Trading Parties

By M. Garnet

How could a quiet, reticent woman, raised by the nuns, but who resisted their teachings of the Devil and God, end up as the centerpiece of a Pagan celebration? Why, when the horned man with the beautiful Celtic tattoos covering half of his naked body, drew her in a way that no other man had ever touched her. Not only her body, but her mind as he invaded her dreams before Oct. 31.

So she was caught up, against her will, in a strange Halloween custom of trading parties with fellow workers until she ended up on that final night, at that special party.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Nov 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781771113403

Book preview

I don’t want to carve a pumpkin. I don’t want bags of candy. I want a party that I would not trade for anything, that would give me memories that nothing could take away.

How could a quiet, reticent woman, raised by the nuns, but who resisted their teachings of the Devil and God, end up as the centerpiece of a Pagan celebration? Why, when the horned man with the beautiful Celtic tattoos covering half of his naked body, drew her in a way that no other man had ever touched her. Not only her body, but her mind as he invaded her dreams before Oct. 31.

So she was caught up, against her will, in a strange Halloween custom of trading parties with fellow workers until she ended up on that final night, at that special party.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Trading Parties

Copyright © 2012 M. Garnet

ISBN: 978-1-77111-340-3

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books

Look for us online at:

www.extasybooks.com

Smashwords Edition

Trading Parties

By

M. Garnet

Dedicated to my friends who dress up on their jobs at the bank and the restaurants and still go to those great, scary, Halloween parties at the local Theme Parks.

Chapter One

Parties. Stupid Halloween parties. She sat at her desk, one of thirty in the rows of the large room that didn’t allow any privacy, and listened to the talk around her. Normally she was able to block out the sounds in this high-ceilinged office space, but when it was near a holiday the talk became louder and seemed to seep into her ears no matter what she did to try to isolate her space.

She got up and walked over to the group of printers on the inside wall to retrieve her printouts. On returning to her desk, she couldn’t help but let her gaze wander over the small orange pumpkins, black witch candles and drapes of white ghosts that decorated the desks around her. There was even a skull with a football helmet perched on one of the men’s desks. Her desk reflected her own personality, no decorations, neat stacks, everything in its place, clean and uncluttered.

Some would have said that, like her desk, she had the makings of hidden beauty—but, like her desk, she chose to keep it neatly tucked away. Her long legs were covered by loose slacks or skirts that reached below her knees. Tailored shirts allowed her full C-size cups to hide and her long brown hair was always twisted up in a bun at her neck. So, like her desk, Halloween and parties were not for her—not for covering her desk and not for uncovering her.

The name on the small plaque at the corner of her desk read A. (Alli) Hedra. She preferred to have everyone call her Alli, saying it was short for her name, not giving any explanation. Inside, she just hated the romantic sound of the name her unmarried mother had tagged on her birth certificate. The A stood for Ashling, that her mother said stood for an old Celtic name that meant dream or vision or inspiration. Her mother claimed that her father was a handsome Irish visitor. She found out later, in the orphanage, that her