Cross-stitch and Brimstone
Cross-stitch and Brimstone
Series Freak Sorority Offshoot: Book
Heat Rating 2
Released 2010-10-22
Word Count 72123
Keywords romance, paranormal, romance, demon, cross stitch, witchcraft, halloween, gardening, demon hunting, stephanie beck, erotika romance, erotika for women, erotic romance, erotic, m/f, romance, lust, lovers, erotica
ISBN 978-1-926771-88-5
Disclaimer/Notice/Warning
Price :$1.99
A cross-stitch witch? Marc doesn’t know if there is such a thing, but for his long-lost love, he’s willing to believe.
Marc kills demons. While he doesn’t love it, he’s happy to do his job, keeping people safe and destroying the brethren of the demons who stole his human life.
Beth lives quietly, content to stitch her samplers and fancywork in an era she wasn’t born to but is magically destined to live through.
A late-night visit changes both Marc and Beth’s worlds, reuniting them after over a hundred years, long after their love affair ended tragically during the Civil War. Back together, the two must decide what their future holds as they battle the real threat—a demon with a bad case of rose envy.
The cat hissed again, and Beth sighed. "Fine, I’ll let you out, you stinking beast," she muttered, going to the side door that released to the wraparound porch she loved. "Go on now, and don’t you— Who’s there?"
The figure at her front door, only three feet away from her, froze. It was the middle of the night, so she’d long ago turned off the porch light. Terror welled. Her longevity was a given, but she was still as easily broken as any human woman under five feet tall and just as susceptible to villains of the night.
"Elisabeth?"
The figure turned with her name on his lips. That voice. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She flipped on the light switch for the hall behind her, but it didn’t help much, not until he came into the light.
"Marcato? But...how...how?"
She ran for him, the three steps taking only a heartbeat before she launched into his arms. He felt just the same as when she’d given him one final embrace before he’d gone off to fight with his brothers so long ago. How she’d loved her soldier boy, though before the war he’d been sweet and gentle, a young man on his way to the seminary to be a preacher.
She ran her fingers down his face, the same face she remembered in her dreams. Not so often anymore, but there was no way she could have forgotten about him. Not him.
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Cross-stitch and Brimstone
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