Excerpt Day: He's Bewitched by Ryan Field

[reviews_and_ramblings]

He's Bewitched by Ryan Field
Release Date: May 27, 2009
Publisher: Ravenous Romance
ISBN: 978-1-60777-219-4
Publisher Link: http://www.ravenousromance.com/fantastica/he-s-bewitched.php

Blurb: Brett Samson is a young warlock who longs to be just like everyone else. His only dream in life is to fall in love with the right man and live happily-ever-after. But he becomes disillusioned with everything when his latest lover breaks off their relationship. Realizing he may never be able to live a normal, mortal life, he takes off on a road trip to Cape Cod in a vintage Lincoln convertible, with his best friend and cousin, Michelle, his outrageous little dog, Tag, and his faltering witch of a grandmother, Eloise. Rhys Phillips, a handsome young man living with a werewolf curse, is hitching to New York to find an alchemist who can remove the curse, when he meets Brett at a small filling station in Maryland. When Brett and his family are forced to spend the night in a small motel because of a flat tire, he and Rhys start out as buddies bunking together in the same room. But the next morning Brett wakes up with handsome Rhys pinned to his back, a broken bed frame and sexy bruises on the back of his legs. Brett, Rhys, and the rest of the family, including the remarkable dog, embark on a summertime journey that takes them to the magical tip of Cape Cod, where they all discover the meaning of true love. Can they conquer their fears, learn how to deal with a sinister dark witch, and wind up finding the normal lives they've been craving?

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Brett Samson looked like any other attractive mortal.

His sandy blond hair was short and wavy; his well-defined body, with its slim waist and large, round chest muscles, caused people to turn and stare when he passed by. No one could tell he was a warlock unless he snapped his fingers. And he never did that, because he wanted to live his life the normal, human way—just like everyone else.

Brett also had a goal: to fall in love with a nice guy and live happily ever after.

But he was beginning to wonder if that would ever happen. He’d recently broken up with a guy named Jackson, the man with whom he thought he’d spend the rest of his life.

The only living mortal who knew his secret was his cousin, Michelle. She was also the only relative he had left, besides his maternal grandmother. Michelle and Brett were a year apart in age, both in their mid-twenties. She was his paternal cousin, but they looked like brother and sister. She had the same sandy blond hair, the same strong jaw and the same blue eyes. But she wasn’t a witch. He’d inherited his powers from his mother’s side of the family.

Michelle still lived at the family home, Willow Farm. It was in McLean, Virginia, not far from the storied Hickory Hill estate owned by the Kennedy family. It was a sprawling red brick Colonial with black shuttered windows, six white columns, and six dormers on the third floor. A semi-circular driveway led to a front portico flanked with tall Grecian urns containing potted boxwoods trimmed into perfectly round balls. It had been the Samson family home for almost one hundred and fifty years. Michelle’s father and Brett’s father had been brothers, and when Michelle’s father died, Brett’s father inherited the entire estate. After he died, Michelle and Brett became joint owners.

But Brett preferred living in town. He liked the urban feel of his Washington, D.C., loft, which was actually an expensive row house renovated to resemble a loft. He also liked being near the nightlife and his work. Michelle preferred Willow Farm and craved the quiet; she didn’t mind commuting. And she wasn’t alone. Brett’s grandmother, Eloise, lived at Willow Farm, too. Brett’s mother had run off with a vampire when he was only six months old and Eloise had helped raise him. She was a flamboyant old witch who often forgot her spells and incantations, and no one could ever predict her next move.

Brett and Michelle sat on the rear veranda at Willow Farm on a warm spring evening in May. The sun was just going down. “I think we should take off for the summer,” Michelle said, then leaned forward to look her cousin in the eye. “We haven’t spent the summer at the Cape in more than five years.”

“We go every New Year’s Eve and Fourth of July weekend,” Brett said. He rocked back and forth in a white chair. His little red poodle, Tag, was sitting on his lap, watching the squirrels.

To see Brett now, no one would guess he’d almost been beaten to death and robbed the night before.

He’d made a mistake, a big one. He’d picked up rough trade in a bar, a guy with a deep smooth voice, bulging biceps, and tattoos all over his body. Brett looked fine now; warlocks healed fast on the outside. But on the inside, there were still bruises that would take months to heal.

“I mean, spend the entire summer there,” Michelle pressed. “Business is so slow in the summer. We won’t be missing anything, and it would be fun.” They owned a trendy boutique not far from Brett’s loft near Dupont Circle. In Washington, D.C., it was the place to go for something very expensive, but not run-of-the-mill. “We could cut back to summer hours and Jasmine and Harlan could split their time.” Jasmine was a full-time manager and Harlan worked part time as a sales clerk.

Tag, ears cocked and braced for battle, jumped off his lap and raced toward a squirrel. Brett stared down at his knees and said, “What about Grandmother?”

“We’ll take her with us,” she said. Even though Eloise wasn’t her blood relation, she was the only grandmother Michelle had ever known.

“I guess I could use a change of scenery,” he conceded. “The incident with Dev wasn’t isolated.”

“Who’s Dev?”

He sighed. “The guy who beat me up last night,” he said. “His name was Devon, but he preferred Dev.”

She lowered her eyebrows and stared at him. He hadn’t told her much about what had happened the previous night. “What do you mean, the incident wasn’t isolated‟?”

He took a breath and sighed. “Ever since I broke up with Jackson,” he said, “I’ve been a little out of control when it comes to men. Last week alone I took on the mailman, the guy who delivers my Chinese take-out, the cable guy, two trash collectors, and a customer who came into the boutique to buy a new belt.”

She lifted her hands and held up six fingers. “You had six guys last week? That’s a lifetime for me.” Michelle was very picky about men.