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Excerpt #2 (contains explicit language)

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ISBN: 1419904515

My Dearest Caroline,

Although it's been many years since we last sat together over mugs of hot chocolate and spoke of hopes and dreams, and the future, I'm certain you'll remember the charm enclosed here.

I told you then that one day it would be yours. It is the most precious possession I own. More valuable than any amount of money. This amulet has been passed down through the women of our family for generations. Its magic will work only once every fifty years. Keep it near your heart. Though your mind may be cluttered and uncertain, your heart will know the right wish to make when it's time. Trust your heart, my dear.

You've suffered much heartache, but I do hope you haven't lost your faith in the power of love and magic, for it is, indeed, real and true. Believe me, Caroline, I know.

With all my love until we meet again in the great hereafter,

Auntie Helga

Caroline McNulty read the letter aloud for the third time, erupting in a new wave of thunderous sobs. Sent from Norway, the package arrived in Chicago a week before Christmas—the second Christmas she'd spend alone because her cheating rat bastard of a husband left her for a younger, slimmer model a year ago. On Christmas Eve.

After reading a document from the executor of her great aunt's estate, Caroline took the tiny golden Viking trinket and its fine chain from the box and studied it.

She remembered Helga regaling her with romantic accounts of love and fairytale-like happily-ever-afters. Caroline listened with rapt attention, gobbling up legends of enchantment and strong, handsome Vikings. Especially during those special times when her great aunt brought out the little charm in the form of a Viking and spoke of Norse folklore. Family legend said the magical charm had been given to the matriarch of a Viking king by Odin, the most powerful of Norse gods.

Of course, now Caroline knew the fascinating tales were simply make believe.

Her fanciful great aunt may have been naïve enough to believe in myths, Viking love charms, Norse gods and the rest of that paranormal gibberish, but Caroline knew better.

She knew firsthand that life was a bitch and fairytales were meant for wide-eyed children.

As she opened another small envelope in the package, she found a long braided lock of hair. Caroline fondly recalled the ever-present plaited coil of white-blonde hair affixed to the top of Helga's head. As a child she'd wished she could have flaxen locks instead of her stark black hair. While Caroline had the tall, large-boned, full-bodied physique of her mother's Scandinavian side of the family, she got the black hair and midnight-blue eyes from her father's side. The Black Irish, as her paternal grandmother had called it. Both sides shared the pale, easily sunburned skin.

And Caroline could never forget her great aunt's kind, pale blue eyes that seemed to hold the secrets and wisdom of the ages. She remembered Helga instructing her to look deep into her eyes, saying that if she gazed hard enough Caroline would see her true love.

"Tell me what you see, dear."

Caroline would squint, focusing all of her concentration on Helga's eyes. "Ooh, I think I see a Viking, Auntie Helga!"

"And what does he look like?"

"He's very tall and handsome, with long hair, lots of muscles and a sword and shield."

"Sounds like Erik the Red," Helga had said.

And Caroline shook her head from side to side. "No, Auntie Helga, my Viking has blond hair. He must be Erik the Blond!" Then they giggled and hugged.

Gullible little Caroline had actually convinced herself that she had spied her true love in Auntie Helga's eyes.

Carefully stuffing everything back into the envelope, Caroline smiled when her dog, Thursday, came sniffing around. "Sorry, Thursday. Nothing here to eat, boy." She massaged the back of his ears, getting a big juicy face lick in return. At least her faithful dog would be with her for Christmas.

She was about to place Helga's package in a drawer and hesitated. It was almost as if she heard, or was it felt, the little Viking charm calling to her. That was beyond ridiculous. Pure wishful thinking. The lure of recapturing the innocence of her childhood.

And yet…

After all, her favorite relative had made a special point to set her magic talisman aside for her great niece. And then to write a loving letter in her own hand, shaky as it was at ninety-five and riddled with arthritis. Not wearing the charm would be like a slap in the face to Auntie Helga, and Caroline couldn't do that.

She took the chain out of the box and held the gleaming amulet in the palm of her hand. The Viking's detail was amazing—the textured fur of his tunic, the horned Brunhilda helmet, the sword, his muscles—all meticulously crafted in metal. The color reminded Caroline of rich deep butterscotch. Funny, she didn't remember the charm being gold. She could swear it had been silver. Knowing Auntie Helga's zealous efforts to extol the virtues of magic to everyone she knew, Caroline wouldn't be a bit surprised if this charm was simply one of many the old woman kept tucked away in a box. She'd probably left instructions for her executor to dole out miniature Vikings to each relative and friend, complete with her mystical tale of supernatural powers and one-time use. The thought made Caroline chuckle.

She slipped the chain over her head. It was the perfect length. The Viking fell just next to her heart.

As the Viking folded his impressive bulk into the passenger seat of the small car, Caroline watched his muscles bunch and cord.

"You must be freezing," she said, eying the pelts of wet fur covering just a portion of his gorgeous made-for-fucking body. "It has to be twenty-something outside."

Erik gave a nonchalant shake of his head. "I am used to cold. I come from—"

"No, don't tell me." Caroline raised her hand. "Let me guess. You're from Norway, right?"

"Yes!" He beamed a perfect white-toothed smile.

"Naturally." Caroline sighed.

"How you know this?"

"It just fits." She rolled her eyes.

"You be cold," Erik said, pointing to her breasts and grinning.

Caroline looked down at the beading nipples poking through her T-shirt. In all the commotion she'd forgotten a coat.

"Keep your eyes on the road," she said, although she was the one doing the driving. "Just forget that anything sexual happened between us because, trust me, Erik, it is never going to happen again. Got that?"

"Want Erik suck pretty teats, make warm again?"

Caroline socked him in the arm, determined to ignore the sudden crackle of desire. "In the first place, I'm not a cow. I don't have teats. You mean tits."

"Big tits," Erik said, pinching a rigid nipple and squeezing her breast.

So fucking aroused she could barely drive, Caroline slapped his hand away. "In the second place, the word is breasts." And, God, how she wanted his mouth on them again.

"You love Erik cock."

Sucking in an audible gasp, Caroline nearly ran the car off the road. "What!?"

"Please, not feel shame. Erik love you posse too."

"Pussy," Caroline corrected and then thumped the heel of her hand against her forehead. "Jeez, what am I saying? I don't want to talk about tits or cocks or pussies, Erik."

"We make excellent sex."

"Or sex! Oh, good grief. Look, Erik, I am not that kind of woman."

"What kind?"

"The kind that…Erik, I don't even know you. I thought you were a—"

He grasped Caroline's right hand and pumped. "How you do? I Erik. You neighbor." He grinned. "Now you know me."

"Erik, you are positively incorrigible."

He frowned and shook his head. "Not know this word. It mean handsome? Big cock? Sexy man?" He jiggled his eyebrows devilishly.

"Stop. Just stop right there. This conversation is finished."

Sure, it was flattering to have someone who resembled a Norse god coming on to her. But Erik wasn't flirting because he thought she was beautiful or nice or smart. It was because he'd found an easy lay. A lonely woman who'd dragged him in off the street and jumped his bones. The guy probably figured she was the neighborhood slut or a cheap hooker who just happened to live next door. And she couldn't blame him one bit.

It wasn't as if she was some perky-breasted eighteen-year old, and she certainly wasn't a lithe little thing, either. She was thirty-eight and shopped for her clothes in the plus size section.

"Why Caroline angry Erik?" He rubbed her thigh, trailing his fingers up until they rested atop her well-fucked pussy. "I not make you excellent sex?"

Excellent? Shit. It was fucking stupendous. Breathtaking. Spectacular!

Caroline lifted his hand from her crotch and plopped it in his lap. After opening and closing her mouth a few times without uttering a word, she snapped it shut and looked straight ahead as she drove.

As Caroline pulled up to the community theater, Erik turned to her. "Thank you. You eat me. Yes?"

For about the tenth time that night, she gasped. "I will do no such thing! That does it, Erik. Get out of this car." He didn't move. He had the nerve to just sit there grinning at her. "How dare you suggest that I suck your—"

Erik gestured as if shoveling food into his mouth with a fork. "Supper," he said. "You, me, eat. Food."

"Oh," Caroline said in the tiniest voice she'd ever heard herself utter. Could she possibly be any more of a moron?

Head thrown back, Erik roared with laughter. It was a beautiful sound and he was a beautiful man and, Lord help her, she did want to eat him!

"Are you asking me to have dinner with you?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Then we be no clothes and do excellent sex. Yes?"

"Get out of the car, Erik. Now."