Title: A Touch of Magic
Series: Fae-Touched, Book One
Author: Isabelle Adler
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: May 28, 2018
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 28800
Genre: Paranormal, contemporary, paranormal, criminals/mafioso, gambling, abduction, abuse, magician/magic users, violence
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Synopsis
After returning to the straight and
narrow, Cary Westfield hopes to rebuild his life as a stage magician. Only
thing is, the success of his new show is entirely dependent on a strange
medallion inherited from his late grandfather—an amulet that holds a rare and
inexplicable power to captivate the wearer’s audience.
Ty prides himself on his ability to
obtain any item of magical significance—for the right price. When a mysterious
client hires him to steal a magical amulet from a neophyte illusionist, he’s
sure it will be a quick and easy job, earning him a nice chunk of cash.
As it turns out, nothing is sure when
greed and powerful magic are at play. When a mob boss with far-reaching
aspirations beats Ty to the snatch, Cary and Ty form an unlikely partnership to
get the amulet back. The unexpected spark of attraction between them is a
welcome perk, but each man has his own plan for the prize.
All bets are off, however, when it is
revealed the magical amulet holds a darker secret than either of them had
bargained for.
Excerpt
A Touch of Magic
Isabelle Adler © 2018
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
Cary Westfield wasn’t a terribly catchy
name for a magician, so the playbill read The Incredible Mr. Mars.
Ty studied the vintage style poster near
the theater’s entrance, which depicted said Mr. Mars pulling a
bewildered-looking white rabbit out of a hat. Despite the old-fashioned font
and style, the poster was brand new. Mr. Mars was a relative newcomer to the
live entertainment scene and had only been performing at the Garland Magic
Theater for two weeks, but the shows had been consistently sold out. Granted,
this wasn’t the largest or the most prestigious venue in San Francisco;
however, considering the act in question wasn’t at all original or shocking,
consisting of run-of-the-mill stage illusions and a bit of mind reading, it was
quite a feat.
The mass appeal would have been
something of a mystery had Ty not known exactly what was behind it. That was
too bad for poor Cary Westfield—sudden and unwarranted success tended to draw
the wrong kind of attention.
Ty followed the line inside. The usher
took a look at his ticket and directed him to the back row. Ty took the aisle
seat and waited as the lights dimmed. The darkness sharpened the smell of dust
coming from the old upholstery, the whispers of the spectators, and most
annoyingly, the glare of their cell phone screens. It would seem even the
promise of magic couldn’t tear some people away from their social media. The
emcee announced the magician, and the show began.
Contrary to tradition, Mr. Mars didn’t
have an assistant. His tricks weren’t all that complicated, but Ty had to give
him credit for showmanship. He supplied a running commentary for the
performance, which was both witty and charming and elicited laughter from the
crowd. Smart. People always loved it when a show made them laugh, so they were
more likely to forgive the lack of surprise and excitement. Not that Ty was in
any way an expert on magic shows, but he was, in a manner of speaking, an
expert on excitement.
The magician’s looks didn’t hurt either.
His smooth tan skin and fine features made the gaudy stage costume appear
elegant. Ty absently noted the lean figure and the fluid movements, but he
wasn’t there to admire Westfield’s form.
As Mr. Mars struck another impressive
pose, pretending to strain to recite the contents of some woman’s purse, Ty
slipped quietly into the shadows, making himself as inconspicuous as possible.
Thankfully, the small theater had an appropriately small staff, even on a
busier Saturday night, and no one spotted him as he made his way to the
backstage passage. There was only one dressing room, and the lock on it was a
joke. He let himself inside and closed the door softly. The runes tattooed into
his fingertips with invisible ink prevented him from leaving fingerprints, so
he could rummage freely without being encumbered by gloves. That shit always
came in handy—bad pun intended.
The small room was cramped, serving both
as a makeup nook and a storage space for various costumes and stage props.
There was a vanity with a large backlit mirror. Ty looked it over, but saw
nothing of interest besides a kohl eyeliner and a few mini-sized bottles of
flavored vodka scattered all over the tabletop. Either the Incredible Mr. Mars
needed some liquid courage before facing the crowd, or Mr. Westfield had a bit
of a drinking problem.
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Meet the Author
A voracious reader from the age of five, Isabelle Adler has always dreamed of one day putting her own stories into writing. She loves traveling, art, and science, and finds inspiration in all of these. Her favorite genres include sci-fi, fantasy, and historical adventure. She also firmly believes in the unlimited powers of imagination and caffeine.Website | Twitter | eMail
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