Successful architect and paranormal skeptic Justin Kent returns to Penny Hollow to fulfill his father’s dying wish of revitalizing their small town. To do that, he needs the allegedly haunted estate at Summerfield. Mac, the new owner, may be gorgeous and spunky, but she refuses to sell.
These two have a dangerous history that spans the ages, but will they discover the truth in time to save their lives?
Enjoy
the following excerpts for Haunt Me:
Excerpt #1
In
the kitchen of her great-aunt’s home she’d inherited a week before, MacKenzie
Dillon leaned against the counter and stared at a chocolate bar. She knew she’d
left it on the counter by the door. But now it sat next to the sink. Nudging it
back to where it belonged, she blinked hard as it began the slow slide back.
Either the house was tilted or her grandmother’s ghost stories were more real
than she remembered. Either way, she wanted that darned chocolate to stop
playing games with her.
She
grabbed the bar, unwrapped it, then broke off two full rectangles, popped them
in her mouth, and sighed as the chocolate melted on her tongue. Heaven, after
living on a diet of freeze- dried noodles and tap water for weeks, courtesy of
her ex-douche. Although if I had actually paid attention to the finances
instead of trusting him, I would’ve known what he was up to.
Closing
her eyes, she did a mental count to ten, twice. Just thinking about her ex
caused her an instant headache, but her life would be okay. After dealing with
a silent muse for months, she’d been overwhelmed with the desire to start writing
the minute she’d stepped foot on Summerfield. She could do this—write a great
book and kick-start the next chapter of her own life.
Getting
a divorce? Four thousand dollars. Moving to Virginia? A couple hundred dollars.
Hiding away in a haunted house and finishing a book? Priceless.
Her
cell phone rang in her back pocket. She pulled it out, only to glare at Kevin’s
number and face that appeared on the caller ID, then declined the call from her
ex-husband. Her life now was all about the future. Bigger and better things.
And
right now, the only obstacle to getting her better and brighter future was
unpacking the U-Haul.
Ready
to get back to work, she headed out the open door. In the U-Haul, she grabbed a
box, only to have the lid pop open. She stared at the number of unfamiliar
books inside. They were old, some plain and well-worn. She flipped open the top
book and read the first page. A diary?
Now
she remembered. She’d received the box along with the notice from an attorney
that she’d inherited Summerfield. As tempting as it was to start reading the
books now, she made herself put the diary back and closed the lid. She could
read them later, she promised herself. After she’d unpacked, settled in, and
started in on her new book.
“It’s all going to work out,” she told the box as
she folded the lid shut.
“Everything
happens for a reason.”
“Does it?” A purely masculine voice echoed behind her.
MacKenzie screamed and jumped. The box fell, hitting her foot, and she had to
steady herself with a hand on the wall of the trailer. She stared at the blond
Adonis blocking her exit. Six feet of pure, masculine sex appeal stood before
her, wearing well- worn jeans and a plaid button-down and attractive enough to
eat. Broad-shouldered and thick-chested, this was a man who worked hard rather
than worked out.
Down,
girl.
He
grimaced and held up both hands. “Sorry. I thought you heard me pull up.”
“Clearly
not.” No way she would have missed him if she had. “May I help you?”
“Justin
Kent.” He took a step forward and picked up the box. “Your neighbor.”
She
knew that name. Had heard from his lawyer several times since she’d inherited
Summerfield. So this is the guy who wants to buy my house... He wasn’t
exactly a welcome sight. She reached out and took custody of her box. “MacKenzie
Dillon. Not selling.”
At
first she didn’t think he would let it go, but then he relented and turned
sideways to let her exit the U-Haul. She made it two steps when she realized
he’d grabbed another box and was following her.
“Seriously,
Mr. Kent. Not interested in your offer. Told your attorney three times, in
fact. I think I was pretty clear.” Although, two people could definitely
off-load the truck faster—and he was so not hard on the eyes. But she
didn’t want to accept help from someone who wanted something from her. She’d
had enough of that.
She
took a closer look. He’d seemed so solid, dwarfing the interior of the little
trailer, but outside of it? Tanned skin crowned by wheat-blond hair and those
blue, blue eyes were the icing on top of a very attractive beefcake package.
Not interested, she reminded herself. Moving to Summerfield was supposed to be
a new beginning for her. Lusting after her neighbor—who, in turn, was lusting
after her property—was the last thing she needed. Hell, she hadn’t even fully
moved in and already a ghost was making its presence known.
Haunted
house for the win.
“Helping
you unload is about being neighborly,” he said. “I don’t mind, especially since
it seems like you’re on your own. Besides, it’s a guy thing.”
“Alone
doesn’t mean helpless.” Defensiveness edged her tone, but she didn’t care.
Sure, it would be nice to have help, but she couldn’t afford any more bites
taken out of her pride. “I’m fine. As you can see, I’m almost done.”
“Uh-huh.
Well, just point me where you want this to go and I’ll help you finish.”
“Nothing
personal, but I just met you, and I would really rather you didn’t come in my
house.” She slid the box she carried onto the counter and turned to catch the
one he had, effectively blocking him from entering at the same time. The shirt
did little to hide the flex of his muscles and she tried to ignore the flutter
in her stomach.
Surprise
filtered through his expression, and his mouth tightened. “My apologies, Ms.
Dillon. I was just trying to be neighborly.”
“Really?
Were you just being neighborly when you doubled your offer to buy my house? Or
was it more neighborly to let me know about all your plans and how I was
getting in the way of what my great-aunt really wanted for the town?” Guilt
stabbed her at the less than hospitable reaction, but dammit, she held her
ground.
“All
right, then.”
The
nonanswer didn’t do much for her, but the corners of his eyes crinkled. Her
heart did a little back flip at his easy smile, but she reminded herself no one
looked that good and turned out to be. Her ex had been a damned attractive man,
too.
Once
burned, lesson learned.
But
he didn’t leave. He pivoted and walked back into the trailer, retrieved another
box, and returned to the door before she could slam it shut. He held the box
out, being obvious about not crossing over the threshold. The corners of his
mouth curved upward when she grabbed it from him.Then he turned and left her to
gape at him as he strode back to the trailer. His jeans stretched taut over his
rear, and she snapped her mouth shut before she started drooling.
She
gave up. He could help if he wanted to.
Twenty
more minutes later, between them they’d off-loaded all but the furniture. A
fort of cardboard, stacked two-deep in front of the kitchen cupboards,
surrounded the two of them. Sweat soaked her shirt and her throat had gone dry.
She grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge—one for her and one for her
irritating yet hunky neighbor.
“Water?”
She held out her peace offering.
Justin
accepted it with a smile. “Thank you.” He twisted the cap off and took a long
drink. Sweat darkened his gray T-shirt, which clung to the damp skin beneath.
“That bed frame in the U-Haul is pretty heavy.” He cast a sidelong glance at
her.
“I’m
a lot stronger than I look. I can handle it.”
“Or
I could help you.” He pointed out the obvious, all reasonable-like.
Amusement
bubbled up, surprising her, and she wrinkled her nose. She shouldn’t laugh,
because it might encourage him to stay. “You don’t seem to take no for an
answer.”
“I
didn’t step a foot inside your house, per your request.” He gestured at her
with the water bottle. “But it’s hot out here. And you’re on your own...”
Again,
he sounded perfectly reasonable, but that didn’t change the fact she didn’t
know him, and if she were honest with herself, she didn’t want to know
him. This move was about finding who she was without a man in her life, without
all the shadows, doubts, and insecurities that came from her past. Thank God
for Aunt Katherine and the out-of-nowhere inheritance.
“I’m
sorry. You’re trying to be nice...”
“But?”
He raised his eyebrows, not bothering to disguise his amusement at her
predicament.
“But
I’m not comfortable asking anyone for help—especially the person who wanted to
buy my house.”
Instead
of answering, he tipped the bottle of water up and drained it. After recapping
it, he handed her the bottle. Then he stripped off his shirt.
All
the moisture fled her mouth at the ripple of muscle. He tossed his shirt on the
counter, headed back to the U-Haul, where he lifted the heavy footboard with a
flex of those same muscles.
“You...”
she sputtered.
“No
worries.” He exhaled the words on a hard breath. “You didn’t ask for help.” He
carried it right on inside, leaving her no choice but to follow.
It
took Justin less than ten minutes to unload what few pieces of furniture she’d
brought with her. When the U-Haul was completely empty, he dusted his hands on
his jeans and strode outside. On the porch, he paused and turned back to face
her. “By the way, welcome to Penny Hollow,” he said. “And I’m right across the
street if you need anything.”
Right
across the street must mean the positively gorgeous Southern plantation house
up the half-mile-long gravel driveway, across the two-lane road, and down a
bit. If that was his house, he hadn’t been exaggerating about being her
neighbor.
Puffing
a loose strand of hair away from her damp forehead on an exhale, she nodded to
him. “Thank you for your help.” When he grinned slowly, her stomach did a
little flip.
“You’re
welcome. Not that you asked for any help.” With a wink, he was off. Electricity
sizzled over her. Damn if he doesn’t look as good walking away as he did
arriving.
Excerpt #2
A
little over an hour later, in the town’s only grocery store, she studied the
produce offerings. Prepackaged sliced veggies, or fresh produce? The packaged
ones would save her time when it came to cooking. Seriously, how often am I
going to cook?
She
liked to cook, but between the much-needed work on the house and the book she
had to finish, she didn’t have time for a lot of meal prep. She tapped a finger
on the cart, then winced. The split nail still hurt.
If
the town had a food-delivery service, it would make her life easier, but pizza
wasn’t even delivered out where she lived. She’d made do with ramen noodles
three nights running when she’d roused herself from writing long enough to
search for food.
Her
phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see another call from Kevin.
Tension squeezed her chest. Would he never leave her alone, or did he plan to haunt
her forever? She clicked ignore and focused on finding groceries.
“Maybe
sandwiches would be better,” she muttered.
“For what?”
The bubbly voice came
from directly behind her and sent
Mac’s
pulse rabbiting. She turned to find a beautiful blonde pixie, beaming at her.
“Sorry!”
A musical laugh accompanied the apology. “Hey there, you’re new—and it’s
terrifically unfair of me to ambush you here in the produce section, but I’ve
been wanting to meet you and when I saw you here, I said to myself, Jock, this
is the moment you’ve been waiting for, so go say hi. Besides, it’s so much
easier to ‘run in’ to someone at the grocery than it is to wander up a
driveway,
you know?”
Mac backed away, but the girl edged her cart to the side and
joined
her.
“This isn’t the best season for squash,” the girl continued, “but
the
eggplants should be great, and Wilson’s just delivered some of the fattest,
juiciest tomatoes you’ll ever experience. Do you like to cook? I suppose you’d
have to, considering you haven’t been to any of the restaurants. I would have
come out to see you sooner, but I had to register for my classes and move into
my dorm. But I’m back for the weekend.”
The
girl who called herself Jock picked up one of the zucchini and pretended to
look at it, but her gaze never left Mac’s face. Bright blue eyes seemed to be
assessing every aspect of her, from her appearance to her reactions. Mac
regretted not having at least glanced in the mirror before walking out of the
house. Casting a surreptitious glance down, she managed to not groan. She’d
thrown on a tank top and pair of denim shorts—hopefully both were clean.
“Anyway,
I hope you’re not having too much trouble out at the Summerfield house.We’re
all very well aware of the reputation and no one would think twice if it was
giving you the creeps. I have no idea how old lady Summerfield could stand
it”—Jock dropped her voice to an almost conspiratorial whisper and leaned
uncomfortably close— “though the rumor is, she went quite mad living there.”
Mac
backed up a step and tried to keep her attitude casual. “I—”
“Oh,
I’m sorry, that was more than a little tasteless of me.” Jock bit her lower lip
and grimaced. “Sometimes my mouth jumps ahead of my brain. While she did get a
little dotty in her later years, everyone thought the world of Miss Katherine.
She was a part of our town and our community. She wanted what
was best for it.”
“Jocelyn
Marianna Kent.”
The
clipped syllables of a full name, coming from a very male voice, drew the
blonde up with a jerk, and she snapped her mouth closed to glare at Justin, who
stood two feet away, arms folded.
No
wonder the woman seemed familiar, Mac realized—she had to be one of Justin’s
siblings.
“Really,
Justin? You’re going to growl my whole name like I’m some errant
five-year-old?”
“You’re
late. We need to go.” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Move it. Leave Mac
alone. Hey, sorry about her.” He gave Mac a brief smile.
The
apology in his words did nothing to diminish the heat scorching her as his gaze
collided with hers. Her tummy did a little somersault.
“I
wasn’t bothering her.” Jocelyn tossed a beguiling smile at Mac. “Was I? I was
just saying hello.”
Charmed
despite—or maybe because of—the overabundance of personality, Mac held out her
hand. “MacKenzie Dillon.”
“Oh.”
Jocelyn smacked herself in the head before grasping her hand. “Jocelyn Kent, if
you didn’t already know from Justin’s rude interruption—but everyone calls me
Jock. Don’t mind him, by the way. He’s grumpy.”
“He
is going to be late,” Justin growled, but beneath the impatience and timbre
of his voice was a clear affection for his sister. “And you’re supposed to be
at school.”
“Not
twenty-four/seven,” she snapped back at him, but her smile rebloomed the moment
she looked at Mac. “If you’d like, I could show you around—introduce you to
some people. Let you get a real feel for the town. Though I’m really not sure
what a big-name author like you could enjoy about Penny Hollow. We’re about as
far off the beaten trail as you get. In fact, you’d probably need a backhoe to
find the beaten trail around here—”
“She
won’t have time for any of that. She has to go.” Justin’s
expression
waffled between exasperation and amusement, but Jock didn’t seem to notice.
This
side of Justin fascinated Mac. His affection for his sister seemed so different
than how Kevin had treated her—no. No more thoughts of him. She wanted to enjoy
Justin for Justin.
Jock’s
face tightened with a scowl as she glared at her brother. “Are you an only
child, Ms. Dillon?”
“Yes,”
Mac admitted.
“You
are so lucky. Brothers are a pain in the ass. Look—” She dug around in her
purse and pulled out a pen and notepad. “This is my number. Call me. We’ll do
coffee. I’m only a few hours away and I get back here on the weekends. I can
also tell you everything you ever needed to know about the town.”
She
all but thrust the paper at Mac. Only when their hands brushed, Jock blinked
furiously. “Wow,” she said, breathlessly.
Mac
pulled her hand away and waited. Wow, what?
“Jock,
I swear to God, if you don’t get your butt in gear and head back to school, I’m
going to toss you in back of the truck.” Clearly Justin was not nearly as
charmed by his sister as Mac was. “Sorry, Mac. I’ll get her out of your hair.
And don’t forget—I’ll be by your place around five.”
Those
few words sent her awareness of him rocketing...or maybe it was the way his
gaze lingered on her.
“I’m
leaving.” Jock made it three steps before she pivoted and looked Mac square in
the eye. “And you should be careful at Summerfield, Ms. Dillon. The Summerfield
Curse is a very real thing. The women who live there...they’re never
happy—hey!”
Whatever
else Jock might have said was cut off when Justin made good on his promise by
swooping his sister up and throwing her over his shoulder. He gave Mac a wink
and a smile before marching away with an air of grim determination, leaving his
sister to wave at Mac before she began beating on his back.
Excerpt #3
Mac
waited on the porch until Justin showed up, a burly, spotlight- sized
flashlight in his hand. Fortunately, she’d found a pair of shorts on the
washer, or she’d have been standing out there in her tank top and panties.
“Hey,”
he said, sweeping his gaze over her.
Laughter
gleamed in his eyes, but she couldn’t fault him for making fun of her. She
hopped from foot to foot. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure
thing.” He turned the beam from the flashlight toward the darkened house.
Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating his amused face. “Ghost chase
you out?”
“The
power went out and the door is stuck.” She crossed her arms, mallet in one hand
and phone in the other. She wasn’t letting go of either. Her heart continued to
race, and she tried hard to keep the sob catching in the back of her throat
from making an appearance.
Justin
paused and turned the flashlight back on her. “Hey,” he said, taking a step
toward her. His humor sobered to concern. “It’s an old house. We’ve got a storm
coming. Chances are it’s just a blown fuse. I’ll fix it, okay?”
Not
trusting herself to speak, she simply nodded.
“Mac.”
Justin gave her arm a squeeze. “Really. Happens all the time. You want to come
with? Or go wait in my truck?”
At
least he’d managed the offer without making fun of her. Stop being a
chicken... But she couldn’t resist staring up at the dark house. It seemed
so much more ominous in the occasional flash of lightning. “I’ll go with.”
“Okay.”
He held out his hand, and she passed him the mallet.
To
his credit, he simply nodded and took the lead. She followed him and fought the
urge to grab his shirt and hang on. He went to the fuse box first, but a few
minutes of fiddling didn’t earn them any results. When he would have left the
mallet behind to head out to his truck, she picked it up.
Justin
glanced at the mallet but didn’t say a word. He put a hand on her arm, and the
contact soothed the nerves doing jumping jacks in her belly. Supplies in hand,
he went back to the kitchen, but the lights still wouldn’t come on. “All right,
chances are it’s something at the power station’s end. I’ll make a couple of
calls. Let’s check the door next.” Halfway down the hall, he motioned for her
to stop. “Watch your feet.”
She
glanced down at the shards of lightbulb glittering under the powerful beam of
his flashlight.
“Stay
right there,” he told her. Glass crunched as he made it to her door. It opened
the moment he twisted the knob.
Mac
wanted to cry. “I swear it wouldn’t open.”
“I
believe you,” he said swiftly—almost too swiftly. “It’s late, you’re exhausted,
and I think you could use a break from what goes bump in the night—especially
with the storm rolling in.” Despite his tone, Justin wasn’t laughing at her. He
could have— particularly after their conversation about ghosts. “C’mon, why
don’t you come back to my place? You can have a guest room. We’ll come back and
fix this in the morning.”
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