Taken by the Imp
Cat's Paw Cove Book 13
by Sharon Buchbinder
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Can a jinni and a warlock cook up a better way to help the poor?
Dexter Graham has no trouble making money as a financial wizard—as long as he doesn’t leave his home. He finds it nearly impossible to be with other people, because he’s a telepath who gets swamped by their thoughts. Prompted by an unexpected visitor from the past who reveals shocking family secrets, he takes a risk and visits his brother in Cat’s Paw Cove. Will the trip make things better or worse?
Ynez Saghira is a gifted chef at the Feline Fine Retirement Home who yearns to be financially independent and open her own café. She has lots of talent and creative ideas but lacks the capital to start her own business. What’s a poor imp to do?
Dexter and Ynez join forces to quiet the voices in his head, build her business, and ferret out family mysteries. Will the secrets draw them closer together or push them apart?
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Pushing the covered cart down the hallway, Ynez cursed the lush
carpet yet another time. When they designed this place, they forgot
about the staff, that was for sure. How did the cleaners get their carts
through this undergrowth? Ah, silly me, magic. She waggled her fingers
and it floated up to the newcomer’s door.
She tapped lightly. “In-room dining, Mr. Graham.”
The door opened a crack and one sky-blue eyeball stared at her. “Could you leave it out here, please?”
“No, sir.” She straightened her shoulders. “I will not allow the quality of my food to decline because you leave it out here too long.”
The door flew open.
“What did you say?”
She stared into the face of the most beautiful man she’d ever met. Like a marble statue in the Louvre, all symmetrical proportions, cheek bones to die for, a gorgeous beard and a head of golden hair that screamed for her fingers to dive into and pull his lush ruby lips to her mouth.
Oh shit. He’s staring at me. He heard my thoughts, my foolish, lustful feelings.
Mortified, her face blazing, she said, “Can I bring the food into your room and serve it properly, please. It’s temperature controlled.”
He smiled, bowed, and swept his hand inside. “Yes, please do come in. Can you stay and keep me company while I eat? Do you have time?”
What the heck?
“Um, sure, the dinner rush is over, and the cleaning crew is on the job, so I’m pretty open.” Why was he acting as if he hadn’t heard all her inappropriate thoughts? Was this a trick?
“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” He pointed to the small kitchen. “I guess we can sit in here. Mind the cat dishes. Brutus is hiding under the bed.”
“Okay,” she pushed the cart in with her fingertip, allowing it to continue to float. What the heck. He knew what kind of place this was, didn’t he?
“Whoa. Neat trick. I wish I could do that.” He pulled up a chair. “Smells wonderful.”
Setting the table, she pointed to a wine glass. “White or red?”
“White, please.” Openly staring at her now, his gaze roamed over her face, hair, and arms, stopping at her tattoos. “Those are beautiful armbands. Are they flames?”
She nodded and continued uncovering dishes. “I’m an imp and a chef. My element is fire—specifically smokeless fire.”
“Nice.” Unlike other men, his gaze never lingered on her ample breasts. “Your hair—is it changing colors as we talk? Or is it my eyes?” He laughed. “I’m sorry I’m so curious. I mostly chat with people by computer. Lots of practice with my witty repartee—online.”
“Oh, yes, I can see that.” She shook her head and chuckled as she placed salt and pepper on the table. This guy.
“My brother tells me I have zero boundaries and even fewer people skills. It’s all so new to me. And I want to know everything.”
She tapped lightly. “In-room dining, Mr. Graham.”
The door opened a crack and one sky-blue eyeball stared at her. “Could you leave it out here, please?”
“No, sir.” She straightened her shoulders. “I will not allow the quality of my food to decline because you leave it out here too long.”
The door flew open.
“What did you say?”
She stared into the face of the most beautiful man she’d ever met. Like a marble statue in the Louvre, all symmetrical proportions, cheek bones to die for, a gorgeous beard and a head of golden hair that screamed for her fingers to dive into and pull his lush ruby lips to her mouth.
Oh shit. He’s staring at me. He heard my thoughts, my foolish, lustful feelings.
Mortified, her face blazing, she said, “Can I bring the food into your room and serve it properly, please. It’s temperature controlled.”
He smiled, bowed, and swept his hand inside. “Yes, please do come in. Can you stay and keep me company while I eat? Do you have time?”
What the heck?
“Um, sure, the dinner rush is over, and the cleaning crew is on the job, so I’m pretty open.” Why was he acting as if he hadn’t heard all her inappropriate thoughts? Was this a trick?
“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” He pointed to the small kitchen. “I guess we can sit in here. Mind the cat dishes. Brutus is hiding under the bed.”
“Okay,” she pushed the cart in with her fingertip, allowing it to continue to float. What the heck. He knew what kind of place this was, didn’t he?
“Whoa. Neat trick. I wish I could do that.” He pulled up a chair. “Smells wonderful.”
Setting the table, she pointed to a wine glass. “White or red?”
“White, please.” Openly staring at her now, his gaze roamed over her face, hair, and arms, stopping at her tattoos. “Those are beautiful armbands. Are they flames?”
She nodded and continued uncovering dishes. “I’m an imp and a chef. My element is fire—specifically smokeless fire.”
“Nice.” Unlike other men, his gaze never lingered on her ample breasts. “Your hair—is it changing colors as we talk? Or is it my eyes?” He laughed. “I’m sorry I’m so curious. I mostly chat with people by computer. Lots of practice with my witty repartee—online.”
“Oh, yes, I can see that.” She shook her head and chuckled as she placed salt and pepper on the table. This guy.
“My brother tells me I have zero boundaries and even fewer people skills. It’s all so new to me. And I want to know everything.”
Charlotte Redbird, Ghost Coach
Cat's Paw Cove Book 12
Sometimes the dead need a life coach, too.
Driven out of Chicago by a spiteful heiress, life coach Charly Redbird is ready for a change. She moves to Florida to be closer to her family and vows to be more selective about future clients.
With the help of Dylan Graham, a hunky real estate agent, Charly finds a perfect home across the street from a cemetery. When he shows up with a plant and two tiny balls of fluff as a housewarming present, Charly thinks she might be smitten with more than the kittens.
A new client appears at her door and asks for Charly's help, but the woman happens to be a permanent resident of the cemetery. Can Charly convince the restless spirit to move to another neighborhood—or will she take on a new role: Life Coach for the Dead?
Sharon Buchbinder has been writing fiction since middle school and has the rejection slips to prove it. An RN, she provided health care delivery, became a researcher, association executive, and obtained a PhD in Public Health. She is the author of the Hotel LaBelle Series, the Jinni Hunter Series, and the Obsession Series. When not attempting to make students and colleagues laugh or writing, she can be found fishing, walking her dogs, herding cats, or breaking bread and laughing with family and friends in Baltimore, MD and Punta Gorda, FL.
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