Today Erica Ridley stops by to share an excerpt from her book, Love, Lust & Pixie Dust.
Excerpt from Love, Lust & Pixie Dust
Two troublesome occurrences jerked anthropologist Trevor Masterson from an exhaustion-induced slumber.
First, he’d fallen asleep face down on the folding specimen tray next to his sleeping bag, and now miscellaneous debris clung to his chin like a dirt goatee.
Second, the shapely blonde struggling to free herself from the tent’s mosquito netting looked nothing like Katrina—the only female student on Trevor’s team—and more like a bespectacled Victoria’s Secret model.
He had woken up, right?
He rubbed the heel of one hand across his cheeks, dislodging assorted dirt and a fossilized skeleton tooth. Brain still foggy, he gave the intruder another look. Still there. And still one sexy silhouette. He had to still be dreaming. How long had it been since he’d laid eyes on a woman who wasn’t covered in mud? Three weeks? Four?
His heart began to race. A dusty tent on the edge of a Costa Rican rainforest was an unlikely place to encounter a moonlit silhouette like the one tangled in the mosquito net lining the tent flaps. Yet he was feeling more awake by the second.
“May I help you?” The words were scratchy against his dry throat. He shoved the small folding tray to one side and tried to make sense of what was happening. No explanations sprang to mind.
“Shhh, Angus, niñito,” came the soft reply. She broke free from the netting and half-fell, half-hopped into the tent. “Duérmete.”
Who the hell was Angus? He frowned as he tried to parse her words. Spanish made sense, but unfortunately he didn’t speak much. Duérmete… niñito… Little boy?
“I’m not little.” He swiped the debris from his chin. “Or Angus. Who are you?”
“I’m a tooth fairy, of course.” The canvas flaps fluttered closed, enshrouding them in darkness. A faint vanilla musk spiced the humid air, masking the more familiar scents of fresh dirt and warm rain. “Go back to sleep or I won’t leave any money under your pillow.”
What was this chick smoking?
“I don’t have a pillow.” He squinted into the darkness. He struggled to his feet, then ducked when his head scraped the top of the tent. “And it’ll cost you plenty if I have to replace my mosquito netting.”
He groped for the fallen Maglite atop the folding tray and aimed the mega-watt beam at his curvy intruder. His lungs froze. The rest of him turned very, very hot.
Thin black cat-eye glasses framed wide hazel eyes. Chin-length silver-blonde hair fluttered above naked shoulders and a barely-there Tinkerbell-style dress shimmered from breasts to thighs. But even more bizarre was the pair of oversize glitter wings protruding from her back.
He choked back a bemused laugh. Either Halloween started in May this close to the equator or something was seriously wrong with this woman.
“Turn off the light!” She lunged at him.
Trevor ducked. His foot tangled in the open sleeping bag. He caught her as they fell, landing hard on his back with her sprawled on top of him and the beam of the flashlight glowing on the ceiling. The tip of her nose hovered against the side of his.
She stared at him without moving. He stared back, hyper-conscious of every warm inch of her body pressing against his. He didn’t mean to suck in his breath and inhale her minty exhale, but once he did, he froze, her breath trapped inside his lungs and his thighs trapped beneath hers.
If he moved even a millimeter, her lips would be close enough to touch his. Matter of fact, their bodies were already perfectly aligned for some hot, sweaty, sleeping bag action. He willed his body not to react.
As if he’d spoken the thought aloud, she snatched the flashlight out of his hand, leapt across the tent and pointed the shaky beam in his direction.
Her stifled gasp and the wavering light indicated that his well-worn cargo pants did a poor job of hiding the effects of a good dream and a real woman. Maybe that would teach her not to flit around the rainforest in the middle of the night. Half-naked. Looking for Angus.
He crawled across his sleeping bag to turn on the battery-operated camping lantern by his tray. If she got to stare at him, then he should get a good look at her, too.
She poked at the flashlight until it went dark, and tensed when the warm light of the lantern still enveloped them. With a frustrated sigh, she lay the Maglite down.
“Who are you, really?” As he rose to his feet, he did a double-take at hers. “And where are your shoes?”
She glanced up at him quizzically, eyebrows arched high. Granted, his feet were also bare, but hey, this was his tent. He’d been sleeping. What was her excuse for being barefoot in a rainforest?
“I’m Daisy le Fey.” Her fingers clenched. “And tooth fairies don’t wear shoes.”
He couldn’t contain his disbelief. Daisy le Fey? Tooth fairies? Please. What kind of woman crept around the Costa Rican countryside in fake wings and painted toes? Trevor wasn’t usually one for costumes of any sort, but cherry-red toenails on the other hand… cherry-red toenails were his kryptonite. He forced his gaze back to her face. If she wouldn’t give him any straight answers, then there was no reason for her to stick around.
“Get out.”
“I—I can’t. I’m on assignment.”
So was he. One that didn’t involve crazy people invading his tent. He loomed closer in order to edge her toward the opening.
She scooted backward. Smart girl.
He prowled closer, hunching slightly as the canvas roof slid across his hair.
“Why wouldn’t fairies wear shoes?” he asked, keeping his eyes focused on hers.
Her back hit the screened flaps. “Some do, just not tooth fairies,” she stammered. “It’s not part of the dress code. Now, where’s Angus?”
He tried to assimilate her response for a moment, then gave up. “Who?”
“Angus!” Her eyebrows lifted as though pleading with him not to play dumb. “I must give him a boon in exchange for his tooth.”
A boon? “Listen, lady.” He paused. She was too articulate to be a strung-out drug addict, and too American-looking to be a local out to shyst a tourist. Then again, red toenails or not, she was too crazy-sounding to be a rational person, so how could he get her out of his tent easily and safely?
Trevor crossed his arms over his chest. His bare chest. Great. He was without his shirt, and she was without her shoes. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to look back down at her toes. “Unfortunately, none of my students are named Angus, and you’re trespassing. You need to leave.” He risked another glance at her feet, then stabbed a finger toward the tent flaps. “Immediately.”
“This will all be over in a minute.” She ducked under Trevor’s extended arm. She sank on all fours and began feeling around inside the bag, derrière aimed right at him. He swallowed. She groped around further into the tent. “Why don’t you have a pillow?”
As her minuscule green dress rode further up her thighs, Trevor learned another new fact about tooth fairies: The dress code did include lacy lingerie. Cherry-red. Like her toes. He swayed. If someone had to invade his tent and interrupt his dig, at least she was an attractive someone. Nonetheless, he was a professor leading a student crew, not a frat boy looking for a hookup. He didn’t know much about her career path, but his required him to keep things professional.
“Listen, lady,” he began again, edging closer to his sleeping bag. “I have no idea what you’re doing, but you have to stop. Now.”
She peered at him over one bare shoulder. Her dispirited expression suggested she didn’t mean to inconvenience him, but had no choice. “I can’t. I’m working. And if you’re not Angus… who are you?”
In lieu of an answer, he bent over, wrapped his arms around her waist, and hauled her to her feet.
Those bizarre wings crunched against his chest. Soft tendrils of hair fluttered against his chin. He could no longer see her lingerie—or her toes—because her derrière was now flush against his crotch. She made no attempt to move away. Mistake.
He lowered his mouth to her hair. “I think you’d better stay on your feet.”
Her legs trembled as though she suddenly realized the tantalizing picture she’d made crawling across the floor of his tent. Yes, sweetheart, it got bigger. He smiled grimly. It would be best for both of them if she would take it upon herself to leave now and not come back.
Without unfolding his arms from around her flat stomach, he leaned his cheek against hers and breathed in her scent.
“I’m Trevor Masterson,” he murmured into her ear. Her breath caught as the rough stubble along his jaw rubbed against the smooth skin on her cheek. “I’m an anthropologist. And you’re trespassing on my dig.”
He whirled her around until the tips of their noses touched. Her fingers clutched his biceps as her wide hazel eyes stared up into his.
“Oh.” Her breath was soft against his chin. “I see.” One of her bare toes rubbed across the top of his. “This is easily resolved. I’ll be on my way as soon as you point me toward the tooth. Can I have—”
“No,” he interrupted through clenched teeth, wishing he’d worn shoes or maybe installed a padlock on his tent. “You’re not taking anything from my dig. Tell me the real reason you’re sneaking around. And don’t give me any of that tooth fairy crap.”
Her breath mingled with his for a long moment, giving Trevor plenty of time to realize she hadn’t yet pulled out of his arms. Her fingers still splayed around his biceps. He fought an inane urge to flex. Or to kiss her and be done. He contemplated releasing her—he really did—but somehow tightened his hold. Every inch of his flesh felt her shiver against him. His brain shut down as his breath caught in his throat. Why was kissing her a bad idea, again?
“Let me ask you something.” She broke eye contact to briefly glance around the tent before locking gazes with him again. “How good are my chances of you handing over that tooth willingly?”
“Nobody” —he tightened his hold— “is walking off with anything.”
She nodded slowly. With a sudden twist of her shoulders, she slipped from his grasp, turned, and parted the flaps of the tent as if afraid what might be outside. She jerked backward, then turned to glare at him.
“Sunrise? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She slumped dejectedly. “I’m going to be in so much trouble for this. I wish I could spend the next hour searching your tent, but… Anyway, no time for this. On the clock, I can only travel under cover of night.”
“Under cover of—” Trevor forgot all about her soft body and painted toes as he choked over the ridiculousness of her words. “Are you a tooth fairy or a vampire?”
“Technically, neither,” she said with an irritated frown, and slipped through the brown canvas without a backward glance.
He followed right behind her in order to make sure she stayed safe and didn’t invade any of the other tents. Except—
She was gone.
About Love, Lust & Pixie Dust (2012)
Daisy le Fey isn’t staying a wannabe pixie forever. As soon as she’s a licensed Tooth Fairy, she’ll finally be on the Nether-Netherland ladder of success. All she has to do in order to trade in her homemade glitter wings for the real deal is complete her first solo assignment. Only that’s no sweet child asleep on the pillow. It’s a sexy man who refuses to hand over the tooth. Desperate to save her would-be career, she fights for possession. So what if her wand misses and turns the man’s assistant into a pumpkin. It could happen to the best of fairies!
HAS NEVER BEEN SO MUCH FUN
Anthropologist Trevor Masterson needs his latest find to save his job from impending budget cuts. But then a blonde bombshell wearing glitter wings sneaks into his tent at midnight, claims to be some sort of magical being, and tries to fly off with his discovery. When Trevor chases after the tooth–and the girl–no amount of science can explain their attraction or the chaos unraveling his carefully laid plans. But there’s no such thing as magic… right?
The first in the Nether-Netherland Romantic Comedy series by Erica Ridley, author of Too Wicked To Kiss, Too Sinful To Deny, and Born To Bite.
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About Erica Ridley
Book Excerpt: Love, Lust & Pixie Dust – Erica Ridley | Thank you for reading Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dave
