The Strongest Magic (eBook) - Love's Unity #1

$1.99
105 pages | eBook | 6x9"
Date of publication: 10/31/2014
  • ISBN: 978-1-941984-18-5
  • Model: 20683 words

Fireborn Publishing Main Page

Heat Rating: 2 Flames

 

Full-figured Rosalynn longs for a man to love her. Then a handsome stranger comes into her life and things will never be the same.

 

Rosalyn Munroe is a full figured woman who longs for the same things all women want. Love, companionship, a family...but destiny doesn't seem to have that in the cards for her. Or does it? When a speeding SUV nearly runs her over, she finds herself confronted by the most handsome man she's ever seen. He takes her breath away and heats her up in ways she hasn't felt until now.

Jerome Thompson has arrived to save Rosalynn from the Brotherhood, a vicious pack of warlocks who want her dead before her gift can be awakened. When they touch, sparks seem to fly through his body. Is she the one? He sure hopes so because she's the most beautiful woman he's ever met.

Too bad the Brotherhood wants both of them dead.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The trees were decked in their autumn finery, a riot of red, yellow, and orange with tints of green and brown for variety. A brisk October wind sent a scattering confetti-leaves racing down the sidewalks. Pumpkins, gourds, and colorful Indian corn, along with the other usual trappings of Halloween, decorated the houses and businesses along the street. Three more days until All Hallows, and the beginning of the very busy holiday season that would follow.

Rosalynn Monroe normally loved this time of year, but at the moment the upcoming hustle and bustle didn't matter. For the past two hours, she'd had a sense of impending disaster hanging over her head and couldn't shake the feeling her life might end at any instant. It was beyond silly, of course.

She glanced behind her for the second time since she'd closed up her small antique shop, sure she was being followed. But no one, not the teenaged couple walking with their arms around one another, or the group of children engaged in a game of follow the leader, or the business man waiting for a cab paid her the slightest attention. Everything looked perfectly normal, yet she couldn't ignore the feeling that someone dogged her steps; an absurd feeling since she couldn't see anyone who appeared to have the any interest in her.

Fear made her heart pound. Who would bother following her? Her shop didn't take in huge amounts of money that would make her worth mugging. And she didn't have a former lover who'd turned stalker. She hadn't had a boyfriend since high school, a sad but true fact. Rosalynn didn't have the sort of figure men seemed to go for, at least not in this decade. She was too short and--facing the stark truth--too fat to attract any man. As her mom said, she couldn't fight genetics, and after twelve years of diets, Rosalynn had thrown in the towel and learned to live with her body. Too bad she had never found a man who wanted to live with it, too.

She glanced over her shoulder, again. The pair of teenagers went up the front steps of a brownstone, vanishing inside.

A pang of sadness crept through Rosalynn. She'd never know that sort of happiness with another person. At twenty-six, she had many long, lonely years ahead of her. She might be hefty--like all her maternal relatives--but she also had a very good chance of living to a ripe old age. Her great-grandmother was still going strong at ninety-four and counting, and her grandmother barely looked old enough to be a grandparent though she was sixty-seven years old. Her mom could easily pass for Rosalynn's sister, though there was a twenty-one year difference in their ages.

Despite the longevity of her family, she'd rather be thin.

Across the street the businessman stepped into a cab and the children bounded around a corner busy with their game.

Children. That too brought a pang of regret to Rosalynn. She wanted children, but like marriage, children were nothing more than an unfulfilled wish in her life.

A cold chill swept down her back, the feeling of being watched stronger than ever. She paused, looked around, but there was no one watching. No one at all.

The chill deepened until it felt as if her very bones were filled with ice. It had to be her imagination. It did. Something deep inside her, a sharper sense than sight or hearing, warned her of impending danger, nibbled at her psyche the way a mouse nibbled a gumdrop. Of course, she'd never believed in such things. Omens, portents, and psychic abilities were things of fantasy, not part of the real world.

Then again, there were stories in her family of women with the gift, whatever that was supposed to mean. She remembered hearing something that her great-grandmother had often related of her own mother, Rhiannan. The tale came back to her, sharp as a knife--Rhiannan had known a flood was coming and convinced her family and some of their neighbors to leave their homes in the middle of a terrible rainstorm. Hours later, the river overflowed its banks and swept away their houses. Hundreds of people died, but not Rhiannan, her family, or their neighbors. The people she'd saved had denounced her as a witch, blamed her for the flood--not thanked her for saving them--and turned on her like a pack of vicious beasts.

They'd lynched Rhiannan and her husband William, leaving her great-grandmother and her younger siblings orphans.

But it was just an old family story, wasn't it?

What if it wasn't? What if some strange sort of power did exist in her family? What if it skipped generations? Or only surfaced during some great crisis?

She refused to entertain such a belief, so Rosalynn pushed the story out of her mind and focused her attention on the here and now. She did not believe in the supernatural, aliens, psychic phenomena, ghosts, or any other mumbo-jumbo.

Two more blocks to go and I'll be home.

She hurried along the street, held her coat closer around her against the chill; it didn't help. The cold came from inside. She shivered and rushed for home, eager to get off the street where she wouldn't feel so exposed. She looked both ways and stepped off the curb to cross.

A car horn blared and she turned to see a black SUV barreling down on her. She opened her mouth to scream, sure she was about to become road pizza. Powerful arms wrapped around her, lifted her off her feet, and pulled her to the safety of the sidewalk.

Heart pounding, the terror of the near miss rampaged through Rosalynn. Her entire body shook. Her skin felt on fire and her legs were so wobbly she couldn't stand. The strong arms that held her against a muscular, very masculine torso were the only thing keeping her from sagging limply to the sidewalk. She turned her head to find herself looking at a man's chest. She tipped her head up and saw the most handsome face she'd ever set eyes on.

Tall--well over six feet in height--he gazed down at her with concern-filled eyes the color of bittersweet chocolate, which were set in a face the shade of hot cocoa, one of her favorite drinks. She'd love to drink him up, with or without a big dollop of whipped cream. Wavy hair, black as a raven's wing, brushed his broad shoulders, made small curls at the ends she imagined winding around her fingers. His smile, warm as the summer sun, curved his sensuous mouth. The look he gave her banished the icy chill that filled her. He was one of the finest looking men she'd ever seen in her entire life, bar none.

Series: Love's Unity
About the series: The Unity--an international group of wizards, sorcerers, witches and mages--are devoted to protecting humanity from the evil Brotherhood, a group of vicious and evil warlocks.

Authors:

For more information, please visit the author's webpage.

Other books by Allison Cassatta- COVER ARTIST:

About Jaymie Michaels:
Fireborn Publishing Main Page

Jayme Michaels is the pseudonym of Michael Barnette. The name is used to distinguish heterosexual content stories from Michael’s more common tales of manlove. Jayme/Michael has been writing tales of erotic romance since the late 90s. Fleeing from the tropic heat of South Beach and Miami, Florida, Michael has steadily migrated farther and farther west and now writes with a view of the Flat Iron Mountains of Colorado. Readers can reach Jayme/Michael via email at: m_barnette_author@yahoo.com

Other books by Monti Shalosky- EDITOR:

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This book was added to our catalog on Monday 29 September, 2014.

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