Promo for Working on Wicked by Lilly Cain
Title: Working on Wicked
Author: Lilly Cain
Genre: Sexy Paranormla
Cover Designer: Darlene Dixon
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Lilly Cain is a wild woman with a deep, throaty laugh and plunging necklines. She is a great lover of all things sensual—perfume, chocolate, silk! She never has to worry about finding a date or keeping a man in line. She keeps her blond hair long and curly, wears beautiful clothes and loves loud music. Lilly lives her private life in the pages of her books.
All of the above is a bit of silliness. :) Lilly lives in Atlantic Canada, although she spent eight years in Bermuda, enjoying the heat and the pink sands. She returned to her homeland so she could see the changing of the seasons once again. When not writing she paints, swills coffee and vodka (but not together) and fights her writing pals for chocolate (true story).
When not living up to her pen name, Lilly is a single mom who loves reading and writing, dabbling in art and loving and caring for her two daughters. She loves romance and the freedom erotic fantasy provides her imagination. She loves the chilling moments in her novels as much as the steaming hot interludes. Her stories are an escape and a release, and she hopes that they can give you that power, too.
Buy Links: Amazon: http://amzn.to/2ybkTSn
Sarah Pickman cackled wildly and stirred her evil brew. Smoke curled from her bubbling cauldron and she tipped back her black pointed cap and waved her fingers over the potion so she could breathe in the fumes. Perfect. She flipped her purple cape over her shoulder and reached deep into the pot to retrieve a glowing, grinning skull.
A little girl screamed, then giggled. Sarah let out another evil laugh. Her audience had grown over the past five minutes, so it was time for her special magical effect. She waved her hand toward the mass of pumpkins on the right side of her door—heavily decorated with wild spider webs, glowing eyes and a very real, very large, black cat. With a flick of her fingers the candles ignited inside the pumpkins and as one the crowd gasped in amazement.
It was one of her best tricks, and one of the few real magic spells that ever worked for her consistently.
Sarah popped the top of the skull open and started to distribute the candy inside to the waiting kids. She always had a crowd on Halloween—who didn’t want to visit a real witch in Salem on All Hallows’ Eve? Not that anyone knew she was a real witch, and of those who did, her talents mostly served to disappoint.
Descended from a long line of Salem witches, Sarah should have been loaded with power. She should have been able to make things happen with a snap of her fingers, rather than the long drawn out spellcasting she faced when she did try to do magic. Only her ability to light fire kept her from being thrown out of the local coven. With her family history she should have been a leader. Instead, she avoided real magic because her spells often had disastrous results. So she played witch on Halloween to hundreds of children. At least she had that to look forward to; children were always overloaded with psychic energy and it gave her a little boost every year to make them giggle.
Now her older sister, Bella, she had power to spare. The witch. Power to spare and not a care in the world as to how she should use it. Bella didn’t care about the local circle; she’d escaped from Salem as soon as possible and caused as much trouble as she could in the process. Zapping from man to man and party to party were all she seemed to care about.
Sarah handed the last little boy a handful of chocolates. It was getting late and she’d probably treated nearly two hundred kids. The boy’s father gave her a careful smile and a thank you for the treat. He was cute, but a wedding ring glinted on his finger and he turned away quickly. Ah, the side effects of the witchiest surname in Salem.
She set the skull back in its position in the cauldron, on a wire rack suspended over a cinnamon scented potion she’d realized long ago did nothing but smoke and smell nice. The kids and their parents were retreating, and from the look of the rising moon, they’d be the last ones she’d see tonight. She bit her lip. Halloween and she was alone again.
Wherever her sister was, you could bet she wasn’t alone. No, she’d have a hottie on a leash and be making the most of the extra zip All Hallows’ Eve presented to natural born witches. But here Sarah was, no date in four months, six days—not that anyone was counting—and no further ahead in her magical studies. No matter how hard she worked lately, nothing seemed to be going right.
Sarah walked over to Mitska, her black cat. Well, almost black. He had a white tip on his tail, much to his disgust. They were a pair, for sure.
“Well, Mitska, what are we going to do tonight, hmm? Watch a little TV?” She pulled off her hat and fluffed her long honey brown hair. It was warm tonight, almost as though a summer wind still blew in through the trees from Palmer Cove. Of course it should be too cold for that, but the weather had been unpredictable lately and a late Indian summer made for a beautiful autumn. The water was only about an acre behind her home. That was one of the main reasons she’d chosen this quiet subdivision. The peace, the woods, the water.
“Meow.” Mitska commented and turned his back on her. Right. Well, maybe TV was boring. She felt energized for the first time in weeks—the Halloween spirit flooded her. Maybe it was time to try a little magic.
She glanced up at the moon again and then down the street. No one was about, the last of the kids really had gone. She walked to the end of her drive and shut the gate so any stragglers would know she was done. Her house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, the street dead-ended and she only had one neighbor close enough to be called that and mean it, and that house had been empty for months. She looked over at the Cape Cod house to her left that mimicked her own home in size and style, and was surprised to see a light in the window.
“About time someone moved in. Maybe they’ll have a kitty friend for you to play with.” She stroked the tomcat. “And maybe I need to get going before I really go crazy. I’m already talking to you all the time.”
A few steps took her to the doorway. She opened the door and smiled as she stepped inside. The one right thing in her life was this house. Hers for five years now, it glowed with positive energy. She pulled her cape off and dropped it and the hat on the bench near the door before unzipping her witch’s gown and letting it drop to the floor. She stepped out of the puddle of black and purple material and walked to the stillroom, not bothering to strip out of the corset, striped stockings and thick heels that made up the rest of her costume.