Copyright © 2007, Susan M. Sailors, Tambra Kendall
Published by Whiskey Creek Press LLC

Sample Chapter For CELTIC LOVE KNOTS Volume 3 by by Susan M. Sailors & Tambra Kendall

Kelly Farrell needed sex. Desperately. Virginity, ha! Who needs it? She wanted a real man in her life. Not the selfish assholes she found herself entangled with repeatedly.

Last night the Goddess Danu had appeared in her dreams and promised tonight her sex problems would be solved if she performed a specific ritual.

In her garden, she gathered the herbs needed for the spell: three sprigs of rosemary and catnip. With precise steps, she trod the small stone labyrinth thrice. She crushed the herbs while chanting—“Bring to me, my eternal love. Bless this request, Goddess of Love.”

Kelly wanted to give her virginity to her soulmate, but after all this time, he’d better be a fantastic fuck. By the Goddess, she was tired of waiting, damn it! Her spells never worked before, which is why she contacted the Goddess for help. Her lips puckered in annoyance. In the past few days, she doubted her druidic training was the path for her life. Truth be told, it had been difficult to think past the driving, intense horniness that held her in its grasp.

A light breeze stirred, releasing the scent of gardenias. The Goddess! She remembered the same fragrance from last night. As she turned around, not two feet from her, a sparkling cloud appeared and illuminated the twilight bringing the essence of magic. A ghostly figure appeared and stepped from the vapor. He beckoned to her from the silvery cloud.

She blinked and his form solidified. The sensual energy he emitted made her gasp from the strength of its power. Her body tingled and warmed.

What the hell is going on? The man is a Sex God. Why is he wearing the amulet and tattoo of a high Druid? She could only stare since her brain refused to function.

Oh. My. Goddess. Here stood the perfect man, tall and muscular with the abs of an athlete. She wanted to run her hands over every delicious inch of him. Long dark hair framed a sculpted jaw. His lips were sensually full while his eyes were the color of whiskey. He wore the saffron shirt of the Irish and the plaid of his clan.

A voice whispered in her mind—go with him. Without thinking of the consequences, Kelly placed her palm in his. When his flesh touched hers a spark of electricity shot up her arm, a mixture of pleasure and pain that made her wet. She swallowed and took a deep breath. No man ever affected her like this. Is he really the one?

“Who are you and where are we going?” The words came out in a breathless rush. She started to withdraw her hand but his grip tightened. The sparkling mist grew thick around her and the sexy man-god. A wave of dizziness caused her to stumble and the sounds of the ocean rose and swirled as the magical mist thickened.

Wheels on Fire

Caroline did not want to go back down to the basement yet again. She’d already been three times because The Drum was full of bikers and rugby players who liked their whisky to flow freely, especially on Friday night.

Nick had offered to go, but she’d rather get a little dusty than push her way through the crowd to take and deliver more orders. She preferred working behind the bar, even if it meant lugging liquor up from the basement.

She wiped her hands quickly and took her apron off before going down the stairs. Halfway down, she flipped the lights on. She wished they could move that switch, as a person had to go down seven steps completely blind and then reach up over their head to get to it, but she knew they didn’t have the kind of money they needed to redesign the wiring in the two-hundred-year-old inn. Everything was still safe and up to code, so they couldn’t be too picky.

She avoided all the spider webs she’d hit earlier and made her way to the far corner to get another bottle of whisky. As she wiped the bottle off with a rag, she decided to go ahead and get another bottle of tequila, as the ladies in the corner booth were quickly downing the margaritas all the men were buying for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said quickly as she clutched the whisky to her chest. Tips were great on Friday night, but that didn’t mean she could afford to lose any of hers.

And that’s when she really looked at him. He was about six foot three inches tall, with curly black hair that skimmed his collar. He was pale, and his eyes were bright blue. Black leather covered every inch of his body.

“Who are you? Customers aren’t allowed down here.” He was very good-looking, and he didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong, but she had no intention of getting in trouble for him.

But, as far as Caroline was concerned, he hadn’t really answered her question. She looked away for a moment because she wasn’t sure what else to say. She looked back up and started to say they should go back upstairs, but she never got the chance.

Michael had vanished into thin air, quite literally. It would be impossible to miss a guy his size trying to maneuver through all the bottles and kegs.

“Michael?” she said, not too loudly. In a whisper, she added, “Where did you go?”
No one answered and nothing stirred.

Caroline grabbed the first bottle of tequila she saw, not bothering to check if it was in fact Jose Cuervo or not, and dashed up the stairs as quickly as her need for tips would let her.