Tour Stop: Breathe A Soul’s Caress Book 1 by Camelia Bennett

 

 

A gifted psychic, tormented by a serial killer who has the key to his mind, finds hope in a talented detective with a tortured past. Together, they will learn what it means to trust again and fall into a love they never thought they deserved.

Breathe

A Soul’s Caress Book 1

by Camelia Bennett

Genre: LGBTQ+ Paranormal Romantic Murder Mystery

Zayne Matthews is looking for someone to save him. His visions of a serial killer are pulling him deeper into a world of darkness he no longer has the strength to fight against. Detective Bodie Hale is looking for someone to save. His haunted past isolates him from the people who love and care about him, imprisoning his heart behind icy walls no one can break through.

But fate has plans for them. It will bring Bodie and Zayne together in a collision of emotions, forcing them to face their deepest fears. Their broken hearts will start to mend as they fight for a chance to have the one thing they thought they’d never find...LOVE.

And not just any love. A love brought to life through A Soul’s Caress.

 

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Bodie stood and offered his hand as if it was the most natural thing to do.

 

"Come on. The aquarium staff is going home for the night. I'll walk you back to your car."

 

Zayne cocked his head sarcastically. "You don’t think I can take care of myself, detective?"

 

“It’s not that.”

 

“Oh, I get it. Porter and Harris told you to keep an eye on me.”

 

“Actually, they told me the opposite.”

 

“Then why are you doing all this? I mean, the ice cream, the aquarium, escorting me to my car.”

 

Zayne took a step closer to the young man still holding his hand. A burst of heat erupted in his chest. His skin felt like it was on fire. The scent of sandalwood swirling around him tempted him to give in to the undeniable need coursing through his body. Unable to resist, Zayne leaned even closer to the sexy detective.

 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was our first date, Detective Hale.”

 

Bodie’s expression remained unchanged, but he couldn’t hide the lovely shade of pink that was now coloring the tips of his ears.

 

Zayne's thumb drew slow, seductive circles on the back of Bodie's hand. He daringly slipped his long, elegant fingers between Bodie’s until their palms touched. When their grip tightened with a natural ease, his heart stuttered as Bodie's breathing quickened. Their intimately joined hands sent the most exquisite tremors rushing through his body.

 

"What are you doing?" Bodie whispered, his voice ragged.

 

"I don't know. But it feels right. Doesn't it?"

 

Zayne’s heart thrashed wildly inside his tight chest as Bodie lifted his free hand and cupped the side of his face. He could feel the calloused skin tenderly cradle the smooth skin of his cheek. Giving in to his body’s demands, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into Bodie’s warm hand.

 

"Zayne…we…we can't."

 

Zayne’s eyes shot open. He wrenched his hand free and took three quick steps back.

 

"I-I-I'm so sorry! I don't know what I..."

 

Bodie turned, heading for the exit, his head hung low. "It…It’s fine. Come on. Follow me."

 

Zayne couldn’t see the detective’s face. But he could read Bodie’s body language loud and clear.

 

What the hell came over him? Of course, Bodie would be disgusted. He’s a man, for god’s sake! A damn hot man who, even if he was gay, would never be interested in Zayne.

 

This is crazy! I’m not even gay! I’m not. At least, I’m pretty sure I’m not. I’m just tired, lonely, and fucking horny. I can’t even remember the last time I got laid. This is ridiculous. How am I going to look him in the eye after this? He probably hates my guts. He’ll probably tell the captain he can’t work with me anymore. Whatever. I didn’t want his help anyway.

 

“Are you coming?” Bodie asked.

 

But Zayne didn’t seem to hear him. He remained where he was, internally scolding himself for acting like a complete idiot. It wasn’t until he felt Bodie’s fingers threading through his that he snapped out of his bubble of self-loathing. He looked into the detective’s eyes, shocked to see a devilish satisfaction shadowed by a hint of hope in their golden depths.

 

“I’m not angry,” Bodie said softly, gently squeezing Zayne’s hand. “You’re tired and, just taking a guess here, hungry?”

 

Zayne nodded. Well, he may have read Bodie all wrong, but the detective knew exactly what he was feeling. It was nice—really nice—to finally be seen by someone. Granted, it was by a complete stranger, which was the damndest thing. Yet Bodie didn’t feel like a stranger. How was that possible? Had they met before?

 

“Alright then. We’ll stop for something on the way back to the station. But nothing greasy or spicy. You’ll have nightmares.”

 

Zayne gave Bodie a broken smile.

 

Oh, Detective Hale. You have no idea what a nightmare is. Trust me, junk food is the least of my worries.

 

Zayne could tell Bodie was trying to read his thoughts. The way a tiny wrinkle appeared between the detective’s brows and his pale eyes danced with questions had Zayne thinking hard about trusting this man with his secrets.

 

“Everything okay?” Bodie asked.

 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

 

“Well then, follow me.”

 

Zayne shook his head casually. “Not until you answer my question.”

 

“What question?”

 

“The one I asked earlier.”

 

“Ohhh. The one about why I’m doing all of this. That one?”

 

Giving Bodie an annoyed smile, Zayne replied, “Yes, that one. I mean, you’re a detective sent here to catch a serial killer. Shouldn’t you be out looking for clues or arresting suspects instead of buying me food and taking me to see fish?”

 

A smile borne from honesty lifted the corners of Bodie’s lips. “What can I say? I enjoy taking care of you. I like to see you smile. You should do it more often. It’s sexy.”

 

Eyes wide and heart racing, Zayne gulped down the words taking shape on his tongue. Bodie’s answer caught him off guard and left him wondering if he was dreaming.

 

“Come on,” Bodie whined, tugging on Zayne’s hand. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

 

Of that simple fact, Zayne was now convinced.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

Zayne looked into Bodie’s unrelenting gaze and answered from his heart.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Soul Moon: First Encounter

Soul Moon Book 1

by Camelia Bennett

Genre: LGBTQ+ Urban Fantasy, Norse Mythology 

Caden Mitchell, a wolf shifter, thinks he’s on a mission to stop a deadly weapons exchange. What he finds instead is a pair of silver eyes and a body carved by sin. Erick Shaw is a struggling bartender whose scent has awakened Caden’s lonely heart and ignited a fire in his dying soul. Drawn together by an unknown and inexplicable familiarity, they will search for answers as to why humans want Erick dead and shifters wish to possess him.

Fate has brought them together for a reason. However, time is against them. Will Caden be able to save Erick from the people hunting him? Can Erick change his destiny and survive a horror none have been able to before?

Their hearts will be tempted, their bond tested. Yet, through it all, Caden and Erick will follow the longing in their souls back to the one their passion burns brightest for.

 

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Caden Mitchell wasn’t supposed to be here. It wasn’t supposed to be him sitting in this seedy strip club, avoiding the advances of women he had no interest in. Initially, his head of security had been assigned to this location. But, when they got a last-minute tip about an illegal shipment of drugs arriving tonight down at the harbor, Caden was forced to take the mission at the club while his associate followed the lead at the docks.

 

It really was the best plan. Unfortunately, now he’s the one stuck sitting here in this hell of overstimulation instead of the quiet of his condo, reading a good book while enjoying a cup of tea.

 

The flashing, colorful lights around him make his eyes hurt. The loud music, if you can even call it that, feeds the headache clawing at the front of his skull. The pungent smell of the filthy carpet, the ripped vinyl seats, and the smoky air all trigger waves of nausea that churn his empty stomach. Everything about this place reeks of desperation and sex.

 

From the moment he sat down over an hour ago, Caden has kept his head and eyes down. He can’t afford to draw attention to himself if he wants to complete his mission. However, as he catches the scent of someone new walking through the doors, his head lifts slightly so his sharp eyes can follow the man he was sent here to observe, possibly capture, but most likely, kill.

 

His senses heighten as he watches his target casually approach the bar and order a beer. The man dressed in a blue suit too expensive for this cheap club turns to scan the crowd cautiously. Caden quickly lowers his head again and casually takes the final sip of bourbon from his glass. A minute ticks by before he looks up to zero in on his target again.

 

But instead of finding his prey, Caden is met with a pair of striking gray eyes staring back at him with an arousing playfulness.

 

He can’t look away. Even though his breaths remain slow and even, his heart rate accelerates like a racehorse out of a starting gate. The blood in his veins burns like fire beneath his skin, yet he keeps his expression shrouded with disinterest. Heated shivers ripple outwards through his body as his eyes catch the faint, mischievous smile taking shape on the bartender’s perfectly bowed lips. When the owner of those mystifying silver eyes begins walking toward him, Caden’s grip on the empty glass in his hand tightens. 

 

Everything in the club fades to the background except for the man striding confidently to the small round table in the corner, where Caden waits, his sensitive ears listening to the steady beat of the bartender’s strong heart. His cobalt blue eyes catch every movement of the young man’s sinewy muscles beneath his black, skin-tight jeans and barely-there crimson red shirt. Everything about the bartender fascinates him. But it’s the innocent man’s scent that truly captivates him.

 

Caden has never smelled anything this heavenly before. The bartender’s fragrance is a potent blend of rosewood and sweat, compelling him to inhale deeply until he can taste it on his tongue. The combination is exhilarating, yet there’s something else subtly interwoven beneath it that draws him in like a siren’s song—something Caden believes he has smelled before but has been lost to him over time.

 

“What can I get you, handsome?” the bartender asks with a flirty tilt of his head.

 

Caden’s fingers itch to bury themselves in the man’s soft hair. The urge to pull on the strands at the root, baring the man’s neck to his teeth, has him clenching his jaw. He swallows stiffly as the bartender’s large, almond-shaped eyes openly travel up and down his body. They’re lined with endless rows of black lashes so thick that it gives the illusion that the young man is wearing eyeliner. It makes Caden want to see if the barkeep is as dangerous as he looks. His eyes drink in the young man’s bare arms, his mouth going dry when the sly minx of a man flexes his biceps. The bartender has veiled them, along with the sun-kissed flesh covering his exposed collarbones, with some sort of fine body glitter. The seductive man’s naked skin glistens with every breath he takes, every minute shift of his lean body, and all Caden wants to do is lick it off him. 

When I was young, I read books to escape the small town I grew up in. College, work, and family took me away from the stories I loved. But in 2020, when everyone was isolated, my youngest daughter introduced me to Japanese anime, and I fell into a hole I never want to leave. Fan fiction showed me that anyone can create stories and share them with the world. Three encouraging words from my best friend gave me the courage to write my first fan fiction later that year. Not long after, I completed the series, A Soul's Caress, my first original story but not my last. At 55, I now understand the meaning of George Eliot's quote, "It's never too late to be what you might have been.”

 

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Tour Stop: Ghosts of Border House Series by Vanessa Victoria Kilmer

 

 

Welcome to Border House—where checkout time is optional, and some guests have been extending their stay for centuries.

Border House has stood on the River Tweed since 1100, witnessing centuries of Scottish history and accumulating many permanent residents along the way. This ancient fortified manor, once a hunting lodge and defensive tower, now serves as both a charming hotel and an unintentional retirement home for spirits who can’t or won’t move on to the next realm.

The house is home to a medieval king, a turncoat scribe, a lonesome English soldier, two Victorian ladies, one unhappy go-go girl, a Scottish Brewmaster, and more. Each ghost brings their own quirks, complaints, and centuries-old drama to daily life at Border House. Whether you’re a living guest checking in for the weekend or a long-dead resident who’s been here for ages, everyone has a story to tell.

This series features standalone paranormal romances written by various authors.

Ann’s Undoing

Ghosts of Border House Book 4

by Leah Miles

Genre: Paranormal Ghost Romance

Ghost Dogs, a performing troupe, and a murder to solve.

Ann Darby was a rising movie star but died alone in a river in 1975. It seems she’s destined to spend eternity alone at Border House in Scotland. Halloween is the one night she can be visible to the living, but this year she plans to skip the party. That is, until a giant Highlander steps out of a green van in front of the house.

Callum McLeod performs in a small troupe for parties and events, waiting for his big break. Betrayed by the lover he trusted and fired by the employer he outperformed, he’s at the end of the road—personally, financially, and emotionally. His paycheck was supposed to cover rent. Now he’ll be evicted the moment he gets home.

Then a killer strikes in the maze, and Callum never makes it home at all. The house ghosts must work together to catch a murderer, and Ann has some hard choices to make if she wants her future to look different from her past.

 

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“Do you want to go to the orchard? We can sleep out there under the stars.”

“Sleep? Ghosts sleep?”

“It’s not a true sleep, but it stills your mind and gives you time to think. Perhaps if you rest, you’ll remember something about what happened to you.” She held out her hand, and he took it without hesitation.

Ann Darby was the only person … ghost … who’d stood with him from the moment he awoke, and she’d asked him for nothing. Wordlessly, he let her lead him down the stairs and out into the night. His dogs barked and raced across the grass as they walked around the house and toward the orchard. The strong breeze carried a sharp, almost vinegary sweetness of windfall apples beginning to ferment where they’d dropped in the grass.

“Why are you helping me?”

She flashed him a wry smile. “I would say it’s because I’m a good person, but you already know that isn’t the whole truth. Callum … I’ve been alone a long time. At first I liked it that way because I was so angry about my death and the unfairness,” she waved her free hand, “Of all this. You know, I had much the same problem as you. The hours before I drowned were a complete blank. I was at a party, inside Border House, and next I knew, Donnal was pulling me out of the river.”

“He was alive then?”

“No. He wasn’t pulling my body out. He pulled me out. What I am now out.”

“When was this again?”

“Donnal died in 1970, and I drowned in 1975.”

He stopped walking and faced her, still gripping her hand. “Ye’ve been here, at this house for 51 years?”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she nodded.

“When we spoke at the fountain, you said you were at a party and found out the man was married. The producer of the play. Is he the one who murdered you?”

“Yes. It took me a long time to remember, but it was him. He drugged me and tossed me off the footbridge. I was a fine swimmer, so even impaired I might’ve survived, but, it was this time of year, and we’d had some rain and flooding.”

Her eyes were huge in her pale face, and the need to comfort her overwhelmed him. He gently pulled her against his chest and stroked his hand up and down her back. Her spine softened under his palm, tension leaving by degrees until she relaxed against him.

“It was a long time ago. I thought I’d pass on to whatever came next after I remembered, but I’m still here.”

He rested his chin on her hair and squeezed her against him. The moon over them was full, and a strong breeze rustled the leaves, bringing the sharp scent of fresh apples. The king aside, this place wasn’t so bad. He had his dogs, and he had Ann. “Perhaps I’ll stay here then. Even after we solve my murder.”

She sighed against him before easing back. The smile she gave him didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I would love to have you here with me, if you want that as well.”

He smoothed back a stray wisp of hair and cupped her cheek, trying to determine the cause of her withdrawal. Then tried a different tactic, sliding his fingers into the hair at her nape, not trapping her, only holding as much as she allowed. His fingers lingered in her hair, and with his thumb on her chin, he tilted her face up until his lips met hers. She didn’t speak, but her breath caught as she leaned into him, meeting his caress with her own. It wasn't a cinematic kiss of sudden passion and overwhelming hunger, but a slow search for mutual warmth. She trembled in his arms, and he let a little hunger seep into his caress, then left her mouth to trail kisses over her cheek, pulling her tightly to his chest. “Yer the one bright spot in all this. I’m not sorry I met ye, Ann Darby.” 

Black Cat Devotion

Ghosts of Border House Book 3

by Vanessa Victoria Kilmer

Genre: Paranormal Ghost Romance 

Black cats love sunshine.

Bubbly but lonely Scottish heiress, Morven Blair, connects with Black Kat, a cranky internet pixie with a secret identity and a reputation as a myth buster. Morven asks Black Kat to prove the existence of ghosts and certify Border House, “the most haunted place in the world.” Black Kat intends to prove it’s all a con. Opposites do attract, but do they really know love at all?

 

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“I’m an early riser,” Tibby said, sipping from the only pink mug in the place. Interesting.

“Can I make you something to eat? Eggs. Toast.”

“No, I have to have second coffee before I can even think about food in the morning.”

I opened the back door for Dam. “Is she okay to wander around outside? We have wild animals roaming around.”

“She thinks she’s a lion, so she’ll be just fine.”

“You said yesterday that Dam is black in the Thai language. Is your heritage Thai?” I sat with my coffee in my favorite mug, covered in sunflowers. I inhaled the aroma with a deep breath through my nose. I drink my coffee black. I peeked into Tibby’s cup. Her cup had lots of milk in it.

She wrinkled her nose as if she considered not answering.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Privacy is a good thing.”

She stared at me for a long time, deciding.

“It’s not really that big a deal. I’m just not used to sharing with someone I just met.” She dipped her pinky into her coffee. “None of us know our birth families, but we want to know. We took those DNA tests to see if we could find any relatives. Mine said I’m part Thai and part French.” She got up to pour more coffee. She held the pot up to me in a silent question.

I shook my head.

She went to the fridge to dilute her coffee and cool it off. No wonder she drank it so fast.

“Have you taken one of the DNA tests?” She asked as she sat back down at the table.

“God, no.” I laughed as I pointed at my chest. “Nobility here. There were few marriages for love in my family’s history. If we took a DNA test, we might find out we’re related to the stable boy.”

Tibby blinked at me. I wasn’t sure if I was kidding her.

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not joking.”

“Well, alrighty then.”

The Brewmaster’s Kiss

Ghosts of Border House Book 2

by Leah Miles

Genre: Paranormal Ghost Romance

After fifty-five years, Nova Guthrie has returned to Scotland for the annual Halloween Ball at Border House. Or that is her excuse to return to the home of her youth and bid farewell to memories of her lost lover.

What she doesn’t know is that Donnal Stuart still haunts the grand mansion, along with a few other ghostly characters—one of whom will do everything she can to keep them apart.

This story is about true love and secret ghost powers bundled up in a haunting tale of second chances.

 

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“Don’t yell at me. You told me to speak to her,” Ann replied sulkily. “All I did was say hello.”

Donnal threw up his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think this through.” He struggled to regain his composure. “If I can’t talk to her, and hearing yer voice frightens her, what’s the alternative?”

Unaware of their presence, Nova pulled a book from the shelf and began flipping through it.

“Look there, Donnal. She isn’t frightened. She’s reading a book.” Ann made a bored sound in her throat. “I’m going to the dining room. King Edgar might be there. What did he say when you spoke to him? Am I in the clear?”

Donnal shrugged. “Edgar agreed to commute yer sentence, but ye need to be in the drawing room before dawn tomorrow for the speech. And no interruptions.”

“Ugh.” She made a face. “Fine. I’m going then. Louisa Stuart said it was roast beef tonight, and I want to sniff it before it all gets eaten.”

“Ann …”

“What?”

“Thanks for trying.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, pausing a long moment before resting a hand on his sleeve. “When your lost love returns to America, maybe we can take that walk in the garden.”

“Sorry, Ann.” Donnal shook his head. “Even if Nova is far away or long dead, she holds my heart. I just wish there were some way to tell her how I feel,” he said, sidling closer to read over Nova’s shoulder.

Ann huffed. “Well, if that’s the way of it, I do have one idea.”

Hope speared through him, but he quickly squashed it as he faced Ann. “We tried, and that’s enough for now. Maybe on Halloween—”

“Use your water power,” interrupted Anne.

His mind went blank. What did she mean? “Water power?”

“Don’t be dense, beer man. I heard you talking to James Graham a few years ago. You died when your steam device exploded, and the steam-propelled metal bits stabbed you in the heart. Right?”

He pulled back his shoulders. “Aye …”

“So …” Ann tapped a red-tipped finger against her equally red lips. “Can you manipulate water? Or is it just steam?”

“Not in great amounts, but I can move water.” He scrubbed a hand over his thick black curls. “It’s nae impressive.”

Ann gestured toward Nova. “She has a cup of tea right there. You could slosh it around or something.”

“What purpose would it serve?”

Ann clicked her tongue and crossed to where Nova was flipping through a second book. She jabbed a finger toward the teacup resting on the ledge of the bookcase, then whispered in Nova’s ear. “Donnal is here.”

Nova jolted and dropped her book on the polished wood floor. “Donnal?” she whispered.

He glowered at Ann for forcing this moment and concentrated on the tea until it churned and sloshed over the rim.

“What the—” Nova snatched up the cup and used her sleeve to wipe the spilled tea from the shelf before it reached any books. She held the cup away from her and cast her gaze warily around the room. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this. Donnal, if you’re here, prove it.”

Ann giggled. “See? I was right! Come on, come on. Spill it again.”

“It’s no small effort to move inert fluid.” Donnal cracked his knuckles and refocused on the tea. Seconds later, it sloshed over the rim a second time.

“I know I didn’t do that,” Nova said, her eyes wide.

The library door burst open, and the Earl entered with another man. “Jack, I need to … hang on. What are you doing in here? Nova Guthrie, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she stammered and moved a foot to cover the spilled tea on the floor. “James.”

“No. It’s John.” His lips curled in irritation. “Dinner will be served shortly. This is my private library. Not available to the guests. Valuable things in here, you see.”

“Apologies.” Her gaze darted around the room before she hurried out.

Excerpt 3 The Mist

She set down the coffee to tug on her gloves, then, picking up the cup in one hand, she carefully made her way down the stairs to the edge of the garden where she’d seen Donnal the previous morning. The soft rain created a haze over everything. Not the same as yesterday’s mist, but thick and white. Nova shivered and sipped her warm drink. This was ridiculous. She should go back inside—

“Nova?”

She spun so quickly that she dropped her mug on the flagstones, where it shattered into pieces.

“Can ye hear me then?” Donnal hovered, a shimmering apparition, a bare foot away from her.

“Yes, Donnal. If that is you, I hear … I hear you.” Her knees trembled.

He grinned. “My love. Can ye see me? Or is it only my voice?”

“I see an outline of you,” she said, raising a hand to the shimmering image. When her fingers passed through his shoulder, she yanked her hand back.

“Do not be afraid, my darling. Ye have no idea how happy it makes me to stand in front of you again.”

Tears mixed with the mist on her face. “I have dreamed of you. But I don’t understand how you are here.”

He shrugged, and the scent of apples and cinnamon flavored the rain. Donnal hadn’t aged past the thirty years he was at his death. Granted, he was an outline, a misty, colorless visage, and oh, how she longed to see his black hair and blue eyes one more time. She didn’t even have a photo to remember him by. “Most souls cross over to wherever they’re going as soon as they pass, and others remain near the place of their demise. I’m one of several ghosts that haunt Border House.”

“Do you want to stay here?”

“My darling Nova, I have only wanted to see ye all these years. Before the sun rises or this mist subsides, I want to say that I love ye. And I’m sorry for not being the man I should have been all those years ago. I hurt ye, and for that I’m truly sorry.” He spoke fast as if afraid he wouldn’t get his words out.

She shivered and moved nose to nose with Donnal’s apparition. “If forgiveness is what you need to move on to the next life, then I forgive you.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nothing happened. “Do you feel different?” she whispered.

“Not particularly,” he said, opening his eyes. “I suppose it wasn’t only forgiveness I needed.”

She shivered and folded her arms across her chest for warmth.

“Ye are cold. Perhaps if we walk, ye would be warmer, and ye can tell me of yer life.”

“Ah.” Nova squinted at the path that she could barely make out in the dark. “I might trip. I took a fall last night in the brewery.”

“I was there. Do ye remember speaking to me?”

Nova’s throat tightened. “That was real?”

He nodded. “The brewery is my favorite place in the house.”

“I can imagine you working there, if you had …”

“If I had lived. Aye.” Donnal’s apparition dissipated and reformed. “Sorry, I’m upset about something that I have no control over.” He flicked out his arms, and water splashed on her face.

She used the edge of her sleeve to dab at her cheek and shivered again. “What sort of thing upset you?”

“The Earl is selling my legacy.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Do ye remember the Scotsman who came into the library with the Earl?”

She nodded and stamped her feet. “I do.”

“He’s purchasing the brew recipes from Border House. All of them. Including my special spiced beer.” He plucked his bottle from somewhere at his waist and took a swig. “They are meeting this morning. If he sells the secret recipe, the Earl may as well close the brewery down forever.”

“Border House is famous for its special beers. I don’t understand why he would sell your recipes.”

“Money. The Earl is short of cash.”

She wished she hadn’t dropped her hot coffee. “Do you know what the Scotsman is paying?”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s no way to stop it—”

The rain ceased, and when it did, his figure evaporated on the breeze.

“Donnal?”

Nothing.

“Don’t give up,” she whispered before turning back to the stairs.

 

Love Lost & Found

Ghosts of Border House Book 1

by Vanessa Victoria Kilmer

Genre: Paranormal Ghost Romance

2026 National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award (NERFA) - Romance Novella category

In 1566, Thomas Kincaid is murdered at Border House by agents of the Scottish King. Thinking himself betrayed by his soulmate, Sara Mae Stuart, Thomas curses her to a life of reincarnation with his dying breath.

When Sara Mae dies of a broken heart, she is reborn again and again.

After 450 years of reincarnation, Sara Mae returns to Border House to perform a séance and break her curse. She discovers a host of unsettled spirits, each harboring their own hidden agendas, and Thomas, lurking inside her crystal ball.

Can love survive revenge, guilt, and a quirky spiritual divide?

 

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Confused was too tame a word for how Thomas felt after last night. Baffled. Befuddled. Bewildered. No, more like flummoxed or deranged. He huddled in the Haunted Cellar, so named because he haunted it. The lowest most point of the manor, it served as a cell for prisoners. No one came here, so he was assured of some peace. The warped floorboards felt smooth and cool; a breeze from a loose stone in the corner foundation brought damp, earthy scents up through the gaps between the wooden planks set a foot above the cellar ground.

He peeked through the gap beneath him. Fiona had not put the locket back where he had hidden it. Perhaps if he asked her nicely, she might bring it back to him or give it to Sara Mae. Did he want her to have it? He lost his resolve last night when he almost followed through on his revenge. He didn’t think he could try again. He still harbored anger towards her, and the anger simmered in his heart, but the love was still there, too. He didn’t think he’d ever see her again, so he hadn’t planned to face the love that never went away.

That was the real curse they both lived under, a situation with many names but well known throughout the ages: Beloved of the Soul, Twin Flames, the Other Half, Soulmate. Whatever one called it, it was inescapable. He spent so many years dreaming of revenge. Now that he couldn’t follow through, he was at a loss.

A collective wailing, the spiritual equivalent of a gasp of shock, whirled through the manor. Thomas followed the disturbance to the first-floor family rooms. The room at the front of the left wing housed the sitting room. Three-quarters of the ghost residents milled in the tight quarters.

Davina Blair, dry, dreaming and wrapped up in the arms of a new ghost, sat on the couch, smiling. The new ghost seemed somewhat familiar. Thomas snapped his insubstantial fingers.

“Patrick Buchan.”

The new ghost nodded.

“But how?” Thomas stammered.

“I found my Vina. She waited for me. And now, no one will ever keep us apart again.”

The room erupted with applause, some ghosts forming hearts with their wisps of their spiritual selves like smoke rings.

“Your dilemma inspired us,” Davina Blair said. “And now that we are reunited, in love and happiness, we want to find a way to help you and Sara Mae.” She rested her head on Patrick’s chest, her ear pressed to the spot where his beating heart would be if he were still alive.

Patrick nodded. “We can help. At the very least, we can find the locket and get it to Sara Mae. Beyond that, we’re not sure because you still hold so much fury, which will block any suitable solution to your predicament.”

Now that the excitement of a new addition to the household waned, Thomas was left alone with Davina, Patrick and King Edgar.

“I had my eye on her,” King Edgar lamented.

“She’s another relative of yours,” Patrick said.

King Edgar shrugged. “Again, not a very close one.”

“Go away, Edgar,” Thomas said. “I need to think.”

“That’s King Edgar to a lowly servant.” He blew a raspberry and left the room with a pop.

Malcolm Alba entered the room through the door.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Thomas said. “Are we never to have any peace?”

 

 

Leah Miles grew up in Atlanta, Georgia, and planned to have a career as either a television anchor or a successful author. After getting a bachelor’s degree in English and communications, she worked at CNN for more than a dozen years in technical news production. Her second career is managing an insurance agency in rural Georgia, along with six brand-new Airbnb-style rentals, with her husband. When not writing insurance or cleaning cabins, she cherishes quality time with her hubby and their cocker spaniel, Hootie. They have three adult kids—a doctor, a lawyer, and a journalist. Leah is currently writing a series with military elements involving take-charge heroes and women who stand up for themselves and the people they love. For updates, visit leahmilesauthor.com.

 

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Vanessa Victoria Kilmer told her first story to an angel who visited her when she was locked in a dark, medieval attic at the age of four.

She grew up surrounded by fortified castles, primal salt mines, and the drama of ancient places. Her fantasy fiction teems with murder, magic, and madness. She explores the abuse inflicted by those closest to us and the various ways people deal with the damage. Between writing novels, she blogs, paints, and takes pictures with her white camera named Traitor and embroiders tapestries.

 

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