Under Tanner's Thumb [An Adult Fairy Tale] (Siren Publishing Classic) [NOOK Book]

Overview

[Siren Classic: Erotic Cowboys Romance, Contemporary] Tanner Clinton plays along with his nephew, Jeremy, when the little tyke casts a spell on him over the phone. Believing he turned his uncle into Tom Thumb, Jeremy tells Tanner he needs to kiss a fairy princess and nuzzle her neck before he'll be six foot tall again. While sipping a glass of wine, Camille Barton knows she's losing it big time when a two-inch naked man suddenly appears on her porch one evening. The wine is supposed to tamp down the anger brewing inside her system that her no ...
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Under Tanner's Thumb [An Adult Fairy Tale] (Siren Publishing Classic)

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Overview

[Siren Classic: Erotic Cowboys Romance, Contemporary] Tanner Clinton plays along with his nephew, Jeremy, when the little tyke casts a spell on him over the phone. Believing he turned his uncle into Tom Thumb, Jeremy tells Tanner he needs to kiss a fairy princess and nuzzle her neck before he'll be six foot tall again. While sipping a glass of wine, Camille Barton knows she's losing it big time when a two-inch naked man suddenly appears on her porch one evening. The wine is supposed to tamp down the anger brewing inside her system that her no good boyfriend caused, not make her hallucinate. The voice that vibrates from the tiny man is rich and seductive. Camille wishes that deep irresistible voice accompanied a normal-sized man instead of one the size of Tom Thumb. When the man asks her if she can put him up for the night, Camille figures she's already a case for the psychiatric journals, so why not? And when she wakes up in the morning with a six foot hunk of burning love... ** A Siren Erotic Romance
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781933563848
  • Publisher: Siren-BookStrand
  • Publication date: 4/1/2007
  • Series: A Siren Adult Fairy Tale
  • Sold by: Barnes & Noble
  • Format: eBook
  • Sales rank: 1,145,401
  • File size: 481 KB

Read an Excerpt

Camille Barton sat on her back porch, listening to the creak of the ancient wooden rocking chair as she sipped her wine. The cool, April night air soothed the anger still brewing inside of her. Of course, the red wine helped, too. Another one bites the dust.

Stood up again. How many times did that make for her now? Todd Wilson would never set foot inside her house again or in her bed for that matter. She was certain of that after the message she'd left on his answering machine an hour ago. No more dangling by her fingertips from a cliff waiting for him to show up for their dates. One of these years, she might learn.

Ready to take another sip of wine, she nearly leaped out of her skin at the sound of a deep, masculine voice.

"Do you think you could help me, lady?"

Her eyes quickly scanned her backyard. The porch light over her head only illuminated so far into the yard. Springing up from the rocker, she walked to the edge of the porch and searched for the source of that deep, husky voice.

"Careful. You damned near stepped on me."

"What?"

"Look down by your left foot."

Bullets of fear shot through her at the bizarre request and the fact she couldn't see the man. Since she hadn't even finished her first glass of wine yet, there was no way she was falling down drunk. Besides, she didn't do falling down drunk. The bulb near the door afforded enough light for her to see the entire porch clearly. Goose bumps popped out on her flesh, but that could be because she didn't have on a jacket. Her instincts warned her to bolt inside the house and quick, but when she heard that seductive male voice again...

"Can you please just look down?"

Themasculine voice held a richness to it, reminding her of a decadent two layer dark chocolate cake. Sucking in a deep breath, she slowly lowered her eyes.

"Ohmigod!" She jumped back, and the wine glass slipped from her fingers, shattering into a dozen pieces across the porch boards.

"Jesus, you could have killed me."

Staring down at the tiny creature standing on her porch, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Camille blinked and shook her head simultaneously. She'd skipped dinner because Todd was supposed to have taken her out to dinner. Still, there was no way that one glass of wine could make her hallucinate.

She blinked several more times more to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. Sure enough, a tiny naked man about two inches tall, hands resting on his hips, stood near her left foot, staring up at her.

"You wouldn't happen to be a fairy princess would you?" he said.

"Come again?" Good lord, was she really talking to a two-inch naked man? It had been a long day at work, not to mention the disappointing and anger filled evening. But still...

"I need to be kissed by a fairy princess," he paused. "Oh yeah, and I have to nuzzle her neck, too, so I can grow back to my regular size."

Shaking her head again, Camille hoped to toss aside the effects of the red wine, if that was possible.

"It's pretty damn cold out here."

"Well ... um ... that's because you're naked."

"I don't remember Tom Thumb running around naked," he grumbled.

Tom Thumb, the fairy tale? It had been years since she'd read that book. And it had been a fairy tale. She was firmly rooted in reality with her job as an accountant at a local bank and a no good boyfriend. Correction. Ex-boyfriend.

"Do you have any clothes that would fit me?"

That manly voice...

Geez, even her old Barbie doll's clothes would be too big for this little guy. "No, not really."

Camille kept expecting him to disappear because stress had to be responsible for causing this episode. Episode of what, she wasn't sure. She had leaped off her rocker literally. "Are you for real?"

He held up his hands and circled around. "Do I look real?"

"You know, I have to be honest here. You're about two inches tall, so no, you don't look real."

"Jeremy cast a spell on me."

For a smidgen of a thing, he had a voice that could seduce and tempt a woman. "And who might Jeremy be?"

"My five-year-old nephew."

"Your five-year-old nephew cast a spell on you? Yeah, right. And I'm really Cindy Crawford."

"You kind of look like her, but no way as tall. Your hair's about the same color, but shorter," he paused. "And you're more curvy."

Oh, now she felt positively certifiable because it sounded like the little man was coming onto her. Had she conjured him up because of Todd's thoughtlessness and insensitivity over the past several months? If that was the case, why couldn't her imagination at least get the guy up to normal size?

"I'm going to bed." Practical was her middle name. Engaged in a conversation with a runt of a guy that had a deep, intoxicating voice didn't fit into the parameters of her practicality.

"Are you going to leave me out here to freeze to death?"

Chewing on her bottom lip, she stared down at him. Dark, midnight colored hair covered his teeny, tiny head. And it looked like the same black hair covered his chest and his ... uh, oh. Bending forward from the waist, she saw that he had all of his man equipment, only in miniature.

Camille considered calling the local mental hospital and begging them to come and cart her off.

"Touch me," he said.

So the bogus Tom Thumb was a pervert to boot. "Sorry, no can do."

"If you touch me, you'll see I'm a real man. All flesh and blood."

True, the measure of man wasn't determined by his size, but this was pushing the envelope a tad too far.

"Come on," he coaxed in a husky voice. "Then you'll know I'm for real."

Why the hell not? Her evening had already turned out to be a wash out, she might as well play along. She crouched down and slowly reached out, letting her hand hover over his head. Working up the nerve to actually touch Mr. Tom Thumb, she gently poked him in the chest with her forefinger.

A mixture of fear and confusion raced through her because he actually felt like a man of flesh and blood. Camille leaped up. "I'm losing it. I mean, big time losing it."

Spinning around, she padded across the porch.

"You just can't find it in your heart to put a guy up for the night?"

Camille stopped and glanced over her shoulder. She wanted her practical life back. A practical man, and a practical picket fence to go along with it.

The voice that boomed out of him did things to her. If a naked man had to show up suddenly on her porch, why couldn't he be a tall, muscular hottie? If he really was a man. Because if he was a normal sized man, that voice of his could get her to do things. Impractical things. Sexy things.

In the morning, she'd wake up and realize this had all been some cock-eyed, twisted, insane dream. "Sure. Why not? Follow me."

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