|
|
|
|
These excerpts contain sexually explicit material. If you are not at least 18 years of age, please leave.
If you are 18 or older and are not offended by such material, please stay and enjoy!
A Touch of Magick
Book 1: Spells, Secrets and Seductions
by N.J. Walters
 
Rhiannon Sparks admits she’s not a very good witch—she can’t even light a candle without a match—but she keeps trying. At least her talent for business has made her magick shop a huge success. Now if only there was even the faintest flicker in her nonexistent love life.
During a night of eating and drinking, she and her girlfriends cast a candle-magick spell for hot sex. All in good fun, of course. Except Rhiannon accidentally mixes up the words. Instead of a lover, she asks for true love.
Deputy Ryland Stone’s past keeps him firmly rooted in reality. Then he meets Rhiannon and sparks literally fly. One date leads to another, and then they’re practically setting the bedroom on fire…until she reveals the deal breaker.
Though love and magick have found Rhiannon at last, getting a handle on her newly unleashed power is the least of her problems. Unless Ryland accepts that magick exists, he will never accept her for who and what she is.
 
"A Touch of Magick was an amazing book!...I can't wait for the next story in the Spells, Secrets and Seductions series. ."
5 Angels & Recommended Read—Missy, Fallen Angel Reviews
"A TOUCH OF MAGICK is a fun, steamy and enjoyable story, and I can’t wait to see what Ms. Walters has in store for us next."
4.5 Blue Ribbons—Cheryl McInnis, Romance Junkies
"A Touch of Magick is erotic and a bit suspenseful, with a touch of humor, all wrapped up in a story that will make you dream of magic."
—Jo, Joyfully Reviewed
"...blistering hot passion..."
3.5 Nymphs—Dragon Minx, Literary Nymphs Reviews
|
Excerpt from A Touch of Magick
©2010 N.J. Walters
Rhiannon whirled at the sound of the male voice. The bucket tipped precariously and water slopped over the side. She jumped back, just missing getting her shoes wet. Swearing under her breath, she laid the pail down and swiped at the water trickling down the front of her wool skirt.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She looked up. Way, way up. Not that the man was overly tall. He was probably about six feet tall, give or take an inch or two, but when you were only five-foot-two most people were taller than you. The high heels helped, but not much. “Well, you did.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up in a half smile. Rhiannon immediately noticed his full, very kissable lips. She shook herself. What the heck was wrong with her?
“You going to clean up this mess?”
“That was my plan.” Her voice was sharper than usual. Something about this man set her on edge, yet she wasn’t afraid of him. Not in the least.
“Shouldn’t you wait until the police examine the scene?” It was then she noticed the uniform.
Sighing, she wondered if she should have just stayed in bed this morning. “I didn’t call the police.”
“I didn’t think so.” He held out his hand. “Ryland Stone, Deputy Ryland Stone.”
Seeing no way out, she reached out and took his hand. An electrical shock surged through her body, going straight to her breasts and arrowing down between her thighs. She yanked her hand back with a yelp, cradling it against her chest. Her entire body tingled with awareness.
Ryland was shaking his hand too, his pale blue eyes never leaving her face. “Sorry about that. Must be static electricity.”
Of course it was. What the heck had she been thinking? For the briefest of moments, she’d thought the spark had been one born of magick. Instead it was something as mundane as static electricity.
Obviously last night’s spell and the conversation with her sister this morning had muddled her good sense. She had sex and magick on the brain. Ignoring the tingling in her breasts and the way her nipples were pushing against the cups of her bra, she focused on the problem at hand.
The deputy was standing there just staring at her and she realized she hadn’t said anything. “I’m sorry. Rhiannon Sparks.”
He blinked and suddenly broke into a full grin. She was immediately struck by his masculine good looks. His blond hair was cut short, but the style suited him. His jaw was square, and stubborn if she was any judge of character. There was a scar bisecting his left eyebrow that kept him from looking too pretty. His shoulders were wide, his body lean and fit. All in all, a very nice package.
“Sparks, huh. Figures.” He shook his hand again and then motioned toward the wall.
They’d certainly struck sparks off one another, but she assured herself that meant nothing. “I didn’t think there was much point in calling the police about this.”
He shook his head. “This is vandalism, pure and simple.” His eyes went to the words “witch” and “devil” before returning to her. “Plus, it’s just plain nasty.”
Rhiannon rubbed her hands over her arms, suddenly feeling the chill through her sweater. He noticed immediately and in a couple of strides was by her side. “Why don’t you go on inside while I call this in. We’ll take some pictures, have a look around and then I’ll come and talk to you.”
“I don’t see what good it will do.”
He shrugged. “The vandal might strike again.” He pointed to a small blob in the far corner. “These graffiti artists always sign their work. He might have targeted other businesses last night. Even if he didn’t, if he’s ever caught we can tie him to this scene and a few others.”
She could see the sense in that. “Okay. I’m sorry I didn’t call the police immediately.” And she should have and would have if she hadn’t been so muddled. Certainly, she might not be the only business affected by this vandal. There were most likely others.
“No problem. You go on inside and get warm. I’ll be in to talk to you as soon as I can.”
She turned and opened the door, grateful for the blast of heat that hit her. Still, she paused and stared after him as he strode toward his vehicle. The man looked as good going as he did coming. She felt her cheeks heat. Her choice of words had all kinds of images flashing through her brain.
|
|
Dreams of Seduction
Book 2: Spells, Secrets and Seductions
by N.J. Walters
Maggie O’Neill goes along with her two best friends’ candle-magick spell to summon a lover only because, well, they are her BFFs. She doesn’t really believe in this stuff. Yet the aftermath of the spell leaves her strangely hot and bothered, and then the dreams of a man start—and not just any man. Jed Bearson. Pity, since she’s sworn off men for the foreseeable future.
Jed, part-time deputy and painter, doesn’t tell many people that he has the ability to let his spirit travel outside his body. One night, despite his self-imposed rule to never invade anyone’s privacy, he follows an irresistible pull to Maggie’s bedside. He’s astounded to find her crying out his name in private pleasure. After months of giving her space, maybe it’s time to approach her.
Maggie and Jed’s first touch is lightning hot—and their passion is a thunderclap of erotic pleasure. But when Jed reveals he’s a spiritwalker, Maggie’s reaction is like a curtain of cold rain descending between them. Leaving him wondering what she’s afraid of. Magic? Him? Or of following her heart?
"Dreams of Seduction brings passion, magic, and later love, all together in a way that makes this book a keeper for my romance library...I can’t wait to see what happens to the third friend."
—Jo, Joyfully Reviewed
|
Excerpt from Dreams of Seduction
©2011 N.J. Walters
Almost against her will, she was drawn to her purse. She opened the bag, reached in her hand and touched the smooth wax of the candle. The scent of rose oil tickled her nostrils, reminding her once again of the ritual she and her friends had performed earlier this evening. Maggie had planned to leave her candle at Rhiannon’s, but had been unable to abandon it.
She closed her fingers around the candle and held it tight in her left hand as she climbed the stairs. Her right hand slid up the smooth banister, guiding her as she made her way upstairs. She walked across the old oak flooring and into her bedroom, drawing comfort from the familiar creaks in the wood. Flicking on the Tiffany lamp she’d bought at an estate sale, she looked around the room.
The furniture had belonged to her grandmother. It was old, handcrafted more than a hundred and fifty years ago out of solid oak. Maggie loved the bed, with its intricately carved headboard and footboard of Celtic knot work. The tall armoire, which sat against one wall, and the pair of nightstands flanking the bed were also adorned with the same carvings. A large, freestanding mirror sat in one corner of the room, roses carved into the heavy frame.
Maggie had repainted the room a cheerful yellow and bought gauzy white drapes for the two windows that faced the ocean. The oak floor was softened with an area rug done in a design of yellows, browns and greens. The comforter was also new. It was a profusion of colorful flowers, which made the room cheerful and bright.
The room was hers in every way. She’d put her stamp on it, doing it to please no one but herself. Placing the candle on the bedside table, she stared at it for one long moment. “It’s just a candle,” she muttered.
And truly, that’s all it was. The spell they’d cast was nothing more than words. It had no power, no magick. The wind chose that moment to whip up and beat at the closed window. Maggie shivered, but briskly turned away and began to pull off her clothing.
Gathering the discarded garments, she made her way to the bathroom and dumped them into the laundry hamper. It didn’t take her long to wash her face and brush out her waist-length hair. She tossed her brush onto the bathroom vanity and reached for her nightgown that was hanging from a hook on the back of the door.
She paused, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Green eyes peered back at her. It wasn’t a bad face, just not an overly beautiful one. Like the rest of her, her face was a bit too rounded. With a smattering of freckles covering her nose and cheeks, she looked more like the girl next door than a sexy siren. She’d always felt so out of place in California among the tall, thin blonds. With her curvy body and her long red hair, she’d always stood out, and not in a good way.
Sighing, she slipped the nightgown over her head. The silky fabric slid over her body, leaving goose bumps in its wake. All that talk of sex tonight over at Rhiannon’s had reminded her of how long it had been since she’d had any. Six months since she’d tossed her ring back at her ex-fiancé, and even before that, it had been several months. That should have been her first clue that something wasn’t right in their relationship.
She’d been so busy at her job with a large advertising firm and planning the wedding that she hadn’t questioned the lack of passion in her relationship too deeply. Mostly, she hadn’t wanted to see the truth about Mitchell Michaels, the third.
She’d settled because she hadn’t wanted to be alone and because she hadn’t thought she’d get another proposal. She’d ignored his veiled hints that she should lose weight and think about dyeing her hair, or at least cutting it. She’d ignored the fact that it didn’t seem to bother either her or Mitchell that they hadn’t slept together in months. She was thirty years old and it was time to get married. God, she’d been so pathetic.
But those days were over. It had taken her long, hard months to get past the pain of the betrayal. Not only had Mitchell and Barbara betrayed her, she’d betrayed herself by settling. No more. She’d rather be alone than live with a man who didn’t love her for who she was.
And sex. Well, she was quite capable of taking care of her needs herself.
Hurrying back to her bedroom, she tugged back the covers and climbed into bed. She turned off the light and lay there listening to the creaks and groans of the house as it settled for the night. Rolling onto her side, she peered out the closest window. The stars twinkled against the inky curtain of the night like her own personal nightlight.
A sense of restlessness possessed her. It was all that talk about sex tonight. This was all Rhiannon’s fault.
Flopping over onto her back, Maggie closed her eyes and sighed. What she needed was a lover. A dream lover. A man who came to her bed at night and loved her until she was breathless and sated. A man whose touch ignited flames under her skin, whose voice made her shiver with longing.
An image of a man popped into her head—Jed Bearson.
|
|
Love in Flames
Book 3: Spells, Secrets and Seductions
by N.J. Walters
When Esther goes along with her friend’s candle-magick spell, it’s not because she wants a lover. But a good old-fashioned one-night stand could be just what she needs to get her mind off Ryan Jameson. Having lost her father in the line of duty, she has no plans to lose her heart to a firefighter.
Not that Ryan doesn’t heat up her nightly dreams. Those erotic fantasies invariably end in deadly flames—a still-smoking echo of her ancestral namesake, whose wedding day ended in the fiery loss of her husband. A man whose dying breath was a promise to one day find his beloved.
All his life, Ryan’s dreams have taken him backward in time. As he matured, so did those dreams—erotic fantasies of a woman he loves but has yet to meet. Then he finds her in Burnt Cove. But she’s not only holding him at arm’s length, she refuses to acknowledge their time-proof bond.
On a magical Samhain night, undeniable desire is stronger than the walls around her heart. But time has one last test for them—one that will meld them into one, or drive them apart forever.
"N.J. Walters delivers an emotional and endearing tale of lost love and second chances. Her characters are well drawn and the story is one that will end up haunting the reader long after the book is finished."
4 Stars—Valerie, Night Owl Reviews
|
Excerpt from Love in Flames
©2011 N.J. Walters
Esther took another sip of her tea before placing her mug aside. Thankfully, it had been slow so far this evening. But, as she well knew, that could change in the blink of an eye.
She sensed Ryan’s presence before she saw him. It had been like that from the very first time she’d met him. She felt as though her entire body was tuned to his. She knew when he entered a room and when he left, even if she never laid eyes on him.
Although he’d worked here for several months now, she still felt uneasy around him. It wasn’t that she thought he would hurt her physically, but some deep feminine instinct warned her this man could be a danger to her emotional well being.
“Still drinking that dishwater?” Ryan smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She picked up her cup and raised it in a mock salute. “It’s better than that swill you boys drink at the fire hall.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” He sauntered across the room and leaned his hips against the edge of her desk. She couldn’t help but notice how his biceps flexed when he crossed his arms over his massive chest.
She was extremely aware of his presence. The heat and sheer sensual magnetism of the man was astounding. Her clothing always felt too tight whenever when he was near and, in spite of her best efforts, she always became aroused whenever he was around.
“I’ll stick to this.” She willed a call to come in. Anything. But the lines were all silent.
“I was wondering if you’d like to go out tomorrow night? Maybe have some dinner, take a walk on the beach?” His tone was easygoing, almost indifferent, but his eyes practically scorched her with barely banked desire.
She’d been expecting it. He’d asked her out before, several times, but she’d always declined. He took her refusal with equanimity and a smile, but always asked again. Taking a deep breath, she did what she knew she had to do. “I told you that I don’t date firefighters. You’ll have to respect my wishes on that.”
“Maybe I can change your mind. It’s only dinner and a walk. What can it hurt?”
It sounded so reasonable that she almost changed her mind.
Almost.
Rightly or wrongly, she had a deep-seated phobia of losing someone she loved to fire. The fear probably began during her childhood when she’d first been told the stories of Esther and James, and was solidified with the death of her father.
For a family steeped in the tragedy of fire, they all seemed to be drawn to it, tempted by its horrible beauty and power. Her father had been a firefighter and both her brothers were too. There was no way in hell she was getting romantically involved with one. She had more than enough nightmares now without adding to them.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” The words were bitter on her tongue, but she didn’t take them back.
He nodded and pushed away from her desk. “Maybe next time?”
It was what he said every time she turned him down.
He reached out as if to touch her, but dropped his hand back by his side. He turned and strode away. He didn’t look back. She knew because she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.
By the time she got home from work the next morning and crawled into bed, she was exhausted. Her thoughts still went immediately to Ryan.
What would it have felt like to have his hands on her? What would she have done if he’d reached out and touched her? Esther groaned and rolled onto her back, cursing the man. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? That was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?
Of course it was, she assured herself. She was just exhausted and desperately needed to sleep. That was the only reason she was thinking about Ryan touching her, stroking those large, broad hands over every square inch of her skin. He’d start at her ankles and slide his hands up her calves and thighs, over her belly and torso. Her breasts felt heavy and it was all too easy to imagine his palms covering them, stroking them.
Her breathing quickened and she bit her lip as a throbbing began low in her belly. She was aroused, but she didn’t want to be. She was tired, but too wound up to sleep. She thought about dragging out her vibrator, but knew it wouldn’t satisfy her. The longing within her went too deep to be satisfied by a battery-operated machine. She wanted to feel the weight of a man over her and around her as he thrust deep into her body.
Groaning, she flopped over onto her side and tried to stop thinking about Ryan and their two sweaty bodies sliding together. The weather had turned unseasonably warm in the last two days and the slight breeze blowing in through the window did little to dispel the heat within her. She forced herself to take one deep breath and then another and another. Finally the tension began to fade. Her breathing evened out and her limbs relaxed.
The dream began as it always did…
|
|
|
|
|
|
