’s hand and held it tight while he led her to the kitchen and pulled out a stool at his granite island.
She looked around again. “Nice remodel.”
“Thanks. I can’t take credit. My parents did it before they retired to Arizona.”
Her perfect brows lifted. “They improved it, and then left?”
“They planned to sell it. If they’d known I was going to buy it, they might not have tried so hard.” He chuckled.
“Did you grow up here?”
“Yup.” He didn’t elaborate. She probably didn’t have all day, and she came here for something. It’s not as if members of the coven always visited for coffee and gossip. “So, what’s on your mind?”
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he put the tea kettle on. Her gaze dropped to her lap and she seemed to be wringing her hands. She opened her mouth a couple of times, as if she were about to speak but thought better of it.
Concerned, Ethan strolled over and took the stool next to her. “What is it, Brigit?”
She bit her lower lip and gazed around the room.
“Oh. You’re worried about Charlotte listening in?”
“Yes. It’s rather personal.”
His curiosity piqued. “Okay. I can make our tea to go. She never leaves the house.”
Brigit nodded. “Thanks. That would be nice. Prescott Park is nearby, right?”
“Just down the street.”
“Good.” She let out a deep breath. “There’s plenty of room there, so we shouldn’t be overheard.”
“Overheard…talking about what?”
Brigit worried her lip again. She glanced all around the kitchen and leaned over to see the hallway, probably making sure they were really alone. At last she leaned in next to his ear and whispered, “I want you to be my baby daddy.”
Ethan almost fell off the stool. “You’re what?”
“Shhh…” Brigit stared at a spot in the hallway. “We’re not alone anymore.”
Had she really said what he thought he’d heard? Baby daddy? He never planned to be a father—or a husband for that matter. He loved his life as a carefree bachelor. And being on call 24/7 as a tug boat captain could be hard on a family. Missed recitals. Running off in the middle of parties. Forget about coaching little league. He must have misheard her. That was the only possibility.
The tea kettle couldn’t boil fast enough. Ethan grabbed two travel mugs and a box of tea bags. He offered her the box. “Pick one. Any one.”
She plucked a packet of Earl Gray tea out of the box and handed it to him.
“Sugar? Milk?” As he said ‘milk’ he pictured her with full breasts and a baby in her arms. Correction. Fuller breasts. She was already plenty well endowed.
“Just milk, please. I try not to eat sugar.”
Ordinarily he’d use some pick-up line about her being sweet enough, but it didn’t seem as if she needed to be romanced. Damned if he wasn’t the luckiest man on the planet—or the unluckiest.
Rebecca’s caramel apple cupcakes:
3 cups all-purpose flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon salt
Then in a separate bowl, mix together,
4 eggs
1 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar and I beat it until it’s creamy.
Then I beat in
1/4 cup orange juice
2 teaspoons vanilla extract and
1 cup vegetable oil
Gradually, I add the flour mixture and finally, stir in 2 cups of grated apples. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes and voila. It makes a 12 cup muffin pan.
Frosting:
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 sticks unsalted butter, softened
4 large egg whites, at room temperature and
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Bring 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar and the water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Then, cook it, swirling the pan occasionally, until the caramel is dark amber. Immediately remove it from the heat, and slowly add cream, salt, and 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, stirring with a wooden spoon until it’s smooth. Then let it cool.
Beat the butter with a mixer on medium speed until it’s pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes, then transfer it to a large bowl. Place the whites and remaining 1/2 cup sugar in a heatproof mixing bowl set over a pot of simmering water. Whisk until the sugar dissolves and the mixture registers 160 degrees on a candy thermometer. Then use a mixer on medium speed for about 5 minutes. Increase the speed to medium-high until stiff, glossy peaks form. Then reduce speed to medium and add the beaten butter, a cup at a time, and then vanilla, whisking well after each addition.
Then with the mixer on low speed, add the caramel and beat it until smooth, about 3 to 5 minutes.
Witchy terms that may have confused readers unfamiliar with Wicca.
Peyton: A physical representation of the pentagram, which is an ancient
symbol used in many different religions. It is a five pointed star within a circle, sometimes called a pentacle. This item can be made out of wood, metal, carved stone…even paper. In Wicca, it’s a symbol that represents spirit over the four essential elements: earth, air, fire and water. In other words, spiritual matters taking precedence over the material world. There are a lot of other meanings and complexities regarding this symbol, but I’m keeping it simple.
The other word that stumped my editor and might need a quick explanation is Athame. The Athame is a two-sided knife, used only in ritual. It is not used as a tool for cutting herbs or carving symbols. A separate working knife is used for that. The athame is one of the four elemental tools in Wicca; traditionally standing for fire. It takes the place of the ritual sword, which may be dangerous in a group setting. The other three elemental tools are the wand (representing air,) the pentacle (earth,) and the cup or chalice (water.) The same four ritual tools also appear in tarot decks as the four card suits: swords, cups, wands, and pentacles.
Ashlyn Chase describes herself as an Almond Joy bar. A little nutty, a little flaky, but basically sweet, wanting only to give her readers a satisfying experience.
She holds a degree in behavioral sciences, worked as a psychiatric RN for several years and spent a few more years working for the American Red Cross. She credits her sense of humor to her former careers since comedy helped preserve whatever was left of her sanity. She is a multi-published, award-winning author of humorous erotic and paranormal romances, represented by the Seymour Agency.
She lives in beautiful New Hampshire with her true-life hero husband who looks like Hugh Jackman with a salt and pepper dye job, and they’re owned by a spoiled brat cat.
Where there’s fire, there’s Ash
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Sneak Peak at Book Two: Tug of Attraction
Appendix
Appendix 2
About the Author
Back Cover