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Sweet
and Spicy Spells
Ellora’s Cave
Genre: Paranormal - Halloween
ISBN: 9781419913846
Format: e-Book
co-written with Christine d'Abo
Two sisters, two brothers — and a whole lot of sexy spells.
Kisha hasn't been able to cast a single correct spell. Not a
good thing when you're a witch. Kisha has two days to master her
powers and Foster is the wizard who's been sent to help. To
kick-start her system, Kisha has to discover the uninhibited
joys of orgasms, and Foster is more than happy to use his
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"wand" for the task.
Priscilla is perfect — tall, busty and beautiful. All Hallow's
Eve coincides with the annual Cauldron Cup where Priscilla has
to defend her title. What she isn't expecting is Zack Kane to
zap back into her life after five years. Passion flares as
spells and clothing fly.
When the siblings uncover a plot to assassinate the members of
the witch council, they must put their differences aside to save
the council…and themselves.
"Sweet and Spicy Spells was a great
introduction to Renee Field and Christine d’Abo for me. I
thoroughly enjoyed the interplay between couples and between
siblings. The four characters shared the spotlight wonderfully
and were entirely too much fun..."
~ Fallen Angel Reviews, 5 Angels
“Sex.”
“What?” sputtered Kisha Morgan, rising naked from the bathtub,
dripping white sudsy bubbles onto the wooden floor. “Come
again?”
“That’s your problem, sis. You probably haven’t come in what…a
year? Sex, most definitely, that’s what you need. And lots of
it. I’m thinking hot steamy sex. That’s your magic pill that
will make it all click.”
Kisha grabbed a black towel and quickly dried off. She draped it
around herself, but didn’t say anything to her older, much more
experienced sister. She snapped her fingers, hoping she’d end up
with clothes. Damn. She was once again in the bath, knee-deep in
the vanilla-scented bubbles.
“See, that’s what I mean. Sex will relax you, make all those
instinctive muscles in your brain work. Better yet, it will make
them mesh together. Trust me, you need sex.” Her sister actually
snapped her own fingers to emphasize her point.
“Shut up, Priscilla. I can work my magic when I really need it,”
she replied indignantly. She huffed and rose once again, this
time walking dripping wet from the bathroom, down the long
drafty hall to her bedroom. Her nipples puckered from the cool
air. She ached to snap her fingers and magically become warm and
dressed, but no way was she going to have a repeat performance,
and end up sputtering bubbles again in the tub.
“Witches were made for sex,” chanted Priscilla, as she
materialized elegantly on Kisha’s bed, dressed to kill. Tight
black leather skirt, knee-high heeled boots, a black leather
corset she wore like a shirt to better outline her well-endowed
chest and long straight midnight hair trailed over her
shoulders. At six feet, Priscilla was the complete package. Sexy
as sin. The perfect witch.
“Are you listening to me? Witches were made for sex. And it’s
not like you haven’t had sex before. You’re sooo not a virgin,
so don’t get all frosty with me.”
Kisha picked up the nearby pillow and threw it at her sister.
She watched as her sister blinked and the pillow neatly
disappeared. Nice trick, Kisha thought.
“Like you said, I’ve had sex. It didn’t help, so there.”
“You know, anyone can have sex, Kis. He’s gotta make you come,
big time, to make it really count.”
Kis. Her sister hadn’t used her pet nickname in years. The last
time she’d heard that name was a good ten years ago when
Priscilla had been the one to inform her that their parents had
been killed in a car accident during a freak snowstorm.
Goose bumps formed along Kisha’s skin. Is something up?
Something big? She wondered why Priscilla had appeared now. Six
months ago, Kisha had practically begged for her to come for a
visit to help restore the old family farmhouse. The farmhouse
had been left to them by Alice Morgan, their last great-aunt,
who had taken them in after their parents death. Her sister had
told Kisha in no uncertain terms what she thought of the old
farmhouse—pile of rubbish.
The farmhouse had always been a comforting place for Kisha. Ten
years ago it had needed work. Today it practically screamed for
an extreme makeover team to tear out every wall. But that had
always been the charm of the place. Their aunt had lived her
life with magic. Hence, the farmhouse had no electrical wiring
and the plumbing, well, that was another matter entirely. Kisha
was at least grateful her sister hadn’t shown up a half hour
earlier when she’d fought spell after spell to get the ancient
claw-toed bathtub to fill up with hot, not cold water.
That sense of family magic and even the scent of freshly baked
cookies permeated the aura of the farmhouse and she was
determined to restore it. It had always been her place of
refuge, even before her parents’ sudden death. And after living
for the last five years in the heart of the city, surrounded by
concrete buildings, the stench of garbage and the mass of people
at all hours of the day, the lure of the old farmhouse was what
had driven her back after her great-aunt’s death.
Mind you, Priscilla had a point. She really had to get her magic
working. Witches were made for sex, she’d give her sister that.
But she’d had lots of sex. Lots of men and nothing. Not even a
glimmer of a tingle to bring her over that edge. Sadly, the only
thing that made her come was herself. Her fingers, her fantasy
and voilà! She could fly over that mountain.
Kisha realized her sister was still talking, so she quickly
shelved her fantasy dream man away. Maybe tonight she’d let her
fingers come out to play, pretending it was him. The thought
sent a shiver of anticipation spiraling through her still cold
body.
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