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Faeries Gone Wild

by: Davidson, MaryJanice; Hauf, Michele; Greiman, Lois; Logan, Leandra

Faeries Gone Wild

by: Davidson, MaryJanice; Hauf, Michele; Greiman, Lois; Logan, Leandra

ISBN 13:
9780312945688
ISBN 10:
031294568X
Edition: 1st
Format: Paperback
Copyright: 06/02/2009
Publisher: St. Martin's Paperbacks

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Faeries Gone Wild > ISBN13: 9780312945688

Summary

"New York Times"-bestselling author Davidson headlines this sexy, supernatural anthology about faeries getting wild, with additional stories by Lois Greiman, Michelle Hauf, and Leandra Logan. Original.

Author Biography

New York Times bestselling author MaryJanice Davidson has been credited with starting paranormal chick lit. She has also hit the USA Today and the Wall Street Journal bestseller lists for her popular Undead Series, which Booklist calls “bubbly fun.” She lives in Minnesota with her family. Please visit her on the Web at www.maryjanicedavidson.net.

Lois Greiman has been a horse trainer, a model, a fitness instructor, and a veterinary assistant before selling her first book in 1992. Since then she has written twenty-two romance novels, five mysteries, and book one of her Witches of Mayfair series. The recipient of an Affaire de Couer’s Critic’s Choice Award, a Romantic Times K.I.S.S. Award, and a Midwest Fiction Writer’s Rising Star Award, she lives in on her small farm in Minnesota with her family and menagerie of pets.Visit her website at www.loisgreiman.com.

France, musketeers, vampires, and faeries populate most of Michele Hauf’s stories. Having written works of romance, action-adventure, and fantasy for more than fifteen years, her first published novel was Dark Rapture. To learn more, please visit www.michelerhauf.com.

Leandra Logan is an award-winning author of more than thirty novels for adults and teenagers. She lives in Stillwater, Minnesota with her family.

Chapter One

Cannon Falls, Minnesota

Pop.: 6,661

7:28 p.m. CST Tuesday, during the Law & Order marathon on TNT

She came out of the woods like an arrow, a six-foot, four-inch arrow with the huge diaphanous wings of a dragonfly and the split ends of a beach bum, and she didn’t float, or flitter.

None of her kind did.

She moved smoothly, like a machine, her toes always exactly 1.3 inches off of the grass and, as she neared the house, the gravel.

She was holding a clipboard and a pen, and her eyes were the color of ice. Her hair was the color of tree bark, and hung halfway down her back in a riot of rich brown waves.

She moved up the driveway, eyeing with some trepidation the gray Escape that now appeared much closer than she had first assumed. In fact, it was rolling toward her, the gravel crunching beneath the wheels.

No one was driving, which, although she wasn’t entirely surprised, still made her uneasy. She’d heard rumors, of course, which was part of the reason she was here, but surely all the rumors couldn’t be—

"Nice wings. You look like an escapee from a children’s ice-skating show." The small SUV came to a stop six inches from her toes. "This is private property, you big dumb dragonfly, so why don’t you hit the bricks?"

She was intimidated enough by a fairy’s natural uneasiness around machinery; being spoken to by a vehicle was even more unsettling. "I—I’m here on official business."

The car stereo chortled static. "Official dragonfly business?"

She had no idea if the machine was joking or not. The voice was feminine, with a raspy edge. In her nervousness, her feet settled to the gravel. She tiptoed around the SUV but didn’t have the nerve to turn her back on the vehicle and continue up the drive. "Official fairy business. I’m a counter."

"Kitchen or bathroom?"

She pondered that for a moment, puzzled, then answered, "Household. I count things."

"Why?"

She blinked and hugged the clipboard to her chest. "Because. Because that is our nature. We count."

" ‘We’ being uptight accountants with wings . . . ?"

"Fairies."

"Huh." The engine thrummed thoughtfully and the headlights popped on, then dimmed. Almost as if—ha-ha!—the machine was deep in thought. "Must be the brat. Must be."

She was edging around the hood and now she was walking backward, still far too rattled to fly. "Yes, well, I have to count."

"It’s just as well," the vehicle called after her as she began an undignified scramble up the steps. "It’s been really dull around here! Hey! Get back here. Where d’you think you’re going? We’re having a conversation, aren’t we? Hellooooo?"

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