An erotic paranormal romance…Sexy vampire, Luca Macquarie doesn’t do love; especially not with humans. Yet, ever since he rescued Samantha Irving, he can’t deny the enigmatic attraction he’s developed for the alluring mortal woman. Concerned for her safety, he’s determined to bring Samantha back to her coven. His mission is to go find the novice witch and bring her home, nothing more, nothing less; falling for her is not supposed to be part of the plan.Samantha doesn’t want to be a witch, yet that’s exactly what she is. After failing to elicit her magic, she escapes to the mountains in an attempt to resume a semblance of her previous human life. When an arsonist torches her cabin, Samantha’s worst fears are realized. Aware that her life is on the line, she reluctantly agrees to return to New Orleans with Luca.In the Big Easy, Samantha and Luca embark on a spellbinding journey, searching for a mystical amulet that promises to release her obligation from an ancient, lethal vampire who’s been threatening her life. With cryptic clues and clandestine allies, will Luca and Samantha destroy the dangerous amulet before others acquire it, setting forth a chain of catastrophic consequences? And will Luca give into his erotic desire for the witch who magically captures heart? Views: 23
From New York Times bestselling author Stephanie Laurens and beloved bestselling historical authors Kasey Michaels and Delilah Marvelle come three delightful tales of the rules of engagement, Regency-style.... Everyone loves a wedding. The quiet country girl. The sophisticated member of the ton. A graceful duchess. Follow these charming ladies and their handsome suitors on their journeys down the aisles of England's grand cathedrals and castles as they make - and break - society's most sacred rules. Rules of Engagement A lady shall never be caught unchaperoned with a stranger. A gentleman shall never flirt with a lady below his social standing. A lady shall never waltz with a man to whom she is not promised. And above all, an engagement shall not be consummated before the marriage ceremony! Views: 23
Her whole life changed that summer, the moment she set foot on the beautiful holiday island of Gran Canaria. When Lynn Raynor, an English nurse, saves a young man's life she has no idea how fateful her action would turn out to be. Peter Falcon's father, the tall dark Luis, is grateful, but impatient and enigmatic, and his proud grandmother and beautiful aunt treat Lynn with barely concealed hostility. But when Peter drives her up into the mountains and Lynn sees a remote and abandoned house she is instantly and irresistibly drawn to it. She never dreamed it would lead her into danger and romance, for the house holds a secret... Views: 23
Nial orders Calum Garrett to get close to Hollywood producer Kate Lindenstream. Garrett reluctantly complies for he has held himself apart from humans for centuries. Kate doesn’t fall into Garrett’s arms, either. She already has someone for that. Roman Xerus – whom Kate knows as Adrian -- and Garrett go way back to the sixteenth century Scottish highlands, but they parted bitterly two hundred years ago. With Roman’s support, Kate battles Garrett in wills and business as he methodically forces himself into her life. However, on the closed-in movie set in the Californian desert, Garrett’s calm, orderly world crumbles for Garrett is drawn to Kate. He has begins to experience real, human feelings. Kate doesn’t cooperate in the chess game Nial orchestrates, despite being unaware of the strategies swirling around her film set. Demanding and expecting only the best for her movie, Kate’s agenda forces Roman and Garrett to work together to protect her and keep the humans around her ignorant of the Pro Libertatus, the anonymous and all-powerful vampire group who nearly killed Nial, Sebastian and Winter, and shield Kate from the excesses of the League for Humanity. But could Roman really be with the Pro Libertatus? There’s hidden intentions everywhere, and centuries of repressed feelings, along with at least two different groups that mean them harm. Then there’s the rumours that Kate has found the mythical Blood Stone, the key to unlocking vampire history and lifting their curse. Who is Kate, really? Because once Garrett begins to notice, things about Kate don’t quite add up, either... Views: 23
And the scream keeps coming…Don't miss Volume Two of New York Times bestselling author Rachel Vincent's unique and fascinatingSoul Screamers series.MY SOUL TO KEEPAside from the whole "I scream when someone is about to die" thing, Kaylee Cavanaugh's life has gotten better. She's getting to know her dad, doing okay in school and has a hot new boyfriend who understands her in every way. Until the hellion Avari starts tempting everyone with an exotic new drug—demon's breath….MY SOUL TO STEALNow on shaky ground with Nash Hudson, Kaylee is taking their relationship easy. But then Sabine—Nash's ex—storms into their lives. She's determined to get Nash back and there's nothing she won't do to remind him of what they had. And since Sabine has special abilities of her own, Kaylee is headed into a battle she's not sure she can win….REAPER—First time in print!—Though Tod Hudson died two years ago, thanks to his job as a Reaper he's never had to move on or let go of his family—no matter how much Nash would like him to! But few people know about how he came to accept the job of claiming souls….About the AuthorNew York Times bestselling author Rachel Vincent loves good chocolate, comfortable jeans, and serial commas. She’s older than she looks and younger than she feels, but is convinced that for every day she spends writing, one more day will be added to her lifespan. Now absorbed in the dark, tangled loyalties of her UNBOUND world, as well as the travails of a teenage banshee in her SOUL SCREAMERS world, Rachel can be found online at www.rachelvincent.com or urbanfantasy.blogspot.com.New York Times bestselling author Rachel Vincent loves good chocolate, comfortable jeans, and serial commas. She’s older than she looks and younger than she feels, but is convinced that for every day she spends writing, one more day will be added to her lifespan. Now absorbed in the dark, tangled loyalties of her UNBOUND world, as well as the travails of a teenage banshee in her SOUL SCREAMERS world, Rachel can be found online at www.rachelvincent.com or urbanfantasy.blogspot.com.New York Times bestselling author Rachel Vincent loves good chocolate, comfortable jeans, and serial commas. She’s older than she looks and younger than she feels, but is convinced that for every day she spends writing, one more day will be added to her lifespan. Now absorbed in the dark, tangled loyalties of her UNBOUND world, as well as the travails of a teenage banshee in her SOUL SCREAMERS world, Rachel can be found online at www.rachelvincent.com or urbanfantasy.blogspot.com. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.The whole thing started with a wasted jock and a totaled car. Or so I thought. But as usual, the truth was a bit more complicated…"So, how does it peel to be free again?" Nash leaned against my car, flashing that smile I couldn't resist. The one that made his dimples stand out and his eyes shine, and made me melt like chocolate in the sun, in spite of the mid-December chill.I sucked in a deep, cold breath. "Like I'm seeing the sun for the first time in a month." I pushed my car door closed and twisted the key in the lock. I didn't like parking on the street; it didn't seem like a very safe place to leave my most valuable possession. Not that my car was expensive, or anything. It was more than a decade old, and hardly anything to oooh over. But it was mine, and it was paid for, and unlike some of my more financially fortunate classmates, I'd never be able to afford another one, should some idiot veer too close to the curb.But Scott Carter's driveway was full long before we'd arrived, and the street was lined with cars, most much nicer than mine. Of course, they all probably had more than liability coverage…Fortunately, the party was in a very good section of our little Dallas suburb, where the lawn manicures cost more than my father made in six months."Relax, Kaylee." Nash pulled me close as we walked. "You look like you'd rather gouge your own eyes out than hang for a couple of hours with some friends.""They're your friends, not mine," I insisted as we passed the third convertible on our way to the well-lit house at the end of the cul-de-sac, already thumping with some bass-heavy song I couldn't yet identify."They'd be yours if you'd get to know them."I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure the glit-ter-and-gloss throng is waiting for me to give them a chance."Nash shrugged. "They know all they need to know about you—you're smart, pretty, and crazy in love with me," he teased, squeezing me tighter.I laughed. "Who started that vicious rumor?" I'd never said it, because as addictive as Nash was—as special as he made me feel—I wasn't going to toss off words like love and forever until I was sure. Until I was sure he was sure. Forever can be a very long time for bean sidhes, and so far his track record looked more like the fifty-yard dash than the Boston marathon. I'd been burned before by guys without much staying power.When I looked up, I found Nash watching me, his hazel eyes swirling with streaks of green and brown in the orange glow from the streetlights. I almost felt sorry for all the humans who wouldn't be able to see that—to read emotion in another's eyes.That was a bean sidhe thing, and easily my favorite part of my recently discovered heritage."All I'm saying is it would be nice to get to hang out with my friends and my girlfriend at the same time."I rolled my eyes again. "Oh, fine. I'll play nice with the pretty people." At least Emma would be there to keep me company—she'd started going out with one of Nash's teammates while I was grounded. And the truth was that most of Nash's friends weren't that bad. Their girlfriends were another story.Speaking of bloodthirsty hyenas…A car door slammed in the driveway ahead and my cousin, Sophie, stood next to Scott Carter's metallic-blue convertible, her huge green eyes shadowed dramatically by the streetlight overhead. "Nash!" She smiled at him, ignoring me in spite of the fact that we'd shared a home for the past thirteen of her fifteen years, until my dad had moved back from Ireland in late September.Or maybe because of that."Can you give me a hand?" As we stepped onto the driveway, she rounded the end of her boyfriend's car in a slinky, sleeveless pink top and designer jeans, a case of beer clutched awkwardly to her chest. Two more cases sat at her feet, and I glanced around to see if any of the neighbors were watching my fifteen-year-old cousin show off an armload of alcoholic beverages. But the neighbors were probably all out, spending their Saturday evening at the theater, or the ballet, or in some restaurant I couldn't even afford to park near.And most of their kids were at Scott's house, waiting for us to come in with the beer.Nash let go of me to take the case from Sophie, then grabbed another one from the ground. Sophie beamed at him, then shot a haughty sneer at my plain jacket before turning on one wedge-heeled foot to strut after him.I sighed and picked up the remaining box, then followed them both inside. The front door opened before Nash could pound on it, and a tall, thick senior in a green-and-white-letter jacket slapped Nash's shoulder and took one of the cases from him. Nash twisted with his empty arm extended, clearly ready to wrap it around me, but found Sophie instead. He sidestepped her—ignoring her plump-lipped pout—and took the case from me, then stood back to let me go in first."Hudson!" Scott Carter greeted Nash, shouting to be heard over the music. He took one of the cases and led us toward a large kitchen crowded with bodies, scantily clad and shiny with sweat. In spite of the winter chill outside, it was hot and humid indoors, the hormone level rising with each new song that played.I took off my jacket, revealing my snug red blouse, and almost immediately wished I could cover myself back up. I didn't have much to show off, but it was all now on display, thanks to the top Emma had picked out for me that afternoon, which suddenly seemed much more daring than it had in the privacy of my own room.Nash set the remaining case of beer on the counter as Scott slid the first one into the refrigerator. "Kaylee Cavanaugh," Scott said when he stood, having apparently noticed me for the first time. He eyed me up and down while I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my chest. "Lookin' good." He glanced from me to Sophie, then back, while my cousin tried to fry me alive with the heat of her glare. "I'm starting to see the family resemblance.""All I see is you," Nash said, pulling me close when he realized Sophie and I weren't happy with the comparison.I smiled and kissed him impulsively, convinced by the slow churn of colors in his irises that he meant what he said.Scott shoved the last case of beer into the fridge, then slapped a cold can into Nash's hand as I finally pulled away from him, my face flaming. "See? Family resemblance." Then he headed off into the crowd with Sophie, popping the top on a can of his own. Three steps later they were grinding to the music, one of Scott's hands around his drink, the other splayed across my cousin's lower back."Wow, that was…unexpected," Nash said, drawing my gaze from the familiar faces talking, dancing, drinking, and…otherwise engaged. And it took me a moment to realize he meant the kiss."Good unexpected, or bad unexpected?""Very, very good." He set his can on the counter at my back, then pulled me closer for a repeat performance, one hand sliding up my side. That time I didn't pull away until someone poked my shoulder. I twisted in Nash's arms to find Emma Marshall, my best friend, watching us with an amused half smile."Hey." Her grin grew as she glanced from me to Nash, then back. "You're blocking the fridge.""There's a cooler in the other room." Nash nodded toward the main part of the house.Emma shrugged. "Yeah, but no one's making out in front of it." She pulled open the fridge, grabbed a beer, then popped the can open as she pushed the door shut with a toss of one shapely hip. It wasn't fair. Emma and her sisters inherited crazy curves—a genetic jackpot—and all I got from my relatives was a really gnarled family tree.There were times when I would gladly have traded all my bean sidhe "gifts"—did a glass-shattering screech and the ability to travel between the human world and the Netherworld even count as gifts?—for a little more of what she had. But this was not one of those times. Not while Nash's hands were on my waist, his taste still on my lips, and the greens and browns in his eyes swirling languorously with blatant desire. For me.Em drank from her can, and I grabbed the car keys dangling from her hand, then showed them to her before stuffing them into my hip pocket, along with my own. She could stay the night with me, and I'd bring her back for her car in the morning. Emma smiled and nodded, already moving to the music when someone called her name from the living-room doorway."Hey, Em!" a voice called over the music, and I turned to see Doug Fuller leaning with one bulging arm on the door frame. "Come dance with me."Emma smiled, drained her can, then danced into the living room with Doug's hands on her already swaying hips. Nash and I joined them, and he returned greeting after greeting from the glitter crowd writhing around us. But then he was mine. We moved with the music as if the room was empty but for the stereo and the heat we shared.I had stolen Nash from a room full of his adoring devotees with nothing but the secret connection we shared. A connection no other girl could possibly compete with.We'd combined our bean sidhe abilities to bring my best friend back from the dead and to reclaim a damned soul from the hellion who'd bought it. We'd literally saved lives, fought evil, and almost died together. No mere pretty face could compete with that, no matter how much gloss and mascara she applied.An hour later, Em tapped my shoulder and pointed toward the kitchen. I shook my head—after a month without him, I could have danced with Nash all night—but after Emma left, Nash kept glancin... Views: 23
Storylines in this collection: A fantasy voyage that puts a new twist on Alzheimer's disease; a drunk, as far down as she can go, is ready to give up until she meets a different kind of alien, right there in the gutter; a robot suffers from comical depression, and a bad case of religion; because of a long dead, prehistoric woman, two aging scientists give up their chance for fame and save a world; another world regains life due to one woman's faith; and a not-quite-virgin meets a dragon with a sensitive stomach."S. Joan Popek is a rising new star in the (SF) genre."—Steve Algeri, Eternity Press"Being God Is Hard gave even my seasoned editors a chill, and it takes a lot to do that . . . This is not 'fluff' genre fiction, rather a thought-provoking array of stories laced with bold social commentary." —Greg Gifune, The Edge"Her best work yet." —Harvey Stanbrough, Pulitzer prize nominee Views: 23
Curvy redhead Giselle Hunter, parapsychology reporter, has a crisis. Finding a ghost within three days is the only way to save her job. Not easy, especially with no psychic talent. A trip to Savannah Georgia-voted the most haunted city in America-seems ideal. But while Giselle encounters a discrimination-obsessed vampire, a nudist wizard, a not-so-psychic medium and a host of other kooks, there's not a ghost in sight. Then there's scrumptiously sexy, private investigator Ry Leland. With his buff body and bitable lips, Ry ignites her passion. He's an enormous distraction. Distracting her in a bed, in a closet, on the kitchen table, in a car... But despite the explosion of their mutual lust at first sight, Ry is unwilling to help with what he calls a cockamamie investigation. Unwilling, that is, until an attempt on her life makes it clear someone wants to stop Giselle from finding a ghost...and turn her into one. Views: 23
About the AuthorSusan Stephens is passionate about writing books set in fabulous locations where an outstanding man comes to grips with a cool, feisty woman. Susan’s hobbies include travel, reading, theatre, long walks, playing the piano, and she loves hearing from readers at her website. www.susanstephens.com Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.[HTML_REMOVED]Dawn, and in front of us the idyllic English country scene. Smell that grass. Look at that thin stream of sunlight driving night-shadows down the velvet hills—[HTML_REMOVED]How long did he have to stay here?With an exasperated roar, Heath flipped channels, silencing the farming programme. All he[HTML_REMOVED]d smelled so far was cow dung. And it was raining.Resting his chin on one arm, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The Lamborghini roared drowning out the birdsong. Perfect. He missed the concrete jungle—no smells, no mud, no cranky plumbing. Why Uncle Harry had left him a run-down country estate remained a mystery. Heath was allergic to the country—to anything that didn[HTML_REMOVED]t come with dot-com attached. His empire had been built in a bedroom. What did he need all this for?And it was only after asking himself that question that he spotted the tent someone had erected on a mossy bank just inside the gates…spotted the small pink feet sticking out of the entrance. Forget hating the place. He felt proprietorial suddenly. What would he do if someone pitched a tent outside the front door of his London home?Stopping the car, he climbed out. Striding up to the tent, he unzipped it.A yelp of surprise ripped through the steady drum of falling rain. Standing back, he folded his arms, waiting for developments. He didn[HTML_REMOVED]t have long to wait. A strident pixie crawled out, screaming at him that it was the middle of the night as she sprang to her feet. Red hair flying, she stood like an irate stick insect telling him what she thought of him in language as colourful as the clothes she was frantically tugging on—a camouflage top, and shot-off purple leggings that displayed her tiny feet. One furious glance at his car and he was responsible for everything from frightening the local wildlife to global warming, apparently, until finally, having got over the shock of being so rudely awakened, she gulped, took a breath, and exclaimed, [HTML_REMOVED]Heath Stamp…[HTML_REMOVED] Clapping a hand to her chest, she stared at him as if she couldn[HTML_REMOVED]t believe her eyes.[HTML_REMOVED]Bronte Foster-Jenkins,[HTML_REMOVED] he murmured, taking her in.[HTML_REMOVED]I[HTML_REMOVED]ve been expecting you—[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]So I see,[HTML_REMOVED] he said, glancing at the tent.Expecting Heath to arrive? Yes, but not her reaction to it. He wasn[HTML_REMOVED]t supposed to arrive at dawn, either. Around midday, the postmistress in the village had suggested. Heath Stamp, hip, slick, rugged, tough, and even better looking than his most recent images in the press suggested. This was a vastly improved version of someone she[HTML_REMOVED]d dreamed about for thirteen years, two months, six hours, and—[HTML_REMOVED]You do know you[HTML_REMOVED]re trespassing, Bronte?[HTML_REMOVED]And as delightful as ever.The years melted away. They were at loggerheads immediately. She had to remind herself Heath was no longer a wild youth who[HTML_REMOVED]d been locked up for bareknuckle fighting, and who used to visit Hebers Ghyll on a release programme, but a successful Internet entrepreneur and the new owner of Hebers Ghyll, the country estate where Bronte had grown up, and where her mother had been the housekeeper and her father the gamekeeper. [HTML_REMOVED]The estate has been deserted for weeks now—[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]And that[HTML_REMOVED]s an excuse for breaking in?[HTML_REMOVED] [HTML_REMOVED]The gates were open. Everything[HTML_REMOVED]s gone to pot,[HTML_REMOVED] she told him angrily.And that[HTML_REMOVED]s my fault?[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]You own it. You tell me.[HTML_REMOVED] Heath[HTML_REMOVED]s inheritance had a special hold on her heart for all sorts of reasons, not least of which she considered the estate her second home.While Heath had gained nothing in charm, Bronte registered as he turned his back, he clearly still couldn[HTML_REMOVED]t care less what people thought of him. He never had.He[HTML_REMOVED]d walked off to give them both space. Seeing Bronte again had floored him. Since the first time he had visited the estate—where ironically his real-life uncle Harry had used to run a rehabilitation centre for out-of-control youths—there had been something between him and Bronte, something that drew the good girl to the dark side. He[HTML_REMOVED]d tried to steer clear, not wanting to taint her. But he would think about her when he sat alone and stared at his bruised knuckles. She was light to his darkness. Back then Bronte had represented everything that was pure, fun and happy, while he was the youth from the gutter who met every challenge with his fists. He[HTML_REMOVED]d worshipped her from afar, had she only known it. That buzz between them surely should have died by now.[HTML_REMOVED]That tree was struck by lightning, and no one[HTML_REMOVED]s moved it,[HTML_REMOVED] she said, reclaiming his attention.He hadn[HTML_REMOVED]t even realised he[HTML_REMOVED]d been staring at the old tree, but now he remembered Uncle Harry telling him that it had stood on the estate for centuries.[HTML_REMOVED]It[HTML_REMOVED]ll stay there until it rots, I suppose,[HTML_REMOVED] she flared.[HTML_REMOVED]I[HTML_REMOVED]ll have it moved.[HTML_REMOVED] He shrugged. [HTML_REMOVED]Maybe have something planted in its place.[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]It would mean more if you did it.[HTML_REMOVED]He threw her a glance, warning her not to push it. But she would. She always had. Bronte loved a campaign whether it was free the chickens, or somewhere for the local youth to hang out.[HTML_REMOVED]And just think of all the free firewood,[HTML_REMOVED] she said casually.She was working on him. When hadn[HTML_REMOVED]t she? And now it all came flooding back—what she[HTML_REMOVED]d done for him—and how he used to envy Bronte her simple life on the estate with her happy family. He[HTML_REMOVED]d felt a hungry desperation to share what they had but had never allowed them to draw him in, in case he spoiled it. He[HTML_REMOVED]d spoiled everything back then.Andnow?He was still hard and contained.And Hebers Ghyll? Was in the pending file. And Bronte?Heath raked his hair with impatience.This was all happening too fast, way too fast. She hadn[HTML_REMOVED]t expected to feel as shaken as this when she saw Heath again. Heading for the shelter of some trees where the thick green canopy acted like a giant umbrella, she sucked in some deep steadying breaths. She had to remind herself why she was here—to find out whatHeath[HTML_REMOVED]s plans for the estate were. [HTML_REMOVED]I heard the new owner was going to break up the estate—[HTML_REMOVED] [HTML_REMOVED]And?[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]You can[HTML_REMOVED]t.[HTML_REMOVED] Bronte[HTML_REMOVED]s heart picked up pace as Heath came to join her beneath the branches. [HTML_REMOVED]You don[HTML_REMOVED]t know enough about the area as it is today. You don[HTML_REMOVED]t know how desperate people are for jobs. You haven[HTML_REMOVED]t been near the place for years—[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]And you have?[HTML_REMOVED]Bronte[HTML_REMOVED]s cheeks flared red. Yes, she[HTML_REMOVED]d been away, but her travels had been geared towards putting what she had learned at college into practice. As a child she had dogged Uncle Harry[HTML_REMOVED]s footsteps, trying to be useful and asking him endless questions about Hebers Ghyll. He[HTML_REMOVED]d said she was a good lieutenant and might make a decent estate manager one day if she worked hard enough. When she left school Uncle Harry had paid for her to go to college to study estate management. [HTML_REMOVED]I[HTML_REMOVED]ve been away recently,[HTML_REMOVED] she conceded, [HTML_REMOVED]but apart from that I[HTML_REMOVED]ve lived on the estate all my life.[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]So, what are you saying, Bronte? You[HTML_REMOVED]re the only one who cares about Hebers Ghyll?[HTML_REMOVED] Heath[HTML_REMOVED]s chin dipped a warning.[HTML_REMOVED]Well, do you care,[HTML_REMOVED] Bronte exclaimed with frustration, [HTML_REMOVED]beyond its value?[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]I[HTML_REMOVED]d be foolish not to care about its value.[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]But there[HTML_REMOVED]s so much more than money here.[HTML_REMOVED] And she had been prepared to camp out on the road leading up to the old house for as long as it took to prove that to him. [HTML_REMOVED]Why else do you think I scrabbled round my parents[HTML_REMOVED] attic to find the old tent?[HTML_REMOVED] Heath[HTML_REMOVED]s dark gaze flashed a warning, which she ignored. [HTML_REMOVED]Do you think I like camping out in the rain?[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]I don[HTML_REMOVED]t know what you like.[HTML_REMOVED]The gulf between them yawned. It might have been easier to explain and convince Heath if she had seen him recently. The shock of seeing him again after all these years was something she hadn[HTML_REMOVED]t anticipated. It wasn[HTML_REMOVED]t how tall he was, or how good-looking—it was the aura of danger and unapologetic masculinity she found so unnerving.[HTML_REMOVED]So, Bronte,[HTML_REMOVED] Heath observed in the laid-back husky voice that had always made her toes curl with excitement, [HTML_REMOVED]what can I do for you?[HTML_REMOVED]She exhaled, refusing to think about it. [HTML_REMOVED]By the time I got back here, Heath, Uncle Harry was dead and everything was in a mess. No one on the estate or in the village had a clue what was going to happen—or whether they still had jobs—[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]And your parents?[HTML_REMOVED] Heath prompted.She guessed Heath already knew the answer to that. The lawyers would have filled him in on what had happened to the staff at Hebers Ghyll. [HTML_REMOVED]I can only think Uncle Harry must have realised he was gravely ill, because he gave my parents some money before he died. He told them to take a break—to fulfil their lifetime[HTML_REMOVED]s ambition of travelling the world.[HTML_REMOVED] She was hugging herself for reassurance, Bronte realised, releasing her arms. It was hard to launch a cogent argument in defence of the estate while Heath was staring at her so intently. He knew her too well. Even after all this time he could sense what she wasn[HTML_REMOVED]t saying. He could sense how she felt. They had always been uncannily connected, though when Heath had first arrived on the estate she[HTML_REMOVED]d been more concerned that the ruffian Uncle Harry was trying to tame would tear the head off her dolls. The feeling Heath inspired in her now was very different. [HTML_REMOVED]I can[HTML_REMOVED]t believe you[HTML_REMOVED]re the Master of Hebers Ghyll,[HTML_REMOVED] she said, shaking her head.[HTML_REMOVED]And you don[HTML_REMOVED]t like the idea?[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]I didn[HTML_REMOVED]t say that—[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]You didn[HTML_REMOVED]t have to. Perhaps you think Uncle Harry should have left his estate to you—[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]No,[HTML_REMOVED] Bronte exclaimed indignantly. [HTML_REMOVED]That never occurred to me. You[HTML_REMOVED]re his nephew, Heath. I[HTML_REMOVED]m only the housekeeper[HTML_REMOVED]s daughter—[HTML_REMOVED][HTML_REMOVED]Who walked in here and made herself at home.[HTML_REMOVED] He glanced at her tent.[HTML_REMOVED]The ga... 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