MORGAN–The Pixie and the Green Man
Excerpt:
Morgan dropped her bag by the door and slumped wearily into an old, comfortable chair. What had she done? Had she made a date with James? For lunch?
She couldn’t go. Why had she said she would? It was too much, too soon. It would probably always be too soon. After her experiences, she was completely off men. Not that she fancied women, she thought. But men always had ulterior motives. One lunch led to another, and then dinner, and after dinner. Eventually, they all wanted the same thing.
And she was having none of it. When she was younger, she’d dreamed of having a handsome, loving man, who would take care of her. As she grew older, she slowly realized such a man didn’t exist. Not in her world anyway.
Her family was always in strife. Her father and mother argued all the time and when he’d had a pint or ten, her father used them all for punching practice.
One of her uncles always tried to get her alone somewhere, so he could paw at her and maybe get the chance to “break her in.” She’d managed to avoid that, somehow. When she knew he would be at the house, she found something else to do, somewhere else to be. Once she’d finished school, she used work as an excuse and prayed for a way out.
When First Lord Jareth came to Clan Belfort, she’d jumped at the chance to leave. She’d been one of the first to volunteer. Her family had been livid when they’d found out, but there was nothing they could do. She’d made her escape.
Things had been looking up, until Ian found her. And then the whole sordid affair began, which landed her here in the market and afraid to have lunch with James, the handsome young man with green eyes and dimples. If it weren’t for those dimples…
She couldn’t decide if being alone or being in a crowd was worse. She was afraid either way, except with James. For some reason, he made her feel safe. Well, as safe as she ever felt. She couldn’t believe she’d accepted his comforting arm around her in front of the restaurant last night. She’d needed someone to lean on, and he’d cared enough to help.
Maybe lunch, one lunch, would be all right. Maybe he was different.
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