A Witch's Curse : Luna de la Mar Salon & Spa: As the Chair Turns, #4

By Eliza March

Delia's family is back in town, and she's ready for explanations. Or is she? Preventing the Sea Witch from killing her is her first priority.

Aelric made Delia promises she intends to hold him to...as soon as he shows up and she can keep him around long enough for an explanation., even if it comes down to handcuffing him in order to get answers... Hmm, it may come to that. But would she? The idea begins to sound better and better, especially when Delia recalls Ric's last kiss. Now, if only his evil stepmother and his jealous half brother would stop making Delia's life miserable.

This season, a sexy Frankie and a confused Delia have a few mysteries to solve, primarily searching for answers to his curse and her dilemma, while, keeping Frankie's problem a secret and Delia alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eliza March
• Release date: Dec 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393456568

Eliza March

Eliza March worked as assistant librarian during college and lived for time in the reading room. Later, when she became a gossip columnist in the Hamptons, she had plenty of fodder for her stories. Now, the award-winning author known for writing contemporary, paranormal, and fantasy romance with sensual content, also writes everything from soul searing, gut-wrenching love stories to downright ridiculously, humorous romance. Eliza enjoys writing multi-genre stories for her fans who love variety. https://ElizaMarch.com https://elmarchbreathlessbooks.wordpress.com https://elizamarch.wordpress.com/e-l-marchauthor/ http://elizamarch.blogspot.com

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCTIONS ALL AROUND...

For those of you who don't know me yet, I'm Delia Belaquoit, and I manage Luna de la Mar, the world's most exclusive salon and spa—and more—located in Boca. Not THE Boca. The other Boca.

The salon I manage is located in the heart of town, but some underground tunnels and caverns extend into other dimensions and such. Totally awesome. The staff is diverse, to say the least, varied and talented—the gnomes in their caves and the forest elves and nymphs below ground, and the faeries and more in their private chambers working their magic daily. Then there are the vampires, shifters, Halflings, etcetera who work miracles with the clientele. I'm brand new at this paranormal-fantasy stuff, so I just go about my daily life routinely managing the most elite salon and spa on this side of the Atlantic while dodging magic bullets and avoiding charmed arrows with the help of a few of my new, unusual friends.

This town and its supernatural inhabitants are full of secrets, and, as I recently discovered, I'm responsible for keeping them safe. Their secrets that is. Not the inhabitants. They don't need any help from the likes of me. I haven't quite figured out what I am or what I'm capable of yet. So, think of me as a work in progress, slightly unstable and therefore undependable in the save your ar$e category.

P.S. Trying to give up using vulgarities. Not working, as you can see.

Carrie and Jen, my two best friends, are witches. Yup! Real witches—casting charms and curses—Glamour loving, nose twitching, finger-snapping, magical witches. Discovering that—along with everything else—was a rock the world moment for me. I didn't believe my eyes at first, either. But take my word for it. They're coven loving, craft chanting, cauldron brewing witches. Real. Magical. Witches.

Thank goodness that my besties—I think of them as my witch bitches—had my back through all my coming of age stuff so far, because, from time to time, things have gotten pretty hairy in the literal sense, no pun intended. Think full moon and shifters. Cats, wolves, bears. You name it. We got it.

The salon itself is a workplace environment where heterogeneity rules. Every paranormal being from pixies to gargoyles—and some you've never even heard of or imagined—wander through from time to time.

Humans, too. That's the challenge.

The structure of Luna has several unknown levels built underground—that alone is a magical feat in Florida where our water table laps at our ankles on a dry day. So keeping the paranormals looking and acting normal to the human population is part of my job description. I'm getting good at sleight of hand and diversionary tactics that I pass off as magical tricks.

Apparently, appearances do matter. Especially in this case, if we all want to keep our secrets. And believe me, we do. No one is ready for all this.

According to my official contract, maintaining the status quo is on the top of my ~AT ALL COSTS~ list. So you see, keeping the mystical and magical looking normal is my new reality.

Why you may ask, is all this on me? Trust me, I've asked the same thing. I've figured out it's because before I was born, fate and some very old, busy-body relatives decided to match-make me (or the idea of me) to Poseidon's eldest son, Aelric. Not that he's a hardship to look at or be around or hmm...kiss. I would have been outraged if he wasn't such a catch. No pun intended. After all, he is the prince of the sea, sort of a merman.

Me? I could be categorized as a workaholic. I had a small salon, but the county needed the land for a parking lot. Or so they said. I'd just finished getting my Master's degree in business, so I was looking for a new job. You could say I'm a nerd who likes to read and sing, or swim in the ocean and lie on the beach in whatever spare time I can cut out from my responsibilities. Until recently, I had no time for men.

But I wasn't ready for all this. In my defense, marriage at this point in my life would be a little premature. Not only is there a considerable age gap between Aelric and I—like maybe a hundred years, I think—he won't even tell me. But there's so much more...

I do know my intended, Aelric was far more experienced with women than I with men—I've seen the evidence. Let's just say there's no possibility of my catching up any time soon. I'm not entirely inexperienced but definitely not in the same category with players like him. Or Franco de Wolfe.

There is/was Frankie—we are not dating now or ever. He's my boss, the owner of Luna, and the Werewolf pack alpha. He's hot—super hot—and irresistible—a top, world-class haircutter who could use a little help with his cutting technique since some witch cast a grudge-spell on him. Thank goodness she didn't go for a spell on his—you know—man parts. That would have been a crime for all women.

And no, I am-not-sleeping-with-my boss.

Yes, I did sleep with Frankie...once...maybe twice. Not my fault! Besides, there wasn't much sleeping involved anyway.

Okay, there were extenuating circumstances—a rare moment of weakness. And, it was before I found out Ric was my arranged fiancé. Someone sent me pictures of Ric with scantily-clad women draped ALL over my on-again-off-again intended. I was depressed and very furious. Off men... We were on a break.

Well, we would have been on a break if we'd ever even had a real first date. Put yourself in my shoes. Vegas. A male revue stimulated the faerie dust.

If I remember correctly, the dust hadn’t lasted long enough to affect me completely, but long enough for my inhibitions to vanish in the presence of Frankie’s experienced and very capable technique. Also, there’d been a combination of faerie dust and alcohol involved, specifically sex-on-the-beach—a dodgy drink at best. Unwittingly, because of my emergent changes, the circumstance of mixing fae magic with that specific alcoholic concoction increased the aphrodisiac effects and my libido exponentially.

Don’t get me wrong, I would never discount Frankie’s charm nor abundant sex appeal. The memory of his kisses et al were best left in the past when I was broken hearted by what seemed like a cheating, though arranged, fiancé who had bruised my self-esteem. Multiple shots of sex on the beach with Frankie...and his super, hot kisses in a mirrored elevator... Well, what can I say...the faerie dust kicked in. I didn't realize it was mine until much later.

It's not even feasible for me to think of being with Frankie anymore. One, because Aelric and I cleared up our misunderstanding, and two, because what I want from romance is commitment and monogamy. Neither of which Frankie is capable of providing.

Being the pack alpha, he is required to service his bitches every full moon—his primary responsibility is to create lots of little Francos and Francescas. So, Frankie has a monthly bootie call to perform for his harem, the pack bitches, and oops...I don't share.

Too bad there's a downside to everything.

Since we've turned a hot attraction into