Happy Thanksgiving, Canada. Enjoy this #Holiday-ish excerpt from #ParanormalRomance Autumn's Healing

It's Thanksgiving Weekend here in Canada. 🍁 It's been another quiet weekend in the Carlton household. Just the hubby and I. I miss my kids. 😢 I can't even begin to imagine what Christmas will be like while we're still dealing with the pandemic. This certainly has been a year of firsts and lots of adaptation. But even with all of this going on—and is yet to—we still have so much to be thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone 🦃 and I appreciate you stopping by. I hope you enjoy the teaser from Autumn's Healing. ***Warning for language*** (And since this is the month for all things spooky, I'll be sharing another snippet later in the month. So check back.)

Former serviceman, wounded in the line of duty, Salem Aames, and his all-veteran construction crew take on a renovation job for a single-mom. 

Kaylah MacDonough is not only dealing with an empty nest for the first time, she has also purchased a creepy old house that needs some serious TLC... and maybe an exorcism!

Stay Safe and Well, folks. Take care.

~ Kymmie 💜🌷 ( H K Carlton)

Rarely do we get to pick our battles… Often, they choose us...

Single mom Mikaylah MacDonough and her only daughter Autumn have been on their own a long time. So, when Autumn goes off to school, it seems only natural for Kaylah to pull up stakes and follow, though with some clear-cut boundaries, of course. She’s determined to give Autumn space to enjoy the whole college experience but remain close enough for emergencies, meals and laundry. But when the closing date of the current house overlaps with taking possession of the ‘new’ house, along with orientation week, Autumn has to go it alone. From that moment on, Kaylah’s dreams of a new beginning turn into a complete and total nightmare.

When former serviceman Jerusalem Aames drives up to the century-old Cleary house, he sees dollar signs for himself and his all-veteran crew. The rundown, old place would finally put his fledgling construction-renovation firm in the black. But the moment he meets the gorgeous homeowner who had been duped into buying the money-pit, his attraction is swift and instantaneous.

However, there’s something very strange going on in the dilapidated, old house that has nothing to do with rotting timbers or shoddy wiring. Whatever it is, it’s affecting Kaylah’s state of mind, and Salem soon finds himself in a battle he’s not sure he can win.

Excerpt: 

As expected, once the crew began to renovate and upgrade the house, more problems came to light besides the wiring, foundation and plumbing, but, weeks into the project, slowly but surely they were beginning to make some headway. Though everything that could possibly go wrong seemed to. 

Today, the team was replacing windows. The one in Autumn’s room needed extra work. As they’d done in all the upstairs bedrooms, Salem had torn out the old plaster and replaced it with the more modern drywall sheeting. Though they were going to try their best to keep the plaster walls intact on the main level, if possible, it wasn’t really an option on the second floor. 

After replacing some wood support, Salem and Fray hefted the new window into the freshly framed-in rectangle. 

“Careful. We don’t want to eff this one up, too,” Fray cautioned. 

“Fourth time’s a charm, Fray,” Salem replied, shoving a shim between the vinyl and the wood. 

“This is the third freakin' pane, not to mention the week we spent fixing the rot and replacing the strapping and drywall. Don’t ya think it’s weird, Salem? We put windows in all over this house but never had the problems we’ve had with this one.” 

“Well, the first one was obviously my fault. I must have measured wrong.” Though he was certain he hadn’t. Or perhaps the measurements had been recorded wrong on the order with the glass manufacturer. “The second one, though the right size, arrived broken, and we had to send it back. The third one, Thompson and Kraft broke putting in,” Salem recapped. 

“But, seriously, boss, it’s not just this room. Almost every part of this reno has been a nightmare. Everything that possibly could go wrong, has. We’ve never had problems with the distributors like we’ve run into on this job. From late supplies or discontinued product to backorders and material arriving either warped or completely wrong… I just don’t get it,” Fray ranted. 

“I know. It’s like we’re never supposed to finish this house or something.”  

“I think we’ll be done remodeling the rest of the entire place before you get this one room completed. Everything you’ve done in here has gone to sh*t. What else could possibly go wrong?” 

“Shhh. Don’t say that out loud,” Salem cautioned, while eyeing the window. Though every time they hit a snag with the refurb—whether it be structural or a delay in getting materials—Salem was secretly pleased. Anything that would keep Kaylah near him longer was a welcome setback. He was in love with her. There was no getting around it. She’d wound her way into his heart 

“Ya got this?” Fray asked. 

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll finish shimming it up, spray in some foam to seal it, then it’s trim time.” 

“You gonna get Kaylah to paint all the trim in here, too?” 

“Probably.” 

“She’s really gotten into the swing of it, eh? Painting and peeling off all that gaudy wallpaper. I swear every room on this second level had it. I never thought she’d get it all off. She doesn’t mind gettin’ her hands dirty.” 

“Yeah, she seems to be getting into the process. She learns quick, too. Did you check out that powder room downstairs? Kaylah did all the tile work and the grout.” 

“I did. You’d better watch it, boss. I think Thompson had a bit too much fun teaching her that stuff.” 

“I know it. But I think half of you guys would push me off the roof if ya thought you had a chance with her.” 

“And I think you’re underestimating,” he said, as he disappeared down the hallway, his evil laugh fading as he went. 

“Loyalty’s a lost quality,” he mumbled to himself. “Now what did I do with that level?” He’d thought Fray had leaned it against the wall. “And where’s my f*ckin’ tape measure?” Reaching into the leather pouch slung about his hips, he also came up empty. Salem looked around the room then started bellowing, but as usual, no one heard him. 

After carefully navigating the stairs, he made his way to the living area where the majority of the work was centered for the moment, but the room was empty. “Does no one work around here, anymore?”  

He snagged the first tape measure he saw then followed all the noise and commotion to the kitchen where he found Piquet and Thompson carrying groceries in the back door. The counter was littered with fresh vegetables, fruit and a massive turkey. 

Soon the other guys followed with more. 

Salem set the tape measure on the sideboard and grabbed an apple from the big bowl in the middle of the table. 

“What’s all this?” Salem asked, as Kaylah entered with several bags in her arms. 

“Fixin’s for Thanksgiving dinner,” Piquet crowed. “And this is just the first wave.”

 

“The first wave?” 

Kay set the bags down then picked up a pencil. “I still have to go out and get baking supplies for the pies—coconut cream for you.” She eyed him as he devoured the seasonal Empire. He was about to make a totally inappropriate comment about Kaylah-cream. As if she knew exactly what he was about to say, she talked over him. “Pumpkin for Piq. Blueberry for Thoms.” Salem tried not to roll his eyes, as she’d affectionately begun to call Thompson ‘Thoms,’ for f*ck’s sake. 

“Cherry for Kraft and Fray.” 

Fray flexed his muscles when she said his name, though Kay didn’t even notice. Instead, she jotted another list on a notepad by the phone as she spoke. “And butterscotch for Tagg.” She gnawed her lip for a second. “Though he said he’d get me his gran’s recipe, he hasn’t gotten back to me yet. I’ve never made one of those before.” Kaylah bounced the eraser end of the pencil on her lip, distracting him. 

“Tagg?” Salem questioned. 

Kay’s lovely baby blues lit as she focused on him. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. The other day when Tagg called to speak to you, I invited him, and he agreed to come have supper with us.” 

“Huh?” Salem choked in surprise. “He swore not to set foot in this house.” 

“Well, there’s the catch. We’re going to eat outside.” 

“Like the pilgrims,” Piquet chimed in. Salem had never seen Piq so excited about anything. He was a big kid. 

“The guys and I are going to set up tables in the front yard,” Kaylah explained. 

The guys and I? 

“Weather permitting?” Salem asked. 

“Weather won’t matter, bossman,” Thompson added. “You know first-hand we can set up a ten by sixteen tent in two minutes-forty seconds flat.” 

“You’ve got this all planned out, huh.” He was impressed. “You know you don’t have to do all this, Kay.” 

“I know, but I want to. I want everyone to have that little taste of home, and I want us all to be together.” 

Salem poked the turkey. “That baby has to be a twenty pounder, at least.” 

“You’re close. Twenty-five,” Kaylah replied. 

“Holy crap, woman. Are you planning on feeding the entire neighborhood, too?” 

“Nope.” She looked around at the men. She softened her gaze and grinned. “Just my own little army.” 

If possible, at that moment, Salem fell a little bit more in love with her. 

Perhaps she didn’t have Autumn to mother on a day-to-day basis for the time being, but she certainly made up for it by taking care of his motley crew. And they lapped it up. But the caring was mutual. 

“I can’t wait.” Kraft rubbed his hands together. “Kaylah makes the best roast chicken I’ve ever had. Makes my mouth water to think what she’ll do with that ginormous bird.” 

“Well, I for one can’t wait to meet Autumn,” Salem said. “When do you expect her in?” 

Kaylah’s expression drooped and she looked down at the floor. “She’s not coming home,” Kaylah murmured in a whisper. 

“What do you mean, she’s not coming?” He frowned. “This is the first big holiday since you two have been separated—the perfect opportunity for her to visit. The pair of you need to see each other.” 

“She’d have to spend the entire holiday traveling. She has class until Wednesday at four. It’s a ten-hour drive. She’ll sleep, eat, then be back on the road for the trek back. It’s just not practical, Salem.” 

“Is it money? I’ll buy her a plane ticket myself.” Though, he was more than confident it wasn’t a financial issue. Every time he needed more supplies, the money was there and every installment they’d agreed upon had been paid on time and in full, which was more than he could say for any other job he’d ever taken. 

“We’ll chip in, Kay,” Piquet piped up. “The guys and I can’t afford much right about now, but we’ll take up a collection, see what we can scrounge up.” A tear ran down her cheek as she slowly reached out and squeezed Piq’s wrist. If he wasn’t mistaken, Piq’s eyes glazed as he watched her. 

“That’s lovely of you to offer—all of you—but it’s not the money. That’s not a problem. It was her decision not to come. Besides, she’s already made other plans with her friends, even if she could secure a ticket at the last minute.” 

“Well, we know what to save up for Christmas, fellas, ’cause this ain’t happenin’ again,” Thompson ranted. “I don’t care what her excuse is, that girl is coming home for December twenty-fifth, come hell or high water, even if we have to go up there and get her ourselves.”

All the guys nodded. 

“I love you guys,” Kaylah murmured, her lips trembling. 

Well, it wasn’t quite what Salem had imagined the first time she said the words, including his whole company and all, but he’d take it. And, by the gentle looks on all their goddamn ugly mugs, they would, too. 

“Get back to work,” Salem said, in no uncertain terms. 

After a round of ‘yes sirs,’ they did as commanded. 

“They are an amazing group of men, Salem,” Kaylah said, hugging him. 

“I know it. But did you say annoying? ’Cause I heard ‘annoying,’” he tried to joke and lighten her mood. 

Even through lessening tears, she giggled. The sound reverberated in his chest. 

“Ya need any help putting all this stuff away?” 

“No, thank you. I’ve got it.” 

“Then I’ll get back at it, too.” 

Salem went to retrieve his tape measure. 

“Piq, did you steal my f*ckin’ tape measure again?” With the noise, no one heard him. “I was sure I left it on the sideboard,” he grumbled. 

As he limped back up the stairs, he wondered about Kay and Autumn’s relationship. The more he hung around, the more he wondered if things were not as rosy between the two of them as Kaylah wished him to believe. So, Autumn had plans with friends for Thanksgiving. He could accept that, he supposed. But, he’d also suggested Kay take a week and go up and visit her, if she missed her daughter so much. There had always seemed to be an excuse. Next time he had that girl on the phone, he was determined to get to the bottom of it. Yet even her phone calls were becoming fewer and farther between. 

As soon as he entered Autumn’s room, he spied his measuring tape on the new window sill. 

He sighed and picked it up. Most of the other paranormal activity had calmed, as Tagg had advised. No more banging doors at six a.m. or popping bulbs or disembodied footfalls. The lost or moving objects were another matter altogether. The men were forever misplacing tools and, as Kaylah had mentioned, finding them in the most confounding places. 

“It’s gettin’ old,” he mumbled to no one in particular. 

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Happy Canada Day!

Happy Canada Day!

I know I've been a bit scarce blogging lately. It's a busy time in the Carlton household these days. Lots of changes going on. But I just wanted to drop in to wish everyone a Happy Canada Day. 🎆🍁🥂 I hope you enjoy your day. I know it won't be as jubilant this year with all that's going on around the world, but I hope you have an awesome day. Please take care. Stay safe and well, my friends. 

In honor of the day, I've posted the first couple of chapters from one of my favorite stories, Lost Time, over on Pick a Genre Already if you'd like to have a read. A Canadian girl ventures to the UK.

Hannah Keys thinks she's setting off on the trip of her dreams—a month in England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland—but after one mishap after another—beginning with her best friend abandoning her in the airport and ending with the man of her dreams dead—she's renaming it the vacation from hell!

I also want to wish my American friends a Happy upcoming Independence Day on the 4th! 🎉

New Release + #Giveaway - Racing Peril - by @JanuaryBain - First 3 commenters win an e-book! #mystery #RomanticSuspense

If you love a good mystery tangled with romantic suspense, you're gonna love my guest today, she's a master at the genre. I'm delighted to have fellow Canuck and Totally Bound colleague, the lovely January Bain back on the blog with a tease from her latest release, Racing Peril, from the Tetrad Group Series. And she's also a giver! The first three people to leave a comment on this blog post will win an e-book copy of Racing Peril!

I can’t thank you enough, Kymmie for having me on your blog today! It’s an honor to share my writing journey with your readers. 😊

You’ve asked me how the concept behind the TETRAD Group series came to be? Great question! Gets right to the heart of things.

My romantic suspense series about a private group of persons with special skill sets coming together began because I thought about how to help those in trouble that can’t go to the police? It comes from the idea that things happen in this world that law enforcement is not the best answer for. Sometimes you need help outside the purview of the law.

Like when a child is kidnapped as demonstrated in Racing the Tide, or the problem of nabbing an exploitive villain of women in Racing Peril. I’m in the process of writing the third book in the TETRAD series, Racing the Whirlwind, where a woman is hunted by a serial killer and cannot go to the police because she was not believed the first time when he wiped out her own family due to an air tight alibi. So who’s going to believe her now?

I truly love writing this series! It’s exhilarating to follow the journey of each pair of possible lovers as they work hard to find themselves and make sense of a world gone off-kilter. I’m hoping more readers find these books because I’d like to be writing this series for years to come. I’m overflowing with ideas and plots that I truly hope get to see the light of day.

Thanks for having me here today, Kymmie, and for sharing my writing journey. It’s been a real pleasure. 😊

Racing Peril:

Revenge. Greed. Murder. And an insatiable passion…

When a drunk driver ends the life of her pregnant sister, Silk O’Connor resolves to take justice into her own hands at the courthouse where the scumbag is holding a press conference after being freed by a corrupt justice system bought off by his rich daddy.

Jake Marshall is a decorated soldier on leave, filling in for a friend at Sterling Security—and protecting the very man who used his car as a weapon and murdered Silk’s only family.

The two clash when Jake finds Silk preparing to mete out her own frontier-style brand of justice from the courthouse roof…and the adrenaline-fueled high-stakes world it ensnares the pair in will test them to their absolute limit.

It’s a fight for survival as they’re forced to team up to dispense justice on an international scale when thrust into the evil world of sex trafficking. All odds are on a fight to the death.

Add Racing Peril to your Goodreads TBR list

What others are saying about Racing Peril:

Dear Reader,

January Bain is an extraordinary author who has great talent in capturing the story and creating memorable characters. Romantic suspense is not easy to write. You must create characters who are vibrant and electric, make sure neither the romance nor the suspense overshadow each other, and craft a story that keeps the reader on edge from beginning to end. January Bain has done just that with RACING PERIL. It is one of my personal favorites and I know it will be one of yours, too. Thank you, January, for writing such an excellent story. This is a real treat for readers. I hope there are more like this to follow.

Desiree Holt

USA Today and Amazon bestselling author

From the editor, Rebecca Fairfax: “I love the unique ‘Januaryness’ January Bain brings to her writing. It’s a blend of her immense imagination, her fully rounded characters, her well-researched stories, the fast pace she tells them at and it’s all wrapped up in her love for what she does and sprinkled right through with her Canadianism. You can’t go wrong with one of her books, whether it’s the fun, sexy romps of her Brass Ringers series or the high-octane blast of this romantic suspense series. Just read Racing Peril and you’ll be rushing for book two, Racing the Tide!”

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The seconds ticked by while Silk O’Connor peered through the scope of the .300 Winchester Magnum. It wasn’t her usual choice of weapon. She preferred something a little more up close and personal in her job as a PI.

“Murderer!”

“Justice for Ashley!”

It was time. The news conference was starting. She shifted from her prone position and stretched out farther on her stomach, moving her body slightly forward.

She’d held the stance for the past hour with the rifle braced on bipod legs, situated 860 yards from the Los Angeles Superior Court, Stanley Mosk Courthouse Grant Street entrance with its distinctive terra cotta figures. They had been designed to represent the Foundations of the Law, the Magna Carta, English Common Law, and the Declaration of Independence, but today the classically robed men of honor standing so nobly for justice might just might want to crawl down off that façade if they knew how it had been bought and paid for in the courthouse beneath their feet. By an uber-corrupt rich man.

The people screaming from the sidewalk as the asshole was hustled out of the entrance were right. The shit-bag was scum. He was evil incarnate, hiding his murdering proclivities for partying and driving drunk under a handsome mug that made her want to puke. She spat out her now tasteless gum onto the flat tarred roof softened by the harsh L.A. sunshine, the air percolating with the oily fumes.

She squinted through the scope. Her vantage point, reconnoitered weeks ago, gave an unobstructed view of the press conference. She was primed to catch the exact right split second. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she’d neglected to eat that day. Later. Do the job first. But even her well-trained mind could not help reliving the crime that had led to this exact juncture. The images stalked her, day and night, the ghosts demanding justice for their murder at the hands of a psychopath who had no qualms taking chances with another person’s life, driving drunk one time too many.

Don't forget to leave a comment below for a chance to win a copy of Racing Peril

January Bain has wished on every falling star, every blown-out birthday candle and every coin thrown in a fountain to be a storyteller. To share the tales of high adventure, mysteries, and full-blown thrillers she has dreamed of all her life. The story you now have in your hands is the compilation of a lot of things manifesting itself for this special series. Hundreds of hours spent researching the unusual and the mundane have come together to create a series that features strong women who don’t take life too seriously, wild adventures full of twists and unforeseen turns, and hot complicated men who aren’t afraid to take risks. She can only hope the stories of her beloved Brass Ringers will capture your imagination as much as they did hers when she wrote them.

If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with two furry babies trying to prove who does a better job of guarding the doorway. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man! Who once famously replied to her inquiry about buying fresh flowers for their home every week, “Give me one good reason why not?” Leaving her speechless and knocking her head against the proverbial wall for being so darn foolish. She loves flowers.

If you wish to connect in the virtual world, she is easily found on Facebook, Twitter and writes a weekly blog about her journey on Blogger. Oh, and she loves to talk books…

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Happy Valentine's Day - Enjoy a snippet from #timetravel #erotic #romance Lost Time

💟💞💝💓Happy Valentine's Day 💕💖💗💘

I wrote this story fairly early on in my career, but it's still one of my faves and so are Hannah and Llach. This story was inspired by a friend of mine who found herself stranded and alone in Wales when some kind-hearted people stopped to help a stranded tourist.

Love transcends time 

Within this frame, his curse is time… 

Hannah Keys thinks she’s setting off on the trip of her dreams, but after one mishap after another—beginning with her best friend abandoning her in the airport and ending with the man of her dreams dead—she’s renaming it the vacation from hell. 

When Hannah discovers a four-hundred-year-old portrait in Wales, she is intrigued and somewhat saddened by the handsome Highlander portrayed by the artist’s masterful, lifelike strokes. But when she runs into the majorly hunky model for the painting—in the flesh, in the middle of the night—she learns first-hand all about masterful strokes when she shares a night of medieval passion with him.  

Lockhart Munro has been cursed inside the portrait until he meets Hannah Keys. For four hundred years, no one has heard him or seen him, let alone touched him. The one woman who can do all these things may be the key to his long-awaited freedom. 

But if Hannah sets Lockhart free from his prison, will she be cursed to spend the rest of her lifetime without him?  

Or perhaps freeing Lockhart will be just the beginning… 

Content warning for language

Hannah sat across the table from Paul and Cassidy in the hotel restaurant the next morning. Hannah pushed her food around the plate. 

Three plane tickets sat in the middle of the table. 

“I have to get back to work,” Paul explained. “I can’t take any more time off.” 

Hannah raised tired eyes to him. She’d been feeling dopey ever since Cassie had started feeding her pills every four hours. She felt lazy and lethargic. She didn’t give a shit about anything. She didn’t want to leave the UK but she didn’t want to stay alone. She wanted to go home but she didn’t know why—there was nothing there for her. Lockhart was here. Somewhere. Or wasn’t he? Was he here? Or was he dead? Or had he never even existed outside of her mind? 

Paul picked up one of the tickets and slid it into his inside chest pocket. “You girls make sure you stick together.” He smiled. 

“Thanks for understanding, babe,” Cassie patted his chest. “I think she just needs to see for herself. But I don’t feel right about just abandoning her.” 

“And I don’t want you to. I feel like some of this is my fault, too. If I hadn’t pressured you to stay with me instead of taking this trip, maybe none of this would have happened to Hannah. You two have been planning this voyage longer than I’ve been around. I shouldn’t have stopped you. You still have two weeks left of vacation time—you may as well take it.” 

Hannah nodded, no longer sure that she would find anything, but she appreciated the sincerity that she saw in his blue eyes. He pushed the other two tickets closer to Hannah. “It’s a thirty-six minute flight from Cardiff to Glasgow. I hope you find what you need, Hannah.” 

Her eyes filled. “Thank you, Paul, for everything you’ve done.” 

His mouth twisted. “I’ve gotta go or I’ll miss my flight.” He stood and kissed Cassie soundly. “I’ll see you beautiful ladies in a couple of weeks. I love you, babe,” he said, leaning in and kissing Cassie again. 

I love you, Hannah-lass, Lockhart’s distinctive brogue purred through her hazy consciousness. “Keep in touch and be careful,” Paul said, looking at Cass with love and concern.

For the life of her, Hannah couldn’t remember why she hadn’t liked Paul. He was a good guy. 

After he left, Cassie looked across the table and handed Hannah a napkin to dry her face with. “Well, let’s get packed up and we’ll get ourselves to Cardiff so we can catch our flight. Any idea what we’re looking for once we land? Or if we’ll find it in Glasgow?” she asked hopefully as she set two more capsules in front of her. 

 “Well, if you quit shoving those down my throat I might be able to think clearly.” 

“Hannah, you haven’t had a clear thought since you woke up.” 

“So you say.” 

“Maybe you don’t think so, but you’re better off on them, for now.” 

“What are they anyway?” Hannah asked, as she swilled them down with the water. 

“Some kind of antidepressant?” 

Cassie looked levelly across the table at her. “They are anti-psychotics.” 

They suddenly felt like a lump in Hannah’s throat. “You think I’ve had some kind of psychotic break? You think I came here and now suddenly I’m what…schizophrenic?” 

“Are you hearing voices?” she shot back. 

Hannah couldn’t deny that. She was sure that she heard Lockhart speaking to her. 

“Do you think you saw a ghost or two, since you swear Jake isn’t even Jake? And then there is the disappearing Lock. Look, Hannah, I think you’ve had a traumatic experience and you just don’t know quite how to deal with it yet.” 

“So you think a pill is going to fix it for me?” 

“The pills first and then when we get you home, we’ll find you a good psychiatrist to talk to and you’ll be just fine. Now, come on. Let’s get on with this mission to nowhere. I personally would like to get home and put this all behind us. And you should want that, too.”

* * * *

Cassie and Hannah stood in a very short line of people waiting to get onto the small Jetstream that would take them to Glasgow. 

“I hope they have hard liquor on this flight,” Cass said, looking anxiously outside at the plane.

“Why?” Hannah asked, disinterestedly. 

“Does it look to you like that thing is going to stay in the air? I mean really, it looks like an antique, for Christ’s sake. Was it built after the Second World War or what?” 

Hannah shrugged. Who cared? So what if it went down? Nothing mattered. Why was she even going through with this? Cassie was right—it was a mission to nowhere. The more time that passed, the foggier her memories got. She was even beginning to lose sight of Lock’s handsome face. He was fading, just like her bruises. 

“I’m gonna go check on our bags. I can still see them sitting in the exact same place that we left them. Wouldn’t that just be a capper on this vacation disaster from hell you’ve got going on here, if we lost our luggage, too? Stay here,” Cassie finished sternly, making her feel like a wandering child. 

Hannah scrubbed her hand down her face. She felt numb. Tingly. She could touch her thumb and forefinger together and not even feel it. Is it the drugs? She felt like she wasn’t even there. Like things were going on around her and she was not included. Life was like a dream now. Everything felt unreal. 

Hannah looked up at the line of people ahead of her. Her eyes felt heavy. She rubbed them tiredly. Screw it. They might as well just go home. There was nothing here for her. This was useless. 

Hannah opened her eyes and was about to turn when a man in the front of the line caught her eye. He was a head taller than everyone else around him. Short dark hair. Broad shoulders. Chiselled body. Hannah’s skin leapt with energy. Perfectly sculpted face complete with a slight cleft in the chin. He took his sunglasses off and slid them up into his hair, uncovering familiar dark eyes. 

“Lock?” she breathed, as her heart pounded loudly. She felt more alive than she had since she woke up. “Lock?” she repeated, stronger this time, moving in his direction, unable to stop herself. He looked amazing in modern clothing. A brown T-shirt hugged his rippling muscles over low-slung, tight-fitting faded jeans. 

She seized his arm. “Lock?” 

He looked down at her in surprise. “Yes,” he answered, but she could see that there was no recognition of her. She looked more closely. It was him but it wasn’t. Her heart raced but it hurt with every beat. Her mind swirled numbly from the medication, making her unable to process thought quickly. She wavered dizzily. He took hold of her elbows and pulled her against him trying to keep her upright. As soon as their bodies touched a current of sexual energy shot through them. 

“Whoa!” He felt it too—she was sure. “What the hell? Are you all right, miss?” 

“Lock?” she breathed. 

“Aye, do I know ya?” His dark brows dove as his eyes searched hers. “Have we met?” 

They stared at each other until finally Hannah couldn’t stand not feeling his lips on hers. She thrust her hands into his hair and pulled his head down towards her. He didn’t resist her. His lips parted, as she’d known they would. He bent to meet her. 

“Hannah! What are you doing?” Cassie wrenched her backward just as she was about to feel his lips. 

“Lock! It’s Lock!” Hannah choked, trying to explain the overwhelming need she felt. 

Cassie turned cold, assessing eyes on him. “Are you?” she asked, bluntly. 

“Aye,” he answered, “Llachlan. Llachlan Munro,” he introduced himself and presented his hand, which Cassie ignored. 

“Do you know her?” Cassie asked, hands on hips. 

“I’m no' sure. She seems ta know me.” 

“Were you going to take advantage of her again? You didn’t know her at the pub either.” 

“Take advantage? Again? I’ve no idea what ya are gettin’ at. At what pub? And I believe I was the one bein’ taken advantage of just now.” His accent came out more pronounced the more agitated he grew. 

“I didn’t see you fending her off!” Cassie retorted, turning to Hannah, who stood staring up at him. “Oh, fer fuck! Come on! I can’t leave you alone for a second now, can I?” Cassie dragged her back to their place in line. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“It’s Lock.” 

“It’s not fuckin’ Lock!” Cass gritted irritably. “He doesn’t exist and if he does then he’s the one that hurt you! What don’t you understand?” 

“He said he was…” 

“He would have said anything to keep you going at him like you were. He’s a guy, after all. Like he’s gonna turn you down when you’re all over him like that? Honestly, you’ve lost all sense.”

Hannah couldn’t keep her eyes off him and he seemed to be having the same problem. Their gazes kept colliding. 

Munro, he’d said. Llachlan Munro. Could that be it? Lockhart Munro? He looked so much like Lockhart. They had to be related. Lockhart Munro from…where? She racked her drug-fogged brain. His house had a name. It started with a…T… 

“Tamworth, Trent, Trafalgar…” Hannah said, out loud. “Tr…Traf-something…” She shook her head. 

“What are you doing now?” Cassie asked in frustration. 

“What other names in the UK do you know that begin with T-R?” 

“You know, I am seriously thinking of putting you in a straitjacket and dropping you off at the nearest monastery for an exorcism.” 

The line started to move, loading the passengers onto the small aircraft. 

Cassie pointed to their seats then pulled the overhead compartment open and tossed her case inside. Hannah lifted her own over her head to do the same, but she felt so weak and tired, it tipped backward and would have toppled down onto her head if a large hand hadn’t appeared and stopped it. 

“Here now. Let me help ya with that,” his deep burr purred just near Hannah’s ear, sending heat lancing through her body. She allowed herself to relax against his hard chest as he reached around her and stuffed the bag into the cubicle. It wasn’t the only hard thing she felt. He was responding to her. She spun around to place her palms on his ribs. She searched his face. She wanted desperately for him to know her. “Please…” she pleaded. 

His dark eyes were puzzled as he looked down at her. “Please what, lass?” 

An attendant walked down the aisle instructing them to take their seats. Cassie took the opportunity to shove Hannah into the window seat as she took the aisle. 

The engines roared, making the fuselage shudder and shake. Cassie gripped the armrests as the plane took off and eventually levelled out. She looked across the aisle. “Look. I’m sorry if I overreacted back there. My friend has recently suffered a trauma. A head injury, actually, and she’s just not acting like herself.” 

“Am I not here?” Hannah snapped, pissed off with Cassie’s insensitivity. 

“It’s no trouble,” he commented. “It’s kind of ironic actually. I’ve also suffered an accident that resulted in a head wound recently myself. So, yeah, this is entirely strange,” he said, nodding. He sat back in his seat trying to make room for his long legs. “Where are you headed?” he inquired. 

“To Glasgow. On a wild goose chase,” Cassie responded snidely. 

He raised a dark brow. “Oh?” 

“She believes she’s lost something in Scotland. A place she’s never actually set foot in.” The plane suddenly hit a patch of turbulence. When the shaking stopped, Cassie stood. “I’m going to see if there is any alcohol on this bucket of bolts. You, stay!” she said, pointing to Hannah condescendingly.

Llachlan ran a hand through his hair as he watched the mouthy blonde walk up the aisle, then turned his attention back to the pretty brunette with the incredible, beseeching green eyes. She sat in the seat with her head bowed, her eyes downcast, her lips moving as if she were praying, perhaps. He remembered those early days, trying to figure out what was real and what was imagined. Trying to get used to the medication, which was so strong that it wiped out all feeling, good or bad. It was like walking through a fog. 

He didn’t know what to say but he wanted to reach out to her. She seemed so lost and alone. And achingly familiar to him. She was beautiful. He’d thought so the minute he’d caught sight of her in the line and hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her. He felt drawn to her but couldn’t think of a logical reason to approach or a stupid line to use when he got there. But he didn’t want to play games. He’d recently come to the conclusion life was too short for that shit. 

“What’s your name, English?” he began, then belatedly wondered why he’d addressed her as such. It was not something he would normally say. But then again, many things he’d done and said in the last little while didn’t make any sense, and he’d stopped trying to make them so. 

He saw a tear fall down her cheek and it made his chest hurt. “I’m Canadian,” she whispered, almost rocking in the seat. 

“That’s a strange name,” he chuckled, in a poor attempt at humour. 

“No, my name is Hannah. I’m from Canada. Are you a dumb ghost?” 

The minute she said her name he heard nothing else. A bolt of electricity shot through him. “Hannah,” he repeated, her name bursting from his lips before he could stop it, as if for a split second he had no control over his thoughts or his mouth. For a moment he had not been in control of his own faculties. 

It’s Hannah and don’t you forget it… he heard her say from somewhere far away. Another woman. Another time. It was her but it wasn’t her. He fisted his hands on the armrests, trying to stave off the cloud of darkness that he knew would come next. Why did he keep hearing and seeing these things? Things and people he didn’t know. Not now, he implored. 

Her head snapped around and in her glistening eyes he saw the same terror-stricken panic that he felt. He released his fists, and his hands shook. His palms were wet as he slid them over his denim-clad thighs. He faced forward in his seat. 

“Hannah,” he said again, trying to speak her name casually. Making sure that he was again in control of his lips. But something still resonated in the plane’s cabin as if it echoed. “It suits you,” he said, trying to hold his thoughts. There were times when he thought he was doing okay, then something would happen to prove him wrong. He didn’t want to have an episode now, in front of her. He needed to pull off this trip without incident and show himself and his parents that he was going to be all right. He’d already kept the episode he’d had last week a secret from everyone, or they never would have let him set off on this trip alone. And he definitely didn’t share the fact that his first night away, he’d found himself in an alleyway in Wales. Inexplicable. More lost time. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hannah cover her face with her hands. “Okay,” she said. “I get it. You’re not really here. Maybe I’m not even here.” 

Llachlan covered his own eyes trying to keep the blackness at bay. 

“Oh, look at you two,” Cassie said, throwing herself into the seat as vapours of recently consumed liquor followed her. “Are we bonding over missing brain cells?” 

Hannah turned hurt-filled eyes on her friend and stood. “You know what, Cassidy, sometimes you can be a real bitch!” 

She was about to leave and Llach couldn’t stand the thought of her not being near him. He was loath to let her out of his sight, still fighting the darkness that was threatening. He reached for her hand. She immediately coiled her fingers around his as if he were her lifeline. Another blast of sexual heat slammed into him. Fuck! What is that? He wanted this woman, this stranger. He wanted her under him, on top of him, going down on him, crawling all over him. He could almost see it, feel it—he could smell her, he could taste her. He wanted to grab her and crush his lips to hers. His emotions were so erratic lately. He was impulsive and unpredictable. He never knew what to expect from himself anymore and this inexplicable, painful attraction he had for her just might prove his undoing. 

He shook his head trying to clear it. “I know what you’re goin’ through,” he said, looking up at her. “Never knowing what’s real or imaginary. Feeling like no one believes anything you say. Wondering if you can believe yourself, your own thoughts and actions. My family share memories that I have no recollection of but they insist I was there when these things happened. I’ve had people I’ve known all my life come up to me and I don’t know them. That’s why when ya touched me I asked if I knew ya. I honestly don’t know anymore.” He moved over to the next seat, pulling her down beside him. 

A tear streaked down her cheek. His chest tightened at the sight of it. He resisted the urge to reach out and catch it. 

“The worst is the lost time,” he continued. 

“Lost time?” she whispered. Her luminescent green eyes searched his. 

“Aye. Blackouts, they tell me. I do and I say things, and I don’t remember doing or saying them. Or I imagine things that are not. I dream people I don’t even know. I wake up in places that I did not go to sleep in and have no recollection of how I got there. Have ya experienced this?” 

“Yes. I lost three days,” she said. He found himself spellbound by her accent and the sound of her voice. He could smell a hint of vanilla, from her shampoo he guessed, and he found himself inhaling deeply trying to absorb it into himself. 

“But I feel like I lived more in those three days than I have my whole life,” she continued. “And now I just want to go back and live those three days over and over.” Her full bottom lip trembled. He wanted to reach out and trace that lovely lip with his thumb. What if she’d kissed him earlier? He wouldn’t have stopped her. Surely he would have been arrested for what would come next. Because he knew that kissing her would be explosive. He felt his blood rushing even now and he was having difficulty breathing properly just thinking about it and being this close to her. 

He swallowed hard. “I know what ya mean. And your friend there”—he pointed at Cassie who watched and listened intently—“she is a little overprotective, yeah?” Llachlan struggled to make his voice sound normal. 

Hannah shrugged delicately. “She’s just trying to save me from myself, I guess.” 

Cassie snorted. “And it’s a full-time job, too.” 

“My parents were the same with me,” he continued. “They didn’t want me ta take this trip. At least not on my own. But I needed to. I had ta prove to them and to myself that I could without some big disaster happenin'. I’m actually surprised that I haven’t turned around to find my brother sneakin' around behind me just to make sure that I’m okay. It would be just like them.” 

Hannah softened. “Because they love you. They won’t ever give up on you. Especially your father. So don’t you give up on yourself.” She said these things as if she knew. Her eyes brightened a little and it was like the sun came out. “You did it? You accomplished your goal?” It was her way of asking if he was just beginning his trip or ending it.

“It would seem so.”

“You took this excursion all on your own, and nothing bad has happened. You’re going to be fine.” Her beautiful mouth moved into a real smile, and his heart pounded faster at the sight. “I’m proud of you, Lock.”

The way she said his name seemed so familiar. It wasn’t just that he was attracted to her. It was more than that. There was no denying the sexual tension they had going on. She sparked something in him the minute she’d touched him. His cock had been hard ever since she’d attempted to kiss him. But there was something else. A connection that he didn’t want to break. She made him feel good when nothing had made him feel that way since the accident.

“It must feel so good for you to be out and about moving freely after so long.” Her gaze never wavered from his, as if she could see right inside him. Her eyes packed a punch that reached right into his chest. She looked at him like she had feelings for him. Deep feelings. Like a lover.

He took his hand, the one she wasn’t clinging to, and pulled at his trouser leg, attempting to readjust himself, trying to ease the pressure on his straining cock. 

“May I ask, was your trip for pleasure?” Her attention strayed from his for the first time, dipping to his mouth, making his tongue venture out to wet his parched lips. “Or was it a business?” Her eyes were even hotter when they rejoined his. 

He cleared his throat. “It was a business trip. I went to acquire a piece of art for our collection.” 

“A piece of art?” she said, slowly. 

“A portrait, actually.” 

She paled visibly. “A portrait?” 

“Aye, we have a gallery.” 

“Would it be a full-scale portrait?” 

“Yes,” he answered, trying to interpret her strange reaction. 

A quiver shook her small frame. “Did you acquire it in Wales?” she inquired, softly. 

His eyes narrowed. “Aye, how do ya know all this?” 

Hannah turned and looked to her friend, who shook her head in warning. 

He wished that Hannah would just stand up to her friend, Cassie. It was the medication subduing her. He was sure. He’d been through it himself. Just went along with what everyone told him to do in that fog that just pushed you along. But he’d seen a bit of spark in her when she’d called Cassie a bitch. He thought maybe he’d seen a flash of what the real Hannah might be like. 

“Please return to your seat and put on your seat belt, Miss. We are about to land,” an attendant said to Hannah from the aisle. 

Llachlan blocked her exit with his arm. He couldn’t shake the uncomfortable notion of her leaving his side. Not even for a second. He took the ends of the seatbelt and connected them. As he moved to pull away his pinkie finger caught in the little flap covering the zipper of the capris she wore and slightly grazed her. Her lips parted, and that same sizzling heat shot between them. 

His gaze met hers. He had to utilise every ounce of control that he still possessed to resist the urge he felt to ram his hand between her legs and cup the sweet treat in his hand. He almost knew that she would be receptive. She would push her crotch more fully into his palm, seeking his touch. He growled low in his chest as vicious need to bury himself between her thighs slammed into him. He felt like an animal—primitive, instinctive, carnal. He wanted her. Simple. Man. Woman. Fuck. And it didn’t help that he saw the same mindless desire in her eyes. 

“Lock?” she said, his name in question as her gaze searched his. What was she looking for? Whatever it was, he wanted to give it to her. 

The plane started its descent. Llach shifted reluctantly back in the seat, fastening his own safety belt. She held her hand out to him, palm up, trusting. He laid his palm against hers, threading his fingers through hers. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the sound of the plane instead of the hunger that was making his skin leap with excitement and anticipation. When they landed, the bitchy blonde would take her away from him. How was he going to stop that from happening? At the very least he wanted to know where he could find her. 

He had to see her again. He needed it like he needed to breathe.

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