Spirits and Spells (Warlocks MacGregor)
Contemporary Scottish Paranormal Romance
Charlotte Carver is going insane—suffering with everything from memory loss, to hallucinations, to phantom conversations she can’t recall having. Something tells her it’s not a coincidence that it all started when the MacGregor family moved to town, and the one person who knows what’s going on is the last person Charlotte would ask for help. Her new landlord, Niall MacGregor, is not the most approachable man but that hasn’t stopped the brooding Scottish biker from invading her dreams.
Motorcycle riding werewolf, Niall MacGregor is the longtime supernatural enforcer for his warlock family. He has regretted more than a few things he’s done in the name of duty, but taking Charlotte’s memories is the biggest. It was necessary, to both protect the family and save Charlotte’s sanity. But the intimate glimpse into her mind has only made him want things he can never have—including the gorgeous, brave woman herself.
When luck finds Charlotte’s memories returning, her attraction to Niall explodes, thrusting her into a magickal world. There is little time to adjust as another of Niall’s past regrets has come back to threaten everything they hold dear.
Warning: Contains yummy, hot, mischievous MacGregors who are almost certainly up to no good on their quest to find true love. And Uncle Raibeart.
Exclusive Excerpt from Spirits and Spells!
Green Vallis, Wisconsin
“They’re a cult.”
The distorted words hung in the musty air like sagging cobwebs, but Charlotte Carver heard them as clearly as she felt the damp air on her skin. They sounded like they came from an old record player that had seen better days. And to make things even spookier, they were whispered in her voice.
Her memory had been shoddy as of late, to say the least, but she was sure that she would remember having a conversation about cults. She looked around and was able to discern from the stone foundation that she was in a basement. The dusky light seemed to drain color from her surroundings.
Charlotte felt the texture of a rope against her hand and glanced down. Her fingers were empty. She felt heavy, like her legs were made of lead. The notion that she wouldn’t be able to move very far if she tried haunted her, almost to paralysis.
“They’re going to sacrifice us,” her raspy voice continued against pops and scratches of the record. Water dripping into a puddle somewhere only added to the eerie ambiance. “We have to get out of here.”
“I don’t understand,” Charlotte said. None of this made sense.
“We don’t know that.” Lydia Barratt was her best friend. She knew that voice better than her own, even as the recording warped it. No, it was Lydia MacGregor now.
“Lydia?” Charlotte called. “Are you there? What is this place? What are we hearing?”
“I heard them. When they brought me here, they told me my sacrifice would be appreciated. They’re sick.” Again, Charlotte knew her own voice, but had no memory of the conversation.
“Hello, anyone? What is this place?” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “What is happening?”
“Ya don’t need to be here,” a man responded, much calmer than her voice had been.
She recognized the Scottish accent of Niall MacGregor, her landlord, and the brother of Lydia’s new husband. His words were stronger, clearer than the recording. What was he doing here, in this basement from a black and white horror movie with her?
Niall made her nervous. Hell, he could make anyone nervous. He had a commanding presence that filled a room, even when he didn’t say a word.
Sometimes, when he looked at her, she felt as if she would be less exposed if she were standing naked in front of a hundred people. Not that Niall had ever seen her naked. That was just how confident his knowing gaze was.
Charlotte searched her surroundings, looking for him. The room was empty.
Light streaming through a small window revealed an old furnace and water heater in the corner. Next to it were some wooden stairs leading out of the basement. Charlotte tried to go toward them. “Lydia, are you down here? I see a way out.”
Suddenly, iron bars fell from the ceiling, blocking off the exit. Charlotte covered her ears as the clanging of metal on the stone floor rang around the small basement. The impact shook the ground and reverberated up through the floor and her legs, shaking every part of her. She looked up and down in a panic. The bars only fortified her fear that she was being held captive in the torture chamber of a house of horrors.
“This door does not exist within ya anymore,” Niall said. His green eyes appeared first out of the shadows, bright in color but lacking the teasing light common to the other men in his family. His brown hair fell to his chin, and she had the impression that it was more out of neglect than a style choice. His kilt looked well worn. For a man from a wealthy family, he seemed to go out of his way to look like he didn’t come from money. Still, on the surface, he was handsome, rugged, and moody. Whenever he came to Green Vallis, he drew attention like a movie star bad boy, riding into town on his motorcycle, returning from some mysterious adventure.
None of these things impressed Charlotte, for they were surface dressing. All the MacGregor men were handsome. If she was interested in a pretty face, there were several single ones to choose from—Euann and Rory were both sweet and amiable, dressed in designer clothing, and appeared to like having a good time. And they smiled at her. Niall never smiled.
Like now. He was definitely not smiling as he looked at her. “Ya do not want to go beyond this room.”
“But…” She pointed at the door, only to see it disappear. Water dripped again, a solitary ambiance that caused the dread inside of her to intensify.
“And ya do not need these bars, or these windows,” he said. “Ya do not need this night. Let it go, Charlotte.”