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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Mystic Love

MysticLove_w8541_med
Mystic Love

New York Times and USA best selling Teresa Reasor: ‘Every page of J.J. Keller’s Mystic Love smokes with sexual tension.’

Ericka Gilmore dabbles in life and death when she tries to conjure a ghost lover. But when flesh and blood, Joe Reeves appears on her doorstep in the midst of a storm, she has to rethink her destiny.

A car accident left the former cop with the ability to foresee death. No longer willing to watch people he cares about die, Joe goes in search of a shaman to remove his “gift”. His remedy until then is to avoid all relationships. But like a lightning strike, he experiences a strong connection with Ericka. A nearby mystical ley line could be Joe’s solution if he and Ericka combine their gifts. But her secret past and his fear of seeing her death keep them at odds.

Rating: Spicy 
Page Count: 282 
Word Count: 68692

978-1-5092-1060-2 Paperback 
978-1-5092-1061-9 Digital

Excerpt

She threw herself against her dream lover, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. His lips were cold, but perfect in form. At first, his mouth didn’t move, but after a couple of seconds, he pressed into her. She flicked the tip of her tongue over his mouth, outlining the curves, and then slid it between his lips. His tongue played with hers. Sharp, decadent longing powered through her.

Wait a minute, he didn’t taste like she’d imagined. He tasted like mint and human. She touched whatever smooth cool skin she could find available between the coat and his neck and shoulders. Strong and virile hot body. She inhaled, taking in his scent; fragrant late fall wind and the odor of male sweat.

Sweat? Wet skin? She licked her lips, savoring the zest. A spear of lightning brightened the sky. Six foot three. Left ear piercing. Broad chest. Wrangler posture, with one knee bent.

Her heart thumped harder, pounding strong in her chest.

Whom had she kissed?

****

Joe supported her, keeping her in an upright position. Definitely a her as supple breasts snuggled tight against his chest. Her robe opened, and he fought the urge to remove his own garments to feel her warm body against his, flesh to flesh.

Lips tasting of wine connected with his, insistent and passionate. Six months ago, he embarked on his solo quest, but it hadn’t been so long that he couldn’t remember previous intimacies, and those encounters didn’t compare to her lavish kisses. Whew, hot, he’d go with the flow for a little longer.

She jerked, and then shoved him away. Sadly, the kiss had been a mistake, and from the flash of surprise crossing her face, she’d realized it as well. The pale blue, almost white, towel came loose from her head. She snapped the cloth off. Sexy dark ringlets fell in twisted disarray to her shoulders.

Joe had been lucky enough to catch a joyful kiss and snuggle. He’d delighted in the touch of her lips, the scent of her womanhood, and her wonderful nipples piercing into his thin, sodden shirt. Enjoying the mistake and resulting benefits, he grinned.

The gleam in her eyes went from surprise to anger. With a shaking hand, she wiped her luscious pink mouth.

He stood in a quandary and debated how to explain. Under the circumstances, she wouldn’t accuse him of a forced entry.

“Sorry. No lights. I didn’t hear a security system buzz. I would’ve shouted.” He took a step. “Instead of coming inside.”

She retreated.

Damn. He’d be sleeping in the rain after all.

 

Mystic Love

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