“Boo,” I say. How can one look at this beautiful girl reduce my intellect to that of a lumpy bowl of mush? Boo – is that really the best I can do? I’m a total imbecile and now she knows it.
I see the immediate start I give her but she’s quick to cover it up. She narrows her startling green eyes at me long enough for me to know she didn’t appreciate the surprise. Then her face changes and she looks down, hiding under her lashes.
Her chest rises and falls in one of the long steadying breaths she so often takes. I give her an uninterrupted moment. Will she banish me from her life? I wouldn’t hold it against her. Then she looks up at me.
“So, you’re really okay?”
“No, not really.”
“What’s wrong?”
Her concern is etched around those precious eyes, and I almost give in, but not yet. “I messed everything up. I want to fix it, but I’m not sure if I can.”
“Maybe I can help,” she says.
After everything she’s been through, she’s still offering to help me. “Do you have a death wish?”
“I didn’t think I did, but I owe you, Nathaniel. You saved Jared’s life…again. Do you have any idea what that means to me?”
“You owe me nothing. I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you. You’re blowing my mind, Juliana. Did you know that? No one offers to help an Angel of Death.”
“I don’t think of you like that,” she says, and lays her hands flat on the counter in front of her.
“I don’t think of myself like that either,” I confide. Stepping forward I raise my hand and lay it lightly on top of hers. She doesn’t pull away so I tuck a small gift, a charm I made for her, into her palm and take a step back.
She turns her hand over and looks at the four-leaf clover. I found one for her and cast it in clear resin so it would last forever. I even put a jewelry finding in it so she could wear it or hang it on her keys.
Juliana flips it over in her palm to look at both sides. She hides her eyes from me again, but I see the small smile take hold of the corners of her mouth, and my heart.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and closes her hand around the charm.
I hope the clover reminds her of the one perfect night and day we had together on the mountain. “How’s Jared?” I ask, as I stare at her long pale fingers. Her nails are neat, nicely curved, and not short or long. Natural and authentic, like the rest of her. Her pinky finger is wrapped with gauze — I’ll have to ask about that later.
“He’s mostly recovered. And still above ground.”
I lift my gaze to hers. She’s watching me now. The need I experience from being near her can only be described as an obsession. I need to know her, to protect her, to give her my soul, my life. It scares me, but I couldn’t imagine walking away again.
“I did come here to ask you something. If you say no, it’s all right.”
Is it worry I see, or curiosity? Am I imagining her hesitation?
“I’m not sure if I can deal with another Travis this soon. But, I’m always open to new things.” She adds a qualifier, “I think.”
“Yeah?” I ask, feeling a minute amount of encouragement. “You told me once that you wanted to take things slow. So, I was wondering if you would like to go out with me, on a date?”
She looks down again, breaking eye contact. Her hair slips forward covering half her face. When she looks up, she brushes her hair back with one hand. The shy smile she gives me almost sends me over the counter to wrap her in my arms and never let go.
She bites the edge of her perfect lower lip and then after an indeterminable length of time she finally answers.
“I’d love to go on a date with you.”
Other Works Available
An Angel Falls series
Death Lies Between Us #1
Haunting Me #3
Book #4 coming soon!
The Misplaced (Ghost Hunting with Chris Abeyta)
Historical Time Travel series
The Night Medicine
Witches of Lane County
Heart of the Secret
A Witch’s Fate
Granite Lake Romance
Unwrapping Treasure
Chasing Treasure (coming soon)
When We’re Entwined
When We’re Entwined (book 1)
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Haunting Me
An Angel Falls – Book 3
Angel of Death, Nathaniel Evans’, newest case sends him on a perilous and magical journey to the Irish countryside in search of one unattainable answer: How does an Angel of Death fall from grace and return to life?
Back in Colorado, Juliana’s mishaps with a book of spells and her well-meaning attempts to save her brother’s life could cost her more than a ghostly haunting and a deadly virus. It could cost her everything she loves - her family, her home and her relationship with Nathaniel.
While on the hunt for answers, Nathaniel finds himself imprisoned with fairies and fighting a battle of strength, skill, wit and sorcery to win his freedom back from a ruthless fallen angel. Nathaniel must survive the duel if he wants to change his destiny and fulfill his desire for mortality and a chance to be with Juliana forever.
Available on Amazon
Read a Preview of Haunting Me
Chapter One: Hunting
Juliana
“The five elements are Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Ether (spirit or self). When you immerse yourself in nature the balance of the elements unite, bringing harmony to you and all that surrounds you…”
Urgghh, I groan. This isn’t it either! I replace the book on the shelf and look at the measly few I haven’t already browsed for their content. It had been a crapshoot to even look at the Wiccan books, but I wasn’t having any luck finding what I wanted anywhere else. I should have listened to myself and stayed away from this section. Accusations of being a witch have brought me nothing but misery. Ashley Johnson died after accusing me and Corrine…well, Corrine turned out all right in the end, but the journey was torture. All it would take is one person who knows me seeing me perusing the Wiccan or Pagan books — the rumors would be set ablaze like a witch at the stake. Bad joke, I know.
I back away from the bookshelf and my shoulders droop with resignation. From the corner of my eye, I see movement and turn to look. There isn’t anyone. I would have sworn someone was there. My gaze shifts to the window, wondering if I caught the passing shadow of a bird or a tree branch blowing in the breeze. There’s a stuffed purple chair below the window for reading. I trudge over to it and plop down, trying to unravel the knots I’ve created inside my brain. Closing my eyes, I rub my temples, making small circles with the pads of my fingers. Wiccan, metaphysical, new age, Pagan, Druid, self-help, aliens, sacred geometry. My head is reeling. Why did I even come here in the first place? A little research on angels and the afterlife has wasted my entire afternoon and all I have to show for my efforts is a new fixation on the possibility of having an out-of-body experience that can only be remedied by seven witches wielding amethyst crystals while chanting an incantation backwards during the Blood Moon. This is not what I needed today.
My brother, Jared, is at home with the Angel of Death, Marcus, hovering around him. I should be with him, not here searching for answers I’m not going to find. And, my first real date with my incredibly cute, perplexing, and unearthly angel boyfriend is tonight. Nathaniel’s responsibilities and duties as an angel don’t exactly allow him to take off whenever he wants, but he said he’ll pick me up later at my house. A shiver of anticipation runs down the back of my neck and tickles my spine. He wants to date me. Me! Like we’re just a couple of ordinary college students hanging out. I kno
w it’s not a perfect situation. He’s a celestial being, but he gets me. He makes me feel alive, even if he isn’t. I like trying to figure out the puzzle of this connection between us. Besides, no girl in their right mind could possibly walk away from those smoky gray eyes of his. Least of all, me.
I hear movement nearby and open my eyes. A store employee is shelving a book.
“Not finding what you’re looking for?” she asks as if she already knows I’ve struck out.
She’s tall and willowy and her clothes appear to flow around her in a sea of blues and greens.
“Unfortunately, I’m not,” I say, rising from the chair, ready to leave the Midnight Sage New Age Boutique.
“Can I help you find something? A particular book or author?” she offers.
“I think I’ve looked at everything.”
“Well, in that case, don’t forget to check the Beg, Borrow, and Steal cupboard by the front door. There are usually some books in there. You can take what you want, leave a donation, or borrow and return. It’s remarkable the treasures people leave behind,” she says, turning back to the shelf in front of her.
“Umm, okay, thanks,” I say, and squeeze past her, heading for the stairs.
Trotting up the squeaky old staircase to the main level of the converted old house, I decide I’ve had enough of this woo-woo metaphysical-ness for one day and intend on walking straight to my car, leaving my unanswered questions on the back burner. As I’m about to open the front door I catch a glimpse of a shimmering beaded curtain with a colorful painted sign above it that reads, “Beg, Borrow, & Steal Cupboard.” Below that in smaller print, “Honoring the Karma system since 1991.”
I pull my hand away from the doorknob and walk over to the cupboard, intrigued. Maybe my last name, Crowson, affects my personality more than I’ve ever given it credit for. Crows love glistening trinkets and shiny baubles, and I can’t walk away from this beaded curtain. I raise my hand and let the smooth iridescent glass beads play in the halogen lights of the shop. I duck my head through the tinkling curtain and enter. Beyond the beads and through a dark painted entryway, I pull open a door and step into what might have once been a storage room beneath a winding staircase.
It’s cozy and dark and totally surprising. Someone had a grand time painting this space with lots of deep purple, teal, and black. A shadowy forest looms on one wall and a dragon flies past the moon on another. A Victorian shaded floor lamp casts a dim light into the little room and another purple armchair offers a seat as you search through the miscellaneous boxes and shelves. There’s an eclectic mix of books on the first bookcase. I find everything from gardening and candle making to identifying constellations and werewolves, but nothing on angels or the afterlife. I keep searching. On the top shelf is a gently used scarf and hat collection and in the corner to the left is a bunch of rolled up and tattered posters. The other shelves are covered with tchotchkes and what looks like an entire print run of a magazine called They Do Exist. I raise my eyebrows with skepticism at the cheesy drawing of an alien with a bulbous head and enormous eyes on the cover.
One final look around before I leave this curious little nook and I see it. Half hidden in the shadow of the chair is a cardboard box full of books. I settle onto the cushioned seat and slide the box over to my feet. Immediately, I feel like I’ve found something interesting at last. Or at least closer to what I’ve been looking for. The book on top is titled, Reincarnation in the New Age. There are a few works about near death experiences. I get a chill that raises the hair on my arms as I see the last couple of books on the bottom. Feast of Fire and Flame — I don’t even want to touch that one — and lastly, Navigating Life, Death, and the Afterlife. I grab the one about the afterlife, and have a fleeting moment of doubt about my search. Is it wrong to want to know more about what happens after we die? Or is it only wrong because I want to know how to manipulate life after death?
I’m mulling over my secret motivations when I slap my palm to my forehead. I’ve lost all track of time! I’m frustrated that I don’t know exactly how late it is, anxious to check on my brother, and beyond pee-in-your-pants excited to see Nathaniel tonight. I hurry to dig a bill out of my pocket and stuff it into the antique bubble gum machine, which is now a donation jar. I tuck the book under my arm and head out of the shop.
Read a Preview From
The Night Medicine
A historical time travel adventure.
Chapter One
The smell of the place was perpetually stale and sour. Its source could have been the wood planks of the creaking floorboards, where beer had been spilled for decades, but more likely it was the aroma wafting off of the patrons that frequent Growler’s Tavern. Hank Williams or Dwight Yoakam were usually singing out of the jukebox, which was wedged beneath the single high window that faced the main street through town. Someone was always plinking quarters into the machine and punching buttons in search of more modern music, but they weren’t going to find it in this joint.
The potpourri of odors, the low lights, the sorrowful twang of classic country music, and the ever-flowing tap were part of Growler’s dingy appeal, but none of these reasons were why Dean Wolfsblood sat at the bar drinking bottles of Corona until someone insisted on giving him a ride home.
More often than not, he wouldn’t speak to anyone. He was there because the bartender was his cousin and she would serve him until Morning Star had risen. He never talked about his problems unless they had to do with broken equipment at the mine or why the parts didn’t show up on time. Occasionally, the subject changed to who’d been fired or walked off the job. The conversation had to stay neutral so that any man sitting at the bar could contribute his two cents, and Dean could leave all of his sharp-edged memories buried where the haze of alcohol dulled the gleam of the proverbial knife twisting in his heart.
“I can’t cart your sorry butt home tonight,” the bartender told him as she wiped the bar top in front of Dean. “I have a date.”
Dean sucked in a deep breath and wagered in his mind how he could get out of hearing about his cousin’s latest victim. “Your caring heart is the eighth wonder of the world, Gena, but I didn’t ask for a ride.”
“I’m not about to let you drive anywhere.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered and took another swig of beer.
“You promise?” She cocked a brow skeptically.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m meeting up with an old buddy from the Corps. He’ll take me home.”
“Not if he’s been drinking too.”
“Cut it out, Gena. He doesn’t drink. Never has. Thinks it’s snake venom for us N-D-N’s.”
“Sounds like a decent guy,” she said as she rinsed the towel out in the sink.
“He might be. He might be an ass. I never paid much attention. We were too busy making sure we didn’t get blown up.”
“So you were stationed in Iraq together?” She paused in front of her cousin, speculating about how loaded he already was.
Dean didn’t look up to meet her gaze. These days, making eye contact with anyone meant that he would have to see the worry lines etched around their eyes and the sympathetic half-smiles that just made him feel worse.
He stared at his hand wrapped around the bottle instead. “Iraq and Afghanistan. We shared a few tours. Badger’s a hell of a shot. Quick with intel, and saved my rear end more than once.”
“You said he’s a Blackfoot too? You’ll have to introduce me.”
Dean risked looking up at his cousin and saw the undeniable expression of an interested woman. A coy smirk touched the corners of her mouth as she tucked her hair behind an ear.
“Listen lil’ ‘cuz,” he warned. “I’ll have no part in hooking you up with Badger Lowell. Didn’t you just tell me you have a date tonight?”
He’d gone and done it. He could feel himself being sucked into her black hole of male drama. Dean bit down on his tongue, forcing himself not to get any deeper into this firing hole.
“Former Marine,” Dean interrupted.
“Is he all ripped and muscular like you?” Deviousness twinkled in her dark eyes.
He glanced down at his biceps, frowned, and shook his head, wondering again how he ended up in this absurd conversation. “I have no clue.”
Dean could remember Gena planning her future wedding all the way back in middle school. Her teeny-bopper appraisal of every male specimen within a three hundred mile radius drove him nuts. Not much had changed since she’d grown up. She still wanted the whole package: marriage, a house, and kids. Dean thought she wanted it too much, and that it was her longing that kept her from acquiring it. He had seen too many people caught in the trap of wanting it all, and not being able to see what was right in front of them as they looked too far into the future. He never voiced these thoughts aloud, however. Gena was a good cousin, more like his sister, and they had always gotten along well. He didn’t need to ruin their relationship with his own unwanted opinions.
But the thoughts about his lonely cousin continued to nag at him over the buzz from the beer. Maybe he should be easier on her. She could just be taking advantage of the situation at hand. She worked all the time, between running the local daycare center and managing the bar on the weekends. How else was she ever going to land a guy if she didn’t go after opportunities where she saw them? He certainly wasn’t the one to consult when it came to life plans. He once had the life she wanted so badly, and look where it had landed him.
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