“Sorry, forgot you were there.” She set her seat in the upright position. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
Who am I kidding? Maybe out of sight, but he firmly planted himself in my dream.
“Are you sure? That was a pretty sensual moan coming from you just before you stretched,” he whispered, leaning toward her so close, she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin.
The sensual smirk on his face irritated her. He was ever more pompous than she’d first thought. “If it was, which I highly doubt…” She watched the Maui landscape come into view over his shoulder. “Rest assured the cause wasn’t you.”
“Or maybe you just didn’t realize it was me,” he said.
The plane’s landing gear bumped the ground. “I think it was you dreaming, not me. After all, you’re the one with the fixation on yourself.”
“Maybe so, only I’m never alone in my dreams.” The sharp and assessing look he gave her sent hot shivers down her spine.
What is it about this guy? Why do I even give him the time of day?
As the plane taxied into its arrival gate, their gazes met briefly, causing her blood to race through her veins. Heat flashed through her face, and she felt he had read her thoughts—wanton thoughts that surprised even her.
Khristen shook her head as if to put the marbles back in place. She reached into the overhead compartment for her overnight bag with him standing next to her as the plane taxied into the terminal.
“Let me get that for you.” He placed his hand over hers.
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying one small piece of luggage.” Her grip tightened under his.
She wasn’t about to allow him to help her. She was perfectly capable of handling her own little overnight bag.
“At the moment, you don’t look capable of doing anything but taking a cold shower.” He tried to pull the bag from her as the plane jolted to a stop.
“Leave me.” Khristen gave her bag one last tug, causing it to open and spilling the contents onto the floor of the plane.
“Now see what you’ve done!” She stooped to gather her overturned belongings as quickly as she could. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone and let her get on with her life?
“Here, let me.” Shadoe bent and picked up her things and placed them in the bag, including her lacy panties and their matching bras. He held her undergarments between his thumb and forefinger for a moment. Dropping them, he picked up the nametag dangling outside the case in his hand.
“I can do it myself.” Khristen grabbed and tossed the tag into the bag with the last of her things. She snapped the bag shut and headed for the departure door wondering what act of God had caused her case to fly open when it had been locked. She had a feeling this was going to be one hell of a vacation.
* * * *
“Khristen Roberts,” Shadoe whispered to himself as he watched Khristen make her way to the back of the plane.
There couldn’t be more than one of her, could there? She had snatched the ID tag fast, but he thought the city and state on it had read Madison, Wisconsin. He was still stunned by what he read. Was she his Khristen Roberts? Well, maybe not his but the magazine’s?
It had to be her—the woman Ric Scott had recommended for the article that would most likely end his career. How many Madison, Wisconsin Khristen Roberts could there be in the world?
He hoped there was only one—the one who sparked something in him he once thought did not have a chance to ignite ever again; the one who for a few hours made him remember he was just a regular Joe, not the Universal Wrestling World Champion; the very one making her way down the little departure hallway. If he didn’t follow suit, he’d lose her in the crowd.
He grabbed his athletic bag and followed her. If he lost her, he would either have to call all over Maui looking for her or contact Ric Scott to find out where Khristen Roberts from his newly acquired magazine was staying. As he saw it, his only option was the former.
Dear Reader,
I’m not much on putting words to paper, action is more up my alley. I’m Flame, the reigning champion in the Universal Wrestling World (UWW). So why am I here?
I grew up in a wrestling family and cut my teeth on the squared circle, which by the way is the only “lady” I trust any more.
I’ve gone and bought out a small press magazine in Madison, Wisconsin that was going nowhere fast, hired a woman by the name of Khristen Roberts, who according to the editor-in-chief is untrained and wants nothing more than to be a journalist.
Okay, I’m a sucker in helping people out, it’s my one weakness, if I have any. Problem is she’s on vacation in Hawaii. I’ve got to catch up with her somewhere along the line for her to join up with me and the UWW. I just hope Khristen is up for the ride…it’s always a trip.
Yours truly,
The Flame
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Rings of Paradise © 2012 by Maxine Douglas
MuseItUp Publishing
14878 James, Pierrefonds, Quebec, Canada, H9H 1P5
ROAD ANGEL
Inspirational Paranormal Romance by Maxine Douglas
Chapter One
“‘Let It Snow’ on this...” the radio DJ hummed through the radio. Before long I was humming along with the classic Christmas song that more than described the frightful weather.
The snow truly fit snow-packed Interstate 94 which I travel westbound weekly. With less than a week until Christmas, I dropped the load in Gary, Indiana. Then with a mere eight miles to go before hitting Chicago, I can head back home to Wisconsin and my little girl. Damn if I’ll let her spend it with strangers again. I promised and mean every word.
The northwest wind whips across Lake Michigan, causing the blinding lake-effect snow I hate—the trucker’s nightmare I’ve learned to ignore.
I’m on a mission, damn it, and no stupid storm will stop me.
Still, I have to admit visibility is slim, like driving through a kaleidoscope of white. The effect plays tricks on my eyes, but I squint, refusing to pull over. I’ve never allowed the weather to interfere with my job, and I’m not about to start now—especially this close to spending Christmas with my family for the first time since my baby daughter was born three years before. She was my Christmas miracle, Isabella Mae Thomas—perfect in every way. Crystal-blue eyes sparkle even when full of sad little baby tears. Light, curly, strawberry-blonde hair falls above her shoulders, framing her round little face and chubby cheeks, giving her a cherub look. Sandi named her Bella, and I was fine with that, as long as a glittering vampire didn’t show up at our front door with a large wolf at its side.
I chuckle. “I have a feeling Sandi would have been thrilled to have a Twilight family of her own.” I chuckle again at the thought of chasing both off while Sandi asks them to come in for dinner. I take my gaze off the road for an instant, the picture flitting through my mind even as the sadness of losing her resonates through me.
Flexing my hand, I remember how Sandi nearly crushed it during delivery. “I can feel your presence Sandi.”
Her grip had felt like being caught in a vise, every bone about to be shattered, leaving me wondering when she’d acquired super-human strength. My soft-spoken wife became a rowdy-mouthed sailor spurting things totally incomprehensible as she pushed our baby into the world, and then it was over. Her body relaxed, her breathing returned to normal, and our lives forever changed with the wail of a new life.
The words “it’s a girl” swelled my heart with pride, but it was seeing Sandi nuzzling the pink bundle in her arms that poured great love into me. I’d never felt anything as amazing as that day. I couldn’t wait for the next time we’d welcome a baby into the world.
A moment later, my life came crashing down around me when Sandi closed her eyes for the last time as Bella snuggled contently in her arms.
“I wish they could have saved both of them, but the aneurism…”
/> The tires of the truck catch a patch of ice and jolt me back to the reality of the snow-covered highway. “Damn. Keep your mind on driving, you fool!” I push the past away and return to concentrating on getting through the December snowstorm. If I were to lose my focus now, I could end up jackknifed in the road, causing a mass of destruction in the aftermath and cost Bella her one remaining parent.
The strange, otherworldly view through the windshield is like looking into a snow globe after the first shake, only this snow isn’t stopping; it’s getting heavier as I creep farther down the highway. The faster my wipers move, the less visible the tire tracks in the snow-covered highway are. At this point, it doesn’t matter what speed they cleared the glass; the wind blows the snow immediately back into place.
The crackling of the company cell phone slices through the whistling of the wind. Irritated, I tap the button on my wireless earpiece. “It’s snowing like hell; what ya want DJ?”
“You pulled over yet?” The dispatcher’s voice comes through full of static, sounding like an old scratched 78 record. “Get that damn truck off the road as soon as possible. Interstate 94 west of Gary is closing within an hour. You’ve got to bed down for the night.”
No way am I going to break my promise to my daughter. Besides, pulling over is a moot point when I can’t see the edges of the road. “Right,” I snort. “Like that’s gonna happen. I can’t even see the shoulder, let alone find a place to pull over.”
“I don’t care how or where you do it, just do it. Too damn dangerous for you to be pushing through, and you know it,” DJ snaps.
“Gotta make it home for Christmas.” I glance down at the speedometer and then settle back in my seat. Forty miles-per-hour isn’t going to get me home as early as I’d like, but it will get me there sooner than bedding down for the night. “Can’t afford to be stranded in some truck stop. I promised this year I’d be there…not here.”
“You aren’t going to be any good to your little girl in a pine box! Boss wants all the trucks pulled over within the hour. It’ll give you time to update those logs of yours while waiting out the storm, eleven hours or not!” DJ says and then hangs up.
* * * *
Rubbing my face, I yawn big and deep, pulling in as much oxygen as I can, trying to focus. It’s no use; my eyes are fuzzy. Finally feeling the effects of driving in a blizzard, I reluctantly admit I need to find a place to get off the road and bed down for the duration.
“A little cat nap, and then I’ll be good to go.” The eight-mile length of road between Gary and Chicago isn’t getting any better. The question is: where’s a good place to stop? I can’t see the shoulder. Hell, I can’t see the road. Driving in these conditions is like trying to find my way out of a box full of shipping popcorn—nearly impossible.
Glancing down at the speedometer, I wonder when I slowed to thirty miles an hour. At this rate, I’ll find myself stuck with no place to go. “I hate to admit it, but DJ was right.” I have to get off and find a place to wait out the storm. The sooner the better.
I’m not even sure where I am at the moment. All the road signs are obscured by snow, and I can’t make out any city lights. For all I know, there’s a power outage in the area. Even the CB has been quiet for a while. Everyone in their right mind is off the road and asleep in their bunks. Everyone except me.
Licking my dry lips, I reach for the water bottle just as a shadow bursts through the snow. “Whoa!” Grabbing the wheel with both hands, I brace for impact.
Shaking when none comes, I suck in a breath as the tail end of a deer disappears into the shadowy storm. “Stupid, fricking deer! Holy crap! If I wasn’t awake before, I sure as hell am now.”
As the snow swirls in the glow of the headlights, I figure several inches have fallen on top of what may have been tire marks in the road. I don’t even want to think when it was plowed last. At this rate, I probably won’t see one until tomorrow.
The wind howls continuously around the cab of the tractor and bangs against the doors. With each new gust, the trailer slides slightly, giving in to the force. The blowing wind sings a wolf melody, the howling tune mournful—a beautiful yet deadly blizzard accompanied by the music of the wind—Mother Nature’s way of easing the cruelty she sometimes gives so freely.
Snow like this can play tricks on a man’s vision. Even knowing this, when I see a figure in the middle of the road, reaction takes over reasoning. White and flowing, it moves toward me, and then silver-blue eyes bore into my soul, making me yearn for sweet oblivion. In that swift moment, I swerve, my mind screaming out the name of the woman who left my world three years before.
Sandi!
* * * *
Guardian Angel Third Class Cynamon Bedford watches in horror from her snow-packed seat perched near the gates of Heaven the crash the phantom causes. The cherry-red semi-truck’s tires screech to grab solid ground. Metal crashes and crunches as the truck slides on its side across the road. The screeching tears at her heart; the driver, Lee Thomas, has a slim chance of making it.
The crumpled mass of cherry red, a deadly contrast to the snow, lays in an L shape down the slope between the road and a line of trees. The cab faces the way it has just come from, cheery Christmas music fading in and out, a maudlin contrast. The windshield shattered, glass is scattered across the snow drifts. Snow quickly blankets the wreck.
There is nothing she can do. Helpless, she sits and watches as another life slowly disappears from Earth. “If only they understood how precious their time is, maybe the mortals wouldn’t be so careless with the gift.” One silvery tear makes a slow trek down her cheek as she feels the dying man’s pain.
“Come now, Cyn, truly you can’t be shedding a tear for one mortal after all these years of watching them.” Abraham, the Supervisory Angel assigned to keep Cyn in check, chuckles as he approaches.
“The man was only trying to get home to his family.” She swipes at the tear and tucks her emotions away. “His motivations were pure. If it wasn’t for the phantom coming at him, he’d still be making his way to the next stop for the night.”
“Phantom? One of our own? Surely you don’t mean to suggest...” Abraham stammers from somewhere above her. He’s been here longer than she has, watching life come and go each moment of each day.
Sometimes, she wonders whether he’s lost compassion for the mortal world and focus. He hadn’t sensed the phantom. “I most certainly am!” Cyn draws back her shoulders, ready to defend her observation. “A white, flowing figure went straight for him. What was he supposed to do? Run over it?”
Cynamon was a life taken before her time—much too young by angel standards to be left on her own. As a former honky-tonk angel, she had to earn her way by watching over her assignments, especially since she’d lived by questionable standards. Tonight, she chose to watch over the lone vehicle on the road instead of the small curly-haired child safely asleep in her bed.
“You strayed from your charge, Cyn.” Abraham throws his hands up in frustration. “I knew one day this would happen. Why must you always go against the rules? I hate to think what’s going to happen to you now.”
Cyn concentrates on the wreck below, tuning out his lecture as she searches for signs of life, hoping maybe she’ll hear more than the static holiday music. She tries to brush away the thought that there’ll be no ambulance, no help for the poor soul in the truck. He’ll be found too late.
“Bella.”
She jerks an ear forward, edging nearer to the end of her seat. Faint, very faint. Breathing. Mumbling, a man’s voice. He is alive!
“Abraham, did you hear?” She turns to her guardian, hoping he heard the sounds, too. He didn’t see the phantom, but surely, he heard the penitent man’s voice. “He’s still alive. We can save him. You know we can.”
Abraham towers over her as if he didn’t hear her plea. His wingspan would cover the entire truck if he spread it out fully. “Not we, Cyn. You. Convince this mortal to fight for his life, and—”
That’s all she needs to hear. It seems Abraham is daring her to accept. Who is she to refuse? Cyn looks up and nods as he envelopes her in his massive wings.
Truck driver Lee Thomas believes his life is over after the ghost of his wife who died three years ago steps in front of him and jack-knives his truck on a snowy Wisconsin road on his way home.
Cyn Bedford, an angel, must convince him to fight for his life. She’s broken an angel rule and has fallen in love with her charge.
Will Cyn truly be Lee’s Road Angel for life?
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www.museituppublishing.com / www.amazon.com
Road Angel © 2013 by Maxine Douglas
MuseItUp Publishing
14878 James, Pierrefonds, Quebec, Canada, H9H 1P5
THE QUEEN
Contemporary Paranormal by Maxine Douglas
Chapter One
Well Cole Masterson, you’re in for the adventure of your life I murmured to myself as my taxi travelled south down the 710 Freeway through the mid-afternoon traffic toward the Queen Mary. Now I’d be able to solve the family mystery regarding my great-grandfather, the gold locket, and Hanna. Who was Hanna? By the end of this mission I hoped to know. Palm trees, sunshine and sandy beaches, everything that makes Southern California a haven to those who come to play. For me playing is the last thing on my mind. Ghost hunting occupies it more times than not, and the Queen Mary is the perfect spot to exercise those inclinations and thoughts.
Turning onto Queens Highway—formerly Pier J—at the south end of the Long Beach Freeway, the world’s once largest transatlantic vessel, loomed in front of me. I knew she’d be large, but I never imagined the magnitude of her presence. It was as if I could feel the past calling to me. Climbing out of the taxi, I felt dwarfed by her shadow, and more intrigued than I wanted to admit being a skeptic.
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