Addictive Paranormal Reads Halloween Box Set

by Nana Malone

  If you enjoyed Beneath Still Waters and Rising Above, here’s an excerpt from my short paranormal romance, 'If Tombstones Could Talk':

  'If Tombstones Could Talk'

  By Stacey Joy Netzel

  Had someone asked Melanie Sparks if she believed in ghosts, she’d have laughed before voicing an emphatic “No.” Then she takes a walking tour of the cemetery in her new hometown of Lindeman’s Crossing, Colorado and meets one of the residents face to face.

  The story behind Andrew Lindeman's tragic death after the Pike’s Peak Gold Rush in 1859 triggers dreams in which she relives his last moments. Drawn to the handsome ghost, attraction builds, and she resolves to clear his tarnished name. A passionate kiss sets his spirit free, but will Melanie lose her heart forever?

  Excerpt:

  She started with the trail next to the river behind her cottage. The walk along the South Platte River settled her nerves until she realized it’d looped through the park and led her back to the cemetery. Her feet rooted to the spot outside the gate as she stared intently at that one specific shaded gravesite.

  Everything looked normal. No shadow figures. No shimmering air. No voices in her head.

  Most likely her subconscious had been playing with her yesterday. Her imagination had been in overdrive after all the wonderful history she’d learned.

  Still hesitant, Melanie entered the deserted grounds and followed the path John had led the senior group along the day before. Every so often she snuck a glance toward the black granite, until at the end, she once again stood in front of the stone.

  Deep breath. Let it out slow. Everything’s fine.

  Squatting down, she reached to touch the old, worn stone sunk in the earth.

  Cold. As it should be.

  Her gaze rose to the other one looming in front of her. Nervous anticipation mixed with dread, raising goose bumps on her arms like yesterday. Much as she didn’t want to touch its smooth surface, she had to make sure. Her hand trembled slightly as she extended her arm.

  Cool.

  Relief tingled through her entire body.

  With one finger, she traced the A in Andrew, then flattened her palm over the name.

  In a single instant, the granite warmed, almost to the point of burning her flesh. She yanked her hand back with a gasp, then nearly jumped out of her skin when a male figure materialized out of thin air right before her eyes.

  Dark, glittering eyes locked on her. A scream froze in her throat and she found she couldn’t breathe.

  If she stayed still, would it go away?

  Her lungs burned. She needed oxygen or she’d faint. Rising slowly, she drew in a deep breath of air, then concentrated on repeating the process until her legs steadied. All the while, her mind registered details.

  The man of her dreams. Tall. Dark, wavy hair, worn long enough to hang over his forehead and brush the collar of his black shirt. Eyes that at first glance appeared black but now she saw were a sexy slate gray. His thick eyebrows shadowed them, making them seem darker. A hint of a five o’clock shadow lent a sinister air, yet she wasn’t truly afraid of him.

  “You can see me.” The husky accusation washed over her.

  ~ 'If Tombstones Could Talk' ~

  Romance/Contemporary/Paranormal

  Available at most ebook distributors.

  Also available at Amazon.com for $1.99

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  About Stacey Joy Netzel

  I fell in love with books at a young age, so for me it seemed only natural to graduate to writing them. I credit my parents for encouraging my dreams of becoming a published author, as well as the very talented friends I've made in Romance Writers of America (RWA) and Wisconsin Romance Writers (WisRWA).

  An avid reader and fan of movies with a happily ever after, I live in Wisconsin with my husband and three children, a couple horses and some barn cats. In my limited free time I enjoy gardening and canning, and visiting my parents up north at the cabin on the lake with the whole family.

  Follow online:

  Website and Blog: http://www.StaceyJoyNetzel.com

  Facebook: Facebook.com/StaceyJoyNetzel

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/StaceyJoyNetzel

  * * * * *

  Stacey Joy Netzel's Other Titles

  Italy Intrigue Series

  Lost In Italy

  Run To Rome

  ~

  Colorado Trust Series

  Trust In The Lawe

  Shattered Trust

  Shadowed Trust

  ~

  More Than A Kiss

  ~

  Chasin’ Mason

  ~

  Welcome to Redemption Series

  (small town romance series with Donna Marie Rogers)

  A Fair to Remember (book 2)

  Grounds For Change (book 4)

  The Heart of the Matter (book 6)

  Hold On To Me (book 8)

  ~

  Stacey Joy Netzel Novella Collection

  (available together or individually)

  Dragonfly Dreams

  If Tombstones Could Talk

  Ditched Again

  ~

  Romancing Wisconsin Series

  Mistletoe Mischief (book 1)

  Mistletoe Magic (book 2)

  Mistletoe Match-Up (book 3)

  Autumn Wish (book 4)

  ~

  Beneath Still Waters (Part One)

  Rising Above (Still Waters Part Two)

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Mystical Island of Atlantis

  Natalie G. Owens

  ~ Something to Live For ~

  I live on an island in the middle of the Mediterranean, one so ancient some believe it to be connected to the lost city of Atlantis. We have a veritable army of ghosts and creatures inhabiting this little rock, most inherited from centuries of history under the power and influence of the old world's greatest rulers--the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Arabs, Knights of St. John, the British Empire, and more.

  While all of these colorful ghostly stories abound, one girl - i.e., ME! - grew up dreaming of dressing up like a witch - complete with striped green and black stockings and witchy hat - and spending hours carving pumpkins for Halloween. Yet, I had one problem: Halloween was never celebrated in Malta. Bummer! So, of course, I did the most sensible thing. I fell in love with an American hottie, married him, and moved to the States (not exactly in that order, but well...). I was finally free to play dress up every year and enjoy the vibrant colors of the fall! Now, fifteen years later, I'm back in Malta and Halloween is just starting to have a small space in our calendars...all because of American television, of course! Who said TV was all bad? So these days I love to go out and buy cool Halloween decorations, fill a bowl with candy, watch kids trick or treating, and wear my witchy costume with my little four-year-old wizard. My idea of heaven!

  When I'm not distracted by Halloween, I write books--mostly romance and fantasy. I love to connect with readers. You can find out more about me at http://www.nataliegowens.com

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  Something to Live For - Back Cover Description

  Fifteen years ago, one fateful day bound the lives of two perfect strangers...

  Melita Saari-Quinn is living the consequences of a traumatizing psychic event that turned her adolescence upside down. Now, disillusioned with her job as a psychotherapist and desiring a change from her lackluster existence, she hopes that something out of her ordinary sphere of existence - something totally uninhibited and spontaneous - will renew her zest for life.

  Alex Moncado seems to have it all - good looks, a successful business, and a fun life in "party central" of the Mediterranean: the island of Malta. Except for one day in the year when he can't help but remember a tragedy that never should have been. One day he'd rather forget, because if he doesn't, the guilt will consume him.

  Can one passionate night together banish the ghosts of the past and give two lost souls a sec
ond chance?

  Only Fate can tell...

  (Navigation Stars)

  * * * * *

  Something to Live For

  Copyright 2011-2012, Natalie G. Owens.- All Rights Reserved.

  Published via a temporary license for the purposes of this boxed set via Addictive Reads

  eISBN: 9781476276915

  Cover Design by Zee Monodee

  Formatted by John Gill and Jeffrey Kosh

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  * * * * *

  Dedication

  To all those who dare to dream, hope and love.

  * * * * *

  Prologue

  A message from Jeanette Lagrange, founder of Moonlight Dating.

  There were times in history when the sun was revered, its light a guide for travellers, a solace for the weak.

  The moonlight, however, has always been a time for reflection, a time for yearning and indulging in a bit of philosophy. A time when lovers tryst and weary souls can finally find a place to rest. Kisses feel softer, a touch more electric, under the tender vigilance of our sister, the Moon.

  Who knows what secrets simmer in the night? Even I cannot grasp the full dimension of their reach. The Moon, in all her understated radiance, has many answers to give, many riddles to solve, and many hearts to heal.

  The Moon illuminates a path to redemption and happiness, and gives me visions of a different world. Sometimes they’re otherworldly visions, sometimes they’re as natural as the gentle ripple of the water left by the motion of an indolent oar, its handler unhurried, thoughtful. Because of this, I know that in the moonlight, the impossible can happen. Strong bonds are forged, and others are mended. Lives become whole.

  We often hear of the bad, sordid deeds that happen at night time. Illicit sex, crime, cruelty – we thus fear the night. But I, a willing optimist, want to offer a different kind of reality, for my sake as well as yours. I want to give you a night that is radiant, beautiful, sensual, carnal. A night in which all the faces of love can be at arm’s reach, if you will them to.

  Many are more apt to grasp life’s gifts from the shadows, because they are used to small expectations and are afraid of risk. They must allow themselves to slowly become acclimated to the change… because those who hesitate to abandon themselves in the blinding heat of the sun may feel newfound courage when the moon takes the reins of the skies and shines on infinity along with its shimmering cohorts, the stars.

  I created Moonlight Dating to get you started on this journey to wanting more, expecting more, to give you all your heart’s desires. Nothing’s up to chance. If you don’t believe this is possible, I dare you to take the plunge. For every designed encounter, I need a man, a woman, a perfect match. If it’s there, I will find it for you. Give me one night, one chance, to wake your dreams in the moonlight…

  Yours,

  Jeanette Lagrange

  * * * * *

  Chapter One

  A woman in need is her own worst enemy, if she doesn’t follow her desires.

  Melita Saari-Quinn’s vacant stare meandered to the tall mirror as she took stock of her life. A smeared reflection stared back at her – the best her eyes allowed her, she being practically blind.

  But today, her worries had nothing to do with her sight. Her work as a psychotherapist had started weighing heavy of late. To try and strip away the burdens of others had put more layers on her own shoulders.

  Until all she felt was the need to get away, to be free.

  Most of her clients came to her office to resolve what she dubbed as pseudo problems. One lady felt fat at a size twelve. Another guy couldn’t get as many girlfriends as he wished. A businesswoman wanted to feel more motivated to fatten her already sizeable bank account. Oftentimes, she wanted to throw professionalism to the wind and tell them to get a grip. How could these qualify as real concerns?

  Wanting was one thing – but if one didn’t act, that desire could become a prison. Was her own motivation to navigate the complexities of her job wearing thin? Perhaps the universe was telling her something.

  She smoothed out her dress and shifted pressure from one foot to the other, then, laid a hand on her stomach to calm the agitation brewing inside.

  But she hadn’t always been this disillusioned. There was a time when she believed… and not only in her work. Her throat clogged when she remembered how, back then, a pure, childlike enthusiasm drove her to do something she thought worthwhile. A pang of nostalgia sliced through her heart.

  Yes, there was a time, even before she’d aggressively pursued her credentials against the odds, when she plainly and simply believed that life was always good if one wanted it to be. That things always turn out okay in the end.

  Until a decade and a half ago, when something happened that was not supposed to happen.

  Don’t go there, Melita. You worked too hard, too long, for what you have. You chose to pursue a path of science, to stay grounded, rather than focus on concepts that have no basis to them.

  If she did let the memories overwhelm her, she’d have to acknowledge something horrible and fantastical, something that would drive her stark mad as it almost did then, simply because it was impossible to explain.

  But today was exactly the eve of the fifteenth anniversary from the day when life as she knew it ended, when the vision was torn from her eyes through an inexplicable occurrence, one she could not ever bring herself to share with anyone. So, when the clock struck midnight tonight, it would mark a milestone date for her, and she couldn’t bring herself to forget, to obliterate from her mind the slightest recollection of that fateful afternoon.

  She remembered that blasted outing in the Maltese countryside with her Irish-Maltese mother and Finnish father. They had both been mindful that the more widely visited bucolic areas of the Mediterranean island of Malta where they lived rarely presented danger for an inquisitive adolescent. She, on her part, was the average fourteen-year-old with a burning desire for independence.

  She had no care in the world. The Buskett Gardens area and its leisurely pathways were situated in one of the most beautiful fertile valleys on the island. It was such a perfect day that she got a hankering to explore the woods past the low stone walls. Her parents didn’t fret when she strayed.

  If only they’d known…

  It was a spring Monday, which meant the place was devoid of the chaos one would expect from groups of picnickers on any given weekend. The cheerful birdsong transmitted from the small sparrows and other fowl overhead put the finishing touches to an already idyllic setting.

  She sidestepped a huge shrub with foxgloves in bloom and walked into the thicket of shady cypresses until she could barely hear her parents’ voices. When she reached a small clearing, the trees got denser and shut out most of the sunlight.

  She stood for a moment and relished the silence, until her eyes fell on the sprawled body peeking from behind a tree.

  A cautious step forward brought sneakers, jeans, and a light blue shirt in her line of sight. His fingers curled around the trigger of a gun. Blood spattered up the limp, exposed arm and stained the front of the cotton shirt. The head was only partially visible from behind the tree bark, but abundant dried blood coated what she could see. She stopped in her tracks and screamed.

  A young man. Lifeless. Gone.

  Then, a humming sound made her turn her head left. The hum fast turned discordant, as would be the sound made by opening a rusted iron door that had been locked for centuries. A sudden explosion rang in her head and a light as bright as a nuclear blast penetrated her eyes.

  Black spots danced in front of her as she instinctively stepped toward it. The last thing she saw was a large ghostly hand come out of nowhere to push her, trip her back into a bed of twi
gs, leaves, and grass. The icy touch chilled her to the bone. The hand seemed dismembered from a body, surrounded only by a large frame of beaming filaments. It was the last thing she saw as the sparks weakened and overcast shadows threatened the clear sky.

  In moments, it was over and the peace returned while inside her, everything was spinning. Her heart raced. Her stomach clenched. Her pulse galloped. And her eyes . . . she squinted, shook her head and opened them wide.

  Her eyes had stopped working. Just like that. When her parents rushed to her side, it was already too late.

  Memories of that fateful day – a dry and sunny May third – were clear, too clear, in her head. Nothing like the Melita she now ‘saw’ the mirror. She could only make the major details of her slender body shape and face that looked back at her, although it was much more than she could see at first, right after the accident. Back then, her world was one large black hole.

  As she stood now, she was only legally blind, which prevented her from doing things like driving a car or piloting a plane.

  Melita tamped down her thoughts. Meanwhile, another May third was rolling by, and she longed to replace that dreaded memory with something else.

  Something that would make her feel entirely different emotions. Something that would make her smile, lust, exult, fly to a different plane – like she never truly had.