Love’s Misaligning Magic E-Book

Heather Silvio

• Herausgeber: Panther Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Wildcrest Witches Romance
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 130

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Laura Harkin accepted years ago that when you love someone, they eventually leave. She finds it safer to focus on her career with Wildcrest Witches International. How can she trust her growing feelings for Aaron when she knows he’ll just leave in the end?

Aaron Wright has crushed on Laura since high school. Back then her interest was in his brother. Since they’ve spent more time together touring local real estate, he senses her attraction to him. But when their feelings grow, her magic glitches.

If they can't fix their misaligning magic, will Laura choose her magic over his love?

Read the story of their winding road to happily ever after in the second book in the small town, friends to more, sweet paranormal romance series, Wildcrest Witches.

Leseprobe

Love’s Misaligning Magic

Wildcrest Witches

Book 2

Heather Silvio

Panther Books

Contents

About This Book

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

Epilogue

Thank you!

About the Author

Books By Heather Silvio

About This Book

An emotionally-wary witch must choose between her magic and her heart when sparks fly with her fast-talking real estate agent.

This is the second book in the sweet paranormal romance series, Wildcrest Witches, from the author of the Paranormal Talent Agency.

ChapterOne

Laura

Laura Harkin wondered if her realtor was showing her houses that didn’t meet her criteria so they could spend more time together. Not that she objected, exactly. Aaron Wright was very easy to look at, with his messy brown hair, bright green eyes, and muscles outlined by his fitted blue pinstriped suit. He was too short for her, of course, but then most men were. It was hard for them to be taller when she was six feet tall in kitten heels.

“Is there anything you like about the house, Laura?”

It impressed her that he kept his tone even. The man had the patience of a saint. This was the fifth house that weekend they’d looked at. She wanted out of her rental, and after much hemming and hawing was finally moving forward with the search. Wildcrest, Nevada, being the map-dot-sized town it was, meant there wasn’t a ton to choose from. She didn’t want to wait for a new build, so it had to be used.

“Laura?”

She turned from the fireplace she was inspecting – did I need a fireplace? – and smiled, bright white teeth gleaming next to ruby red lipstick. “Apologies. I was thinking of the answer to your question.”

“And?”

“There’s quite a bit I like about the house,” she admitted. “Single story, three bedrooms, quarter-acre lot.”

“But?”

“But it’s just not speaking to me.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“I didn’t know we needed a talking house.”

Laura’s laughter mingled with his. Although he was joking, in a town filled with witches, you never knew. Maybe she did want a talking house. “I want turnkey, though,” she added.

“Naturally.”

She listened for the sarcasm in the single word but didn’t hear it. That was good. As a professional, it was important to her that the people she dealt with were also professional. Thus far, Aaron had exceeded those expectations.

If only he could find her the house of her dreams.

They walked together into the kitchen, which she acknowledged was renovated beautifully. “I like the white cabinets,” she said, nodding when he made a note of it.

“What do you think of the island?”

Laura wrinkled her nose. It was bigger than she would prefer, and on wheels. She wanted a permanent island in her new kitchen. “Let me show you more of what I’d like to see.”

All the witches in town possessed a magical inclination. This magic was an open secret, meaning none of the witches felt they needed to hide their abilities anymore. Not since the Las Vegas City Council officially recognized the existence of supernatural beings. But most still only displayed their powers around other witches.

Laura concentrated on the island and pictured in her head how she wanted it to appear. The top grew hazy, almost like a distant mirage, and then began to darken and change shape. Her magic was the ability to manipulate small amounts of matter. As she imagined the island with a butcher block top, not on wheels, and about half the size, it slowly took on that appearance.

“That’s what I’m looking for.”

“Very nice,” Aaron said, circling the island, snapping a few pictures on his cellphone. He stopped beside her. “What’s the most amount of matter you’ve reshaped?”

“The biggest was a car.”

Such an awesome experience. She had wanted a new car when she graduated from college four years ago. They didn’t have what she wanted, so she decided to experiment. She purchased a car that looked the closest and then manipulated it to look like what she pictured. Now she owned a bright-red sports car that appeared to be a 1968 Shelby Cobra, her favorite car (which she couldn’t afford!)

“Wow, impressive. I’ve wondered what it would be like to have an active ability.” He sounded almost wistful. “You know our family has more passive skills.”

She placed her hand on his bicep. “Being so in touch with living beings is an amazing ability.” Their eyes met, and she caught her breath when he took her hand in his.

“Thank you, Laura. We’re thankful for what we have, too.” He grinned and stepped away from her. “Although sometimes the animals can be quite chatty.”

“What’s it like, hearing what they say?” Laura was genuinely curious. Every witch could communicate in images and feelings with their familiar, or companion animal. That was where it ended for most of them. Aaron, however, could communicate with any animal. She couldn’t imagine what that would be like.

Aaron’s forehead crinkled. “It’s hard to fully describe. It’s more than what it sounds like you would hear with your familiar⁠—”

“That’s probably a good thing,” she interrupted with a laugh. Her familiar was a tabby cat named Edward, the reincarnation of a great- great- great-uncle from the 1920s. He was a raggedy looking cat who preferred to go by Eddie, and missed everything about the Jazz Age.

“No doubt,” he agreed. “I can almost understand them like they’re speaking. It’s like a universal translator in my head.” He shrugged. “That’s the best I can explain it.”

“That sounds so interesting. To be able to communicate, to be that close…” She trailed off and walked out of the kitchen. No reason to consider being close to someone. Those thoughts would be unhelpful right now. Better to focus on the task at hand. “I also like bay windows. You can add that to the list.”

“Noted.”

“Let’s head to the bedroom.” Her face flushed at the words, and she hurried forward, the clicking of her heels barely covering the sound of Aaron’s snort-laugh.

ChapterTwo

Aaron

Aaron Wright hoped Laura hadn’t heard him laugh. And snort-laughed, at that. He knew what she meant, though, and followed behind her without comment. Her hips swayed under a purple fitted tank dress that looked stunning next to her pale skin.

She turned when she reached the bedroom and he stopped up short, only about a foot from her. Her azure eyes widened theatrically and he stepped back.

“Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay,” she stuttered before striding toward the master bathroom.

He opened his mouth to speak, and smiled instead. Even though Laura was among the pickiest clients in his new real estate practice, he found that it didn’t bother him. And luckily it didn’t bother his sponsoring broker, who had a whole cadre of newbie realtors under her.

“I don’t believe these renovations occurred at the same time,” her voice echoed from the bathroom.

Aaron hurried to join her as she explained why the listing sheet from the seller’s agent was inaccurate.

That was why Laura’s pickiness didn’t bother him. He delighted in spending time with her. She could be snarky, which was entertaining, but mostly he liked her intelligence. They’d spent hours together in the past month and he’d never once felt bored. That had to be a record.

But he wasn’t dating her, so maybe just being friends was the difference. “What do you think of the closet size?” he asked.

She cocked a hip and together they stared into the cavernous space. It was huge, relative to the size of the bedroom. “This would do nicely.”

“All of your clothes would fit?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Hah, not hardly,” she admitted. “But that’s what dressers and guest bedroom closets are for.”

Aaron chuckled and wrote, ‘Master closet the size of a room.’

Laura stepped close and peered at his note. “I’d think you would have already made a note of that requirement.”

“I’m emphasizing the requirement.”

“Good, because some of these tiny closets are downright dreadful.”

“I don’t suppose you could donate some of your clothing.”

Her eyebrows jumped. “Did you just criticize your client’s wardrobe?”

“Not in the least,” he assured her. “Your clothing is fabulous. But,” and he waved his hand around the closet, “it’s a lot of clothing, is all I’m saying.” He smirked. “If this isn’t enough for one person’s clothing…”

Her smile dropped along with his stomach.

“I’m only teasing,” he said, reaching out to touch her elbow. “I don’t care how much clothing you own.”

“I know you’re teasing.” She offered a brittle smile and he would have sworn a tear glistened. “It’s totally fine.”

It most definitely was not totally fine. Aaron could see that. But he was unsure what to say next. He’d apologized for his teasing. As snarky as she was, he couldn’t have guessed teasing her about her clothes would elicit such a reaction.

Laura returned to the kitchen and he hastened to follow her.

“I’d better put the island back the way we found it,” she said.

“I’d have a hard time explaining that to the owner’s agent,” he agreed.

“We wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

“No, we wouldn’t. Or would you?”

Laura grinned, and it appeared that whatever had struck a nerve with her had blown over. “Nah, what fun would that be?”

He returned her grin, glad to see it reappear. She faced the island and held her hands over it, like before. Aaron took a step backward. She hadn’t asked for more space, but it still seemed like a good idea to give her room. He realized he could hear her muttering under her breath. He must have missed that the first time.

The area above the butcher block-topped island grew hazy again and slowly regained its earlier shape and appearance. It raised up as wheels materialized. Butcher block faded and became its original stainless steel. The length grew and the island’s handles repositioned themselves.

“That is so incredible.”

She turned to him, her face flushed with the exertion.

“Are you okay? Did it take more out of you that time?”

Her smile widened and she shook her head, short red hair not budging. “Not at all. This—” She waved her hand in front of her face. “—is from the adrenaline. It’s excitement. Although it does require more energy to transform something twice. It’s the same reason why I can’t transform large amounts of matter.”

“Really?”

She pursed her lips in thought. “I’m not completely sure why, to be honest. And, normally, I don’t change things back and forth. The changes are permanent.”

“How often do you change things?” The entire process fascinated Aaron.

“Not too often.”

“How come?”

“I suppose for the same reason that most witches are careful when using their magic.” She sat at the staged glass-topped kitchen table and he quickly joined her, their knees almost touching.

“To maintain the energy balance around us?” he asked.

“Yes. I don’t know what would happen if I tried too much or too hard, but I’d not want to risk it. You know?”

“Of course,” Aaron said. All witches knew that upsetting the natural order was bad.

Her lips turned down again.

“We’ll find you the perfect house,” he assured her.

“I have no doubt,” she agreed. “But maybe we’ll pick this up again tomorrow?”

“I have the list of remaining homes we haven’t seen, and I’ll do a quick check for any new listings in the morning.”

Laura abruptly stood and he hastened to follow. “Thank you so much for putting up with me.” She bit her lower lip and then offered a weak smile.

“It’s not that difficult.” He wondered again about her reaction.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she called over her shoulder as she sped toward the front door.

“Looking forward to it,” he said into the silence that remained. He’d figure out her unexpected emotional shift tomorrow. An intelligent, beautiful, funny woman shouldn’t be sad when house-hunting.

ChapterThree

Laura

What was wrong with me?Laura sat in her Shelby Cobra lookalike, hands gripping the steering wheel, and stared at her rental home beckoning. Not that it beckoned very well. It was a standard beige stucco house with a red-tiled roof. It looked like most of the rest of Wildcrest – and she’d realized in the house-hunting process that she wanted something different. Something that stood out. Something that matched her personality.

With a sigh, she grabbed her leather bag and headed inside, barely registering the house around her. White walls, stark black and white furniture, not a family photo in sight. She lived in a magazine layout. And normally that didn’t bother her. She liked the boldness of it. Now, after a month of hanging out with Aaron – no, spending time with him in a professional capacity – she found herself dissatisfied with her beautifully minimalist home. She couldn’t identify why that was, only that she’d been feeling off about something.

Laura reached the kitchen and sighed again, though this time laughter bubbled near the surface. Her familiar, Eddie, lay sprawled in the middle of the dark brown kitchen table. Exactly where he wasn’t supposed to be. He didn’t care, and truth be told, neither did she. It just seemed logical that a cat shouldn’t be on a table where people ate.

Eddie opened a single eye, a remarkably human gesture, then stood and stretched, back arched. He yipped at her.

“Edward,” she started, and he growled. “You know you’re not supposed to be on the table.”

The word Eddie floated through her mind. That was how they communicated. He sent her images and feelings that her brain translated into visual words. She never fully understood it, and every witch communicated in a distinct style with their familiar, but they’d never had trouble understanding each other.

Now she belly-laughed. He hated being called Edward. His parents called him that back in the nineteenth century. So, of course, she did it when he did something wrong. And he did something wrong by being on the kitchen table.

He leapt from the table, over the ash-colored engineered hardwood floors, and onto the bay window sill. The tabby cat bathed himself while Laura sat at the table and pulled her laptop from the bag.

“I think I freaked out Aaron,” she blurted out, and Eddie focused on her. The tears that had been threatening all afternoon spilled over. She was glad for her waterproof mascara.

“What happened?” Eddie asked.

“He thinks I’m an idiot.”

“Why?” Disagreement flooded her and she knew that was from Eddie, too.

“I practically burst into tears when we were talking about closet size.” She ran her fingers through her slicked back red hair, heedless of ruining the style. Hair stuck out in all directions after.

Eddie jumped back onto the table and padded over to Laura, pushing his nose against her hand. She began petting him, warmth flooding through her.

“Thanks, Eddie.” Laura scratched her familiar behind his ears, enjoying the purring that vibrated his little body. The irony was that her great- great- great-uncle, who died in the 1920s, had been a huge, brawny guy, never caught dead without a stylish pin-striped suit. And now he was a six-pound gray-brown tabby cat with uneven whiskers and tufts of hair.