A Wicked Tale
Genre: M/F, Paranormal , PNR
Ginger Butterbean would like to, but she’s not sure how to go about it. Her marriage of a hundred years has crumbled to dust and she’s worried her witchy bits might be so full of cobwebs, they’ve malfunctioned.
She needs sexy gargoyle Slade Nightwing to remind her of what it means to be a witch and that love isn’t just a fairytale.
Available at ARe
She’d been raised in a time when witches didn’t behave the way she had. If her mother were alive, she’d have zapped her wrists with magick lightning the same as she had when Ginger was a witchling and used her magick inappropriately.
She sighed and decided that warlock society could damn well give her a break. Her marriage of one hundred years was circling the bowl, and a witch was entitled to act a little…crazy.
The little voice in her head reminded her that was really no excuse. Witches of good breeding didn’t behave this way.
Witches of good breeding looked the other way when their husbands cheated on them. Even if it was with Aloe Hugginfroth—slag extraordinaire.
Just thinking the other witch’s name made her hands tighten into claws and her nails dig into her palms.
Logically, she knew that she couldn’t only blame Aloe. Gavin had his part in it. If she were honest with herself, she couldn’t blame Aloe at all. It wasn’t her place to police Ginger’s husband. It wasn’t Ginger’s, either. Gavin had cheated.
If she could stop rage-flailing, she could even see why he cheated.
If he’d just left her, it would’ve still stung her pride, and it might have hurt her heart just a little bit. Their marriage had been over for a long time.
It was the public humiliation that made her so angry.
She’d spent her life being the perfect society witch, and this was what she’d earned for her trouble?
She’d only added fuel to the fire at Middy Cherrywood’s bridal tea by being such a bitch, and she’d practically—no, not practically—actually fellated the little novelty cock straws that the gargoyle entertainment had been handing out.
Ginger blushed after the fact.
She’d been lusting after them, but she’d denied their countrymen one of their main sources of support when she’d taken Gavin’s name off of her bank account. He was a big supporter of the Gargoyle Ball, a huge charity event that helped support post-war rebuilding. It fed hatchlings, provided medical care…
She was such an asshole.
There was no excuse for her behavior.
She’d gotten her revenge on Gavin. Publicly humiliating him, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
She didn’t know anything that would.
Ginger knew that was a lie. There was one thing that would make her feel better. She hadn’t been touched like a flesh and blood witch in over twenty years.
She wanted someone to pull her hair, fuck her hard, and tell her she was beautiful.
She didn’t think that was too tall an order.
Her witchy bits were probably so dried out they were like a condemned building.
Everything would come crashing down at the first touch.
Ginger wished she was as bold as Aradia Shadowins. She’d taken a gargoyle lover and didn’t give a flying newt’s ass what anyone thought about it. Ginger could admit that he was a delicious specimen of masculinity.
But it was his brother who’d captured her attention.
Saranna DeWylde has always been fascinated by things better left in the dark. She wrote her first story after watching The Exorcist at a slumber party. Since then, she’s published horror, romance and narrative nonfiction. Like all writers, Saranna has held a variety of jobs, from operations supervisor for an airline, to an assistant for a call girl, to a corrections officer. But like Hemingway said, “Once writing has become your major vice and greatest pleasure, only death can stop it.” So she traded in her cuffs for a full-time keyboard. She loves to hear from her readers.
For more information on other books by Saranna, visit her website: www.sarannadewylde.com
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