by Kate Hill
Erotic Paranormal Romance
Two mythic creatures find mates to fill the deepest desires of their very souls on St Patrick’s Day.
Jolene’s Pooka: Jolene longs for more than just peace and quiet. She wants the love of a real man — one who is not afraid to sweep a woman off her feet and possess her completely. The mythic creature she finds somehow seems to know the deepest desires of her very soul — and he wants nothing more than to make her his woman.
Bound and Becharmed: The son of a leprechaun and a fairy queen, Brendon might have been considered perfect, like his brothers, except for one unforgivable flaw. He’s about twice the size of an average leprechaun. At six feet two, Brendon doubts he’ll ever find a mate. Until a visiting Valkyrie leaps into his arms. The passion sizzles between them, until Loki nearly ruins everything. That’s when Brendon proves a little bondage and a lot of leprechaun charm can overcome just about anything.
Publisher’s Note: Kate Hill’s Becharmed Duet contains the previously published novellas Jolene’s Pooka and Bound and Becharmed.
Jolene saw him for the first time on a brisk March night. She blamed it on being a bit tipsy from sharing one too many beers with a friend at the local pub. Still, she shivered and her heart pounded when he appeared as if from nowhere in the meadow across from her rented cottage.
Huge and black with fiery eyes, the stallion stared at her. He trotted closer and snorted, looking dangerous yet incredibly beautiful. Sleek muscles rippled beneath his glossy coat. There was something otherworldly about him that terrified her.
She walked faster and he easily kept up. She ran and he followed, those eyes of flame never leaving her.
Trembling, she reached her door and fumbled with the key. Just as it turned in the lock, she felt warm, moist breath against the back of her neck.
A deep voice rumbled, “Come to me, woman.”
Jolene had never been easily frightened, but she let out a scream loud enough to shatter glass as she dove inside.
For several moments, she leaned against the door, her pulse racing. She heard his hoof beats on the cobbled walkway. Every now and then he snorted.
It’s a horse. Just a horse. He didn’t talk. Your mind was just playing tricks on you.
“Woman,” roared the voice. “I said come to me.”
She was drunk. The voice and the horse were just figments of her imagination. When she gathered the courage to glance out the window, she saw nothing but meadows, trees, and the empty, moonlit road winding back to the town.
* * *
“It sounds to me like you’ve got yourself a pooka,” Fallon said to Jolene, an amused glint in her eyes.
The women sat across from each other in the kitchen of Fallon’s house two miles up the road from Jolene’s cottage. They had known each other since high school when they had been exchange students. Ten years later, their friendship was as strong as ever. Jolene was vacationing in the small country town in Ireland where her old schoolmate resided.
“A pooka? What the hell is that?”
“It’s a fairy that usually takes the form of a horse and goes around stealing crops and frightening people.”
Jolene giggled. “Come on. Fairies are supposed to be cute little girls with wings and magic dust.”
“Not all of them are like that. According to legend, most of them weren’t very pleasant. Pooka is a shapeshifter, but he usually doesn’t appear until autumn. You really must have caught his fancy for him to show his face now.”
“You’re laughing at me and I don’t blame you.”
Fallon reached across the table and patted her friend’s hand. “I’m not laughing at you. Just having a bit of fun. You had too much to drink last night. That’s all. Remember, if you see your pooka again, don’t let him take you on a wild ride.”
Jolene grinned, finally able to see the humor of the situation. Of course Fallon was right. Alcohol had conjured the fairy. He didn’t really exist.
* * *
Jolene awoke with a start, her heart pounding.
“I said come out here. You belong with me!”
The deep, masculine voice filled her room. A glance at the window revealed the silhouette of a horse’s head against the shade. Jolene shivered, yet sweat beaded on her brow and upper lip. This is not happening!
“I know you hear me. Come for a ride with me.”
Slowly, she inched her way toward the phone to call for help — not that it would do much good. She was miles from her nearest neighbor.
The line was dead!
Hoof beats clacked on the cobbled walk and the horse snorted. “I can smell you. Soft perfume. Womanly musk. Come outside so I can enjoy your face and form along with your scent.”
Jolene tightened her fingers on the sheets. If she had a gun she might be able to scare him off.
“Fine, then,” he said, a note of disappointment in his voice. “I can wait.”
The silhouette disappeared from the window. Hoof beats clattered above the howling wind, then faded.
Unable to go back to sleep, Jolene sat in bed, her entire body tense, the pooka’s velvety voice echoing in her mind.
Coming in March from Changeling Press.