When it comes to love...
When expert surfer Josie Griffin has a rare wipeout, she's shocked to discover that a real-life treasure chest is to blame--one that contains a necklace hung with the biggest stone she's ever seen. But that's nothing compared to the shock she gets when she places the jewel around her neck. Instantly a mysterious little kilted man appears to inform her that the charm has betrothed her to an eighteenth-century Scottish laird! It's not that Josie has anything against handsome lairds--or older men. But three hundred plus years may be stretching things a bit. After all, she has a career to consider. And besides, she's sure the effects of her concussion will be wearing off any minute--until the minutes turn to hours...then days...
A little charm goes a long way
The spirit of Connal MacNeil has been waiting centuries for his betrothed to appear on Scotland's roaring shores. Josie's arrival with the MacNeil charm stone is his dream come true. Her passion is a fiery match to his own--and her powerful body is perfect for bearing the heir he plans. He bargained his soul for this last chance at prosperity, and he won't take no for an answer. Unfortunately the lass doesn't quite understand that destiny has bound them for all eternity. In fact, she seems determined to deny him at every turn--when she isn't busy with her foolhardy need to go wave hunting.
But it doesn't take long for other, more earthly MacNeil charms to take hold. For Josie is only human--and Connal has waited long enough for the love affair of his lifetime to finally begin....
At the start of this intergenerational romance she's a 25-year-old South Carolina surfergirl and he's a 300-year-old Scottish ghost Josie Griffin gets knocked off her surfboard by a sea-born treasure chest containing an ancient necklace set with a mysterious yellow stone. Which she dons. Which sets off a madcap chain of events starting with the appearance of a three-foot-tall, kilt-clad elf who informs Josie that her donning of the MacNeil clan stone has betrothed her to The MacNeil, otherwise known as Connal. This three-century-old, studly spirit looks to be only in his late 20s and, as his romantically tempted yet resistant "fiance" soon learns, he can solidify quite sufficiently to fulfill the clan stone's destiny to beget a clan heir. But when lust turns to love, Josie and Connal are faced with a tricky dilemma: How can they find happiness together as mortal and ghost? The book's charm lies not only in the titular jewel but in its playful plot, lively Scottish island setting, appropriately funny writing style and eccentric cast of characters which includes a gang of senior citizen surfers. With its well-balanced combination of humor and romance, this summer beach read is certain to make waves. (Aug.6) Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
Showing 1-2 of the 2 most recent reviews
1 . A true love story
Posted September 25, 2010 by Cat , MarsI loved this book. The characters are funny. It's heart warming!
2 . Hot and Funny
Posted April 24, 2009 by AVH , So. CalI love this book. I got it at a book store on a whim (It was a Buy 2 get 1 free deal, this was my free book) and boy I was glad I got it. The first couple of chapters and I was in giggle-fits, and hooked. I did not put it down until I finished it. Josie is a quick witted and stubborn fire-cracker, and Connal is definitely all man. I'm going to have to get this eBook, because I lent my copy to a friend and haven't seen it since!
July 29, 2002
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Excerpt from The Charm Stone by Donna Kauffman
Chapter 1 It wasn't every day that Josie Griffin got to rip the back end. Parker's Inlet wasn't exactly known for its monster wave action, but it was known for monster spring storms. Yesterday's had been a doozy, which was why she was here at dawn, paddling back out to take advantage of the poststorm wave surge, despite the frigid water temperatures. Life always seemed simpler from the top of a surfboard. Waves juiced up, crested, and pounded home. If you were lucky, you squeezed the juice, and if you weren't, the juice squeezed you. Which pretty much summed up life as far as Josie was concerned. All you had to do was keep from getting your juice squeezed too often. Pressing her belly to the board, she maneuvered her dad's newly designed shortboard as new sets built up behind her. She grinned with the sheer joy of having the whole Atlantic to herself. At least that's how it felt. Even in peak season, this part of the beach was usually deserted. It was a distance from the hotels and hard to get to through the dunes and high sea grass. But it had the best break around and today, in addition to the high surf, the wind was perfect, straight off the coast. So she'd left a message on her dad's machine and hiked in. She probably should have waited for him, but the siren call was too strong. He'd understand. He'd been answering that call since before she was born. After spending weeks on graphics for some particularly fussy clients, she welcomed a day of hooky, even if she was helping her dad out at the same time. He'd be happy with her report on the new design, she thought as she caught the outside and pushed to her feet. The nose was perfect, the board mindless. One of his best yet. She was grinning fiercely as she ripped her board across the shoulder, playing it before dumping out and heading back for more. Life doesn't get any better than this, she thought, then shivered and laughed. Well, it could be eighty degrees instead of sixty, and this could be the Pipeline in Hawaii or Australia's Gold Coast, instead of Parker's Inlet. But for South Carolina in May, this was pretty damn good. Timing it just right, she pushed to her feet once again, then dragged her fingers through the wall of water building behind her and shot like a bullet just under the edge of the curl. She tucked again and swerved to her right, squeezing as much out of the wave as she could. She caught another shoulder and juiced it out a little more, thinking this would only be better if her dad was out here with her. She loved watching him tackle the surf. She was still learning technique from him even after all these years. Her mind wandered off down memory lane . . . and she never saw what struck her board and sent her flying. She was smacking the water before she realized her board was no longer beneath her feet. The heavy undertow pulled her down, rolling her and dragging her against the bottom. The ride ended with a solid crack to the head courtesy of her surfboard, before depositing her in the surging foam near the shore. She caught her breath and took stock. It wasn't like her to lose focus like that. Even in relatively small waves like these, losing concentration could have deadly consequences. Especially when surfing alone, but she spared herself that lecture. Instead she scraped at the seaweed and sand coating her wet suit, then tugged the hood off and brushed her hair loose. Scooping up some water, she rinsed the grit off her face, gasping again when the salt water stung her forehead. She must have taken a pretty good hit. She gingerly felt along her hairline. "Great. Just great," she muttered as her fingers encountered a growing bump. Her face felt scraped up as well. She tried to piece together what had happened and remembered the thump just before she went flying. Her board had slammed into something.