Read Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) Online
Authors: Chrissy Peebles
Tags: #romance, #love, #fantasy, #paranormal
In Book 1 of this new series by
Award-winning author Catherine Wolffe, the Western Werewolf Legend
weaves a new blend of western romance with paranormal elements
involving werewolves and vampires.
Buyers
link:
The Lady in the Mist
http://tinyurl.com/bbm7ggk
The Lady
in the Mist
– Free Sample
http://tinyurl.com/ammhgwg
Comanche Haven (The Loflin
Legacy: Book 1)
From the moment Celia, the
emerald-eyed, Comanche half-breed, gets off the stage in Tyler,
Texas, Seth Loflin realizes he is on a collision course with the
past. She was his first love and now the Shooter Creek's ranch boss
can't allow her to succumb to the danger that stalks her. Someone
wants to kidnap her and sell her as a slave, but now that she's in
his protective arms, he intends to keep her safe.
Celia can't run back to the safety of
her former life in South Carolina. And if she stays at Shooter
Creek with Seth, she'll be putting the man she has always loved and
his ranch in danger of harboring a Comanche. But Seth refuses to
leave her side, and his vow to protect her gives Celia the hope and
courage she needs. Now she'll fight for her new life with Seth...or
die trying.
Buyers
link:
Comanche Haven
http://tinyurl.com/asbadal
Comanche
Haven – Free Sample
http://tinyurl.com/bps6rtp
A Dance in Time (J.T.
Leighton, Time Traveler #1)
J.T. Leighton was a good Marine until
one extraordinary night in Iraq. Now he’s a good Private
Investigator with special skills. He’s on the trail of a woman
who’s acquired a priceless necklace. His superiors want her killed,
but J.T. wants her. Discovering why will put their lives in
jeopardy.
Jessie Colter always wanted to be a
dancer. Now, her life’s on hold until she can understand what the
strange request left by her deceased parents means. She turns to
J.T. Leighton, the only person who believes her, and in doing so,
understands more than she’d ever imagined.
Buyer’s
link:
A Dance in Time
http://tinyurl.com/c24lup9
Learn
more at
www.catherinewolffe.com
www.catherinewolffe.wordpress.com
https://www.facebook.com/AwardWinningAuthorCatherineWolffe
http://twitter.com/catherinewolffe/
http://www.freado.com/users/34241/Catherine-Wolffe
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Catherine Wolffe enjoys writing. She
loves experimenting with the genres and her latest book reflects a
blending of the traditional western romance with paranormal
elements. Dabbling in time travel, fantasy, as well as witchcraft,
she mixes elements of the fanciful or otherworldly with solid
historical figures. Showcasing cowboys, Indians, strong-willed
women and steamy romance is her passion. In her romances, her
heroines will have a mind of their own, while her heroes will have
hearts of gold. All her characters will follow their dreams,
because without them, there wouldn't be a story.
Learn
more at
www.catherinewolffe.com
Book
5
– Tara Rose
A
Grave
Exchange
Tara Rose Copyright
2013
Table of Contents
Dedication
I would
like to dedicate this book to my family—Joe, Jack, and Jemma Jane.
You are my
inspiration
on a daily basis; I love you forever and always. Keep laughing
and loving. You are everything to me.
I would like to thank my editor,
Nicholas Denmon and Heidi Cormode's editing team for without your
guidance; I would have drowned in a sea of confusion. You truly
kept my head afloat and grounded me when I needed it. Forever
obliged and totally recommend.
I would
like to thank a few authors who have rocked my world time and time
again with the stories they created, their characters making me
laugh, cry, and shout for joy. I am forever indebted to you ladies:
Tina Folsom, Tessa Dawn, Larissa Ione and Kresley Cole. Keep
inspiring
me
; keep
making me stay up all night just to scream in frustration when the
book ends.
I would like to thank a very special
muse of mine, a beautiful man, Jimmy Thomas, who happens to be the
cover model on my book; your kindness and knowledge knows no
bounds. Thank you for your time and unending ideas. Keep up the
good work!
I would like to thank cover artist
Angela Waters for her beautiful talent on creating the cover for my
story.
I would also like to thank some
beautiful friends of mine, without whom, this story would not have
been told. Ladies, you are awesome. Keep believing in fairytales. I
love you all. For Jamallah Bergman, Sharon Hamilton, Shannon Reads,
Natalie Hancock, and Michelle Pillatzke.
Chapter One
Of course, I realized the folly of my
ways as I crisscrossed my way over the old mounds in the cemetery,
but to my credit, I felt I as if I was okay. The neighbors, after
all, would not disturb me this quiet night. So what if it was after
midnight? So what if a black cat haphazardly ran in front of
me?
I felt certain I’d made a wise
decision. And yet, my heart beat so hard, I felt as if it might
jump out of my chest. My mouth was bone dry, and no doubt, the full
moon played a part in this seduction of my nerves.
Quietly,
I walked around an eighteenth-century tombstone, noting the name
carved in its granite face: Lucius Roman Valentine. Goose bumps
rose on my arms as I stood there, and I rolled my eyes.
This is what you get for coming here after dark,
dumb ass
. But the route cut several minutes
off the time it took for me to reach my apartment, and the
graveyard was far safer than the alleyways.
Cursing my waning bravery, I pulled my
jacket tighter around me. I hurried along the old cobbled pavement,
trying not to let my overactive imagination cause me to die of a
heart attack.
A branch cracked, and I stopped dead
in my tracks.
“
It’s just a squirrel,” I
whispered into the sudden silence. “Um . . . right? I mean, they do
make noise when they walk, don't they?”
Another
crunch, this time obviously the sound of footsteps on the path
behind me, had me spinning around. Violent shivers wracked my
body.
Don’t scream
, I told myself.
Not straight
away
. Perhaps someone else had chosen to
take a shortcut this night. I squinted into the darkness, and my
breath stuck in my lungs. Him! The man who’d haunted my dreams. He
stood before me like a specter, and sweet, divine God's . . .
Michael Angelo would weep were he to lay eyes on the man. He was
perfection personified, and every pore in my body oozed pheromones
in reaction to his beauty. I realized I was gawking and quickly
shut my mouth. My breathing had turned to feeble pants. The
stranger chose that moment to smile, and to my utter shame, I
reacted as if this were my first time faced with a handsome man. My
legs buckled, and I fell to my knees.
Who are you?
The man tilted his head, as if he were
contemplating my question. No way. Absurd to think he could read my
mind. Lord, I was fast losing my grip on reality.
His smile broadened, and although I would
not have thought it a possibility, he grew even more beautiful,
like an angel come to stand before me. Thinking clearly grew
difficult, so affected was I by his exquisite form. I found myself
longing to kiss him, and the shocking thought quickly led to
another.
Why, oh, why did I choose to walk
through this cemetery tonight
? I truly
wished I had not.
"Why not, little one?"
My eyes
grew wide.
Holy
—!
Seriously! Had he really just read my mind, or had I unknowingly
spoken aloud?
Again, he smiled. "My name is Lucius,
but you know that already."
Dear God. My labored breathing worked
up a hundred notches to reach crisis level. If I weren’t careful, I
might well hyperventilate. This couldn’t be real. I couldn’t be
kneeling here on the ground in the middle of a graveyard, gazing up
at the very man I had dreamed of over and over again, night after
night, for longer than I could remember. And every night, I’d hoped
and prayed he would somehow become a reality—like that old song
goes, “step out of my dream, and into my arms.” But how could this
possibly be? Answer—it couldn’t. Women weren’t able to simply dream
up a man and have him appear out of thin air. Right?
Strong, cool hands touched my
shoulders, defying me to deny the man’s existence. He stood
there—in the flesh; I didn't need to look to confirm he was still
there. He’d given his name—the same name on the headstone I’d just
passed.
“
Breathe, little one,” he
said, brushing my hair out of my face. “Deeply and
slowly.”
I struggled to obey his command, but
my breaths came out painfully quick, my heart exploding into a
bloom of desire. He dropped to kneel in front of me, cupped my face
with a strong yet tender touch.
Momentarily weakened by his presence,
I could not speak. My mind fought to explain the impossible. Lucius
Valentine—man of my dreams, literally—knelt before me, gazing into
my eyes. My heart raced, bordering on a dangerous
rhythm.
Captured by his gaze, I studied him
intently. His eyes were a molten grey with emerald flecks, his face
looked as if it were hand-sculpted by heavenly angels, and surely
they wept when they let him go.
As I
pondered his unrivalled beauty, he moved forward. My breath
hitched, my heart stopped it's frantic tango. Was he going to kiss
me? Surely not! He stroked my cheek with his thumb, while gazing
into my eyes.
This has to be a
dream
, I thought, and Lucius smiled. I
swore the clouds parted over the full moon, the animals stopped
their nocturnal chorus, and we all waited silently in that
suspended moment.
“
Dear,
sweet, beautiful Ivy, you are my guiding light, like the brightest
star in the universe, shining down to show me the path I must take
in this life. I would follow you anywhere, do anything to please
you,
be
anything
you need. Sweetest Ivy, there are not enough words in any language
to convey what I feel for you.”
Focusing on all the delicious words
falling from Lucius’ lips, I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath.
What was happening, here? Had I tripped? Fallen to the ground,
knocking myself out on a headstone on the way down? Was this all
nothing more than a dream, brought on by my unconscious mind? But
no . . . this felt too real. Perhaps, Lucius was my dream man’s
dopple ganger. The spitting image of the handsome guy who’d haunted
me forever, who just happened to stumble upon me here, in the
middle of a graveyard. I shook my head. That didn’t make sense,
either. And yet, to deny the man’s existence meant admitting the
possibility I’d lost my mind. Gone crazy, for some reason, and now
I was standing here having a conversation with a man I’d created
out of thin air.