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Landry tried to remember all the reasons why this woman was off-limits, but he couldn’t name a single one.
Everything about Jet fascinated him and stirred his sensual appetite. The pale glittering skin, full lips and unusually dark eyes framed by black hair were so different from any other woman he’d known.
Jet crackled with energy and a directness that cut through his usual barriers and demanded sole focus on her own unique qualities.
She leaned closer, a glint of desire sparkling like pixie dust in her enlarged pupils, and Landry’s jaw tensed at his body’s immediate tug to draw closer.
She touched his chest with one hand, and even through his thick cotton shirt, the heat of her skin traveled downward, and his stomach tightened.
All reason fled. He had to feel her, taste her, claim her—
* * *
“These contemporary mers are a far cry from Disney characters, theme-park performers and creepy she-devil myths of the sea. Settle in for an exciting swim with a new breed of sirens.”
—New York Times bestselling author Deborah Smith on Siren’s Secret
Siren’s
Treasure
Debbie Herbert
DEBBIE HERBERT writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She’s always been fascinated by magic, romance and gothic stories. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Her oldest son, like many of her characters, has autism. Her youngest son is in the US army. A past Maggie Award finalist in both young-adult and paranormal romance, she’s a member of the Georgia Romance Writers of America. Debbie has a degree in English (Berry College, Georgia) and a master’s in library studies (University of Alabama).
As always, to my husband and parents for their support.
To my agent, Victoria Lea, Aponte Literary Agency, for her faith in my writing, and to Mills & Boon Nocturne editor Ann Leslie Tuttle, who gave me a publishing opportunity.
I also want to thank the amazing copy editors and proofreaders at Mills & Boon who whip my manuscripts into shape and make them shine.
Contents
Away down deep in the ’Bama bayou,
You’ll find a mysterious Gothic brew
Where Spanish moss drapes ancient oaks,
And sea-slithery lizards and gators croak.
The swampy water creeps ever in,
And lured down many a man has been
By magical, whispering, haunting sounds
Where not another soul is found.
Stay out of the water, whatever you do,
Ain’t no telling what will become of you
If you can’t resist a quick little dip.
Let me give you a tiny tip:
Should you feel a tug at your feet,
It mightn’t be the tide pulling underneath.
Be wary, human, you must beware—
For some say mermaids lurk down there.
“Siren’s Song,” old folk tune, Bayou La Siryna,
Alabama
Placing second or third? Not good enough.
She had to win the Undines’ Challenge this year at the Poseidon Games, had to discover the reason other merfolk shunned her.
Jet whipped her tail fin and surged forward through the turquoise water—pushing, pushing—speeding through the sea like a rocket, streams of bubbles in her wake. Only one goal consumed her.
Winning.
The adrenaline rush,