Perceptions of Love Boxed Set: KU
Six full length novels that challenge conventional Perceptions Of Love.
Perceptions of Love: Genre ~ Paranormal Romance
Buy at: Amazon
EXCERPTS: Perceptions of Love
Desperation was becoming a prevalent emotion in Mohan’s life. With each passing moment, he slipped deeper into the unwanted state.
His food supply was limited, and he grew weaker with each passing week. Soon, he would be forced into the situation of journeying back into the human populace. It was dangerous for a creature in his situation.
As long as he remained in animal form, he had a chance of surviving. Yet, with each necessary shift to his human side, he grew weaker. His body ached with a gnawing hunger. Even in the warm climate of this new land, he was cold.
Mohan had been fortunate to find shelter; an old, abandoned farmhouse. It had several rooms and would have once been a comfortable home. Someone had left it to the ravages of time and was in need of much repair.
He would restore it if he had the resources. For now, it was a roof over his head and kept out the chill of the cold mountain nights. Still, even with a full blaze in the solid stone fireplace, it only partially kept the chill from his bones.
He had nothing with which to trade, nothing to barter, and he had limited English. All he would need to do was open his mouth to speak, and they would know he was not of this land. The clothes on his back he had taken from a pile discarded next to a large bin on a seaside street, near where he had come ashore. By day he had walked over many fertile, abundant fields through strange forests. As darkness fell, he had shifted and used the strength of his animal form. He hunted rabbits to help him continue on. As he moved further away from people and higher into the mountains, the safer he began to feel.
Stumbling across the farmhouse had been an answer to an unspoken prayer. He had collapsed in the old building, staying still until his exhaustion had faded.
A laugh bubbled out of her as Bronte galloped through the forest. Naylaa loved the feeling of his powerful body between her legs. The power, the speed and pure exhilaration that came with riding an animal such as Bronte.
“You are incredible my friend. It has been too long since we have run like this.”
I know Naylaa.
Bronte’s home was just ahead of them, hidden amongst the rocks and trees. Beneath her hands, Naylaa felt Bronte’s skin prickle.
“What is it Bronte?”
I can smell something, foreign and delicious.
The tingle of excitement and arousal that ran through him made Naylaa shudder. She had never felt that particular current within Bronte before and in turn felt her own body soften.
I need to go.
He turned without her direction and began to run. She let Bronte have his head.
“I trust you, Bronte. Take me to it.”
Spirit of Love
A sense of foreboding settled in Julia’s stomach as she quickly returned to the car. She didn’t know what it was about the manor, but each time she visited, the hair stood up on the back of her neck. It felt as if something or someone was watching her.
Starting the car’s engine, she drove slowly down the weedy, rutted path, the car bouncing as its wheels sank into the potholes. Julia cringed at the jolts and scraping sounds coming from underneath the vehicle. “I should never have sold the Landcruiser. What was I thinking, bringing the Jag?” She knew what she had been thinking. She was the Mistress of the Manor now, and wanted to show off.
As she bumped along through the avenue of trees, the manor revealed itself. Grey stone blocks of the façade gave a haunting welcome. Julia swallowed a lump in her throat and tears pricked her eyes. It wasn’t right. Richard should have been here with her. He’d wanted to restore the old mansion for a while. This was his dream house.
Instead, it had become his burial place.
She’d promised, while she knelt at his graveside, to restore the old manor in his memory. That had been two years ago. The memories of the time still haunted her. Grief and loneliness had held her back. Mentally, she felt stronger now, and able to accept having to carry on alone. “Get a grip on yourself Julia. It’s an old house. It’s bound to have a few creaks and groans.”
Parking the Jag next to the front door, she unpacked, placing the bags in front of the massive wooden doors. The leering gargoyle face on the door knocker sent a shiver through her. Placing a hand over its face so she wouldn’t have to look at it, Julia turned the door key in the lock and pushed the door open.
Dragons Among Us
Aleda crawled from her sleeping bag and, individually, stretched her muscles. She’d always enjoyed camping. It was the only time she slept well. Something about the unpolluted air, the nights sounds of nature and knowing there were no other people about produced a sleeping potion no doctor could recreate. She dressed warmly against the morning chill and meandered to the stream to get water for coffee and cooking. Not having done much the day before, her ravenous hunger puzzled her.
“Must be the good mountain air.” She made coffee, scrambled eggs, and toasted bread with a slender wire camp toaster, which she held over the fire. As she sat in her chair enjoying the taste of food and quiet of the surrounding woods, hair on the back of her neck began to stand on end and her skin tingled. She shook off the feeling and poured another cup of coffee. The sensation of eyes observing her movements overpowered her senses and her amulet began humming, the sound increasing in volume with each passing minute.
“Enough!” Aleda tossed her plastic plate to the table with a clatter, stomped to her tent and retrieved a heavy coat. “I’ll nip this foolishness in the bud, right now!”
She hesitated as she started to storm from the camp. Camera. Quickly returning to her tent, she stomped away from her personal sanctuary, Nikon in hand, stomach complaining. Half a dozen paces from the camp, after wreaking a rushing flurry of birds into flight, Aleda realized, if she was to find out what was inducing her amulet to hum and her hair to stand on end, she would need to slow her pace—think before she stumbled into trouble. She proceeded into the stand of trees serving as the backdrop for her camp. Sauntering to nearest the evergreen, she placed her hand on the bark and felt a buzzing sensation tickle her palm. Aleda stumbled backward, dumbfounded by the commotion stirring within her. Logic and reason said she shouldn’t be sensing anything by touching the tree.
“This whole trip is turning out to be totally illogical.”
Oh my God, her head hurt. That would teach her to drink so much. Clare squinted as she tried to open her eyes. Tina had better be suffering as much or there was no justice. That had been one weird dream. She couldn’t remember coming back to the hotel, plus her mouth tasted like the bottom of a birdcage. Not that she had ever tried licking one, but was pretty sure this was what it was like. Her hand hit thin air as she reached beside the bed for her water bottle. There was a bedside table with a glass on it. There was no hotel room, or sister in the other bed either; there was no other bed. She tried to sit up but her head thumped and she decided for now it was better to lie back down.
This place looked old, very old. The walls were white washed stone and the windows at the far end of the room had wooden shutters. They hardly let in enough sunlight to illuminate the room. The bed was a four-poster, with curtains around it that were pulled back. The other side of the room comprised a fireplace and a chair beside which were stacked books. The books, like everything else, appeared exceedingly old. They were leather-bound, not a modern looking cover amongst them.
This couldn’t be happening. It had been a dream. She had been drunk. It had to be. Clare closed her eyes, hoping when she reopened them she would be awake and back in Florence. It didn’t work. The panic was returning as her pulse sped up. The door opened and a man walked in with a tray. She didn’t recognize him. Was he room service? He wore old-fashioned clothes and was followed by someone else. This man she knew. He was called Trevi and had taken her flying through the air and into the woods. What the hell was going on? Where was the hotel and Tina? She wanted to see her, not this. Clare pulled up the bed cover and clutched it in her hands as she pushed her body back into the pillow.
Sweet Sexy Sadie
Sadie didn’t know what to make of Brody. Exceptionally handsome and charismatic, he’d made her smile the first time she saw him sauntering down the road toward her. Good lord, but he looked as if he owned the world. Tall, tanned from the sun, amber-green eyes that sparkled as if he saw some light humor in everything. He was wiry and sleek; a quickness about him surprised her. His blue-black hair was tied back with a leather thong, his chin angular.
Perhaps he did own this part of the Sierra Madres. His family seemed to own most of this town.
Her research had brought her to this place, Cactus Junction. Now the prospect of getting to know an interesting man would be an added perk. In the bathroom she slipped out of her clothes and into a tepid shower. A few minutes later she emerged squeaky clean and ready for the next part of her adventure.
Unpacking her clothes and taking out her laptop, she opened it. What do explosive experts do? Hmmm….
Why, they blow up things. What would he blow up around here?
Lord but that sounded crazy to her. Before typing in the necessary info to pull something up on Google, she leaned back, relaxing into her chair. The wallpaper was outdated, and the old fan complimented the air conditioning. She realized she liked the atmosphere.