Genre: Paranormal - Halloween ISBN: 9781419913846 Format: e-Book

Sweet & Spicy Spells--Out now from Ellora's Cave 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 "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. BUY | Read Reviews | Read Excerpt

"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.