Wilde and Sweet: Seven Territories, #2

By Andi Winter

Deck the halls with sulphur and brimstone

Army deserter and town reprobate Tom Wilde didn't mean to kiss the mayor's daughter at the town Christmas celebration. There was mistletoe, holiday punch, and a lovely smile that was just too intriguing to ignore...

And he certainly didn't mean to catch the attention of the mayor and his henchmen. A mayor with a mysterious agenda and manner that unsettles Tom.

But when Tom is offered a job he can't refuse, he finds himself caught between his deepest desires and his duty to protect.

And a certain warlock makes his dilemma even more complicated.

A holiday story of love, family, and demons.

An historical fantasy set in an alternative Wild West, where magic, zombies, and Chinese mythology thrive. Welcome to The Seven Territories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andi Winter
• Release date: Jan 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393057369

Book preview

Wilde and Sweet

Wilde and Sweet

A Seven Territories story

Andi Winter

Rainy Mountain Publishing

Wilde and Sweet

Copyright © 2020 by Andi Winter

All rights reserved

Cover art copyright © Richard Thomas/123RF, Freepik.com

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This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are either products of the imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people or incidents is coincidental. This book, or parts, thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Read on for a preview of

Spring Comes Twice

Other Titles by Andi Winter

About the Author

Chapter One

Devil’s Rock, Seven Territories

He didn’t mean to do it, and on reflection he regretted it. Or at least he regretted the look on her face. The taste of her sweet lips, that light orange scent, and the way her body tensed and then eased against his, that soft sigh as she melted into him—he would remember that to the end of his days. As he would the sharp flash of pain from her slap.

The other guests had laughed at the spectacle—Thomas Clyde Wilde, town reprobate, kissing the mayor’s daughter under the mistletoe at the town’s tree lighting ceremony and Christmas celebration.

Mayor Windsor’s family hailed from Germany, and brought with them their German traditions, which included attaching candles to the Christmas tree and then lighting the candles. For those with faery lamps, the tradition seemed archaic. For everyone else, the tradition was a touch of magic in the dark of winter.

The tree stood in the middle of the mayor’s living room—one of the two times a year the mayor opened his home to the community. It was standing room only, with people squeezed together in the room, fathers lifting their children onto their shoulders to be able to see, the crowds crushed together on the stairwell overlooking the living room.

With all the people and the blazing fire going in the fireplace, the room was exceedingly warm. Tom wasn’t prepared for that. He had been out on the range and dressed for it with his long johns, shirt, pants, heavy duster, a wool scarf knitted by his sister Marie, thick leather gloves on top of woolen gloves Marie had made that matched the scarf (much to his dismay—he didn’t need to look like a dandy riding his horse out on the flats), and his hat.

He held his hat in his hands—he did have some manners after all—but it was in constant danger of being crushed as he made his way through the throng to get to the refreshment table that Mrs. Windsor and the DAR ladies had put so much effort into preparing. Of course, the table was in the dining room, which was past the living room, which meant passing under an arch that some trickster had hung mistletoe from.

He would have ignored the mistletoe—who needed greenery dangling in his face?—but she had been standing under it.

Miss Emmaline Iphigenia Windsor.

Normally he would have ignored her, stepped past her and been on his way. There was nothing remarkable about Miss Emmaline. She was average height with an average figure. Her mousy brown hair was swept up in the standard style and accompanied by a rather plain ostrich feather.

But this night there was something different about her.

For one, he actually noticed her. Was it the rich peach dress that made him think of summer picnics and sunsets? Or perhaps the pleasing smile on her face, in direct contrast to her more usual nearly-dour look. Or maybe it was the glittering necklace of yellow diamonds that drew his attention to her lovely bosom.

No. Well, perhaps there was some combination of those.

But