The Haunting is OUT in Ebook and Audiobook

My paranormal romance, The Haunting is out in ebook and audiobook with Scribd! Read or listen to the book for free when you sign up for a 30-day free trial.

Set in my former home of Frederickburg, VA, The Haunting is a steamy, second-chance-at-love story — my very favorite kind. Framed for treason by his nemesis, Union army captain Ethan O’Malley is hanged in 1862. Even as he walks toward the Eternal Light, Ethan vows to wait for his beloved Isabel on the Other Side.

Flash forward to present day. American History professor, Dr. Maggie Holliday moves into her dream home in the Fredericksburg Historic District and discovers the diary of Isabel Earnshaw while cleaning the attic. Reading of Isabel’s breathless encounters with a certain dashing Union army captain, Maggie begins to feel as if she’s not reading a stranger’s words but her own. Searching for answers, she encounters a sexy Civil War reenactor squatting in her attic, who insists she’s his Isabel. And that he’s “her” Ethan.

Can these star-crossed lovers find their way back to one another before the portal to the past closes, this time forever?

The inspo for The Haunting, its twisty ending especially, is the film, “Somewhere in Time” with Jane Seymour and Christopher Reeve, a comfort watch I still go back to. The notion that time isn’t linear but layered, more like an onion than a straight line, has always fascinated me. And of course that true love is truly timeless appeals to my incurably romantic heart.

Another reason I so love The Haunting is that my real-life Maine Coon kitty, Willie, appears as Maggie’s (and Isabel’s) beloved fur child. Because, you know, soulmates don’t have to be only two-legged. Willie passed over the Rainbow Bridge in 2014, but he lives on in our hearts–and in these pages.

Enjoy The Haunting and my other books, too. Find my complete book list here.


Celebrating a Life Well-Lived

Last night my friend, Barbara, passed away. I say “passed away,” not died, because it’s my personal belief that energy never really dies but instead changes forms. And hers is a big spirit, huge. Something so wild and beautiful and free doesn’t ever die. It just doesn’t.

I’d say Barbara was my best friend, but I’m not in the habit of ranking my relationships. Suffice it to say we were tight. She wasn’t only a girlfriend in the peer sense. She was–and is–a mentor, a soul mate, and yes, my very dear friend.

When I got The Call from her son, also my friend, it was creeping up on one AM. I was still up, though, if not wide awake then certainly wired, writing. Because the manuscript for my next book, UNTAMED, the finale to my Men of Roxbury House series is late. Not egregiously late or shockingly late, not the kind of writer’s blocked lateness that results in pushed up pub dates and editor frenzy, but a week late. And at the moment, I don’t really care.

I shut off the computer and met a small group of my friends at a local bar still open in our otherwise roll-up-the-sidewalks early-to-bed small town. We had a drink, a drink for Barbara, and then we went back to our friend Tim’s house and had another round in the timeless quiet of his 1800’s living room.

But mainly we talked. Barbara’s three adult children who have been her round-the-clock caretakers for the past three weeks shared something of what that had been like, including some of the moments of dark humor involved in physical dying. But mostly we celebrated life, Barbara’s life, and the profound ways she had touched us as parent, mentor, lover, and friend. In the course of the next two hours, her one musician son shared the song he’d written for her and then our musician friend, Tim sang the one he’d written, too. We cried some but we laughed even more as well as smiled at all the many memories. Above all we celebrated a life, Barbara’s life. A Life Well Lived.

Sitting there last night amongst dear friends, it struck me that it’s not the deadlines met or missed, the bestseller list rankings, the contest wins or losses, the sales numbers on our latest release or the sundry other successes and failures that define a life. All the must-do’s and should-haves that fill and sometimes clutter our days aren’t what we remember or even care about. In the so-called end, it’s how our lives touched others, how their lives touched ours, that matters–period.

Bon Voyage, Barbara. Congratulations on a Life Well Lived and deepest thanks for all you’ve done to teach me how to better live mine.