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Newly Released - Witch Island Print Edition


  10:05:25 am, by

Newly Released - Witch Island Print Edition


I'm excited to announce that the print edition of my paranormal romance Witch Island is now available from Ellora's Cave.

Here is the blurb and the excerpt. Enjoy!



Roxanne Gerik's business is facing bankruptcy when a reclusive millionaire throws her a lifeline — one hundred thousand dollars for private computer tutoring. It's only after signing the contract that she discovers the lessons will take place on Mr. Nevan's private island.

The journey across the water is perilous. Once on shore, the storm that chased Roxanne to the island breaks, knocking out phones, electricity and the dock, promptly stranding her. But the biggest surprise is her host — who's not the stuffy old man she expected. Aidan Nevan appears to be young, handsome and charming, and despite the apprehension shadowing her, Roxanne finds herself drawn to the mysterious man.

But Aidan is hiding sinister secrets. The staff whispers in hushed tones, strange creatures wander the woods of the island and the very trees seem intent on harming her. As the unnatural storm grows worse, Roxanne begins to wonder if any of them will get off the island alive.


Excerpt from Witch Island:

“Why don’t you show me where you want the equipment set up,” Roxanne offered. “Then after I meet with Mr. Nevan briefly, I’ll be on my way.”

“But that won’t be possible,” the housekeeper blurted. “Mr. Nevan isn’t due back for several hours.”

The fear that had plagued Roxanne since she’d left her home threatened to steal her breath. She forced herself to relax, to state her case logically the way she did with all unreasonable clients. “But I have other appointments. I have to get back to the city as soon as possible.”

“It’s far too dangerous to be on the open water right now,” Horace said. As if on cue the wind howled through the trees outside, sending branches scraping against the windows. “The storm is getting worse.”

“Then how is Mr. Nevan going to get home?” she asked. They had to do as she requested. Roxanne refused to stay in the spooky old house one second longer than was necessary.

“Oh now don’t you worry about Mr. Nevan,” the housekeeper said. “He can take care of himself.”

“Well, if it’s possible for Mr. Nevan to get home safely, then he can arrange for me to go home too,” Roxanne insisted.

“You accepted Mr. Nevan’s contract,” Horace threatened.

Keeping the conversation pleasant while she disagreed with them was a balancing act. Roxanne knew that much from experience. And she was getting good at walking that tightrope. “I saw nothing in the contract that stated I had to be a resident on the island until it was completed.” She crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Horace’s confrontational posture. “In fact, I don’t remember an island even being mentioned!”

Tension stretched between them in the shadows of the dark manor. Agnes Peterson was the first to break it.

“Goodness!” the housekeeper exclaimed. “The girl is soaking wet! Horace, fetch a towel for the girl. She’ll think we’ve forgotten ourselves altogether! Come,” she propelled Roxanne by the arm, “sit by the fire and warm up.”

Roxanne looked back in time to see Mrs. Peterson cast a glance at Horace, a pointed stare that practically shouted, “Be quiet!” Horace opened his mouth as if there was a great deal more he would say then abruptly shut it.

“I’ll put the boxes in Mr. Nevan’s study,” he said instead. He’d taken only one step toward the pile in the entry hall when something crashed against one of the windows. Wind roared through the trees outside. The chandelier above him flickered then went out. From the direction of the hall, Roxanne heard a refrigerator motor winding down before stopping altogether.

“Heavens,” said the housekeeper. “There goes the power again.”

Roxanne stared into absolute darkness. She couldn’t see much of the lake through the unshuttered windows but she imagined its uniform flat blackness surrounding them on all sides. The island had no lampposts, no streetlights. Dark clouds hid the moon, stealing the only source of illumination. A gray line marked the only differentiation between water and sky.

She turned away from the windows as Mrs. Peterson led her toward the fireplace in the next room. With the fire roaring in the huge hearth, the sitting room was more welcoming than the dark entry hall.

The reflection of the fire’s crimson flames warmed the dark walls and cast a rosy glow on the housekeeper’s face. Even Horace looked friendlier in its warm light. But no matter how welcome its warmth after a trip on the cold lake, Roxanne knew she couldn’t stay here.

The creaking old manor house would have given her the creeps even if it stood in the center of town. As the only building on an isolated island, the house was positively scary, and Roxanne fought the constant instinct to run. If only she could.

“Look,” she said as Mrs. Peterson settled her into a deep, comfortable armchair. “There’s no sense me staying here any longer. I can’t do anything until the power comes back on and Mr. Nevan isn’t here, so why don’t we just set another time to meet—like first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said a deep voice from the shadows behind her. “The storm has blown out the dock.”



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