She's a witch hunting a spell. He's hunting witches
and falling for her.
Carman
has worn out more towns and last names than impractical shoes protecting the
secret of her magic blood. But when a friend goes missing, and another is
infected with a deadly spell, Carman must choose. Expose her magic blood by
curing the spell—or stop the infection from spreading by killing the source…the
grandmother.
Magic
bounty hunter Dylan has scoured libraries of banned magic paraphernalia seeking
a method to distinguish genuine witches from impersonators. He suspects
unorthodox librarian Carman might hold this information tighter than the hair
he’s dying to unleash from her bun. With a past as hidden as his sleeve of
tattoos, Dylan discovers he’s been used to gain Carman’s trust and their
passion risks more than mixing mortals and magic.
Excerpt
…once
she’d started Carman couldn’t stop,
the book
beckoned. Pressing its spine against her palm, begging her to search within the
pages to find the answers she’d unconsciously sought her entire life. As she
lifted the book, her scalp tingled and her hair elevated like a halo.
“Whoa.”
Dylan shielded himself with his hands. “Put it back, slowly, because this is
reminding me too much of the incident with the chest. Having my apartment blown
up from magic isn’t covered in my rent.”
The
plastic evaporated in a puff of smoke in Carman’s hands and the book unsealed
with a sigh. She smiled, the welcoming warmth emanating from within its pages
against her palms. Why had Mother kept her from this? This is what she’d been
waiting for.
As
curiosity overtook his common sense, she detected Dylan’s cautious approach. He
stood close enough to peer over her shoulder into her book, but far enough away
to avoid touching her.
After
the shockwave the last time their skin met, he probably worried he’d ruin
another pair of pants. Carman closed her eyes, absorbing the power from the book.
The delicious feeling evoked a sensation like melting chocolate, sweet and
satisfying.
“I
remember hearing about her, Esmeralda Wrath. I wonder if this was her book?”
Dylan’s warm breath caressed her shoulder.
Carman
opened her eyes and examined the page. To stare right at a photo of the most
powerful witch of all time…her grandmother.
Maureen Bonatch realized later in life everyone
didn’t have characters telling stories in their heads, or weren’t envisioning
magic and mayhem within the everyday. This, and long walks in the beautiful
state of Pennsylvania spawned a love of writing.
Therefore
she’s chased other interests, though none-the-less-daring, but closer to the
ground, such as belly-dancing, becoming a self-proclaimed tequila connoisseur,
fulfilling her role as biker babe to her alpha hubby and surviving motherhood
to twins (so far).
Penning
stories boasting laughter, light suspense and something magical in the hope of
sharing her love of finding the extraordinary in the ordinary world.
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/1AV4L
On the Surface by Margo Hoornstra
