Page 1 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

CHAPTER ONE

Tripp Nightshade.

Elara’s heart beat painfully as she ducked into the alley beside theNever Too Manybookstore. Ofcourseshe’d run into him after clocking out for the day. That’s how her luck worked. But why was she bothering to hide when Tripp had no clue she existed? Yeah, it was a question for a therapist.

Speaking of...

She checked her smartwatch. If she didn’t gather the courage to leave this alley, she’d be late for her appointment with Dr. Cobb. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for the ability to teleport like other witches were reported to have! As it was, she had no choice but to step onto the main thoroughfare and go about her business. Hopefully minus the flushed face and stutter she seemed to develop around Tripp.

“You can do this, Elara,” she muttered. “He’s just a guy like any other.”

But he wasn’t.

He was Tripp Nightshade, the most beautiful man in existence. Long, wavy hair, dark as midnight, with eyes just a shade lighter. They glowed with purpose and a power rumoredto have been handed down from the Gods themselves. And oh, those rounded shoulders!

Pressing a hand to her chest, she sighed.

Yes, those beautiful,beautifulshoulders. So muscular. So manly. So?—

“Elara?”

She screamed.The sound was worthy of a slasher film, bringing Tripp running.

Tripp gripped her upper arms. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

Unable to answer, she fluttered a hand between them. She was pretty sure if she tried to speak, she’d choke on her tongue—mainly from the desire to tastehisinhermouth.

“Pass the salami,” she blurted.

“Excuse me?” His furrowed brows shot to his hairline, changing his look from concerned to comical. “What did you say?”

Think fast, Elara. Think fast.

But she couldn’t. Around him, her brain matter ran slower than sludge traveling uphill.

Over boulders.

During a torrential downpour.

With an awkward squawk, she shoved him and ran for the street. The sound of her sneakers pounding the pavement was drowned by the deafening thud of her pulse in her ears. That thrumming was also why she missed hearing Tripp come up behind her.

His grip on her bicep halted her progress, but the high-speed momentum of her spectacularly spasmatic escape propelled her around and straight into his arms. Her eyes rolled back in delight at the contact of her breasts pressed to his muscled chest.

Or maybe it was from the contact of her nose hitting his rock-hard pec.

She had two entire seconds to register his clean, crisp, albeit woodsy, scent before the pain struck and her eyes teared up. Swearing like a boozy old lush suffering a five-day drought, Elara spat out every word in her repertoire and created a few more to boot. In the seconds before she tipped her head back and pinched her nose, she glanced at him. Poor Tripp appeared horrified—and somewhat traumatized—by the entire experience.

Well, he wasn’t the only one!

“Did you break it?”

She couldn’t be one hundred percent positive, but she thought she detected laughter in his voice. Narrowing her watery eyes, she wiggled the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think so, but you need to register that body as a lethal weapon. You can’t go around crashing into unsuspecting females, potentially rearranging their facial features, all because your… your…”

Her brain went as mushy as a toasted marshmallow as she stared at his sculpted chest beneath the buttery soft material of his thin sweater.This last part she knew because her left hand had a mind of its own and was brushing the heavenly texture.

He cleared his throat.

She slammed her lids closed. “I don’t suppose you have a spell in your family’s grimoire that can erase this entire incident from our memories, do you?”

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