Frances Stephens Goss
When Witches Fall in Love it's Scary.
He’s a real prince-of-a-guy. When Arawen Mountrain finds Dunyasha Bannikov passed out on the floor of his favorite pub, he’s definitely found ‘the one.’ Gifted with Sight, he has been expecting the beautiful, Russian witch. Believing her a spy for his nemesis, Ancasta the Sionnach, Arawen plans to turn her over to Boston’s Coven, but it’s a task much harder than it sounds, because…
She’s a baroness with serious baggage. Chased by a Vodonik demon, Dunyasha seeks the famous demon-hunter, Hilda Willogate, but finds Arawen instead. A Boston Coven cop, the American witch is just the sort of champion she needs. She offers herself to him in exchange for his protection, but unfortunately…
Together they’re a royal mess. Arawen is quick to accept Dunyasha’s offer, but when he enlists his cousin, Hilda Willogate, to find the demon, Dunyasha feels cheated and shuns him. Arawen panics upon learning he cannot protect Dunyasha unless she falls in love with him. Even worse, Arawen must gain her love in three days or Dunyasha will be sent to demonologists in—over his dead Bostonian body—New York City.
Arawen of the West Watch is a Romantic Fantasy with a comedy-of-errors twist.The 100-thousand-word novel revolves around a society of witches, and is set in New England during the middle of the nineteenth century. Arawen is aided in his effort to save Dunyasha by an eccentric list of supporting characters, namely an ex-vampire with a ‘higher power,’ a middle-aged, lesbian demon-hunter, and a fat aunt, who is in his own words, “scarier than a cave full of rabid bats.”
“I’m not laughing, Wolf.” Arawen seethed as he whacked the top of a soft-boiled egg. However his growling and petite display of violence did nothing to quell his friend’s hysterical giggling upon hearing about the night’s fiasco.
“Oh come, Mountrain. It was all just a misunderstanding. The baroness will come around.” Said Wolf.
“She hates me, Wolf. She told me so, herself” He blinked his bloodshot eyes reaching for the coffee pot. “I—hate—you. A direct quote.” Pouring, he released a sigh. “I would hate me, too, if I were her. In fact, I’m not her, and I hate me.” He sipped his coffee. “I’m cruel, you know. Did I tell you she called me cruel?”
“More than once.” Wolf snickered. “And you are not. Why are you so upset about this, Arawen? So last night backfired, but you were trying to do the right thing. I think what you did was positively noble.”
“But she wanted me, Wolf!” Rolling his eyes to ceiling, Arawen threw down his napkin. “She came to me. Can you believe it? Arrgh!” His head fell to the table with a thud.
“Shoot me. I can’t take the memory—that body, those lips—oh, oh, oh and those eyes!” He sat up, “You have to admit there is nothing sexier than a lady who can look like a complete tramp.”
“No argument here.” Wolf sipped his coffee. “You know, how about I tell Miss Dogodavina what really happened. Irina might be able to make the baroness come around more quickly.”
“I need all the help I can get at this point. Yes, by all means talk to her, the quicker the better.” Arawen rubbed his forehead. “I’ve only got three days to work on her, and Drakesford will no doubt be back in a day or two. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m not doing my job.”
“Arawen, don’t tell me you think you’ve something to prove to Drakesford? You’ve always been a star with the ladies.” Wolf shook his head, “I still don’t get how he got served a dish like Miranda. There’s something ‘off’ about Drakesford. I think it’s all that black—downright ghoulish.”
“I have nothing to prove to Drakesford, believe me.” assured Arawen, “I just don’t want end up rolling on a spit.”
“Rolling on a what?” asked Wolf.
“Nothing. It’s just that Drakesford is going to want to see progress.” Said Arawen, “There has to be more I can do to smooth things over with Dunyasha. She has to see that I not an ogre, that I truly admire her. The trouble is how does a man slip back into a woman’s good graces after behaving so abominably?”
Arawen and Wolf stared mutely at one another for a thoughtful moment, until the cardinal light of masculine diplomacy struck them in the same instance.
“Jewelry.” They said.