Hoppy Hop Brew

 

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In Mystic Love Joe, the hero, needed information about a healer…and not one person in Cyan, Indiana acknowledged the shaman existed.

Joe went to a local pub, Brewhouse, in order to get close to the community members. Brewhouse made their own beer from organic local hops. My father enjoys creating his own wines and beers, so I had a little knowledge about the process of making a brew.

I won’t bore you with the details of how to harvest, dry, and add to the beer/ale to provide balance, the sweetness of the malt sugars and bitterness. Trust me, my dad had a few misses before he got the finish perfected. The Brewhouse beer was distinct and the brewers had perfected the FWH (First Wort Hopping).

Joe had to consume a lot of beer in order to get information. He enjoyed sharing…and got the details he needed…at least he thought he had.

Joe staggered into Ames Mansion, a little past midnight, stomach–sloshing full of Brewhouse’s homemade beer. Blurry–eyed, he peered into the library. Ericka sat hunched over her stacks of literature investigating her client or magic. The perfect man didn’t exist, so why try to find one?

“Honey, I’m home.” He didn’t reign in the illogical jealousy, but bee–lined to the side of the desk and propped his hind quarters on the edge. “Did you miss me?”

“You’re an insufferable drunken ass. Get off my desk.” Her dagger–pointed red fingernails shoved his leg. If he could feel pain, it probably would have hurt.

He stroked the inside of her wrist resting on the desktop. “Not until you answer my question. I’m curious.” He tapped her arm.

Her focus left her lawyer bible and met his stare. “You invited me to stay, but not in your room. I felt your hands caressing me as you hid my nakedness from your friend. I try to play nice, and you shove me away. You can’t tell me announcing only sex wasn’t a ploy to stop me, to tease me. What is it you really want from me, Ericka?”

“I want you to leave this office.” She jerked her hand from under his and stood.

Should he punish himself and enjoy the end of the evening? Already bedeviled, he’d at least feel alive. He slid from the desk, closed in on her, leaned into her curves. The light brown circles pulsed around the black centers of her eyes, heated lust sparked. Pheromones surrounded him, trailed into his nostrils tantalizing him, sending him further into an alternate reality. He became the beast he so desperately attempted to shed. “Before or after a kiss?”

A shadow of a smile appeared. “I’ll forgive this transgression, Joe, because you’ve been tapping the keg.” Her grumpy voice and quick full-fledged smile enticed his groin to life.

He quirked an eyebrow, at least he thought he lifted the right side of his face. “Drinking or an attempt at a kiss? I don’t have a drinking problem, actually take a sip at weddings and New Year’s. However, the hot waitress kept our glasses full. And thoughts of…”

“Leave.”

 

Bottle Cap 

Mystic Love

 

Available at The Wild Rose Press

 

(http://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/450_jj-keller)

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Last Chance at Love

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When Alyson McLeod returns to Jove, she never expects her high school sweetheart to knock on her front door. Sam’s arrival stirs memories she thought she’d banished long ago and awakens a fiery need no other man has been able to conjure.

The phoenix tattoo on Sam Crown’s arm immortalizes the woman he loved—and lost—long ago. Alyson’s return should excite him, but instead, she awakens a guilt he’s not sure even love can overcome.

Can these star-crossed lovers finally find happiness or will a wicked matchmaker’s antics keep them apart forever?

Last Chance at Love

Review:
I just finished reading Last Chance at Love. I truly enjoyed it.
I loved that sexy cupid at the start,
the gorgeous art work Sam and Alyson made,
Tina’s growing understanding,
and the depth of the emotion as the story built to resolution.
A feel good factor of 10.

Daisy Banks
A Gentleman’s Folly

Last Chance at Love

Valentine Wishes

Thanks for hosting me on my Valentine Wishes blog tour, jj, it is grand to be here.

All my blogs in the tour have been about fairies, fairy myth and lore, as my heroine in Valentine Wishes is a fairy. I firmly believe a sexy adult fairy tale, full of magic, is something readers will enjoy.

Today I am thinking about the way fairies are, and have been, portrayed in stories and art over time.

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Over the many centuries that tales involving fairies have been told and eventually written down, the form of fairies has changed in lots of different ways.  

In the early tales, a fairy was not a small creature, but human sized. Their shimmering skin, beautiful features and fair hair identified these fairies. Though appearing like the loveliest of mortals the fairies had magical powers and the ability to be able to disappear at will. They seemed mostly not to want to get involved with the mortal world and often if they were forced to the results brought disaster. Lost love was the least of the woes associated with them. Some of these early fairies were described as exactly the opposite to fair, some appeared more like mountain trolls with massive brute strength.

Later tales concentrate on the skills of the way and

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 the way they could if they wished assist mortals who appealed to them for aid. I think this is where some of the ancient Celtic gods were amalgamated into the world of the fae, the tales of the Sidhe are legendary.

As time went on ideas changed, and the notion of the fairies moved to the small and winged creatures full of mischief and magic, with the ability to grant wishes or make bargains with mortals. I have to say I think of fairies in general in this way and have done since I was a very small child.

One of my early memories, and this incident may shock you a little, is my first week of school when I was just five years old. This was when I discovered not all adults were sensible. I remain unsure how the conversation went completely but I do remember my teacher.  “There are no such things as fairies,” she said.

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I have to say, I didn’t agree with her but aged five I couldn’t articulate all the reasons why, and having yet to learn when not to speak the truth to adults, I told her she was wrong.  The teacher wrote a note to my mother about the incident. My mother wisely tore the note up in front of me and explained not all adults understood everything. Happy with that explanation I continued to believe. I won’t debate the personality of an individual who can deliberately try to steal the magic of childhood from a very small child. Thankfully, I got a new teacher shortly after, a much more sensible person who had no problems with believing in fairies, and at one point, the classroom was decorated with lots of fairy pictures the class made.

Fairy images are some of the most interesting in folk tales and fairy tales. I adore the image on the artwork for my story Valentine Wishes. I have included a few fairy images with this post for you.

Valentine Wishes will be available from Liquid Silver Books on the 10th of February. You can pre-order a copy here and get an early bird discount.

http://bit.ly/1l0mX2Y

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Here is a snippet from the story:

“There yer are, I knew yer

were here. I’ve been waiting for ye all night.” She spun around at the velvet caress of a voice she remembered so well. “No,” she squeaked.

Him!

Not possible.

Her stomach knotted and she wanted to crawl away and hide. His golden hair glinted in the glow of the colored lights and he smiled wide in greeting. She could hardly keep herself in the air. A wave of heat scorched her face.

“Poppy, ’tis me, Cedar Heartwood. Yer remember me, don’t ye, darlin’?” He flew a little closer, and she nodded as she sank down toward the lawn.

Her knees sagged.

Jellified.

I remember you…who couldn’t? You haven’t changed at all.

His eyes still entranced with hazel gleams. She ached to throw her arms around him, and as she steadied herself, she swept her gaze up to his face again. He still had the most enticing lips she’d ever seen.

Oh, by the wind in the leaves. How many hours did I sit among the daisies and wonder what it would be like to kiss him?

She shook herself, torn between long held hopes and tonight’s despair. He had to go, at least until later. “I can’t speak with ye now, Cedar. I’m busy.”

You can find out more about me at the following places.

Blog    http://daisybanks.wordpress.com/

Website http://daisybanksnovels.yolasite.com/

Twitter @DaisyBanks12

Facebook http://on.fb.me/18iRC35

Pinterest http://bit.ly/16sF1XG

 

Fantastic story! Thank you, Daisy, and good luck with your blogs!