Siren's Call. Debbie Herbert
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Lily leaned into him and gave in to the urge to touch him again.
She lightly ran a finger along the stern edge of his jaw. A delicious frisson of awareness shot down her spine at the contact. Nash didn’t move. Did he truly feel nothing between them?
“Don’t,” he said in a harsh, tight voice.
“Why? You don’t really believe you’re cursed, do you?” Her hand crept to the back of his neck, fingers combing his smooth black hair.
Abruptly, Nash pulled her to him, his lips crushing against hers. Heat flared and liquid warmth pulsed through her body. His strength was more than the physical, unyielding planes of his mouth, chest and arms. It was an aura as primal and mysterious as anything nature could produce. Lily parted her mouth, inviting him to deepen the kiss.
Nash thrust her away. “Good night, Lily.”
DEBBIE HERBERT writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She’s always been fascinated by magic, romance and gothic stories. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Her oldest son, like many of her characters, has autism. Her youngest son is in the US Army. A past Maggie Award finalist in both young-adult and paranormal romance, she’s a member of the Georgia Romance Writers of America.
Siren's Call
Debbie Herbert
First and always, for my husband, Tim, who has always believed in me. For my father, J.W. Gainey, who takes such pride in my accomplishments. And I want to mention several special friends who have helped me on my writing journey with either their support or the brainstorming of ideas, or critique of this book as it was written: Sandra Wilson Cummins, Sherrie Lea Morgan and Becky Rawnsley.
Contents
“Look at her...”
Snicker. “Thinks she’s somethin’...”
“Heard about her latest?”
Lily ignored the whispers and kept the corners of her lips slightly upturned as she studied the dead fish on display. Her insides churned as cold and slushy as the fishes’ beds of ice.
“Miss Bosarge!” The portly seafood manager beamed behind the counter. “What can I get ya?”
She pointed to her selection and he wrapped it in white paper, all the while looking her up and down, a lecherous glimmer in his eyes. He winked. “I’ll make a special deal for you.”
The buzzing from behind grew louder.
“Disgusting.”
“Slut.”
That was going too far. Lily placed the fish in her cart and withdrew her makeup compact. She held it up and dabbed on a touch of lip gloss, checking out her latest tormentors. Yep, Twyla Fae was with a couple of friends and no doubt the ringleader. Twyla still smarted from the time her then-boyfriend-now-husband briefly dumped her to pursue Lily. You’d think the woman would be over something that happened two years ago.
Lily composed the habitual all-is-well smile as she faced Twyla. “How’s J.P. doing?” she asked with double-sugar-fudge politeness. “I haven’t heard from him in the longest. I really should drop by and say ‘hey’.”
Twyla paled beneath her tan but quickly recovered and glowered. “You stay away from J.P.” She shifted the whining toddler in her arms. “We’re a family now.”
Lily moved her cart straight at the trio. They jumped out of the way.
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” she threatened in honeyed tones, strolling down the aisle. Never let them see you care—her mantra since puberty, when her siren’s voice had developed and unleashed its power over the entire male population of Bayou La Siryna.
Lily took her time filling the cart with dozens of cans of sardine and tuna and cases of bottled water. The usual fare.
An explosion of green bean tins hit the floor, but she didn’t flinch. A teenaged