Naughty Haunts
Eleven Spooky Love Stories
Pre-order the E-book:
Available for download September 2nd
Blurb:
Passion. Friendship. Love. Some things a man simply can’t forget… Finn has no idea what he’s doing at a haunted house on Halloween, but his tour guide Caty certainly rocks his world. Irresistibly drawn to her, he indulges in wicked delight and a return to their shared destiny.
Genre/Theme:
Contemporary, Paranormal
Copyright © Tina Donahue, 2016
Blustery wind swept across Lake Huron. The wintry blast tousled his hair, rattled bare tree limbs, and delivered an unbearable chill from the water. He clutched his coat closer to his throat and lifted his face. Ominous clouds pressed in. Coming rain scented the air.
Honeyed light poured from the
house, the glow warm and inviting.
Strange that a haunted house
should seem safer and more enticing than the street. Whoever had planned this
tour was clueless as to what the public wanted or children demanded. A new
group of kids ignored the place, not even bothering to check out the two
bicycles abandoned on the expansive front lawn. The bikes, along with
rollerblades and skateboards, were the only transportation allowed on the
island.
He stilled, not certain how he’d
known that. Probably had been on the sign. Nope. On a brochure? He patted his
pockets. No literature there. Mystified, he stepped closer to the place.
A young woman stood on the
widow’s walk. Her waist-length blonde hair and long white dress whipped in the
stiff breeze. She leaned against the railing and offered a welcoming smile.
Intense heat coursed through
him. His knees wobbled.
Something creaked.
The front door had blown
in…unless it had opened on its own.
Dismissing such a crazy
notion, he lifted his hand in greeting to the woman.
Gone. Where?
Shadowed figures passed the
upstairs windows, gauzy curtains making them indistinct. The promised ghosts?
He wanted to laugh but didn’t. One form stood a head taller than the other. Had
to be a man with the young woman he’d seen. The guy most likely her lover or
husband.
Inexplicable sorrow gripped
Finn followed by acute loss for someone he’d yet to meet. Definitely time to
go. This was nuts.
He pivoted.
The scent of violets
surrounded him even though no flowers bloomed on the bushes. Drawn by the
fragrance, he hurried up the walk toward the house.
A child darted into his path.
He reared back to avoid
colliding with the little girl.
Unmindful of his presence,
she waved and shouted to her companions. “Hold up! You’re going too fast!”
Laughing, they bolted away
and taunted. “Slow poke. Slow poke. Slow poke.”
She ran toward them, tripped
on her witch costume, and tumbled to the grass.
“Whoa.” Finn crossed the lawn
and touched her arm to help. “You okay?”
“No!” Crying, she shoved
spilled candy into her sack and raced to her friends.
They laughed at her witch
nose, bent from her fall. She giggled with them and set the thing right.
A gust scented with violets
slammed into Finn and pushed him to the house.
Heart pounding, he crossed
the porch and stopped in the foyer painted a cheery yellow with white moldings.
Furniture from way back when decorated the expansive space.
Footfalls sounded overhead.
One heavy. One lighter. The man and woman from the windows. He tilted his face
to the ceiling. The couple crossed from room to room, working their way back to
the master suite.
His skin prickled. He hadn’t
a clue how he’d known that. Wait. The widow’s walk was on that side. Made sense
the largest bedroom would be, too. He’d painted enough client portraits in
front of and inside Victorian structures to know the architecture.
Relieved, he lowered his face
and started.
The young blonde woman from
earlier looked at him worriedly, her slender eyebrows lifted. “I’m sorry.
Didn’t mean to startle you.” She rested her hand on his arm. “Are you all
right?”
More like delighted to have
her next to him instead of upstairs with the man…and the other woman. “Yeah.”
“I’m so glad.” Genuine
happiness lit her lovely smile.
Her concern comforted and
aroused Finn as nothing had in too many years. Warmth rolled through him,
settling in his groin, thickening his cock.
Dark lashes fringed her
sapphire-blue eyes. Pink flushed beneath her milky skin. Heat radiated from her
despite the cold night and what little she wore. Her white crocheted dress was
a throwback to hippy finery popular in the sixties, the intricate design
bearing flowers and tassels. Silver rings graced each finger, one boasting dark
blue stones. None resembled an engagement or wedding band, thank God. The
contraptions on her feet weren’t exactly shoes. There were no soles, merely
braided leather cords wrapped around her slender toes that she’d then tied to
her ankles. Dangling feathers and blossoms hammered from silver adorned the
leather to make Bohemian wedding sandals.
His arms goose pimpled. He
didn’t want to guess how he’d known the name for her footwear. Never had he
been into women’s fashions, especially those from long ago. It was 2016 for
Chrissakes, his thirtieth birthday barely past.
She couldn’t have been older
than mid-twenties.
“Hi.” He offered his hand.
“Finn Gallagher.”
Bliss crossed her lovely
features. “Caitlyn.” She slid her fingers over his and squeezed gently.
His hair stood on end,
indescribable pleasure filling him. Liking it, he grinned.
Loud laughter rang out
overhead. “Did I interrupt your tour?”
“Not at all, Mr. Gallagher.
I’ve been waiting for you.”
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