He was sent to save her life, but ended up losing his heart, memories, and clothes.
Eden Credere should be in Barbados with her new husband. Instead, it was like she married Murphy and his law was ruining her life. She’d lost her dad, her job, her best friend, and her fiancé. After drowning her sorrows with rum and eggnog on Christmas Eve, she takes a tumble in a tree lot with a Douglas Fir, sending Eden over the edge.
Theliel has watched over Eden her entire life, from her first steps to her latest, where she dove in a tree lot. He’s always been there to save her, and this time should have been no different—until it was. As her guardian angel, he’s not supposed to be seen, but one corporeal slip-up later, and he’s got a lot of explaining to do.
As Theliel works to convince Eden why the world is a much better place with her in it, he finds himself the one falling, and it’s Eden who catches his heart. In a twist of fate, Theliel must not earn his wings, but his humanity by convincing Eden they’re meant to be together.
The only problem is neither of them remember who he is when he wakes up on Christmas morning in a snowbank with no memories and no clothes. With the magic of Christmas in the air, love in their hearts, a vision of yoga pants, and maybe a little help from their “friends”, all they have to do is believe.
I wandered out to my living room. In front of the window stood an enormous Douglas fir. The image of the tree in my face flashed before me, and I stumbled backward until I hit the sofa. Stairs creaked down the hall, and adrenaline burst through my heart, tingling its way through my frozen limbs. I scrambled around my living room, looking for something to defend myself with. All I could come up with was spray bleach. I dashed to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle from the counter.
But what thief brought a tree instead of stealing one?
Heavy boots lumbered across the hardwood floor until a man came into view. I held up the spray bottle, nozzle turned to stream for max effect, and took my best Charlie’s Angels stance.
“Who the hell are you, and why are you in my house?”
The man turned around. His long, flowing blond hair whipped around his shoulders, and he looked at me with a quirked brow. “What are you doing, Eden?”
I blinked. The assailant knew my name. I blinked again and dropped the bottle. It was him. The man, the one from my dreams I could never remember. He stared at me with such a quizzical expression a laugh popped from my throat.
“You,” I whooshed out in more of a mumble than a word.
“I was getting your Christmas decorations down from the attic. I didn’t want you trying to carry the heavy boxes with your sore wrist. I’m sorry if I woke you.” His sad eyes and sullen lips oozed regret and remorse.
“I’m sorry. I don’t…who are you?” I took a tentative step closer. “You remind me of someone. But that can’t even…” I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. Pain in my wrist shot back another memory of being in the ER and a cute doctor. “My wrist. Pain. Pills. Oh, sweet baby Jesus.” The heat of embarrassment splattered over my cheeks.
“Did you sleep okay? You’ve been out for several hours. It’s nearly five o’clock.” The hot lumberjack nodded toward the clock above me.
“The—Theliel,” I whispered. I didn’t know where it came from, but the name burst from my lips.
“Yes?” He tilted his head.
“You’re him, aren’t you?” I braved the question as all the memories of the morning rushed back, this time in proper order.
That sexy brow lifted, and a smirk spread over his face. “I am. But you like to call me Theo.”
“No, I mean the one from my dreams!” The urge to run my hand along his incredibly marbled cheek overwhelmed me, but I pulled back my arm as I stepped closer to him, inspecting him.
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m sure when the pain pills knocked you out, you probably recounted the events of the day in your head as you slept.” He shrugged.
“No—I mean, yes. But not just today. I mean every day. Every damn day of my life. You’re him. You’re the one who I see in my sleep. You’re the one who I can’t remember when I wake. It’s you. You’re here. I just don’t understand how.”
“You dream of me?” The box dropped from his hands and clunked to the floor. I prayed it wasn’t the one holding all my antique ornaments.
We both glanced at the box on the floor and dived to clean up the contents. Our hands touched and a spark lit our fingertips, but I chalked it up to static electricity. We pulled away and stared at each other, and for the first time, I really looked at his face. I remembered those blue eyes when he removed the tree from my face. But what I didn’t remember was how they sparkled in three different shades. I remembered the warmth of his hand along my head as he caught me when I fell. What I didn’t remember were the size of them: large, long, and so soft—not the hands of a laborer. I remembered the way his hair flowed around him, like he stepped out of a shampoo commercial. What I didn’t remember was that every single strand was a different shade of gold. Or that his skin almost glowed. Or that he smelled like coffee.
Oh, wait, I did remember that part, the part where I launched a latte at him. I thrust my hand to his chest and nearly knocked him over. “You should take that off.”
He blinked and stared at me as he tried to steady himself. “Wh-What?”
“The shirt. I’ll wash it for you. You shouldn’t have to wear a stained shirt for the rest of the day. Unless you’re leaving right away…I mean you don’t have to. If you want to stay, I’ll wash you…I mean your shirt. I’ll wash your shirt and you can wash yourself, if you want to shower.” I cleared my throat and released my grip on him.
“I’ll be fine.” He glanced down at his shirt. “Do you think I should? Shower that is. Do I smell bad? I didn’t even think about it. I don’t want you to have to go to any trouble.” The lost look in his eyes pierced my soul, like he’d never had anyone offer to help him before, and I ached to take care of him in any way I could. He’d already done so much for me, it warmed me inside to be able to do so for him.
“You don’t smell bad. You smell like sunshine and peppermint, and a little like coffee. But you might feel better if you cleaned up.” I slipped my hands under the hem of his shirt, and he sucked in a breath. I slid my fingertips along his chest as I pushed the material up his torso and over his head. I sat back, staring at his skin as smooth as silk, caramelized with a golden tan.
He stared back, his chest heaving powerful thrusts of air in and out of his lungs. I thought maybe he was asthmatic. I’d be happy to give him mouth to mouth.
“You smell like flowers and happiness,” he said on the wing of one of his heavy breaths.
“Really? I thought I probably smelled like desperation and rum.”
Wren hails from the frozen tundra of Wisconsin where beer and cheese are their own food groups. But a cowboy swept her off her feet and carried her to Texas, where she promptly lost all tolerance for cold and snow. Fueled by coffee, dreams, and men in kilts, Wren promises to bring you laughter, heart-fluttering romance, and action that keeps you on the edge of your seat.
A Regency romance on the high seas. Two hearts yearning to find a safe harbor, and possibly, a lasting love.
As a young girl, Georgana Woodall dreamed of beautiful dresses, fancy balls, and falling in love. However, when her mother dies, she cannot face a future under the guardianship of her abusive grandmother and instead chooses to join her father on his ship disguised as his cabin boy, “George.”
Lieutenant Dominic Peyton has no time in his life for love, not with his dedication to His Majesty’s Royal Navy claiming his full attention. While trying to adjust to a new crew, he strives to be an exemplary officer and leader. When he sees the captain’s cabin boy being harassed by the crew, he immediately puts a stop to it and takes the “boy” under his wing.
After discovering a number of clues, Dominic deduces that George is really a woman. Knowing that revealing the cabin boy’s secret would put her in serious danger from the rowdy crew, Dominic keeps silent and hides his growing affection for her. Georgana is quickly losing her heart to Dominic’s compassion and care but is convinced nothing can come of her affection. She cannot continue to live her life on the sea, and having already missed too many seasons in London, her chances of being welcomed back into polite society and finding a suitable husband are quickly slipping away.
Georgana stumbled to the mainmast and collapsed against it. He stopped beside her, hands on his knees and gasping for breath.
A laugh—a warm flash that split the night—spilled out as she slid down the mast to sit on the deck. No one glanced their way, and the feminine tone was lost in the shouts of the next round of dancers. Little droplets glinted from corners of her eyes.
He sank quietly to the floor beside her, not wanting to disrupt the scene. She drew in gulps of fresh sea air as her peal of laughter wafted away like autumn leaves on the wind. It was no wonder she never laughed on board. She’d mastered the facade of a shy cabin boy, but he didn’t think she could ever mask her laugh.
She wiped the moisture from her eyes and watched the bright moon above them. He ignored the moon and the way it tripped across the waves. Tonight he forgot the ocean. He watched her.
His heart pounded between his ribs, and he nearly let it push him forward to kiss that contented smile. How would it feel to have Georgana Woodall’s soft lips caressing his own? To be wanted by someone like her would be a wondrous thing.
Dominic straightened, giving his head a sharp shake. What was he thinking? As though he could ever conceal a kiss with three hundred other men milling about or while this close to her father. Besides, he couldn’t see her welcoming a kiss that could compromise her disguise.
“What is it? Are you sure you’re well, Lieutenant?” She leaned toward him, face upturned. He needed to get out before his reckless nature took over and he did something they’d all regret. “Yes, quite well.”
Arlem Hawks began making up stories before she could write. Living all over the Western United States and traveling around the world gave her a love of cultures and people, and the stories they have to tell. She graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in communications and emphasis in print journalism, and now lives in Arizona with her husband and three children.
Christmas isn’t fashion editor Roxanne Hudson’s style, but when she finds herself snowed in with a handsome stranger, she might just discover the magic of the season after all.
Roxanne Hudson does not like the holidays. They come with too many family obligations that take her away from work as a rising fashion editor in New York City. But this Christmas might be Grandma Myrtle’s last, and Roxanne’s parents want her to spend the holiday at the family cabin in the Green Mountains. With her boyfriend out of the country for a photo shoot, Roxanne decides to brave the long commute—and the wilderness—to spend Christmas in Vermont.
After an uncomfortable call from her boyfriend starts the trip off badly, Roxanne is blindsided by a blizzard on the snowy mountain road, where the last thing she hears before losing consciousness is sleigh bells. When she’s rescued by Mark Foster, a handsome park ranger who’s the exact opposite of everything she always thought she wanted, Roxanne seeks her grandmother’s wisdom and discovers an uncanny connection that could be a sign of what her life is really meant to be.
Myrtle laughed, took a long draw from her cocoa, and set the empty mug on her lap.
“Change is sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always constant, and it doesn’t worry itself with timelines.” The old woman cast a long, thoughtful look out into the night. “If something doesn’t feel right, it’s usually not. You know, when I first met your grandfather, I could have sworn I heard bells, I was so smitten. No rhyme or reason for it, but one look at Jimmy was enough to change the rest of my life.”
“Bells?” Roxanne echoed. She remembered the bells she’d been hearing for the past couple of days. They’d started right at the moment of her accident and ended the moment Mark had walked away. But a few days wasn’t enough time to fall in love with someone, was it? The Roxanne of last week would have said no way, but today’s Roxanne wasn’t so sure. She recalled the way Mark’s lips had felt against hers under the mistletoe in the snow and realized she would be happy if that was the last first kiss she ever had. Maybe there was something to all Mark’s hokum about Christmas magic after all. It sure had made a believer out of her.
“Bells,” Grandma Myrtle confirmed, her voice dropping to a whisper as she fingered her wedding band. “Used to hear them jingling every time he kissed me,” she said with a sad smile. “Jimmy’s been gone for over ten years, and sometimes, when I miss him the most, I think I can still hear them. Especially on nights like tonight.”
“Why tonight?” Roxanne asked.
“Because it’s Christmas.” Myrtle laughed, as if it were obvious. “The season of love—love of the deepest kind.” She motioned at the box in Roxanne’s hand. “Not the kind that can be bought in a store, either. The kind what makes Christmas so magical is in here.”
She placed her hand over Roxanne’s heart.
“You’re a smart lady, Grandma Myrtle,” Roxanne said, reaching up to cover her grandmother’s hand with hers. Myrtle laughed. “Oh, honey, when you get to be my age you can’t help but be smart. You’ve had a whole lot of life to put behind you and learned a lot of lessons along the way. Some are easy, some are hard, but either way, you’re going to learn them, like it or not.”
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
Title: The Final Play Author: Amie Knight Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance
As a professional linebacker, I lived and breathed football.
The only thing I loved as much as the game was my twin brother, Max, who kept me almost as busy cleaning up his messes.
The most recent of which landed him behind bars.
So, it shouldn’t have surprised me when a beautiful woman showed up on my doorstep, claiming to be pregnant with Max’s baby.
Glory was unexpected, infuriating, and flat-out crazy most of the time.
But no matter how hard I tried to deny it, that tiny spitfire slammed into my boring life with the strength of a Category 5 hurricane, blowing through my defenses until she’d carved her name in my heart—permanently.
I feared we would never work. She was a single mom, my brother’s ex, and one more chance for me to fail yet another person I loved. But if football was my church, then Glory was my heaven
Amie Knight has been a reader for as long as she could remember and a romance lover since she could get her hands on her momma’s books. A dedicated wife and mother with a love of music and makeup, she won’t ever be seen leaving the house without her eyebrows and eyelashes done just right. When she isn’t reading and writing, you can catch her jamming out in the car with her two kids to ’90s R&B, country, and showtunes. Amie draws inspiration from her childhood in Columbia, South Carolina, and can’t imagine living anywhere other than the South.
Kelsey Clayton is a USA Today bestselling author of Contemporary Romance novels. She lives in a small town in Delaware with her husband, two kids, and dog.
She is an avid reader of fall hard romance. She believes that books are the best escape you can find, and that if you feel a range of emotions while reading her stories – she succeeded. She loves writing and is only getting started on this life long journey.
Kelsey likes to keep things in her life simple. Her ideal night is one with sweatpants, a fluffy blanket, cheese fries, and wine. She holds her friends and family close to her heart and would do just about anything to make them happy.
I like to write about twisty dark things, you know… since my life is lollipops and rainbows. The computer screen is my canvas and the keyboard my brush, thank you for viewing my masterpieces.
Yolanda Olson is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author. Born and raised in Bridgeport, CT where she currently resides, she usually spends her time watching her favorite channel, Investigation Discovery. Occasionally, she takes a break to write books and test the limits of her mind. Also an avid horror movie fan, she likes to incorporate dark elements into the majority of her books.
Forsaken. Deathless. A monster in every way. Mostly, Brochan is determined. He craves what fate promised him—the woman who will help him conquer a heavenly kingdom. He will stop at nothing to win her.
Viola, Keeper of the demon of Narcissism, lives for a single purpose—treating herself and her pet to the best life possible. But a crazed warrior is now appearing everywhere she ventures, ruining her fun . . . tempting her beyond reason and keeping her at a razor-edge of desire. Though legions of males have attempted to win her, all have failed. Somehow, this rampaging beast is tearing down her walls, one by one, claiming he owns her heart and her very destiny. To be with him, however, she must defeat the only force strong enough to destroy her—love.
No, he couldn’t be. The rogue had also delivered cleaning supplies and clothing: T-shirts and sweatpants she’d rather die than wear, as well as a French maid costume. The cruel beast obviously taunted her.
She was right the first time. Definitely hate him.
When next she caught sight of him, she would tell him. During every delivery, he had somehow remained hidden, as if he’d known when she slumbered, the coast clear. Even though she didn’t have a set schedule or know when she would succumb to the need for rest. Did he ever ponder their kiss? Or crave more of her?
A fresh tide of anger frothed. He’d gifted her with the best kiss of her life, the truth of his adoration drowning out the demon’s lies. Then he had rejected her. Abandoned her.
He must know what separation from an adoring public did to her. He’d followed her for months. But still, he stayed away?
That settled it. No more kisses for him!
Tremors shook her as she motored forward. When her knees almost buckled, she whimpered. The weakened demon was feeding, weakening her. The heartless fiend had even begun revealing those long-buried memories, the terrible truth now so clear…
As she’d smiled and chatted in those recollections, she’d destroyed people with her words. Males and females, mortals and immortals, had withered under her praises. Because her praises were insults!
Scraping noises halted her. Her ears twitched. Did she detect huffing too?
Someone was here!
Gasping, she pressed herself against the nearest wall, hiding in a shadowy corner. Though she was brave—the bravest!—she knew there were times to be leery. This was one such time. She had little strength and few weapons at her disposal.
Had the Forsaken found her? Maybe Brochan had returned for good. Perhaps a stranger had stumbled upon the realm. What if Fluffy had arrived?
Gena Showalter is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of a multitude of sub-genres within romance: paranormal, Fantasy, contemporary, and young adult. She’s also written standalone novels, novellas and anthologies, as well as co-authored a nonfiction guide about how to write a book in a year.
Gena lives in Oklahoma with her husband, two adult children who grew up way too fast, and menagerie of dogs and cats who enjoy farting while she works, walking across her keyboard during pivotal scenes and demanding pets at all hours of the day and night. Her novels have appeared in Cosmopolitan’s Red Hot Reads and Seventeen magazine. She’s been interviewed on Nightline and mentioned on Orange is the New Black—the very moment her family decided she might be a real writer after all.
Chances are good she’s hard at work on her next novel. Chances are even better that the book is a twisted tale featuring an alpha male with a dark side and the strong woman who (lovingly…sometimes) kneecaps him.
Once upon a time… A lost prince was robbed of the magic of the holiday season. Ribbons, glitter, tree-trimming, and love all denied for hateful reasons. What once was lost is now wondrously found. And, naturally, holiday shenanigans will abound. New York City is blanketed in pure white snow, the perfect date night setting to make your heart grow. Beneath the twinkling lights, the scent of fresh pine mingles, and the warmth of chocolate-filled mugs chase away any grinchy-grinch tingles. Zip up your coat and tug on your hat because spending this holiday season with your favorite misfits is where it’s at. For even the grumpiest grump of the bunch will have to admit ‘tis the season to be a merry misfit.
Experience the magic of New York City at Christmas with Fletcher and the rest of the misfit family as they create family traditions and memories through special dates and holiday fun. Be prepared for lots of fluff, laughter, grumbling grumps, swoony romance, and surprises! Merry Misfits is a special House of Misfits holiday novella featuring the entire misfit family and is told in alternating POVs from some of your favorites. Merry Misfits is approximately 48,000 words and is book five in the series.
Hands sliding beneath my arms, he lifted me out of the wheelchair like I weighed nothing, holding me up so my paralyzed legs and feet dangled over the floor. His arms didn’t even tremble with the effort, and I knew it was because he’d been lifting weights.
“He touch you?” he asked, eyes all squinty.
“I’d have brained him!”
His lips twitched. “You okay?”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s hardly the first person to ever say mean things to me.”
He jolted. “Who else was mean to you?”
I patted his shoulder. “No one.”
“I should have killed him.”
“You can’t kill people at Christmas.”
“So I can kill him after New Year’s?” I could see him already plotting in that villainous head of his.
“No. You promised.”
His whole face softened. “I know, sprite. Why do you think I went so easy on him?”
Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.
Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).
Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.
Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.
Vera Sorokina loves reading the Penny Dreadfuls and immersing herself in tales of adventure, mystery, and romance. Her own days are filled with the often mundane work of running the book and print shop she owns with her father. The shop offers her the freedom and income to employ and protect the poverty-stricken Londoners she’s come to care about, and it gives her father something to do other than long for their hometown of St. Petersburg. She is grateful for the stability in their lives, but she often feels lonely.
Brogan Donnelly was born and raised in Ireland, but has lived in London for several years, where he’s built a career as a Penny Dreadful writer. He has dedicated himself to the plight of the poor with the help of his sister. His membership in the secretive Dread Penny Society allows him to feel he isn’t entirely wasting his life, yet he feels dissatisfied. With no one to share his life with but his sister, he fears London will never truly feel like home.
Brogan and Vera’s paths cross, and the attraction is both immediate and ill-advised. Vera knows from past experience that writers are never to be trusted, and Brogan has reason to suspect not everything at her print shop is aboveboard. When the growing criminal enterprise run by the elusive and violent Mastiff begins targeting their area of London, Brogan and Vera must work together to protect the community they’ve both grown to love. But that means they’ll need to learn to trust each other with dangerous secrets that have followed both of them from their home countries.
Guest Post ~ Real Life Setting from The Merchant and the Rogue
The Merchant and the Rogue contains a story, written in the style of a 19th Century “Penny Dreadful”–a story, usually melodramatic and over-the-top, that was published in serial form for one penny per installment–as it would have been written by the hero of The Merchant and the Rogue, Brogan Donnelly.
I set this story, a mystery filled with creepy scenery and disconcerting characters, in the real-life Museum of Natural History in Dublin, Ireland. This museum was opened in 1856 in a stately Dublin building, and very little about it has changed since. It is often described as “a museum of a museum.” Walking through this piece of Dublin history is like stepping back in time. And it is one of the most wonderfully creepy places I have ever had the joy of visiting.
The large, four-story building is filled to the rafters with taxidermied animals, skeletons, pelts, preserved fauna. Many of the specimens have been on display for over 150 years. This museum, filled with once-living creatures, is known affectionately amongst the locals in Dublin as “The Dead Zoo.”
The museum offers an online virtual tour of the exhibits, the main hall, the wings and balconies, and it is fascinating! Go have a virtual look around, then go read “The Dead Zoo” woven through The Merchant and the Rogue. The creepiness of it is some of the most fun I’ve had creating a setting.Pick Up Your Copy Today
Sarah M. Eden is a USA Today best-selling author of witty and charming historical romances, including 2020’s Foreword Reviews INDIE Awards Gold Winner for Romance, Forget Me Not, and 2020 Holt Medallion finalist, Healing Hearts. She is a two-time “Best of State” Gold Medal winner for fiction and a three-time Whitney Award winner. Combining her obsession with history and her affinity for tender love stories, Sarah loves crafting deep characters and heartfelt romances set against rich historical backdrops. She holds a bachelor’s degree in research and happily spends hours perusing the reference shelves of her local library.
Title: A Moment After Dark Author: Janey Raye Stevens Genre: Paranormal Historical Suspense
She sees the future with a touch. A powerful gift in a time of war. The enemy wants her. The Allies need her.
Addie Brandt is cursed. When she touches someone, or an object that belongs to them, she sees their future, and it’s rarely good. Mocked and teased her whole life, Addie hides from the world in her family’s funeral home. But when her second sight shows her a horrific vision of an attack on the Pearl Harbor Naval base, the gruesome images are too intense to ignore, and she tries to raise the alarm. Will anyone listen?
Federal agent Jack Dunstan needs a miracle. He’s still reeling from the betrayal that nearly decimated his team of agents with paranormal powers, a vengeful Nazi spy with a terrifying ability of his own is out to destroy him, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before America is drawn into the war raging around the world. Hearing rumors of Addie’s vision, he seeks her out, hoping she could be the miracle he’s looking for.
Addie’s not sure she trusts Jack Dunstan. He’s rude, cocky, and insists on calling her curse of second sight a “gift.” But if she wants to save lives and prevent a terrible disaster, she must put aside her fears and doubts and learn to embrace her ability.
With the US on the brink of war and an enemy agent hunting her for her power, Addie must learn to trust Dunstan—and herself—to stop an attack that could change the course of history forever.
Addie Brandt can see the future with a touch. She’s had a horrific vision of an attack on Pearl Harbor. After failing to warn the police, she goes to a diner where her friend Rosa works and meets Jack Dunstan, who claims to be an insurance salesman, but is really a federal agent who’s
Looking to recruit people with paranormal powers.
“Your last name is Brandt?” Dunstan said. “That’s German, isn’t it?”
Addie choked on a mouthful of minestrone. She remembered what Father had said about the growing animosity toward German Americans.
“It might be,” she said warily. “Though I fail to see why my name should interest you.”
“Because of that.” He stabbed a finger at his newspaper, and the headlines full of war news. “We’ll soon be in this war. People will have to choose a side. Are you one of those German nationalists who think Herr Hitler is the bee’s knees? Or are you red, white, and blue through and through?”
Maybe just red, as in seeing red. This man’s impertinent questions had gotten her dander up. “You certainly are curious, Mr. Dunstan.”
“I’m a curious fella, or so they say.” He flashed another boyish grin. “So, which side will you stand up for, Addie? Your ancestral people? Or will you help Uncle Sam win the fight that’s coming?”
She put down her spoon, fully annoyed now. “Why don’t you take me downtown, officer, where you can grill me properly?”
He laughed, a deep rumble, like a wave crashing into a cave. “Fair enough. I may be pushing too hard.”
She should ignore him. He was rude and strange. Yet, something about this back and forth with him seemed to…irritate her, yes, but also excite her. Engage her. She’d never had a conversation like this with a man before. The few times she’d spoken with a man close to her age, the subject was a corpse. Certainly no man had ever asked for her opinion, about anything.
“If I tell you where I stand, Mister Dunstan, do you promise to leave me alone?”
“Doubtful.”
Her lips twitched. “At least you’re honest. Well, then, speaking for my German side and my Irish side, and the American I’m proud to be, I don’t want us to fight at all. War means death and I hate death.”
“That seems ironic, coming from a woman who works in a funeral home. You’re surrounded by death every day.”
She blinked. “How do you know where I work?”
“You have a chatty friend.” He tipped his head toward the kitchen window. Rosa bent down, bottom thrust out, yelling through the opening at Sal. “She tells me you see things.”
Addie cringed. She’d told Rosa about the picture show that played in her head, but Rosa had never laughed or teased her about it. It stung to discover she’d been spreading gossip about her.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” Addie said.
“I’m sure I’m not. Rosa says you’ve seen her future. That you tried to save a boy’s life long ago. I know you tried to warn the police about something yesterday. Something bad. What was it, Addie? What did you tell them?”
Addie pushed the minestrone away, no longer hungry. And no longer amused. “Mr. Dunstan, just what line of insurance are you in?” she asked, nearly breathless.
He held out his hand. “Why don’t you find out?”
She looked at his palm, crisscrossed with so many lines a palm reader could be employed for months studying them. What did he want her to see? Was it worth the risk? The terrible images of the Pearl Harbor attack had haunted her for days. Why would she touch him and invite yet another horrific Sight?
“Addie, look at me,” he coaxed. She did, surprising herself. He held her in his gaze. “You can trust me.”
His voice rolled over her in a gentle wave. Trust, a heavy word. She’d never allowed herself to trust anyone. Least of all a man she barely knew. And yet… She couldn’t deny she felt drawn to him. Felt at ease looking into his golden-brown eyes. Should she take the risk?
Meet award-winning author Janet Raye Stevens – mom, reader, tea-drinker (okay, tea guzzler), and teller of fun, adventurous, occasionally heartbreaking, and stealthily romantic tales.
Derringer Award nominee and winner of the Daphne du Maurier and RWA’s Golden Heart® awards, Janet writes mystery, time travel, WWII-set paranormal, and the occasional Christmas romance with humor, heart, and a dash of suspense. She lives in New England with her husband, who’s practically perfect in every way, and their two sons, both geniuses and good-looking to boot.
