When Meghan’s mother suddenly disappears without a trace, she and her two
little sisters are the first to notice, and the only ones who seem to
The problem, of course, is that her mother likes to party, so when she goes
missing, Meghan not only has to take care of everything at home, but she
also has to search for her, because her mom has a bad habit of disappearing,
so no one else is officially looking. That is until Meghan begins to receive
mysterious messages, almost as if someone or something is guiding her to a
haunted hotel in Manhattan, where people say an elevator game will take
riders to the mysterious 13th floor. Some say it’s an entrance to hell,
others a portal to another dimension. Either way, Meghan must brave the game
in hopes of discovering the truth behind her mother’s disappearance.
About the Author
Winter is an award-winning author who lives in the moment and loves nothing
more than being surrounded by her family, her fur-babies, and a ton of great
reads! When she doesn’t have her nose stuck in a book, she’s usually
thinking up far away, fantastical worlds or she’s cooking up a storm in the
Because of her love for all things literary, Winter pursued a Master of
Arts degree in English Literature and Creative Writing. Professionally, she
is a manuscript editor and, in her spare time, she enjoys posting book and
In her private time, she is an avid reader of science fiction, fantasy, and
paranormal romances, and one day she hopes to inspire young readers in the
same way her favorite authors continue to inspire her today.
Paranormal Romantic Suspense, Ghost Romance, Time Travel Romance
Release Date: June 15, 2021
When a beloved heirloom bridges the past with the present, can a young woman bury her dead to build a future with the living?
Portland, Oregon, 2018
Natalie Lane has never been in love. Twelve years after her father’s premature passing, she’s still caring for her heartbroken mother. Determined to avoid a similar future, Natalie focuses on her therapy practice instead of romance. But when a man claiming to be a ghost enters her office, a man only she can see, she realizes that her overworked mind might need a rest.
Fearing a nervous breakdown, Natalie goes on sabbatical to England, leaving everything behind except her cherished Celtic trinity-knot pendant… her forget-me knot. Before she can relax, however, the man appears again, stalking her throughout the British Isles.
And her problems only mount when a visit to a local pub reveals an eerie connection to a former life and love. The more she learns about her past, and her necklace’s link to it, the more Natalie’s much-needed vacation turns into a journey of self discovery that threatens her very soul.
Can the forget-me knot’s secret help Natalie leave her past behind so she can finally find true love?
The Forget-Me Knot is a captivating standalone supernatural novel. If you like paranormal ghost romances with a time travel twist, historical fantasy, and stories drawn from real past-life experiences, you’ll enjoy this enlightening tale.
The freshly mowed lawn’s distinctly green scent mingled with the earthy aroma from the rectangular hole cut deep in its surface. The morbid perfume made my empty stomach queasy. I looked away to stare instead at my patent leather shoes, riddled with grass clippings and morning dew. Like a threadbare scarf, the pastor’s monotone voice hung uselessly in the crisp April air. He mentioned my name, Natalie, then June, my mother, and paused. In the silence, I shifted focus. My gaze drifted from my shoes and slowly scaled the silver stretcher just feet away, holding the dark, wooden casket.
I struggled to breathe. It was as if the shiny box lay on my chest, allowing only shallow breaths to escape.
Just days before, Dad left for Lane & Frost Architects, carrying his briefcase in one hand and his favorite plastic travel mug in the other. He raised the cup, revealing pictures of me, minus a few front baby teeth, smiling from beneath the clear acrylic cover. He gave the mug a brief shake, like a wave. I rolled my eyes at the former Father’s Day gift, then offered a new smile, now covered in braces.
“Goodbye, John! I love you,” Mom said.
Dad puckered his lips and blew her an air kiss before walking out the front door. As he descended the steps, I watched him crane his neck and take a sip of coffee, avoiding a drip, then two, bound for his brand-new button up. Despite the cup’s many leaks and overall lack of insulation, he filled it to the brim daily, regardless.
Offering Mom and me another smile, Dad backed his Super Beetle out of the driveway, covering his front teeth with his tongue to mimic the mug’s picture. Then he waved goodbye. Minutes later, in an intersection less than a mile from our home, Dad’s car was no match for a speeding utility truck whose driver ran a red light. When Mom received the call, she rushed to the scene, but it was too late. We later learned Dad’s last words were: “Tell my wife and daughter I love them.”
The first responder, a police officer and bowling buddy who was with him until the end, now stood next to me, sniffing periodically. I saw his reflection in the casket as he wiped his nose with the back of his gloved hand. Although it was thoughtful of the officer to attend, I wished my dad and his reflection were standing beside me instead.
“Heavenly Father…” The pastor’s voice caught my attention once more and drew my focus back to the crowd. From the reaction I saw in those surrounding us, I imagined his eulogy was moving, with powerful words that evoked tears in most of the attendants. But I didn’t hear those words, or maybe I couldn’t. Instead, I again gazed at the casket and the somewhat distorted images on its polished surface.
Mom stood on the other side of me, wrapped within Grandpa Lane’s sturdy arms. My other grandparents had already passed, but Poppy, as I called him, was always there for us, standing in for those who could not. With his daughter-in-law propped against his black dress jacket, Poppy rested his chin on her head and held on tight. A gentle, rocking sob grew from the depths of her broken heart and clung to the casket as the squeaky pulley lowered Dad into the earth minutes later. The police officer reached over and pulled me close. Although I didn’t know him well, I held on to the man and openly wept, staining his dress blues with my heartbreak.
Above my sobs, I heard Mom next to me and could only imagine what she was going through. I had lost my father, but in my mind, I believed her grief was much worse. She’d lost her soulmate.
I dried my tears, and with the pastor’s prompting, I left the officer’s side and stepped toward the hole. I wasn’t ready for goodbye, not yet. So I looked down and tossed a single red rose into the lonely depths and whispered, “I’m going to miss you, Daddy.”
I continued to stare at the casket while others moved forward and offered their roses and whispers until the wooden lid was scarcely visible. You’re loved, Daddy, I thought. Wherever you are, I hope you know just how much.
The crowd dispersed, and the bereaved walked to their cars. Some headed to our reception afterward; others went back to their lives and their families. Many hugged me when they passed. Despite their embraces, I felt empty, alone.
“Thanks for coming,” I said again and again. Hearing myself repeat those words brought the extent of my loss into focus. Barely sixteen, I felt as if I’d aged many years in only a few days, and life as I knew it would never be the same. That knowledge was reinforced when I heard Mom still crying behind me. I turned to see her head buried in a handkerchief as Poppy propped her up.
While Mom searched for a dry spot on the square of fabric, I studied Poppy’s furrowed brow and his tight lips that served as dams for the tears he struggled to suppress, meant for his only son. His anguish grew in the ever-deepening creases of his down-turned face, and he seemed to age right before me. My grandfather was a rock, but I’d just learned that even strong men didn’t live forever.
Standing there at that moment, watching my loved ones crumble, I vowed to be stronger, especially for Mom. I faced forward and tried to clear my thoughts, then dried my tears, promising to fight them in the future.
Later that night, I lay atop my covers, staring at the shadow-filled ceiling as the moonlight streamed into my room. When Mom’s sobbing finally subsided, the old house grew silent briefly before offering a series of creaks. The noise soon built into a familiar dance, coinciding with the rustling trees outside my bedroom window. It sounded like my parents’ recent tango lessons in our front room. Their missteps and the laughter they evoked, which had mingled with the floorboards audibly resisting their movement, was still fresh in my memory.
The tears I had promised to fight loomed beneath burning eyes. “I can do this,” I said in a shaky voice that almost mimicked the creaking house. “But I wouldn’t mind a little help.”
I sat up and stared at my closet door for several seconds before leaving my bed to cross the room and open it. I stepped inside and grasped for the ceiling light’s pull chain that dangled in the darkness. Once I made contact, I wound my fingers around the chain and yanked the light to life. From a top shelf, behind old toys and spare blankets, I withdrew a shoebox. I opened the lid to reveal the treasures hidden inside: several ticket stubs from high school football games, a twig, and a stick of gum. All were items my latest crush, Bobby Flynn, had once touched, discarded, or stepped on in the twig’s case. Bobby was tall and ripped, hot by everyone’s standards. The quarterback even smiled at me once. I couldn’t fit that leg-melting grin into the box, but the memory saw me through more than a few failed math tests and a nasty stomach virus.
I slowly closed the lid and caressed the cardboard surface, hoping the simple gesture would evoke an image, a feeling, anything that might help me forget my life for a while. Such an action, something I’d never revealed to anyone, had offered comfort on many prior occasions, and I’d hoped it would again. This time, however, I didn’t feel a thing. I closed my eyes and tried once more. Sadly, Bobby’s once cherished image vanished into an enormous, rectangular hole in the ground.
I opened my eyes, clearing the scene from my mind. “Not even my secret Crush Box can make this hurt disappear,” I mumbled. I ran my hand across the lid a few more times but still felt nothing. Disappointed, I tucked the box under my arm and tiptoed down the hall, through the back door, and into the night.
Across the patio stood Dad’s pride and joy, the barbecue, the same one he had grilled hotdogs on the weekend before. I opened the lid, allowing the moonlight to bring everything into focus. Bits of charred and half-cooked sausage stood at attention as I removed the grates and leaned them against the grill. Above the briquettes that remained, some still intact and only slightly ashen, I placed the shoebox, then doused it with lighter fluid. I removed the red lighter that dangled from a hook attached to the grill and clicked the trigger. The long flame glowed in the darkness, and I stared at it for several seconds before touching it to the box. As the fire leaped into the night, I wondered if I’d ever meet someone I’d love as much
as Mom loved Dad. After seeing how her heart had shattered in the wake of his loss, I also wondered if I’d ever bother looking.
About the Author
Denise Liebig is an award-winning author whose modern characters experience the past through time travel, reincarnation, the paranormal, and other twists of time. A fan of everything vintage, her desire to be a fly-on-the-wall during the early 1900s inspired her to research that era, which soon launched her writing career. When she’s not imagining stories about the past and writing about them, Denise lives in the present with her husband and three kids.
Romance, fire, and arson – another deadly mix. You’ll love this second chance, action-packed, smoking hot adventure!
Can a series of wildfires lead to true love under a midnight sun?
Jon Silva is back as a wildland fire investigator, along with his well-earned reputation as a crack firefighter and notorious serial dater. But things have changed in Jon’s world. Now, there are only two women in his life—the one he wants, and the one who wants him—at any cost.
Liz Harrington returns to Alaska’s Aurora Crew, fighting wildfire to earn seed money for her new business. She resisted her attraction to Jon last fire season, but this year she’s not sure she can quell the smoldering passion that ignites whenever they’re together. Though it’s tough, she won’t let her heart be another casualty of the infamous Wildland Wolf.
Someone is setting fires on the Kenai Peninsula. When Jon is summoned to investigate and Liz dispatched to fight the blazes, more than the wildlands are heating up. What Jon discovers blows his world apart. And while Liz fights the most catastrophic fire in Alaska’s history, everything she’s worked for may soon go up in flames.
As Liz and Jon race against time to find the arsonist before their beloved Alaska turns to ash, they must find a way to overcome the lethal forces determined to keep them apart. Fire is unpredictable, and so is love – but will their second chance at romance be extinguished before it’s even lit?
Other Books in the Blazing Hearts Wildfire Series:
Blazing Hearts Wildfire Series, Book One
Published: May 2020
Romance, sabotage, and fire can be a deadly mix!
Can a chance encounter on a wildfire lead to true love under the midnight sun?
Tara Waters loves being a wildland firefighter and the adrenaline rush of fighting wildfires is her calling. She must be on her game to join an elite hotshot crew in Montana. But when Tara is sent to fight fires in Alaska, her dream falls out of reach.
Sexy Alaskan smokejumper, Ryan O’Connor takes Tara under his wing and counsels her when she fails to save someone on a wildfire. She owes him one, but not her heart just because of his irresistible charm and good looks. Ryan has his own story with plenty of demons in his past. And Tara may be the spark his life needs.
But when a mysterious adversary sabotages Tara on the fire line, she discovers a threat more dangerous than fire—a threat that can destroy everything she’s worked for and second chance for love that could be extinguished before it ignites.
LoLo Paige is an award-winning author whose works include novels, short fiction and nonfiction. Her romance books have finaled in several Romance Writers of America (RWA) contests, and her debut novel, Alaska Spark was awarded a 2020 Indie B.R.A.G. Medallion award and was a finalist in the 2021 Eric Hoffer and Next Generation Independent Publishing awards.
Alaska Spark ranked No. 1 on the Amazon Bestseller List for romantic suspense in all markets, including the U.S., Canada, and Australia. The book also ranked in the top 25 in the UK. Alaska Spark has been featured in Publishers Weekly Booklife Magazine, and her nonfiction story about escaping a runaway wildfire won a 2016 Alaska Press Club award. She’s a member of the Alaska Writers Guild, Romance Writers of America, and Romance Writers of Australia.
She divides her time between Alaska and Arizona with her husband and golden retriever, enjoying summers at their Kachemak Bay cabin across from Homer and fishing for halibut and salmon…and writing!
A young WWI veteran searches for his French Impressionist father through encounters with Claude Monet and some of that movement’s key figures.
About the Author
Joe Byrd’s BS in Journalism and MA in Communications degrees inspired him to become a pioneer in electronic publishing. As a McGraw-Hill editor, he developed one of the first computer publishing systems. In the rapidly developing PC software industry, he co-authored one of his two books using PC desktop publishing software, the first for a major publishing house. He developed the first technical support website in the software industry. In his fifty-year career, he published magazines, wrote research reports, and developed conferences in the US and Europe for the digital photography industry. He launched one of the first digital photography dot coms. This is his first novel.
Vana, the math prodigy with a voice that is 85% Sarah Vaughan, 10% Billie Holiday, and 5% Aretha Franklin and an attitude to match. Desperate to leave her chaotic family and become the independent woman of her imagination, she lands a summer job on an aging Greek cruise ship as a member of the house band.
Marko, who failed his university entrance exams, is on the trail of bouzouki god Markos Vamvakaris, in hopes of claiming his own artistic identity.
Stepan, agronomist, accordionist, occasional mystic, has spent the last ten years hopelessly, secretly in love with his only friend.
Stranded in the surreal microcosm of a cruise ship, the three friends stumble across a series of dark and dissolving frontiers: between love and friendship, memory and forgetfulness, sacrifice and redemption. On this voyage to the heart of an ancient world, can the bonds of a friendship forged in childhood survive the tests of tragedy and self-discovery?
About the Author
Lori Frey Ranner is a New Orleans native and Oxford-trained Byzantinist. For the past twenty years she has taught history, theology, and Classics in various New Orleans institutions. Married and mother to three children, Sailing to Byzantium is her first novel.