Jean M. Grant #newrelease SEEKER:A Scottish Medieval Enemies to lovers romance #MortarandPestleseries

My writing friend, JEAN M. GRANT, is visiting me today to talk about her new book SEEKER: A Scottish Medieval Enemies to lovers Romance. The book is part of a 7 book series from a variety of authors under the banner of THE MORTAL AND PESTLE SERIES.

When writing about Scotland, Jean knows of what she speaks, as she tells us, here:

Finding my Muse in Scotland

Over a decade ago for our anniversary, my husband and I traveled to my bucket list destination: Scotland. Lone sheep wandered down the middle of a meandering country road. Windswept moors, heather fields, wet and cloudy skies, the occasional sunshine, rocky trails, impressive mountains, green rolling hills, deep lochs, and a gazillion castles greeted us…it was an amazing trip! Visiting the land of my daydreams stirred the muse within me to write about medieval Scotland. From that inspiration sprung my trilogy and now my spin-off book (it can be read as a standalone), Seeker (which is part of the new Mortar & Pestle series with six other authors).

Here is my list of must-sees!

10. The abbeys—Abbeys are poetic and serene and back in the Middle Ages served as monasteries to different Christian orders. We walked among ancient gray and rose stone ruins at Dryburgh and Melrose Abbeys.

9. The isles—It is hard to not visit an isle while in Scotland. There are many: Lewis and Harris, the Shetlands, or my beloved Uist. We visited Isle of Skye on a dreary day and could not even see the Black Cuillin mountains in the torrential rain, so I had to leave those images to my imagination.

8. Lochs—Like isles, lochs, many glacial, are a must-see and hard to miss whether it is the deep blue Loch Ness, expansive Loch Lomond, or the inspiring Loch Awe.

7. Crags & Glens—High and low crags are everywhere…the Trossachs, Cairngorms, or the five sisters of Kintail are impressive mountains. Glencoe is not one to skip. A rainstorm washed out our path and I got 100 midges stuck in my hair, but it was still oh-ah breathtaking.

6. Standing Stones—Standing stones are one of the few places we couldn’t visit on our trip as most are on the isles. Note to self for next time!  

5. Scottish Folk & Pubs—Scots are pleasant people, and we had a great time chatting with the locals. And yup, there are plenty of the other kind of locals: sheep! My husband even tried haggis.

4. The Lowlands—The lowlands often get overlooked, but they are green and lush with undulating hills. I loved them.

3. The Highlands—Rich in clan history and natural beauty and oh so many hiking trails, the Highlands are the epitome of Scotland. Tramp (hike) through glens, up stony crags, or visit Culloden Battlefield (we did), and just get lost on the winding one-lane roads. On my next visit I hope to hike the Hadrian’s Wall path on the English border.

2. Highland Games—Up for putting the stone, caber tossing, tug-o-war, music, and dancing…oh yes, and lots of kilts? Get thee to a Highland Game. We visited one in Pitlochry.

1. Castles—[notice my countdown order – I loved castles the most!] I visited over a dozen on my trip. My favorites: Eilean Donan (the central castle in my books), Kilchurn (we kayaked to it), Threave (we took a rowboat across a river to it), and Borthwick (we stayed overnight in this 14th century tower house that is haunted).

Seeker is a medieval Scottish romance, part of a 7-book series about a magical mortar and pestle that brings true love to its holders. Castles…mythical creatures…to everyday adventurers, it has something for everyone. In Seeker, restless archer Aileana yearns for a target to prove her worth, but when a magical mortar and pestle spins its charm upon her and a rival clan’s son, winning the yearly tournament might mean the difference between war and peace, between love and curses.

Nock, draw, release. Her bow is always ready, and if her arrow hits its mark, she will secure her destined soulmate.

Aileana Montgomerie’s bloodline holds valuable gifts of foresight and healing, but with each honor comes a curse. Even though she is descended from the mystical isles’ folk, she lacks the ability of the Scottish Ancients and wonders if she belongs in a magical family. Aileana just wants a purpose. What good is her bow and arrow if she is denied the right to fight for her clan?

Brodie MacDougall is ordained to be the next war chieftain of his clan. The title is a privilege as long as his brother, the future laird, doesn’t expect him to lift a sword and charge into battle. Chronic pain and nervous vapors force him to spend his days alone. Can his strategic skills keep him one step ahead of his conspiring brother?

Through a magical Mortar & Pestle, Brodie finds his heart’s desire. But there’s a catch. The seat on his brother’s council is no longer dependent upon his health…but on Aileana’s strength. With rumblings of unrest among their clans, will their love foster an alliance or be a step toward war?

The mixture of herb fragrances mingled in her nose. Nutty, sharp, awakening.

She inhaled. Brodie inhaled.

As he released his hand from the pestle, a dark violet waft of smoke rose from the mortar.

An image appeared in her head, though her eyes were wide open:

A vast and lush meadow. Her bow in her hand. She stared at a target, runes carved into its center. The butt was made from a large mound of dirt, the kind used in the yearly tournament.

What in all the stars was happening?

And Brodie stood beside her in the image. Vision? Nonsense! Had she knocked her head? Fallen asleep? She held no gift of prophecy. What was this?

The ground rumbled. She heard Brodie’s heart racing as he whispered words of love in her ear.

Her neck tingled with gooseflesh, the way the wheat fields rippled on a windy day. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and her belly warmed.

In your presence, the answer is shown, a voice said. Stay close to him, for your heart’s desire is known. What you seek, you will reap. Follow the golden prize. Let it be your sun.

She blinked as the image faded, her face aflame and the residual heat of his lips upon her skin still palpable. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

He was staring at her, his body so close. She broke their shared gaze. “The mortar.”

He blew out a full, healthy breath as the lavender mist dissipated.

“Smoke?” she coaxed. Oh, please, Brodie. Say you see it, too!

He stared at the mortar. The purple smoke was now a pale haze fading to gray. The flecks in the black granite shimmered as bright as the stars.

“Aye, I do. A flame, but the color of a thistle. Though now it is gray.”

She gulped, feeling relieved but confused. Her mother’s treatments were as natural as the earth. She didn’t cast spells or evoke flares from simple herbs!

“Has this ever happened before?” he asked.

She wet her lips, searching his face. Her chest tingled.

“Never.”

Get your copy here: SEEKER

Checkout the entire series, here: MORTAR AND PESTLE

Check out the book trailer:

Jean’s background is in science, and she draws from her interests in history, nature, and her family for inspiration. She writes historical and contemporary romances and women’s fiction. She also writes articles for family-oriented travel magazines. When she’s not writing, she enjoys gardening, hiking, and exploring the outdoors.

Connect with Jean here:

Jean M. Grant

www.jeanmgrant.com

Website ~ Twitter  ~ FacebookGoodreads ~ Bookbub ~ Amazon Author Page ~ Instagram

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On birthdays, getting older, and being your parents’ advocate…

Today, this little lady is 87 years old.

Up until last week, she was able to live in her own home, with her husband of 57 years. That all changed when my stepfather, her husband, fell on February 27, broke his hip, and had to be transported to the hospital for a total hip repair.

You may remember I told you that in the past 5 years my mother has broken both her hips which resulted in subsequent stints in rehab. My stepfather, after surgery, was admitted to the same rehab nursing home she’d been in.

Since he was, effectively, her legs, her re-heater of food I cooked, did the washing up and the preparing, plus walked 3/4 of a mile to the mailbox and back each day, she couldn’t be left alone in her home without him or someone to help her out, no matter how much she said she didn’t need the help. She did.

By a miracle, or angels dancing together, or even all the planets aligning, I was able to get her admitted to the same nursing rehab facility as my father and yesterday, after a week in separate rooms, they were transferred to the same room.

Despite the few-day blip, they are back together again.

And this is where they will live out their days.

For the past week, I have had to cancel their lives – their independent lives. Their cable had to be discontinued, and disconnected, the box returned to the store. I had to get their taxes done. I had to first clean their home, then clean it out and get it ready for sale. By myself. No easy feat, and very time-consuming. I’ve had to become their Power of attorney so I could cancel credit cards, pay their bills, and attempt to sell their home.

I’ve always hated being an only child and never more so than this week.

But this isn’t a pity party for one, folks. This blog is about my mother. She’s 87 today and every day she wakes up, thanks God she is alive, and then says that she never thought she’d lived to see this age.

In all honesty, I didn’t either.

But… I am thankful she is reunited with the love of her life, is being cared for by an excellent staff 24/7, is eating well, and getting some much-needed physical rehab and mental stimulation. My stepfather is as well.

So if you have a moment free today, say a prayer for this little lady and then call your mother and tell her you love her. ~ Peg.

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#wednesdaywisdom 3.8.2023

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March 8, 2023 · 12:49 am

My interview with the fabulous J.T. Crowley about 2 of my books #podcast #authorpromo #bookpromo

Recently, I was thrilled to be a guest on J.T. Crowley’s podcast, TALKING BOOKS. J.T. spotlighted 2 of my books, both paranormals, IT’S WITCH O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE, and THE SHERIFF AND THE PSYCHIC.

This was a fun-filled afternoon, to be sure. JT is a fabulous interviewer and I was so impressed he read BOTH books prior to the sit-down.

Click below to see how much fun we had!!!

The SHERIFF AND THE PSYCHIC won the New Jersey GOLDEN LEAF Award for 2022 in the Paranormal Romance Category~~

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#mugmonday 3.6.2023

A Christmas present from my daughter a few years ago. Sh knows me so well…

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SMASHWORDS EREADER BOOK WEEK IS HERE! #ebookweek2023

Happy Read an Ebook Week! To help you find a book to celebrate, you can find my entire collection at a promotional price at @Smashwords from March 5-11. Find my books on sale ( a ridiculous sale!!!!! Now is the time to stock up or gift a book to a friend) here: PEGGY JAEGER SMASHWORDS

and many more at https://www.smashwords.com/ebookweek

Reading is fun – especially when it’s on sale!!! Heehee

happy reading, kids!

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THE GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: A PROMISE FULFILLED Peggy Jaeger #ghosts #pirates

The final installment to the GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: LAST LIGHT POINT is my tale, A PROMISE FULFILLED which brings the entire story home.

Late October, Present Day


After winning millions in a national lottery, local librarian Daisy Morgan sets out to revitalize the infamous Crowe’s Nest Tavern. After saving the historic inn from the auction block, Daisy begins a major renovation only to discover some hidden secrets – and a few unearthly spirits – tied to the tavern’s history.

Writer Keegan Warren arrives to do a story on the tavern weeks before the grand re-opening. Keegan’s got a few secrets of his own about why he wanted the assignment – secrets that unfold no matter how diligently he tries to keep them hidden. With Daisy’s help, he unearths a centuries old murder tied to his family’s past.

As they investigate, their mutual attraction grows. But will their budding relationship suffer when the truth is discovered?

Daisy slid the phone back into her purse and took a tour around the taproom. Natural light bathed the room through the obscured and etched glass windows covering the front two walls. She’d paid a small fortune to replicate them, forking over extra to temper them in order to protect against the strong bay winds that battered the building every day of the year.

The Crowe’s Nest Tavern stood at the sharpest jut of land on Last Light Point and had weathered several hundred years of New England storms and tempests, dozens of owners, and a history that dated from before the birth of the nation. Daisy wasn’t about to let that history go the way of the dinosaur on her watch.

Her critical eye for detail roamed around the room taking in all the updates done, while keeping the original feel of the old tavern alive.

The establishment had been up for auction for a year, the previous owner dying without ever making provisions for its sale. Daisy, as head of the historical society, had tried valiantly to get it made a protected historical site. The fact the structure had stood for over three hundred years should have qualified it outright, but her attempts fell on deaf legislative ears. The bank, who owned the mortgage, had put it up for sale. When no buyer came forth, they placed it on the auction block. Daisy was terrified it was going to be sold and subsequently knocked down. When an outside developer expressed interest in the property and the rest of the boardwalk to build upscale condos, Daisy had gone into fight mode to block his every attempt.

Just when it looked like her struggle would prove futile, several prayers and one stroke of heaven-sent luck had come her way and she’d been able to purchase the building and, with it, the leases for the remaining shops on the boardwalk.

Unexpectedly flush with disposable cash, Daisy spared no expense to bring the tavern back to its long-ago beauty.

If you could call its twisted history beautiful, she thought. She supposed the sight where pirates and thieves hung out and where they were, subsequently, hung then placed into the dreaded gibbet and left to rot for all the citizenry to gawk over, could be classified as historically significant, if not pretty.

Oh, she wished she could have seen it in its heyday. Filled to the rafters with brigands and soldiers and sailors all stopping for a pint and some grub to fill their bellies. Buxom serving girls bustling about, filling tankards, listening to tall tales of sea monsters and hidden treasure; of mermaids and sirens and Davy Jones’ Locker.

Daisy sighed, her imagination running rampant as it always did when she thought of the tavern’s history. Her gaze traveled to the mirror Cooper’s crew had discovered in the basement when they’d begun shoring up the ancient walls. Covered with a black tarp and decades of dust, they’d uncovered it and immediately called her.

“It’s wicked old,” Cooper said as he accompanied her to the tavern’s underground level. “And worth a fortune, I’m thinking. That frame’s real gold. I’d bet the house on it.”

Daisy stooped to inspect the mirror. Cooper’s eye was good, because the frame was genuine gold and decorated with a filigree pattern on all four sides. About five feet wide and three-quarters of that in width, the glass was murky with age and dust. She could barely make out her reflection.

“I bet it hung on the wall behind the bar,” she mused. “Take it upstairs and put it in my office. I’ll call Mrs. Cashman over at the antiques store to come over and look at it. She should know how to clean it, too, to bring it back to life.”

“What are you planning to do with it?” Cooper asked.

“Put it where I’m sure it used to hang: back up behind the bar.”

Cooper cupped his neck and shook his head. “It weighs a ton, kid. Mounting and securing it’s gonna be a nightmare.”

“I’m sure you’ll do your best.” She swiped at the dust collecting on her jeans and stood. A momentary wave of vertigo over took her, making her sway. Cooper’s hand shot out in an instant to clasp her upper arms right before she dropped to the floor.

“Easy,” he said. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She swiped at the sweat suddenly covering her brow. “I missed breakfast,” she lied, shaking her head of the subtle hum ringing through it. She hadn’t felt this sensation in too many years to remember. Not since…she clucked her tongue and shoved the memory down. “I’ll go call the antique shop.”

Now, as she stood in front of the cleaned and polished mirror, the glass just slightly milky from age, she smiled. And, now that she knew what it really was, she could admit a small amount of anxiety about hanging it behind the bar. So far, none of the workmen or staff had commented on anything…strange, about the piece. And thank goodness for that. That it looked perfect hanging there was a minor consolation.

PREORDER your copy here: THE GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: LAST LIGHT POINT

Peggy Jaeger

writes contemporary romances and romcoms about strong women, the families who support them, and the men who can’t live without them.

Family and food play huge roles in Peggy’s stories because she believes there is nothing that holds a family structure together like sharing a meal…or two…or ten. Dotted with humor and characters that are as real as they are loving, Peggy brings all aspects of life into her stories: life, death, sibling rivalry, illness, and the desire for everyone to find their own happily ever after. Growing up the only child of divorced parents she longed for sisters, brothers and a family that vowed to stick together no matter what came their way. Through her books, she has created the families she wanted as that lonely child.

As a lifelong diarist, she caught the blogging bug early on, and you can visit her at peggyjaeger.com where she blogs daily about life, writing, and stuff that makes her go “What??!”

Website/Blog: https://peggyjaeger.com/

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THE GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: LAST LIGHT POINT For the Love of Grace, NANCY FRASER #ghosts #pirates

The third tale in the GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: LAST LIGHT POINT is FOR THE LOVE OF GRACE by award winning and best-selling author ( and dear friend!) Nancy Fraser

Fall, 1941
Grace O’Hearn has lived in Last Light Point since long before the ’29 stock market crash took so much from so many. Ten years later, things are looking up. When Grace’s father is murdered, Grace becomes the sole owner of the Crowe’s Nest Tavern–an establishment that dates back centuries, and comes with its own resident ghosts.

FBI agent, Max Stewart, is sent to Last Light Point to investigate racketeering and police corruption. Could it be connected to man’s murder? When he first meets Grace, he’s convinced she’s hiding something. Yet, her keen insight about the town, and everyone in it, may be the best lead he has.

Can they work together to bring down the guilty? Or, will an attraction neither of them wants keep getting in the way?

The Crowe’s Nest Tavern, Last Light Point

Early Autumn, 1941

“Simon, I can see you,” Grace said softly. “There’s no sense hiding in the corner of the mirror behind the cheap whiskey.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” the scrappy pirate ghost explained. “You’ve got enough to deal with without the likes of me pestering you.”

Grace O’Hearn braced her hands against the edge of the bar and sighed deeply, wearily, the emotional release shaking the half dozen glasses drying on the stained pewter countertop.

“You’re never a bother, Simon.” When she looked up, Simon’s visage slid to the middle of the mirror, his slumped shoulders and worn clothes taking up a good portion of the space.

“I see you were mopping the floor again, Miss.”

“This worn linoleum has seen better days,” she confirmed. “My uncle put it down in the early twenties, when he’d turned the tavern into a speakeasy during prohibition.”

“Aye, Miss. I remember it well. Cursed a blue streak he did, putting the floor down.”

“He said it was so his patrons could dance,” she recalled. “Some days, I’m half tempted to rip it up and refinish the old floorboards hidden beneath. Even then, I don’t think it would help with… with…”

Simon’s usually gruff voice softened. “Take it from someone who swabbed his shipmate’s blood from the deck more times than I care to recall, the stain goes away, but the memory remains.”

“That’s it, exactly,” she agreed. “I’ll never be able to look at the tavern floor again without seeing my father’s body.”

“I heard what that no-good policeman said yesterday. He called it a robbery gone wrong. But, I’m guessing, you don’t agree.”

“Nobody robs a tavern at seven o’clock in the morning,” Grace reasoned. “We’d not even opened for business. So, no, I don’t agree. It’s definitely Devon Barkley behind my father’s death, I know it in my very soul.”

“Speaking of souls,” Simon said, “there’s one that’s been knocking on the door between here and the afterlife for a few days now. They just can’t seem to find their way in.”

“As the self-appointed welcoming committee, isn’t it your job to help them?” Grace asked. “Or, have you passed your duties on to one of the others?”

“What others? I know they’re here… at least a few of them. I can feel their energy, but I haven’t actually seen another of my kind since your pa died. Other than her, of course.” Simon shook his head, rattling the bottles of whiskey, gin, and vodka.

“The Lady in White?”

“Aye. She’s goes from one room to the next, floating around like she owns the place.”

Grace chuckled. “Well, she kind of does. After all, she’s been here longer than all of us.”

“Still, she doesn’t—”

Simon’s words were cut short by the opening of the tavern door. Grace swiveled around on the stool, expecting to see either Detective Mitchell, or one of his patrolmen. Instead, she came face-to-face with a stranger. A tall, well-dressed, and somewhat handsome stranger.

PREORDER your copy of this amazing anthology here: THE GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: LAST LIGHT POINT

NANCY FRASER is a bestselling and award-winning author who can’t seem to decide which romance genre suits her best. So, she writes them all.

Her spicy romances have won top awards year after year and received cover quotes from some of the most recognized names in the romance industry. Nancy was named Top Canadian Author for 2021 by N.N. Lights Book Heaven.

When not writing (which is almost never), Nancy dotes on her five wonderful grandchildren and looks forward to traveling and reading when time permits. Nancy lives in Atlantic Canada where she enjoys the relaxed pace and colorful people.

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#FirstlineFriday 3.3.2023

From the first book in my MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN series, DEARLY BELOVED

Now, who exactly in Colleen in this book, why would she respond to a 911 call and what the heck is the BAWL ROOM??? Is that a typo??

LOL. You’ll have to read the book to find out….

Colleen O’Dowd manages a thriving bridal business with her sisters in Heaven, New Hampshire. After fleeing Manhattan and her cheating ex-fiancé, Colleen still believes in happily ever afters. But with a demanding business to run, her sisters to look after, and their 93-year-old grandmother to keep out of trouble, she’s worried she’ll never find Mr. Right.

Playboy Slade Harrington doesn’t believe in marriage. His father’s six weddings have taught him life is better as an unencumbered single guy. But Slade loves his little sister. He’ll do anything for her, including footing the bill for her dream wedding. He doesn’t plan on losing his heart to a smart-mouthed, gorgeous wedding planner, though.

When her ex-fiancé comes back into the picture, Colleen must choose between Mr. Right and Mr. Right Now.

And you can find the entire MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN series, here: MMIH

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GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: Last Light Point KATHRYN HILLS, #ghosts #pirates

The second story in the Multi-century ghost anthology GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: LAST LIGHT POINT is SMOKE AND MIRRORS by author ( and friend!) KATHRYN HILLS

Sometimes when you knock on heaven’s door . . .the dead answer back.

Willow Pinch lives life on a razor’s edge. A world of deception and disguise is all she knows. By day she hides in plain sight as Will, a servant boy. Nights are spent as a table knocker, aiding so-called spiritualists in duping townsfolk into believing their loved ones speak from beyond the grave. That is until the ghosts of Last Light Point unmask her before the only man she’s ever loved. Dare she trust Morgan Blackwell with her secrets?

Morgan invests every hard-earned penny in The Crowe’s Nest. Solid as a mountain and pure of heart, he doesn’t trust the strangers. Still, he needs money and agrees to rent them his tavern for their spiritual meetings. The last thing he expects are charlatans hell-bent on destroying his reputation with so-called séances. He can’t afford run-ins with the law or the fine, church-going people of town. Yet can he avoid a collision course when he learns Willow’s terrible truth? Not to mention there are ghosts in his tavern now! Be damned, but he can’t turn his back on the infuriating woman when the urge to protect her—to love her—proves irresistible.

Will the dead of Last Light Point guide Willow and Morgan to lasting love? Or will the dark forces they’ve unleashed lead to ruin? 

You’re a foxy one,” Morgan Blackwell said to his best friend, Peter Clark. “I’m not the gaming sort, but I’ll pour another whiskey for you if you’ll leave me be. I’ve little time to dawdle tonight.” He smiled in his typical good-natured way and poured two fingers for each of them.

Peter slipped his dog-eared playing cards back into the pocket of his coat. Taking a sip, he winced at the strong drink. “I thought you’d at least want to see my latest trick.”

“Augh, tricks again. Christ, man. I know you fancy yourself the world’s greatest magician, but why not try your hand at helping me in some useful manner?” Morgan dried the last of the tankards, and he hung them on pegs behind the bar. Then he worked to make the old pewter-topped bar shine as best he could. Well over a century, and yet this tavern was still a popular watering hole in Last Light Point.

“You sound like my parents, always wanting me to make something of myself. Of course I’ll help you,” Peter said. “Just tell me what to do. Except swing a hammer. Or dig. I’ve delicate hands, you know.” He glanced around the empty taproom. “What’ve you got going on here tonight, anyway? It’s not like you to close early. Sending poor Old Bill out into the streets like a common drunkard when you know he’s yours to keep.”

“I’ve rented the place to make some extra money. I’m hoping to fix her up. Make this old girl more respectable.”

“I’ve always admired how you refer to this tavern as a lady. Kind of like a sea captain with his ship. What have you got in mind for ‘her?’”

“I’m still thinking about it…but renovating the upstairs rooms to be a proper inn, serving more food down here in the taproom. Those are a couple of my ideas.” He thought for a moment before adding, “Perhaps I’ll offer afternoon tea with fancy sandwiches for ladies.”

Peter scrunched up his nose. “Balls. That is a change. Who did you rent to?” he asked, switching subjects.

“A small party wanting a private place to hold their special meeting. Traveling spiritualists or some such nonsense.”

“Spiritualists?” Peter jeered. He blew out a long breath. “You mean table knockers? You should have told me you wanted carnival performers in this new and improved establishment of yours. I’d be happy to put on daily shows.”

“I don’t know about such things, but they paid me handsomely up front. A husband-and-wife team. The man called himself a doctor of something, and she’s Madam So-and-So. Apparently, they’ve established quite a name for themselves. Sold tickets to townsfolk already. I’m cleaning up and then leaving to talk to some men about making the repairs and improvements for me.”

“You’re leaving your beloved Crowe’s Nest in the hands of traveling performers? Are you daft, man?” his friend exclaimed in a skeptical tone.

“Reverend Tuffin and his daughter will be here. As will Mr. Cummings, the banker who holds the mortgage on this place. They’ll keep an eye on her for me.”

“Well, now I know you’re crazy. Missing out on dear, sweet Prudence, batting those long, lovely lashes at you. When are you going to court the girl outright, as in publicly, and stop sneaking around?” Peter laughed when Morgan shot him a dark scowl. “All right, relax, my friend. How about I stay and help look after your livelihood for you? I’m curious, I must admit.”

“Suit yourself. But don’t go drinking the good whiskey.” Morgan spared a quick glance over his shoulder for the antique bottle, sitting in a place of honor, front and center, before the mottled mirror behind his bar. Both the mirror and the bottle were old and ugly. Still, legend said they must remain in place, or else trouble would befall all who entered this establishment. He shook his head, hating the blasted things and the folklore associated with them. Last Light Point was steeped in such superstitious rubbish.

“No one touches that particular bottle,” Peter said, looking uneasy. “Do you think I want the bad luck said to befall anyone who does? No, thank you. You might not believe in pirate curses, but I do.”

“Stay if you want,” Morgan said, giving his beloved tavern one last appraising look. He dried his hands and hung the bar towel in its proper place. “The couple is upstairs getting ready for their meeting. They’ve a servant boy with them. Scrawny lad I’m letting sleep in the storeroom. He doesn’t speak—has a rather feral look about him—so steer clear.”

Peter rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Oh, this is getting good. I’ve a feeling tonight is going to be quite a memorable experience.”

About Kathryn Hills

Hauntingly romantic… Unless she’s writing sweet!

The rich history and many mysteries of New England are the perfect backdrop for many of KATHRYN’s books. Winding roads lined by old stone walls, forgotten cemeteries, grand homes with shadowy pasts…all sparks for her imagination. Whether it’s a quaint seaside town or the vibrant city of Boston, it’s easy for this “hauntingly romantic” author to envision the past mingling with the present. No surprise, some of Kathryn’s favorite stories include ghosts! Sprinkle in some magic, and you’re off on a great adventure.

When not writing, this best-selling author is reading, researching, gardening, or cooking up something special in her chaotic kitchen. She shares her colonial home in the north woods with those she loves most – her wonderful husband, daughter, and three crazy dogs.

Find Kathryn Hills Online

* Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon Author Page * Pinterest

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