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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