Publisher · Loose Id Release Date · December 2007 eBook ISBN · 978-1-59632-561-6 Genre · Paranormal Length · Fling Trapped inside a tree eons ago and cursed to move from tree to tree, losing any powers she's gained when the tree is cut down, Deidre's in a foul mood when Casey thinks her current home will make the perfect Christmas tree. She curses him with the one thing she knows is guaranteed to bring misery and sorrow: love. Even when Casey meets Brietta, the woman of his dreams, and gets happier instead of sad, Deidre knows just how to fix him. Make him fall in love, then make sure Brietta never will. She'll make him pay for all of men's crimes. But Casey and Brietta feel the pull of true passion, and between dizzying sex and dazzling love, they'll turn her curses into a miracle of Christmas romance.

At Publisher

5 Hearts! "Mechele Armstrong pens one heck of a Christmas tale that will have you smiling throughout as nasty Deidre does her best to curse others to fall in and out of love. Casey and Brietta are more than a match for her though. The dialogue varies from Deidre's nasty finagling to the joys of new love. Can't help but feel a little sorry for Deidre once in a while until we find out she has only herself to blame for the loss of her freedom. This is a great Christmas story!"
—Dee Dailey, The Romance Studio

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Copyright © 2007 Mechele Armstrong

Casey walked slowly through the chaos that was a huge crowded discount store. Because of all the displays, the narrow aisles wouldn't allow for two carts to pass safely, leading to cart traffic jams in every section. The toy area possessed insane amounts of congestion. One toy, some kind of bear thing, had only one left. Two women grabbed for it at the same time. Having already found his nephews an additional Army man set, Casey moved on before he saw one woman bean the other in the name of buying a Christmas gift.

"Gotta love the Christmas spirit," he muttered.

Rubbing his head, he rounded a corner to the Christmas decorations, which sat next to the toys. Christmas balls. Check. Tinsel. Check. Little race cars with his favorite driver's number on them. Check. There'd be no frilly shit like bells or birds on his tree. He picked up colored lights and tossed them in the basket. Icicles lay at the end of the aisle. He could do them the way he wanted. His mother always insisted on placing them on the tree one by one. His tree, he could toss them up and let them fall.

The icicles still in hand, he watched as she walked past his aisle. He caught a glimpse, and tossed the icicles in his basket.

He'd spotted the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

He raced to the end of the aisle to gawk. She was walking toward the back of the store. Stopping to look at something, she turned her body so he got a side view of her. Her blue sweater shimmered in the harsh fluorescent light. She reached out to touch a blender before continuing on her way. Lucky appliance.

His cock tightened as he watched the sway of her hips below the sweep of dark brown hair that waved at him, urging him to sink his fingers into it.

He watched until she made it to the back of the store and turned left, taking her out of his vision.

You fucking idiot, go after her.

He charged down the aisle in the direction she'd gone. A short, older lady pulled out in front of him and toddled along, leaving him stuck dragging ass behind her. He checked the other aisles, but they were too full of people to zip down. He could find no passing room. She stopped to look at cat food.

"Excuse me, ma'am."

"Oh, am I blocking you?" She moved her cart a fraction of an inch.

He took the space and managed to nudge past her. "Thank you."

Zipping to the back of the store, he looked left. He looked right.

No woman.

"Fu...torogi." He'd vowed no more cursing in public, so he ended on a ridiculous sound. Looking furtively around, he saw an amused teenage girl walking past him. Not the beauty, though. "Where did she go?"

Speeding around the store, he searched for her to no avail before he gave up and checked out.

His mystery woman, who was sure to inspire a few wet dreams, had left.