Today is my release day, and I can hardly stand it. The Pendant: Maeve is the second novel in the Pendant series (Check out The Pendant: Callie by Susan Atwood, too!) available from Moonlit Romance.
by Laura Hamby
The pendant warmed again, but Maeve paid little attention to it, given that she had her hands full of junk mail. The convertible stopped and the motor cut. Cullen climbed out of the vehicle and crossed the road to where she stood.
“You do realize, don’t you, that your weeds are a fire hazard? What if someone threw out a lit cigarette? You really should take care of them.”
“I’m going to buy a goat. Or a sheep.”
Cullen blinked. “You’ve lost me.”
“To eat the weeds.”
“Get out your weed whacker instead. It’s not smelly and it won’t poop on your lawn.” His gaze narrowed in on the pendant.
Drat and curses, she’d forgotten to slip it under her shirt after she’d performed her little experiment. Now it didn’t just grow warm, it hummed with an energy she couldn’t begin to fathom. Half-afraid to look at the necklace, in fear that the opal had taken to flashing bright red like a cheap dollar-store tiara, Maeve settled for clearing her throat. Loudly.
“Nice necklace,” Cullen said. “If you don’t have a weed whacker, you can borrow mine.”
What a generous offer! Men and their power tools were hard to pry apart in most cases. Maeve decided to pile on a heap of feminine wiles. She adopted her most angelically innocent expression. Oh, how she detested playing what she called the Dumb Li’l Ol’ Woman card, but darn it, she was annoyed with him. Annoyed that the pendant acted possessed whenever she thought about him or saw him, so that was all his fault as far as she was concerned. Annoyed that he suggest she tend to her yard work and for being right that it was a fire hazard. Sure as Christmas arrived in December, it was just a matter of time before old Mr. Hurlbut tossed out a lit cigarette stub as he raced down the road towards town.
“I don’t know how to use a weed whacker, Cullen, but thanks for the offer. The goat poop will be a good grass fertilizer.”
He blinked, then squinted at her in something akin to disbelief... and wariness. “Seriously?”
Maeve nodded solemnly, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I tried it once, and wound up shaving Grand-da’s leg.” True story. Grand-da had hovered a wee bit too closely to supervise her first weed-whacking effort, and donated a two-inch patch of leg hair before she’d managed to turn the thing off.
Maeve twisted her head to the side to take a good look at her butt. “Nope. My pants aren’t on fire, so I must be telling the truth.” To help convince him, she turned around, stuck out her rear end, and shook it at him. “See? No flames there.” She jumped when Cullen smacked her, not too hard, but enough to get her attention.
“Thought I saw a flame,” he defended himself when she faced him again, hands on her hips.
That had to be the funniest thing she’d ever heard anyone say. She laughed so hard, tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto her shirt. “Geez, Cullen, I didn’t think you had a sense of humor.”
“And me just about to offer to take care of your weed situation.”
“And me just about to offer to make dinner for you if you took care of my weed situation.”
(c) 2007 by Laura Hamby