An Impractical Guide to Satyr Charming **SNEAK PEEK!**

As promised! Here's an extended excerpt from my upcoming book, An Impractical Guide to Satyr Charming.

Enjoy!

*****

Ivy groaned, her teeth clenching hard enough to crack.

Crap, was that a damn pan flute?

Another squeal, one that sent needles right into her eardrums.

Yup. It was a pan flute.

And judging by the piercing melody he kept botching, Finn had no idea how to play one.

Ivy bristled. “Right on time,” she grumbled, tucking her blankets back into place.

And to think she was feeling horny for him only a few seconds ago. This concert was what she deserved for being suckered in by his pretty face and sad eyes.

“Asshole!” she shouted at the door, her head pounding with each clomp-clomp-clomp of Finn’s parade.

There was a sharp bang. The door bowed and Ivy almost leaped out of her skin, expecting an aggressive break-in. But the shrill high-pitched crooning resumed, moving back and forth outside her door. Ivy looked to the heavens for help. None came, which didn’t surprise her. She grabbed her robe from the foot of her bed, tossing it on before knotting her long hair on top of her head.

“Well, might as well get this confrontation over with,” she muttered.

Finn skipped up and down the hall like some nightmarish version of Fantasia, his horns and hooves outlined in moonlight. Spittle flew from his lips as he blew over his flute, his eyes squished tight in concentration.

Skip skip, tweet! Skip skip, toot toot!

“Really?” Ivy asked as he did a loop around her. “You’re really doing this?”

He paused in mid frolic to sweep a low bow. “Practicing one’s craft is never a waste.”

Skip toot toot toot!

“I have earplugs!” she shouted.

“Then my musical escapades shouldn’t be an issue,” Finn replied.

Skip skip tweet tootie toot toot toot!

Ivy pinched her forehead as it started to throb. “I’m serious! This is a waste of time!”

"So why the complaints?”

He puffed out a particularly sour note right in her face. Strands of her hair blew back from the force of his breath

Ivy stomped back to her room, retrieving her earplugs from her nightstand. She returned, blocking Finn’s path to make a show of putting them in.

“See? Earplugs! I can’t hear you! You can’t bother me now!”

He smiled, the brush of his tail flicking her chin as he passed. Ivy swatted it, sputtering as the bristles tickled her lips. Whatever angst he was experiencing earlier was gone, replaced with an arrogant grin and shrieking flute.

“I told you, this was war,” Finn sang, his voice muffled by the orange foam expanding in her ears.

“I didn’t want this war!”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to stay, witching!”

Her face itched, sleep clinging to her eyelids despite the insistent tooting tearing through her earplugs. Another sleepless night. Three in a row now thanks to this bastard.

Skip skip, toot toot, squeeeeeal!

“I’m not leaving!” she screeched. “Spite is my motivator! Spite puts me in motion! I eat spite for breakfast!”