Read The Dragon's Queen (Dragon Lords) Online
Authors: Michelle M. Pillow
Love Potions (Warlocks MacGregor) by Michelle M. Pillow
Contemporary Paranormal Magickal Scottish Warlocks
A little magickal mischief never hurt anyone…
Erik MacGregor, from a clan of ancient Scottish warlocks, isn
’t looking for love. After centuries, it’s not even a consideration…until he moves in next door to Lydia Barratt. It’s clear that the shy beauty wants nothing to do with him, but he’s drawn to her nonetheless and determined to win her over.
Lydia Barratt just wants to be left alone to grow flowers and make lotions in her old Victorian house. The last th
ing she needs is a demanding Scottish man meddling in her private life. Just because he’s gorgeous and totally rocks a kilt doesn’t mean she’s going to fall for his seductive manner.
But Erik won
’t give up and just as Lydia let’s her guard down, his sister decides to get involved. Her little love potion prank goes terribly wrong, making Lydia the target of his sudden embarrassingly obsessive behavior. They’ll have to find a way to pull Erik out of the spell fast when it becomes clear that Lydia has more than a lovesick warlock to worry about. Evil lurks within the shadows and it plans to use Lydia, alive or dead, to take out Erik and his clan for good.
“
Ly-di-ah! I sit beneath your window, laaaass, singing ’cause I loooove your a—”
“
For the love of St. Francis of Assisi, someone call a vet. There is an injured animal screaming in pain outside,” Charlotte interrupted the flow of music in ill-humor.
Lydia lifted her forehead from the kitchen table. Her windows and doors were all locked,
and yet Erik’s endlessly verbose singing penetrated the barrier of glass and wood with ease.
Charlotte held her head and blinked heavily. Her red-rimmed eyes were filled with the all too poignant look of a hangover. She took a seat at the table and laid h
er head down. Her moan sounded something like, “I’m never moving again.”
“
You need fluids,” Lydia prescribed, getting up to pour unsweetened herbal tea from the pitcher in the fridge. She’d mixed it especially for her friend. It was Gramma Annabelle’s hangover recipe of willow bark, peppermint, carrot, and ginger. The old lady always had a fresh supply of it in the house while she was alive. Apparently, being a natural witch also meant in partaking in natural liquors. Annabelle had kept a steady supply of moonshine stashed in the basement. If the concert didn’t stop soon she might try to find an old bottle.
“
Ly-di-ah!”
“
Omigod. Kill me,” Charlotte moaned. “No. Kill him. Then kill me.”
“
Ly-di-ah!”
Erik had been singing for over an hour. At first, he
’d tried to come inside. She’d not invited him and the barrier spell sent him sprawling back into the yard. He didn’t seem to mind as he found a seat on some landscaping timbers and began his serenade. The last time she’d asked him to be quiet, he’d gotten louder and overly enthusiastic. In fact, she’d been too scared to pull back the curtains for a clearer look, but she was pretty sure he’d been dancing on her lawn, shaking his kilt.
“
Omigod,” Charlotte muttered, pushing up and angrily going to a window. Then grimacing, she said, “Is he wearing a tux jacket with his kilt?”
“
Don’t let him see you,” Lydia cried out in a panic. It was too late. The song began with renewed force.
“
He’s…” Charlotte frowned. “I think it’s dancing.”
Since the damage was done, Lydia joined C
harlotte at the window. Erik grinned. He lifted his arms to the side and kicked his legs, bouncing around the yard like a kid on too much sugar. “Maybe it’s a traditional Scottish dance?”
Both women tilted their heads in unison as his kilt kicked up to sho
w his perfectly formed ass.
“
He’s not wearing…” Charlotte began.
“
I know. He doesn’t,” Lydia answered. Damn, the man had a fine body. Too bad Malina’s trick had turned him insane.
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Paranormal Bird Shifter Romance
In a place where realms combine and portals open passages to the unknown, a prophecy speaks of fertility being restored to King Kabril’s people through the taking of his mate.
The prophecy neglects to mention she lacks something vital to his kind--wings. Kabril,
king of the
Buteos Regalis,
has no interest in taking a human mate. His kind believe humans are dirty, vile creatures who rely on machines to lift them into the air. The last place he wants to go in search of his mate is the realm of Earth, but he's left no choice.
Never did he expect to find love on a planet with one moon, people who lack wings and a stubborn vixen who makes his heart soar. When he does, he fears the truth about who and what he truly is will steal it away. Little does he know his e
nemies fully intend on doing the taking.
“
Can I help you?” The deep, distinctively male, heavily accented voice came from behind her.
Startled, Rayna tossed the dish in the air and narrowly missed dropping it onto the ground. A strong hand gripped her shoulder, and a yelp almost escaped her. Composing he
rself, Rayna turned and came face-to-face with a tall man with raven hair, a dark goatee and a body deserving of a magazine cover. His silver gaze, while certainly something she’d never seen before, was captivating and put her at ease. “Umm?”
“
Umm?” There was no mistaking the mocking tone of his voice. He put a hand in his pocket and glanced at the dish. His nose wrinkled, and for a minute Rayna thought for sure he’d be sick. “What, may I ask, is in there?”
“
It’s a chicken dish,” she blurted out. She’d never been much with conversation starting. “I brought it to welcome you to the neighborhood. I live just down the road a bit. I’m not the greatest cook in the world but I’m not so bad—”
“
Chicken?” He gasped, his eyes widening and the blood draining from his face as he reached for the dish, only to yank his hands away, a look of disgust in his eyes. “You brought us chicken? To eat? A bird? For food? For us? I know certain species of birds eat others here, but where we are from that is simply not done.”
Puzzled,
Rayna took a step back and tried to understand what the problem could be. Had she sold her grandmother’s house to a nutjob? What was he babbling about birds eating birds? His accent did make it difficult for her to fully understand him, so there was a chance she’d simply misunderstood. “Are you a vegetarian?”
“
A veg-ee-terrian?” he asked, over pronouncing the word.
“
Someone who doesn’t eat meat,” she returned, understanding there was a language barrier between them. “Where are you from?”
“
Nowhere you have heard of,” he returned, his brows meeting. “You have people who do not eat meat?”
“
Yes.”
“
Are you one?” he asked.
“
No.”
He glanced at the dish in her hands. “
And you eat birds?”
She blushed. “
I do.”
He cringed.
“Sachin, how much longer must we endure this gods-forsaken realm? And why must we be—”
The silver-eyed man before her seized hold of the dish and stood at attention as if royalty was about to appear. He cleared his throat, his gaze flickering to Rayna for a brief moment. “
Kabril, good of you to join us. I was just greeting our neighbor.”
“
Rayna,” she said, eyeing the manner in which Sachin held the dish. He looked as if he thought it would bite him. Unnerved, she glanced over her shoulder to find an equally tall man with the same jet-black hair. She didn’t think it was possible to improve upon Sachin’s good looks. She was wrong.
Really wrong.
The newcomer was sexy with a capital
S
. This one had eyes of gold, reflecting the midafternoon sun back at her. He also lacked a goatee, though he had the start of a five o’clock shadow. Both men were good-looking to the extreme but this one, there was something about him that made her gut clench at the sight of him. His muscular form was recognizable to her. Flashes from her dreams returned to her and she felt her face heating, as thoughts of carnal pleasures raced over her. Her knees felt weak and her pulse sped as she stared at the man. His gaze raked over her, slow at first, like she was being judged, before it turned into something else. As if he wanted to devour her, and she certainly wanted to be gobbled up by him.
“
Kabril.” Sachin took a step closer to her, still holding the dish she’d made at an odd angle, as if it were an explosive rather than dinner. “Kabril,” he said, this time more forceful than before.
The man closest to her with the golden gaze didn
’t seem to hear the other as he stared at her. She gulped, her gaze sliding over him more. The lightweight, white shirt he wore was unbuttoned a bit, revealing his tawny, hairless chest—a chest that made her think of her dream and the man in it.
Moisture pooled at the apex of her thighs. She
’d never been this turned on by nothing more than the sight of a man. This man was something indeed.
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