Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Dedication Acknowledgements Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Teaser chapter "Count on Vicki Lewis Thompson for a sharp, sassy, sexy read." --Jayne Ann Krentz Praise for the Novels of Vicki Lewis Thompson Wild & Hexy "Each book that Vicki Lewis Thompson pens is an experience that will have you laughing from the start. The world is well-built, the characters are charming, and the story line is simply delightful. Wild & Hexy is a zany adventure in romance and magic. Readers won't be able to resist another visit with the inhabitants of Big Knob." --Darque Reviews "An excellent addition that makes me eager for more! . . . You never really know what might happen in the small town of Big Knob, but you won't want to miss a thing. A must read!"--Fallen Angel Reviews "There was so much going on in this book that I really didn't want it to end . . . wonderfully fun . . . a keeper for sure!"--Fresh Fiction "If you thought Over Hexed was phenomenal, wait until you read Wild & Hexy! . . . A rip-roaring good time." --Romance Junkies "Get ready for a truly Wild & Hexy ride . . . brewing with lots of magical fun, mishaps, and most important of all--romance! . . . Vicki Lewis Thompson has penned a fun paranormal tale."--Romance Reader at Heart "Pure FUN from first page to last!" --The Romance Readers Connection "Sassy, fun, and magical, Wild & Hexy is pure delight from the first page. . . . This novel is one you'll want to read in one sitting, and then you'll want to read it again." --Romance Reviews Today "A fun book to read from start to finish." --Once Upon a Romance Reviews Over Hexed "A snappy, funny, romantic novel." -- New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips "Filled with laughs, this is a charmer of a book." --The Eternal Night "The same trademark blend of comedy and heart that won Thompson's Nerd series a loyal following." -- Publishers Weekly "Thompson mixes magic, small-town quirkiness, and passionate sex for a winsome effect."-- Booklist "A warm and funny novel, you find yourself cheering. I would definitely recommend it." --The Road to Romance "This novel was brilliant. I laughed until I cried and it was a very fast read for me. This genre is the beginning of a new series for Thompson, and if this novel is any indication of the following books, then Thompson has hit the jackpot."--Romance Reader at Heart "Vicki Lewis Thompson has a true flair for humor. Pick up Over Hexed and be prepared to be amused, delighted, and satisfied as Vicki Lewis Thompson takes you on an unforgettable ride."--Single Titles "Vicki Lewis Thompson sure delivers with Over Hexed . . . a lighthearted tale that won't soon be forgotten."--Fallen Angel Reviews "With her wonderful talent of lighthearted humor, Vicki Lewis Thompson pens an enchanting tale for her amorous characters, steeping it in magic and enough passion to scorch the pages."--Darque Reviews "Vicki Lewis Thompson has created another romance blended with humor to make you beg for more." --Once Upon a Romance Reviews More Praise for the Novels of Vicki Lewis Thompson "Count on Vicki Lewis Thompson for a sharp, sassy, sexy read. Stranded on a desert island? I hope you've got this book in your beach bag."--Jayne Ann Krentz "Wildly sexy . . . a full complement of oddball characters and sparkles with sassy humor."-- Library Journal "A riotous cast of colorful characters . . . fills the pages with hilarious situations and hot, creative sex." -- Booklist "Smart, spunky, and delightfully over-the-top." --Publishers Weekly "A lighthearted and frisky tale of discovery between two engaging people."-- The Oakland Press (MI) "Delightfully eccentric . . . humor, mystical ingredients, and plenty of fun . . . a winning tale." --The Best Reviews "A funny and thrilling ride!" --Romance Reviews Today "A hilarious romp."--Romance Junkies "Extremely sexy . . . over-the-top . . . sparkling." -- Rendezvous "A whole new dimension in laughter. A big . . . BRAVO!"--A Romance Review ONYX Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England First published by Onyx, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. First Printing, March 2009 Copyright © Vicki Lewis Thompson, 2009 All rights reserved REGISTERED TRADEMARK--MARCA REGISTRADA eISBN : 978-1-101-01955-9 Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. PUBLISHER'S NOTE This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. To Josette Quesnel, who is a genius at French manicures and a font of information on the French male psyche, and to the staff of Hotel Henri IV Rive Gauche in Paris, who made a huge city feel warm and cozy. Merci beaucoup. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Finishing a book always fills me with gratitude. Hey, I managed to put together another one! But not without plenty of help. I'm grateful for my editor Claire Zion's continued faith in me, and the wise advice of Robert Gottlieb and Jenny Bent at Trident Media. I couldn't have created a French hero (I'm not kidding!) without the trip to Paris planned and executed by my amazing assistant Audrey Sharpe. I also need to thank Klaus Badelt, whose score for Pirates of the Caribbean, The Curse of the Black Pearl powered me through the last few chapters. Most excellent writing music, Mr. Badelt. Prologue T ie game, bottom of the ninth, bases loaded and the Mariners' designated hitter was up at bat. Seated directly behind home plate between two of the hottest babes in Seattle, Prince Leo sipped his ice-cold brewski and smiled. Late September, and his favorite team was still in the running. Life didn't get any better than that. Then his cell phone rang. Worse yet, it was his mother. He could let the call go to voice mail, claim the ring had been drowned out by the roar of the crowd. But Queen Beryl wouldn't buy it. Fairy princes, of which he was one, had incredible hearing. Because of that ability, he'd overheard this morning's conversation at the palace between his mother and one of her oldest friends, a witch from San Francisco named Isadora Mather. Very odd, that conversation. Unless his mother had been joking, she was having second thoughts about handing over the kingdom to her one and only son. Yeah, she was probably joking. Still, the discussion had made him briefly consider giving up his primo seats and the company of the Dempsey twins this afternoon so he could stick around and get the 411 on what he'd thought was a done deal--his becoming King of Atwood in the near future. In the end he hadn't been able to make himself miss the game. Besides, he had every confidence he'd end up on the throne. He'd reached the required age, so all he was waiting for was his mother's decision on a good coronation date. He'd tried on his late daddy's crown, a little dusty after sitting around all these years, and it fit just fine. Soon he'd be the big boss in the forested kingdom of Atwood, a misty island at the far reaches of Puget Sound. True, his mother had the power to deny him that job, but she wouldn't disinherit her own flesh and blood, even if she was irritated with him these days. So what if he liked to party? Was that a crime? And maybe he hadn't put much effort into those charitable projects she was so big on, but there would be plenty of time to get serious once he was king. She'd probably known he was listening and had wanted to give him a little scare when she'd told Isadora that she might pass the crown to a commoner. He didn't believe for a minute that she'd do such a thing, but just to hedge his bets, he answered the phone. "Hey," he said. "Let me call you back after the game." "I'm afraid not." His mother had adopted her imperial tone. "This is of utmost importance." Leo sighed. "What's up?" He couldn't imagine anything of more importance than a game-winning home run, which would put the Mariners in the playoffs and cause the very stacked Dempsey twins to leap out of their seats and jump up and down, which would promote major jiggle. He watched the pitch come in. "The time has come for you to prove yourself worthy of the crown," his mother said. Swing and a miss. Damn. "I don't remember hearing anything about that before." He had to watch what he said. The Dempsey twins thought he was just another sexy guy with excellent moves. When dealing with nonmagical women, he kept his fairy status a secret. Letting it be known would only cause problems. For one thing, people assumed all magical fairies were tiny. Tiny was an option, one he didn't use much. Still, at full size, if he suddenly announced he was a fairy, it would be misinterpreted, to say the least. "You're hearing about it now," his mother said. "I have an assignment you must complete first." "This is sounding like Mission: Impossible ." Leo winced as the batter missed another fastball. "You'd better hope it's not impossible." His mother was obviously in a mood. "You're perilously close to losing your birthright." Leo rolled his eyes. Oh, the drama. Meanwhile, the Red Sox catcher called a time-out and loped to the mound to confer with the pitcher. If Leo hoped to finish this phone call before the next pitch, he'd better play along. "All right. What's the assignment?" "I'm sending you to Big Knob, Indiana, where--" "Big Knob?" Leo felt the twins' attention on him and realized he'd said that a little too loud. He gave them both a lazy smile as if he'd been referring to himself. "Oh yeah. Big Knob." He hoped to hell his mother wasn't expecting him to deal with George, the juvenile delinquent dragon living in the woods near that Podunk town. "Your assignment involves a young woman by the name of Gwen Dubois. She owns the local florist shop, Beaucoup Bouquets." Now, that was more like it. A woman. Maybe even a French woman. "Is this a rescue situation?" He could get into that, especially if she happened to be gorgeous. He didn't want to have to fight any dragons, but from all reports, George didn't like to fight. Leo turned his attention to the game as the catcher hunkered down behind the plate. "It's sort of a rescue," Queen Beryl said. "She lacks self-confidence with the opposite sex." Just his luck, she'd be ugly. "And why isn't she self-confident?" "She doesn't consider herself particularly attractive." Bingo. "Mom, I don't think--" "I want you to give her the kind of attention that will change her self-image and make her feel sexy." Leo preferred his women to be sexy from the get-go. "I'm not really into stuff like that." "Which is exactly why I'm assigning you this task, Leo. You're to ignore your obsession with external beauty and consider someone else's feelings for a change. You must prove yourself capable of a selfless act." That hurt. "I can be selfless." "I've seen very little evidence of it. Oh, and when you go, stay out of the Whispering Forest and away from that dragon, George." Earlier Leo had hoped not to be assigned to George, but he hated being told what to do. "Why?" "The dragon is Dorcas and Ambrose Lowell's project." "Mm." Leo had heard of the witch and wizard who'd been banished to Big Knob because they'd screwed up some spell or other. Leo was curious about that, too, but not enough to make a trip to some piddly small town. "There must be some other assignment you can give me." "I'm afraid not. Do you want the crown or don't you?" He wanted it, and apparently he'd have to jump through hoops to get it. He sighed. "Yeah, okay. I'll do it." The pitcher went into his windup. "When do I have to go?" "Next week." With a crack of the bat, the hitter sent the ball over the center field fence. Leo jumped to his feet and cheered while the Dempsey twins leaped around and bumped into him with their generous assets. Sweet. "Sorry, Mom!" he yelled into the phone. "Next week is out." "Why?" "We're in the playoffs! We might end up in the World Series! Maybe I could go in November." "Won't work. You'll need plenty of time, and Gwen's closing the shop mid-December to spend the holidays in Arizona with her parents." If it hadn't been for his acute hearing, Leo wouldn't have picked up on that last sentence. Pandemonium ruled at Safeco Field, and the Dempsey twins became orgasmic in their joy. He looked forward to capitalizing on that in his hotel suite tonight. "January, then!" he shouted into the phone. "Gotta go, Mom! Bye!" He snapped the phone shut and shoved aside all thoughts of his assignment. Party time! Chapter 1 I n his luxury apartment in Paris's Latin Quarter late that evening , Jean-Marc Chevalier sent one last e-mail to Gwen Dubois in Big Knob, Indiana. Powering down his laptop, he instantly missed the connection they had shared for three weeks. But if he failed to get off the Internet, he would never be packed for the early morning flight that would take him to meet her. Technically he was going to Chicago for a botanical conference, and Big Knob was only a side trip prompted by an unusual plant sighting. He no longer cared at all about the conference and not much about the plant, either. He should care about the plant. If it was not a hoax, finding a tropical plant growing in Indiana in the dead of winter would rival anything he had discovered in the Amazon or the Kalahari. Right after New Year's he had received his first e-mail from Gwen about a bromeliad growing on the snowy floor of the forest near Big Knob. She had agreed to keep the discovery a secret while he researched the possibility of such a phenomenon. Keeping that secret had been easy for him, but not for her, apparently. She had concocted an excuse for his visit, something about a long-lost French relative. Fortunately the plants were growing in a forest that residents believed was haunted, so nobody went in there, especially during winter. Being a practical sort, Gwen scoffed at the haunted forest theory and had been sneaking out in the early morning to make sure the plants were still alive. Maybe it was her pluck that drew him, or the intelligence she had shown as they had moved away from the topic of plants and debated everything from the value of hybrid cars to the excellence of California wines. He had started out calling her Mademoiselle Dubois, as any proper Frenchman would. She had quickly insisted on Gwen, and he was given no choice but to go with Marc. The use of first names made their e-mails seem more intimate, and he had grown to like that. Gradually the botanist had taken a backseat to the man. The attraction could hardly be physical because they had not exchanged pictures. He had no idea what she looked like and was enjoying the mystery. She could turn out to be homely and plump, but he doubted that. This meeting had a feeling of Fate about it. Months before she had contacted him, he had decided to attend the conference in Chicago and get his first taste of the U.S. Fortunately, Chicago was within six hours' driving distance of Big Knob, and he had easily changed his flight to come in a few days early. That seemed more than coincidence. Was Fate throwing him in the path of scientific discovery or romance? Or both? By tomorrow night, he would have the answer to that question. Taking his suitcase out of the closet, he swung it onto the bed and began to pack. After zipping the suitcase, he stared at it for several long seconds. What if she was as amazing as he expected? What if the chemistry he sensed through their e-mails was the beginning of a major attraction? In other words, should he take condoms? No. That would be cheeky, taking condoms on a visit to a woman he had never met. He set the suitcase on the floor. Then he hoisted it back onto the bed and unzipped it. Condoms took up little room. No one would have to know he had them unless they became necessary. Oh, hell, he should not take them. Despite the e-mails, what did they really know about each other? Jumping into bed directly after meeting her reminded him of that horrible American custom the one-night stand. He preferred a more romantic approach. He zipped the suitcase. Then again, she was used to American men, and he would hate to seem hesitant by comparison. They were not strangers who had met in a bar. She had confided her worries about her mom's arthritis, which had precipitated her parents' move to Arizona. He had mentioned the loss of his parents ten years ago and had confessed his frustration with his younger sister, Josette, who seemed to have no idea what she wanted to do with her life. On paper, or rather, in e-mail posts, he knew Gwen about as well as or better than he had known some women he had taken to bed. The condom issue might be irrelevant, though. He might not have that box in he bathroom that he vaguely remembered. He should check. On his way into the bathroom, his BlackBerry rang. Retracing his steps, he grabbed it off the nightstand and looked at the readout. Josette. He answered and continued on into the bathroom, where he opened the mirrored cabinet over the sink. "I hate law school." This was so typical that he had to stop himself from laughing. "You have only started pre-law. Stay with it more than a couple of months, okay?" "I have been there almost five months, not counting Christmas break. I am not cut out for the courtroom." "You have never been in the courtroom." Tucking the phone against his shoulder, he opened the condom box. Nearly full. Not surprising. There had been no one since Blaise LaRoche. "I was today. My professor made us act out a mock trial." "So soon?" "He believes in weeding out the misfits. That would be me." "Josie, it is too early for you to--" "While I was presenting my opening arguments, I puked all over him. I think they call it projectile vomiting." Marc squeezed his eyes shut. Poor kid. Sometimes he forgot that she was twenty-two because she acted younger than that. "It was probably something you ate. It could happen to anyone." "No, it was paralyzing fear. Well, not paralyzing, or I would not have puked, would I? I dropped out of all my pre-law classes." "But you signed up for something else, I hope?" He saw the money from his parents' trust fund being sucked into the void of Josette's indecision. "Not yet. I was so horrified that I spent the rest of the day taking Victor and Hugo for a long walk along the Seine. I finally worked up the courage to call you tonight." Marc prayed for patience. "You need to get into some other courses. How about accounting?" "Kill me now." "But math is one of your strong suits." He gazed at the box of condoms and wondered whether to take a few instead of the whole box. "With accounting, you could avoid getting up in front of people, so there would be less risk of puking on them." "That would be a benefit." She was silent for a moment. "Do accountants have their own private offices?" "Sometimes." He decided to take the whole box, just in case. "I could have a cute little office all to myself and take the dogs as mascots." "Well, maybe." He was unsure of that. He would much rather see her wind up in an accounting firm with lots of employees, because she tended to be too solitary, but he hated to bring that up and risk alienating her completely. She needed to settle on a steady career before she exhausted all the trust fund money. Josette sighed. "Maybe I will try it. Oh, I went on a date last night." "You did?" She hardly dated at all, and he had no ideas for dealing with that, either. She was pretty and smart, but she held herself somewhat aloof. "Surprising, I know. But he wanted to have sex right away, so I told him to drop dead." Marc swallowed his first response, which was to demand the bastard's name so he could flatten his nose. "American?" "No, Italian." "Well, you made the right decision." Marc had so many questions, questions he lacked the nerve to ask. When she had turned seventeen, he had braved The Talk with her, which had embarrassed them both. He might be ten years older than Josie, but he was still her brother, not a parent. If only their mother were here to guide Josette through this time. . . . But she was not. The doorbell rang. "Hold on, Josie. Someone is here." He stepped into the hall and opened the door. There stood Blaise, a burgundy velvet cape setting off her platinum hair and a crystal wineglass balanced between two fingers. He and Blaise had parted ways several months ago, and he had no second thoughts about the split. The social whirl she called a life was not his style. "I have to go, Josie." "A girl is at the door, right?" "Um, yes." Josette sighed. "Girls always run after you. Apparently you are the social success and I am the geek." "Josie, you are not a--" "But I am. So what? Have fun in Chicago. Call me when you get there so I know you arrived safe." Then she hung up. Wishing he had handled the conversation better, he clicked off the BlackBerry and laid it on the hall table. "Hello, Blaise." "Hello, yourself." Blaise gave him the once-over, paying particular attention to what he had in his other hand. "I was coming home from a party and saw your light. Do you have company, or is this my lucky night?" He glanced at the box of condoms. Not much chance of finessing this one. "I . . . I have to pack." Her carefully groomed eyebrows arched. "For a rendezvous, I assume." She edged her way into the apartment. "Do I know her?" "No." If only he had left the condoms in the bathroom. He would rather not explain himself. "So there is someone new." She gestured with the wineglass. "I expected that. You are marvelous in bed." "So are you." "Then what went wrong?" She nudged the door shut with the toe of her satin pump. Excerpted from Casual Hex by Vicki Lewis Thompson All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
