By Sandra Hill
What if a chemist invented a true love potion? What if the elixir have been installed jelly beans? What if a man...the flawed man...ate the jelly beans? Dr. Sylvie Fontaine...chemist extraordinaire. Lucien LeDeux..."The Swamp Solicitor," aka "Bay Boy of the Bayou." Holy Crawfish! The South may well certainly upward thrust again... If the rebels might simply cease giggling.
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Extra info for The Love Potion
He choked out. " He gaped at Tante Lulu for a long moment, wondering why she thought she needed a love potion. But then he'd been surprised that Sylvie would want such a thing, too. Women! Go figure. He'd like to see the guy who'd rely on such a harebrained idea for a chick magnet. Nope, real men sucked in their guts, slapped on the ol' aftershave and a tight pair of jeans. If they were really dumb, fancy boots and a cowboy hat, too. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Those were the breaks.
How dare you listen to my private messages? " Luc ducked just in time, and the umbrella came down with a whack on her great-grandmother's Queen Anne side table, knocking the phone and answering machine to the floor. Aunt Madeline was spouting off now. "Don't forget now, dear. You mustn't make any deals for your love potion. The formula could be very valuable. In fact, Margo and I might be able to help you out… for a fee, of course. We might even be able to market it through our herbal tea company.
And a racetrack fanatic. In fact, for her last birthday—her seventy-fifth, no matter what she said—he'd taken her to Pelican Track to bet on the ponies. She'd had such a good time, you would have thought he'd taken her to Buckingham Palace. "Sunday? This ain't Sunday. You've lost a day, sonny boy. " "Monday? It can't be! " He jumped up, which caused his head to throb like a fifty-pound jackhammer. Making some swift mental calculations on how long it would take him to shower, shave, and get on over to Terrebonne Pharmaceuticals, he rubbed his bristly face and realized that he must not have shaved in days.