Paranormal Romantic Suspense
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Murder, revenge, and nightmares.
A dark cloud of deceit
hovers over her family tree...
Left an estate by an aunt she’s never met, Laurel Standridge
takes possession of Laurel Heights, hoping it will be the safe haven she needs
to recuperate from her ill-fated relationship with Rand Peterson. Secrets long
buried rise to the surface when her cousin James is murdered and dumped on the
highway just outside the gates of Laurel Heights.
Her past trails her to
the mountains of Arkansas...
Caught in an obligation Chase Peterson feels he cannot ignore,
he agrees to help his brother Rand take back the property he believes Laurel
stole from him, but Chase remains at Laurel Heights after he discovers Laurel
took nothing of Rand’s away with her except nightmares, fading bruises, and a
broken rib.
Unexplained disturbances
shatter her hopes of a normal life...
Are the strange bumps, thumps, and bangs reverberating through
the night caused by the murderer of Laurel’s cousin James, someone Rand has
sent to exact his revenge, or a disturbed soul existing in another dimension,
trying to communicate with the living? Drawn together by the intrigue
surrounding Laurel Heights, Chase and Laurel become hopelessly entangled in a
relationship that goes deeper than lust. Can their love survive the haunting of
Laurel Heights?
Excerpt
Since Laurel had moved into her aunt’s house, she hadn’t fallen
asleep once without pharmaceutical help. The sleeping aid usually lulled her
into lullaby land, but the drug seldom got her through the night without a
nightmare. She was quickly running out of the prescription and would have to
resort to over-the-counter antihistamines soon. The doctor she had seen in
Fairview wouldn’t renew her prescription. He hadn’t wanted to prescribe it
anyway. She wouldn’t be going back to him.
She lay still beneath her comforter, listening to the unusual
sounds coming from the lower floor. The house made a lot of noises, especially
at night. She sucked in a ragged breath when it made a few more. Thuds and
bumps sounded like footfalls. Was someone in the house or was she being
paranoid? Every shadow reminded her of Rand. He was in prison and would be
incarcerated for a very long time, probably the rest of his life, but he could
easily send one of his loyal subordinates to find her.
She wrapped her fingers around the grip of the baseball bat she
kept next to her bed and hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. Confronting an
intruder with a hollow piece of aluminum seemed like a lame defense. She had
been considering purchasing a gun, but hadn’t done so yet. Maybe it was time.
She’d have to buy one under the radar because she didn’t want anyone doing a
background check on her. Acquiring a shotgun shouldn’t be too hard. It seemed
everyone in Arkansas owned a firearm of some sort.
She threw off the comforter, rose from the bed, slipped across
the room with the bat over her shoulder, and opened the door to peer down the
hallway toward the front stairs. Nothing moved. The house was quiet. Maybe a
little too quiet. Only moments before, a symphony of strange noises had
disturbed the night. It was as if opening her bedroom door had turned off the
sound.
She stared at the back stairs directly across from her bedroom
and considered going down to the first floor to check the door locks, but nixed
the idea. Locked doors wouldn’t keep someone out of the house if they really
wanted to get in. Better to barricade herself in her bedroom and keep the bat
close by. She slammed the door shut.
No moonlight filtered through the flimsy fabric covering the
window. The moon hid behind a thick cloud cover. She tugged at the curtains,
pulling them tighter to keep out the night. Before she stepped away, she caught
a glimpse of something not quite right. Peeking between the curtain panels, she
stared across the backyard. On the other side of the grimy window, a dim light
flitted back and forth inside the detached garage.
She shivered with apprehension. The structure was derelict,
unlike her garage in California. The four-car garage had been attached to
Rand’s half million-dollar house. They had been living in the two-story,
five-bedroom house for at least a year, but the place had never seemed like
home to Laurel. Everything belonged to Rand. By the end of their disastrous
relationship, he had treated her like a possession as well. Actually, maybe he
had all along.
Comparing her life then to her life now brought up memories of
the beating Rand had given her and his attempt to attack her again. If Foster
hadn’t shown up when he did, she’d probably be dead.
She glanced at the clock beside her bed. It was nearly four in
the morning, the darkest hour of the night. Who could possibly be snooping
around her place in the dark? Who would be in her garage at any hour? She
contemplated calling the local Sheriff’s Office, but decided against it. She
didn’t want cops involved in her personal business. No. She would find out who
was messing around her property without involving local law enforcement.
Eventually the intruder would show himself, and she would be ready for him.
Suspense, She Writes
Where the road to happily ever after takes a suspenseful
detour. Fast paced twists and turns that keep you turning the pages. Romantic
happily ever after moments that take your breath away. Paranormal romantic
suspense that keeps you on the edge of your seat.
Want to know a little bit more about Denise? She's a Southern
girl who has lived in Louisiana all her life, and yes, she has a drawl. She has
a wonderful husband and two incredible children, who not only endure her
writing moods, but also encourage her to indulge her writing passion. Besides
writing romantic suspense, she enjoys traveling, reading, and scrapbooking.
Accounting is a skill she has learned to earn a little money to
support her writing habit. She wrote her first story when she was a teen,
seventeen handwritten pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the
last romance novel she had read. She's been writing off and on ever since, and
with more than a few full-length manuscripts already completed, she has no
desire to slow down.
You can connect with Denise at
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