What if every thing we love about autumn came about because of a fairy realm that’s embroiled in a fight over the throne? And what if a random human finds herself trapped in the Autumn Kingdom and in the arms of the rightful Prince?
PSL — arrives October 22nd
Excerpt where the heroine & hero meet
It wasn’t until I stood on the porch, the screen door swinging back into place, that it struck me I might happen upon a woodland serial killer. No doubt he was dicing up his victims in the sanctuary of his shack in the heart of the forest until some nosy glorified secretary walked in on him. Even as my brain played out the worst and goriest possibility I tracked the blaring sound down a mulched path.
Sliding down a low hill, my hands pawing at the trees as if they were a railing, I narrowed in on the sound and source. A body was hunched over a fallen log, the back to me while the scent of sawdust and gasoline hung in the air. Judging by the wide shoulders, narrow waist, and tight ass I was right in guessing it’d be a man but I hadn’t counted on him looking like he belonged in an LL Bean catalog.
An olive green flannel hugged the biceps sawing away at the tree while denim clung to the backside taut and firm to aid in his work. Perhaps he had shoes on, perhaps he was barefoot. I couldn’t say as my eyes refused to slip any lower.
Silence erupted through the forest, my ears ringing in shock as the stranger shut off his chainsaw. After placing the tool on the ground, he turned and I leaped up in surprise. Dusky blond hair swept back across his long forehead, while smoldering brown eyes, a strong nose with a soft tip, and sculpted supple lips struck me all at once.
How in the hell was there a gorgeous male model wandering around in the woods just outside my cabin? And he didn’t even have a hint of sweat beading up on his brow. He couldn’t be human. His eyebrows, which were thin without a misplaced hair in sight, raised up.
Oh shit, he wanted me to talk first.
“What are you doing?” I asked while jutting out my hip.
The man stared at the cut up pieces of the log, then his chainsaw. “Baking an apple pie,” he deadpanned.
“That so?” I stepped closer, nudging one of the sawed branches with my foot. “I think you left it in too long.”
He snickered at me and bent down to pick up massive logs, which he didn’t even bat an eye at. Damn! His muscles had to be working hard to carry that much wood. Shame about the flannel in the way.
“I didn’t know anyone would be around,” he said, once again forcing me to stop leering at him.
“I just got in. Renting the cabin up there for a nice, soothing vacation. Or was until someone started a chainsaw in the middle of the woods.”
After dropping his first load into a Jeep up the path, he wiped his hands off and focused on me. “What’s your name?”
“Jenny. What’s yours?”
My answer, or perhaps question seemed to surprise him. Rubbing under his sharp chin, he said, “Scott Langston.”
“And you’re the…groundskeeper around here?”
Those dangerous lips smirked. “Something like that.”