Friday, March 31, 2017

#FREEBIE #FRIDAY Excerpt from PURR-FECT MATING by Sheryl Winters #Shifters #Romance

Today's excerpt is from Purr-fect Mating by Sheryl Winters

We hope you enjoy today's tease!


A ginger haired witch with rectangular spectacles frowns. “Weren’t you in here a few years back? You wore a purple hoodie with the word, Catalicious on the front.” She has a prim, snobbish air about her, as if she’s better than the others. One of those witches who gets perfect results from every one of her spells and uses only the finest most organic ingredients.

I used to go to school with girls like her. They still curdle my blood. “Yes, but now the curse is active—”

“Say no more.” A witch about ninety interrupts me. “You’re turning into a bunny rabbit!” Beaming as if I’ve delivered her favorite brand of tea in a delicate teacup and a mess of shortbread cookies, she claps her hands in excitement, “I love that curse. You’ll look adorable all in white.”

“Well, no, I—”

“Feel the urge to rip sheetrock off walls? That was all the rage a few years ago.” A turbaned witch nods. She has a ghastly wart on her nose. It’s bleeding green and she keeps wiping it onto her pristine white robes, leaving streaks all over it. “It was a sheet-rocker. He learned just enough to curse an entire neighborhood. He was almost a millionaire before we caught him. My, but he was tasty.”

“No, no, no. Nothing like that. I just don’t know who my mate is,” I finally manage to say, desperate to get a word in edgewise.

“Well, have you tried a dating site?” Another witch asks. A row of heads nod in unison.

Frustrated, I yank my shirt aside and flash the full teeth impression my mate left me with.

A collective moan of appreciation races through the room.

“Used every one of his teeth, a beautiful job.” The eldest witch pats my shoulder, grinning. 
“Reminds me of the mark my late husband once left on my thigh.”

“Well, that changes things.” Miss Proper Witch roots around under the counter, bumping blonde dye-tips completely out of the way. “It’s in here somewhere. Ah, here it is.”

She pulls out a jar full of fennel and sprinkles it over my hair. “A tiger shifter? Imagine that. 
Not sure I’d have taken that path. I’m more of a Puma person, myself. What were you thinking when you did your choosing? You should have gone with Puma.”

“Harriet, did you say she was a cat?” A shout from the vicinity of the ceiling. “I was sure she was a dog person. The stench of wet dog hair has drifted all the way up here.” She’s middle-aged and seated on a broom stick parked high up the wall. Her striped socks glitter with silver pixie dust, as does her black robes and hot pink cape.

“Bring me the biggest set of balls.” The ancient one claps her hands in glee. Dye-tips scurries out of the room and returns with two large scrying balls, which she dumps onto the table.

“Your rat’s misbehaving again, Harriet. If she cracks them, I’ll eat her for lunch,” Warty witch snarls.

The proper witch—Harriet, waves her hand and the dye-tips morphs into a rat, then scurries into a cage to hides under a large fake rock.

“Now, the fee, five hundred should do it,” Harriet declares.

“That’s uh, a bit pricey.”

“He’s your mate, sweetie. What do we care if you find him, or not?” She pushes her spectacles down her nose.