When time’s the enemy, there’s no room to pussyfoot around.
Betrayed by her fiancé, Mahri Lassler swears never to risk
losing her heart again. She’s convinced she may as well collect cats since
she’s on the path to spinsterhood. She adopts a tomcat, and just as they’re
beginning to learn each other’s idiosyncrasies, the cat bolts out the door,
disappearing without a trace. Her quest to find the darn cat leads her to a
confused, naked man writhing on the street. The hopeless look in his eyes
touches something deep inside Mahri. Can she trust her heart enough to risk it
on a man with no past? Will her love be enough to break his curse?
Excerpt:
Unimaginable
agony ripped through him, searing every nerve, and igniting his blood.
Contorting in pain, his muscles contracted independently, twisting his body
into impossible positions.
What seemed
an eternity later, he lay gasping in the dirt. He pulled his lips back in
a painful grimace as he sucked air into
his aching lungs and looked around for Brigid. He would think twice before
giving her an opportunity to hurt him that profoundly again. In all the battles
he’d fought, he’d never felt such pain.
The
clearing was empty. Brigid, the cottage, his horse, the small garden where
they’d spent hours talking; all of it, had disappeared without a trace. A
shiver of unease raced through his limbs.
The breeze,
gentle now, ruffled his hair playfully. Testing his muscles tentatively, he
noticed only a slight tenderness remained after the unbearable agony of before.
His muscle and joint pain paled in comparison to a sudden thirst.
Climbing
unsteadily to his feet, he stumbled to the brook. Whatever she’d done to him
had messed with his vision. Everything seemed skewed. While trees and other
still objects appeared fuzzy, anything that moved snapped with clarity,
instantly claiming his undivided attention. A silver sheen blanketed the world
before him. It dampened the saturation of the forest colors, but he noticed
more small animals scurrying about than ever before.
Closing his eyes to offset the dizzying effects of this
visual phenomenon, Morgan stretched toward the musical bubbling of water over
stones and lapped several mouthfuls before daring to crack his eyes open. After
the tortuous eternity and weird theatrics, he was unsure what he’d expected,
but it definitely wasn’t this.
A furry
black face with two short, pointed ears and feline eyes stared up at him from
the surface of the water. What the hell?
About The Author:
Heather Sharpe lives
on six acres in Central Kansas with her husband, perfect baby boy,
mother-in-law, and sister-in-law. In case the house isn’t full enough, it also
includes four noisy dogs, one cat who inspired For the Love of a Sphynx and
another who torments him, and a lizard. At night, all of them think they need
room on the bed (except the lizard, thankfully). Up until the birth of her son,
Heather taught elementary school. Now she chases around her toddler and writes
whenever he naps.
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Author:
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