How to Fake It with a Fae (Seven Suitors for Seven Witches #1)

by Amy Boyles

I’m done with men. Yes, at the ripe age of twenty-nine, I’m saying goodbye to romance. It’s not worth the pain.

The public humiliation’s so fresh that it clings to my skin like a sweaty sports bra.

Insanely enough, a traitorous pressure builds between my legs, and a deep throb of want pulses. Pretty sure my panties aren’t dry anymore.

Lol

She says something to the couple, and they look at each other, smiling. Theresa gives a nod. She taps the book, and the couple are gone—they’re now inside the story, living it out Jumanji style, only without the Kevin Hart snark.

“Nana always said that cities were only good for two things⁠—” We say in unison, “Forgetting who you are and where you come from.”

Yes, we Southern witches ride cast-iron skillets instead of brooms.

That witch from last night. She made me feel things— things I buried. Every time my eyes close, the swell of her breasts is there, her full lips are there, those deep brown eyes of hers are there. And thoughts of ripping off her clothes and claiming her are there. It’s excruciatingly annoying.

Besides, I ran into one last night, and she was no better than any of the others.” He leans forward. “There must be a story here if you’re bringing it up.” Long pause before I finally admit, “She puked on my shoes.”

“What did she look like?” Like an angel with lips so soft that I wanted to drag her into a cave and never let another man lay eyes on her, because if one did, I’d kill him.

“You don’t have to marry her, but go and see what it’s all about. At the very least your presence will scare the hell out of them.” “And at the most?” “You know what.” “Revenge,” I murmur. “Just as long as you don’t get attached,”

The puker’s a witch, which means she might be at the ball. Seeing her again, along with the idea of dragging my lips down her neck, might be worth dressing up for.

I watch them go while tapping my fingers against the iron table. Who would have thought the Thornroses would be desperate to pawn off their daughter? This opportunity’s too precious to let pass by. It also means I can finally get what I want. To destroy them.

My reflection tells the tale of a woman forced to do the opposite of what she wants.

the destiny of doom.

In my opinion, those who dislike puppies and kittens as well as nonreaders are without souls.

“I didn’t catch your name.” “That’s because I didn’t throw it at you,” I retort.

Well, the one upside is that I’m not a virgin, so he can’t drink my blood.