Holiday Recipe from Pat Esden Author of His Dark Magic

Happy holidays to all!  Give a big welcome to Pat Esden, author of His Dark Magic. Have a seat and grab an insulated mug. I’ve got hot chocolate, hot cider and coffee. Choose your pot, they’re labeled. Pick your choice of a Snicker-doodle, Chocolate Chip or Peanut butter cookie from the plate. Yep, I baked them myself. Pat as a recipe for us and a little about His Dark Magic.  Thanks for joining us! Take it away Pat!

 
 
Almond Moon Cookies: A Timeout from the Holiday Rush
The holiday season is packed with things to do and places to go. It’s easy to become overwhelmed if you don’t take time to relax and rejuvenate. One of the best ways to do this is to reserve a quite evening or even just an hour for yourself. Shut off social media and your phone, light a
candle and enjoy a cup of tea while you listen to music or read a book. I suggest a tea with a gentle aroma and flavor like jasmine tea paired with a buttery-sweet cookie like almond moons. Almond moons are named after their crescent shape that honors the new moon. The new moon is a time for quiet reflection and new beginnings. It’s all about for planning how to move forward.
Almond Moons
(makes approximately 3 dozen cookies)
1 cup softened butter
8 ounces softened cream cheese
2 cups granulated sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ teaspoon almond extract
3-1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ cup slivered almonds
Chocolate frosting
In large bowl cream butter and softened cream cheese together
until light and fluffy.  Add sugar, egg,
vanilla, and almond extract. Beat until well blended.
In separate bowl combine flour and baking powder. Gradually
add flour mixture to creamed mixture, beating after each addition until
thoroughly blended into soft dough.
Cover bowl and refrigerate for at least one hour. Dough can
be chilled overnight.
Scoop out tablespoons of dough onto lightly floured surface
and form into small 2 inch logs. Bend logs into crescent moon shape and place
on ungreased cookie sheet. When shaping moons remember that dough will rise and
expand slightly as it cooks.
Bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes or until bottom is
golden brown. Some golden brown will show around edges of cookies.
Cool cookies, then drizzle with your favorite chocolate
glaze or spread chocolate frosting along inner edge of cookie to accent moon
shape. Press slivered almonds into soft glaze or frosting.
These cookies keep well in the freezer, so be sure to stash
a few away for that much needed holiday timeout.
Tell us a little about His Dark Magic Northern Circle Coven,Book One.  
 Its power is legendary. It can fulfill every impossible magical desire. But for one young witch seeking redemption, the Northern Circle coven will challenge her skills—and her heart—beyond measure.
Its power is legendary. It can fulfill every impossible magical desire. But for one young witch seeking redemption, the Northern Circle coven will challenge her skills—and her heart—beyond measure.
One tragic impulsive mistake made Chloe Winslow an outcast to her influential magic family. As a medical student, she wants to combine science with sorcery to heal those she hurt and right her wrongs. But brilliant, charismatic Devlin Marsh re-routes her plans with a once-in-eternity offer: membership in the exclusive Northern Circle, a mysterious Vermont coven known for pushing the limits.
Enthralled by Devlin and their mesmerizing mutual attraction, Chloe makes a dangerous sacrifice to help the Circle’s high priestess awaken Merlin himself—and learn his timeless cures. But a foreshadowing soon causes Chloe to doubt the Circle’s real motives, as well as Devlin’s . . .
Now Merlin’s demonic shade is loose in the human world, while Chloe and Devlin’s uneasy alliance will pit them against ancient enemies, malevolent illusions, and shattering betrayal. And with the fate of two realms in the balance, Chloe must risk her untried power against a force she can’t defeat—and a passion that could destroy her. 
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Chapter 1
Earth. Air. Fire. Water.
—Inscribed into a white candle
Chloe padded barefoot across her apartment to the
altar on her windowsill. She struck a match and lit a candle. Its light
shimmered over a row of crystals and washed into the darkness beyond the open
window.
“Spirits of air,” she intoned, holding out her
hands. “Guardians of thought and intent, grant me your presence today. Spirits
of fire, guardians of will and passion…”
A gust of wind sent autumn leaves whirling through
the darkness and rustling against the window’s screen. She stopped chanting and
cupped her hands around the candle, shielding it from the breeze. She shivered.
There was a sense of foreboding in the air, a whisper and a chill that a witch
like her could not ignore. Someone else with powers was close by. And they were
thinking about her—at least that’s what her intuition murmured.
She glanced out the window. There was no one in the
tiny parking lot, one story below. The windows in the house next door stood
dark and silent. She caught a whiff of bacon and hash browns, but the smell was
faint and not unexpected. It was almost five-thirty, breakfast time for the
couple upstairs.
Quiet as could be, she tiptoed past her bed and a
stack of textbooks to the studio apartment’s front door. She opened it a crack
and glanced out. The hall light was on, its brightness fanning across the
hallway between her and the main staircase. But the doors to the other two
apartments on her floor were shut, everything dead silent.
Remembering her candle, Chloe swiveled back. “Out,”
she whispered, flicking her fingers to send a burst of energy at its flame.
The flame obeyed, only a thread of its
rosemary-scented smoke trailing behind her as she opened the door all the way
and crept down the hallway, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.
When she reached the top of the staircase,
everything was still quiet. But after a moment, a faint thump-thump echoed
up from the foyer below.
 Thump-bang.
Bang.
Chloe froze, her breath knotting in the back of her throat. It was as
if someone had leaned into the front door, hard shouldering it to see if it
would give way.
She waited, listening for the noise to happen again. One long second passed,
then another. She gritted her teeth and took a cautious step downward.
Her ear caught the swish and clink of something
being slid through the mail slot, followed by a hum of magic.
Not daring to breathe, Chloe snuck down the stairs
far enough that she could see the foyer and the front entrance. A narrow
envelope lay just inside the door, as white as moonlight against the worn
floorboards.
She glanced at the window set into the front door.
No one was looking in or lurking in the shadows on the porch, so she sprinted
down the rest of the stairs and snatched the envelope. Even before she read who
it was for, her intuition screamed that it was addressed to her:
Chloe Winslow
The ink was black. The handwriting neat and
controlled. Perfectly centered. But it wasn’t an envelope. It was handmade,
paper folded and held shut by a disk of gold sealing wax stamped with an N surrounded
by a circle.
She nudged the seal with her index finger. Energy
crackled off of it, snaking up her arm. She gasped. Powerful magic. She was
certain of it, though if any of the other tenants had found the letter and
touched the seal, they wouldn’t have felt a thing.
Adrenaline pumped into her veins. A month ago,
she’d moved out of her parents’ house in Connecticut to take prerequisite
courses at the University of Vermont before applying for medical school. In all
those weeks, she hadn’t encountered any other true witches or magic. No way in
hell was she going to let someone drop off a thing like this and then escape
before she could meet them.
She shoved the letter into the waistband of her
yoga pants, unlocked the front door, and charged out onto the porch. Her gaze
flashed to the left. Parked cars lined the dark street. But no one was getting
into or out of any of them.
The swish of someone striding through fallen leaves
came from the opposite direction. She wheeled and caught a glimpse of him.
Definitely a guy, striding down the sidewalk through a glimmer of streetlight.
Broad shoulders filled out his dark quilted jacket. Khaki chinos. Lean.
Athletic. Confident.
Chloe’s long legs took the porch stairs in a single
leap. She sprinted down the sidewalk after him, leaves scattering beneath her
bare feet.
The guy jogged between two parked cars and crossed
the street.
“Wait!” she shouted.
He slowed and glanced back. That was all the time
Chloe needed. She willed her legs to go faster and in a dozen strides caught up
to him and snagged his sleeve.
His eyes met hers. He looked to be maybe
twenty-four or -five. His dark- brown hair curled at the nape of his neck. Deep,
brown eyes. Muscular. Classy. Gorgeous. His magic purred in the air around him.
She gulped a breath and toughened her voice. “You
owe me an explanation.”
His gaze traveled over her slowly, from her bobbed
honey-blond hair, past her makeup-free face and stretched out T-shirt, down to
her stormy- blue painted toenails, then back up to her eyes. Dimples formed as
his lips twitched into a roguish smirk.
“Not afraid of confrontation, are you?” he said.
His voice was warm and deep, liquid danger spiked
with an undercurrent of confident innuendo. It sent an excited shiver up her
arms. Still she glared at him. “First of all, I suspect you dropped off that letter
at this time of morning because you knew I’d be awake and sense you. That means
you’ve been spying on me.”
“Is that so?” He shifted closer, his magic sweeping
her skin.
Her legs weakened. Desire thrummed low in her
belly. Dear Goddess, this hadn’t been one of her brighter moves. Maybe she
could snuff out a candle with a flick of her fingers, but with seemingly no
effort his magic had aroused every inch of her. Clearly, he was extraordinarily
gifted—and not just with working spells.
She let go of his sleeve, retreated a step, and
found herself trapped against a cedar hedge.
He cocked his head. “Why don’t you open the letter
if you’re so curious?”
Her fingers obeyed, sliding it from her waistband—
She stopped. What the heck was she doing? She’d
felt the magic crackle off the seal. If she broke it, there was no telling what
kind of spell might be activated.
Chloe pulled herself up to her full height and
looked him square in the eyes, which wasn’t that hard to do. He was probably
five-foot-ten, but she was only a couple of inches shorter even in bare feet.
“I’ve got a better idea. How about if you tell me what it says?”
He frowned as if the idea didn’t appeal to him,
then surprisingly he stepped back and shrugged. “All right, if you insist. It’s
an invitation from the Northern Circle coven. Have you heard of us?”
“Umm—no.” Her pulse quickened, renewed wariness
pumping into her blood. Her parents had mentioned a few older hereditary
witches who lived in this area, but never this group.
“It’s to a party. A meet and greet. A chance to see
if you might be interested in joining us and if we think you’re a good fit.” He
rubbed a hand down the sleeve of his jacket as if deciding whether he should
say more. Finally, he went on, “We’re dedicated to finding ways to access
ancient knowledge. Through out-of-body travel, retrocognition…” He studied
her face carefully, as if watching for her reaction.
She pressed her lips together, refusing to give him
one—though what he’d said totally enticed her.
Amusement twinkled in his eyes for a second, then
he continued. “We believe there are cures to modern diseases and conditions
that have been lost to time. The wisdom and magic of Imhotep, Hippocrates, even
Merlin.” He smiled, slyly. “You are interested in medicine, right?”
Her wariness evaporated and that thrum jumped to
life again deep inside her. But this time it had nothing to do with sex. Magic.
Medicine. Secrets lost to time.
None of the classes she was taking or
anything she’d come across at the university were even remotely as exciting as
this.
She folded her arms across her chest. “Of course
you’d know I’m interested in that. You’ve been keeping tabs on me.”
“I—we haven’t been spying on you. You don’t always
use protection spells. We picked up on your energy. That’s one of the ways we
find new potential members.” He stopped, his jaw tensing as if he were holding
something back.
She pinned him with a steady look. “And?”
He grimaced. “All right, we have contacts in
administration. We may have checked your college records as well: graduated
from a community college, taking additional prerequisites before applying for
medical school. Top-ten test scores. Not a great apartment. But somehow you
scored it last minute.”
Now he sounded like her father, using his connections
to screen potential employees. She thrust the letter out. “If this is all so
innocent, then why don’t you open it? Or does the seal bother you?”
He laughed, tugged the letter from her fingers, and
broke the sealing wax. The welcoming scent of sage and lavender perfumed the
air, and a trail of green firefly-like sparks twinkled upward, swirling around
before vanishing off toward the brightening eastern horizon.
“Better now?” he said, handing the open letter back
to her.
She skimmed it, nibbling her bottom lip. Even in
the dim street-light, she could see he’d told the truth. It was an engraved
invitation signed: Athena Marsh, high priestess, Northern Circle.
“You can take a city bus—or text Athena if you want
a ride. She’ll probably ask me to pick you up, but she’s the one doing the
organizing. This is her pet project,” he continued. “You won’t be the only
newbie. No one will force you into anything.”
His voice settled sugar-sweet in her ear. Medicine.
Magic.
A chance to gain the knowledge from ancient physicians, scholars,
and sorcerers. Perhaps even pick the wizard Merlin’s brain. How could she say no?

 

About the Author:
PAT ESDEN is an antique-dealing florist by trade. She’s also a member of Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and the League of Vermont Writers. Her short stories have appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society’s Mythic Circle literary magazine, and George H. Scither’s anthology Cat Tales.
Her new adult paranormal novel, A HOLD ON ME (book #1 in the Dark Heart series) is available from Kensington Books. BEYOND YOUR TOUCH (book #2 Dark Heart series) will be released August 30th.
 
 

 

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Interview with Pat Esden – Reach For You

Give a warm welcome to Pat Esden, author of  Reach For You, book three of Dark Heart  Available for pre-order now, release on June 27, 2017! Don’t miss the rafflecopter at the end of this post.

Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Pat Esden and Reach For You.

Hi Tena, Thank you for interviewing me today. I’m excited to be here and to answer behind the scenes questions about REACH FOR YOU (Dark Heart, book 3).

My pleasure Pat.  Tell me, what inspired this particular story?

REACH FOR YOU is the third and final book in the Dark Heart series. The idea for it came to me when I began to brainstorm A HOLD ON ME (Dark Heart, book 1). I wanted the series to end with Annie, the main character, finding her HEA, but I didn’t want it to come easy. To me, the struggles Annie goes through in this book are both emotionally devastating, challenging, and the logical conclusion to the other books.

 Who is your favorite character of all of the books you’ve written and Why?

I don’t think I could pick a favorite. But one of the most fun characters to write in the Dark Heart series was Lotli. She doesn’t physically appear until the second book (there are hints about her in book 1). But once she appears, she brings out both the worst and best in Annie, the main character.  Lotli is mysterious and powerful. She’s a master of magic and manipulation. I enjoyed giving hints about her true past and powers. One of my favorite scenes in REACH FOR YOU is when the truth about Lotli is revealed—and that truth may just be more horrible than Annie suspected.

 Do you see yourself in your characters?

It isn’t something I consciously do, but there is probably a part of me in every character. A lot of Annie’s reactions to Lotli are emotions that I’ve felt at one time or another. Other characters have qualities I admire, like Chase’s selflessness (though in his case it gets him in trouble).

 Where do your story ideas come from? If they come to you in the middle of the night, do you get up and write them all down?

My story ideas usually do start as flashes of scenes or lines of dialogue. I’m more likely to get those while driving and listening to music. I keep pens in my car and in my bag, along with notepads.

When I deep into drafting or revising a novel, I get a lot of ideas when I take a break from my computer. Walking the dog, showering, taking a nap—they all work equally as well. As far as in the middle of the night goes, yes. I used to keep a pad by the bed, but now I’m even more careful to not lose those flashes of inspiration. I’ll turn on a light and write things down at my desk or sometimes even turn on the computer and open a fresh document. What probably irritates me the most is when I work on a tough section of a project until I’m exhausted, then I go to bed and fall asleep only to have the solution come to me ten minutes later. Why couldn’t it have come to me before I crawled into bed?

 Why do you write what you write adult contempoary paranormal and fantasty? 

I love the idea of magick being real. I like taking the mundane day to day life and turning it into a grand adventure where anything is possible. I also love a hard-earned HEA.

How about a little about Reach For You?

Her passion is her greatest weakness. His legacy is his prison. To reunite, both must fight the demons within.

A world of deception and danger separates Annie Freemont from her mother—and from Chase, the enigmatic half-ifrit with whom Annie’s fallen in love. But she vows to find her way back to them, before Chase succumbs to the madness that threatens his freedom. The only person who can help is the magical seductress, Lotli, a beautiful, manipulative woman . . . a woman who has disappeared.

Annie must stay strong, even as the future she imagined is slipping away. With the help of family and friends, she discovers that Lotli is being held against her will, by those who want to exploit her powers. But though weakened, Lotli remains a powerful alley and adversary. A bargain is struck. And now Annie’s only chance to rescue Chase could also tear them apart . . .

Loyalties will be tested, walls will be breached, and enemies will be fought, yet Annie’s greatest battle lies within her own heart—to trust her love for Chase to overcome its greatest enemy, and to save those she holds most dear from the terrifying realm of the djinn . . .

Amazon     BN       Kobo      Indie Bound

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May 28- July 2

Book 1- A Hold On Me – On Sale for $2.99

Book 2 – Beyond Your Touch- On Sale for $3.99

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

We journey. Ceaseless and hungry.

Carved into stone tablet. Tenerife, Spain

The campsite was ominously silent. Then a breeze lifted and my ear caught the faint clank and rattle of the bones and knives hanging in the pine trees behind us.

“You don’t think they’re both dead, do you?” Selena whispered.

I scanned the dilapidated camper ahead of us, a do-it-yourself RV created out of an old bread truck. Despite the midafternoon warmth, the doors were shut tight. The tent behind it, barely visible from our angle, bowed under the weight of rain that had pooled in its canopy. There was no campfire smoke. No trampled grass. In comparison to when we’d come here last week, the place looked deserted.

Goose bumps pebbled my skin. I gave the camper another once-over. “Zea was really old and sickly. He could have died—or if the kidnappers came here first looking for Lotli, they could have found him. They might have—”

Selena cut me off with a glower. “You mean, supposed kidnappers.”

My jaw clenched. Yeah, that was exactly what I meant. I understood why my cousin didn’t like that everything we’d discovered pointed to her boyfriend, Newt, being involved in Lotli’s disappearance, and perhaps Zea’s as well. But I thought we’d gotten past that, like a bunch of times already.

I swiveled toward where we’d parked our Land Rover. The Professor stood rooted next to it, a mixture of disgust and apprehension crinkling his face. From his scholarly glasses and sandy brown hair all the way down to his polished loafers, he looked anything but ready for our reconnaissance trip out here on the back roads of Down East Maine. An afternoon of research at Oxford University would have been more appropriate. “You want to check inside the tent while we look in the camper?”

His gaze flicked to the soggy tarps. He cleared his throat, then—as posh as ever—said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not totally against the idea. But the thought of discovering a rotting corpse is a teensy bit abhorrent.”

“Would you rather discover one in a closed-up camper?” I snapped. It was lucky we’d driven into the campsite from the main road instead of walking like we’d done the last time.  I’d assumed the Professor had an adventuresome spirit to go with his young Indiana Jones good looks. Especially since he was an archaeologist, though this summer he was tutoring Selena’s eleven-year-old brother as a favor. Still, and despite how eager he’d seemed to come with us, the Professor had freaked the second we started past the creepy stuff Zea and Lotli hung in the trees to scare people off: the knives and bones, pieces of copper pipe, broken mirrors, and doll parts. Frankly, I was surprised he’d even gotten out of the Land Rover at all.

I pasted on a smile. “Sorry. I don’t much care for the idea myself. Let’s just hope he’s napping or something.”

The Professor wiped his hands down the sides of his chinos. “I truly hope you’re right.”

As he headed for the tent, I tramped toward the camper with Selena close behind. If only Chase were here now. The creepy stuff hadn’t bothered him at all, and the fear of Zea being dead would have only driven him forward faster.

My chest tightened, my longing for Chase aching inside me, raw and unrelenting. If it weren’t for me, he would be here now. Instead, both he and my mother were trapped in the djinn realm, prisoners of his father, Malphic. If it weren’t for me, Lotli wouldn’t be missing either.

“Well?” Selena jerked her head at the camper door. “Are you going to just stand there?”

I raised my hand and knocked. One second passed. Two seconds. I rapped harder. Nothing. I tried the doorknob. It turned beneath my grip. I opened the door a crack, hesitated, and took a deep breath before pushing it open all the way.

A wave of hot, musty air rushed past me as if the camper had been closed up for days.

“Hello?” I said, sticking my head inside. I gave the air a cautious sniff. No dangerous odors, like a leaky gas stove, permeated the air.  No rotting-trash smell—or decomp.

Selena nudged my shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”

I swallowed hard and stepped forward.

The place was cramped, a gypsy wagon on steroids. Tassels and prisms curtained the windows, letting only faint streaks of light inside. Miles of fuchsia and turquoise fabric draped the ceiling and walls. Animal skulls, feathers, and nubby candles clustered inside miniature altars. The fridge, table, and chairs, every surface that wasn’t fabric covered, was painted purple or black. Stars decorated the ceiling. An antique bed piled with crimson quilts and an avalanche of pillows took up the camper’s entire backend. It was cozy enough, I supposed. But I couldn’t begin to imagine what life had been like for Lotli, apprenticed to Zea as a child because of her magic abilities, essentially indentured. Not that I thought a devout shaman like Zea would have been cruel to her. It was just so different from anything I’d experienced.

“Zea, are you here?” I called out. “We need to talk to you about Lotli.”

I minced my way deeper into the cramped space, working my way toward the back of the camper. Cold sweat carved a trail down my spine. I crept past a tiny kitchen and dining nook, then the bathroom—one toothbrush in the holder, a washcloth draped over the edge of a yellowed sink.

I returned to the front of the camper and pulled aside the curtain that divided the living area from the bread truck’s cab. Seats for the driver and a passenger, seashells glued to the dash, insulated coffee cups in the holders—

Something brushed the back of my neck.

I yelped and jumped sideways, whipping around to see what it was and smacking my elbow against the wall. Pain zinged up my arm. I glared at Selena, standing barely an inch behind me.

“Shit,” I said, rubbing the sting from my arm. “You scared the hell out of me.”

She gave me a sheepish pout. “Sorry. I thought you knew I was there.”

“I didn’t think you were that close.” It wouldn’t have hurt half as bad, except I was already sore and bruised from being thrown out of the djinn realm earlier in the day.

Her pout transformed into a smug smile and she flipped her blond hair over one shoulder.  “Looks to me like Zea and Lotli might have pulled a vanishing act after all. Huh?”

I stopped rubbing. “Or the Professor’s about to find something disgusting in the tent.”

“Want to bet?”

I closed my eyes, struggling to regain my composure. We couldn’t afford to waste time discussing the same thing over and over again, any more than I could have afforded the luxury of staying home to nurse my aches and pains. Chase and Mother were in danger. And I couldn’t go back to the realm and rescue them until we found Lotli. Without her and her flute-magic, it would be too risky, perhaps even impossible to enter or escape from the realm.

I shoved past Selena and strode to the tiny bathroom. “While we’re here, we should find something personal of Lotli’s that you can use to scry and see where they’re holding her.”

Glancing around, I spotted a scruffy hairbrush. You couldn’t get much more personal than that. I grabbed it and brandished it toward Selena.

She stood just inside the bathroom doorway, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. “Cut it out, Annie, I’ve had enough of you talking like Newt kidnapped Lotli, the innuendos and little jabs. Maybe his family’s hiding something, but Newt doesn’t have anything to do with it. So quit acting like he’s evil, okay?”

I mirrored her stance. “He told you his dad was a stockbroker, that they owned their summer home. Those were lies. His brother is a registered creep. No matter what you want to think: Newt’s not innocent.”

She turned her back on me, her voice bordering on hysteria. “I don’t know why I bothered coming. You’re so, so . . . You always have to be right—” Her voice died and she slowly faced me. Angry red blotches mottled her face. But tears rimmed her eyes.

My anger drained. She didn’t look pissed. She was trembling like she was about to fall apart. Earlier today, when we’d first heard about the lies Newt and his family had been telling, I’d seen something in Selena’s eyes, something beneath her disbelief.

“What is it? Tell me,” I asked gently.

She raked her hands over her face. “Nothing. You just need to trust me. I know Newt couldn’t be involved. And he wouldn’t have let his brother do it either.”

I leveled my gaze with hers and toughened my voice. “What makes you so certain? Tell me the truth, Selena.”

Her chin quivered. “I just know.”

Tucking the hairbrush handle first into my hip pocket, I stepped closer. I pushed her hair back from her face. “You’re my cousin. Please. Tell me.”

“Nothing. He just wouldn’t do it. He loves me.”

“I get that. But—”

She shoved my hand away. “No, you don’t get it. I know he loves me. Like forever.”  Her eyes pleaded for me to understand what she couldn’t bring herself to say.

A possibility seeped into my head.  My hands went to my mouth, covering a horrified gasp. She couldn’t mean. She couldn’t have.  “What did you do?”

“I kind of—I put a . . .” Her voice faded and she looked down at the floor.

“A spell?” A month ago, the idea of witchcraft being involved would never have occurred to me. Now it seemed more than likely.

“You can’t tell anyone. Mom, Dad, Grandfather—they’d kill me.” She curled her arms over her head, her shoulders shaking as she crumpled down against the wall.

I crouched and put my arms around her. “Whatever it is, it’ll be fine. It can’t be that bad.”

“It is,” she sobbed.

About the Author:

Pat Esden would love to say she spent her childhood in intellectual pursuits. The truth is she was fonder of exploring abandoned houses and old cemeteries. When not out on her own adventures, she can be found in her northern Vermont home writing stories about brave, smart women and the men who capture their hearts.

An antique-dealing florist by trade, she’s also a member of Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and the League of Vermont Writers. Her short stories have appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society’s Mythic Circle, and George Sciter’s Cat Tales Anthology.

The first two novels in her Dark Heart series, A HOLD ON ME and BEYOND YOUR TOUCH are available from Kensington Books.  REACH FOR YOU (book #3 Dark Heart series) will be released June 27th. Her short story, Black as a Dark Moon, Scarlet as Sumac, will come out this September in the Fragments of Darkness anthology.

Website: http://patesden.com

Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PatEsdenAuthor/

Blog: http://patesden.blogspot.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/patesden/

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/patesden/reach-for-you-dark-heart-3/

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32586694-reach-for-you

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