Paranormal Romantic Suspense
Date Published: 04-03-2020
Publisher: Wicked Whale
When Lark Cavanaugh’s life in New York City falls apart, she’s
left reeling from a staggering betrayal. She escapes to Cape Cod, where a
distant relative has left her an old house with a tragic past. Rumors of a
haunting presence plague the abandoned home, but Lark doesn’t believe
in ghosts…until she has no choice.
After completing his military duty, veterinarian Jesse Holt returns to his
small hometown to take over his father’s practice. He soon finds
himself drawn to the alluring redhead now living next door, but she has made
her intentions clear—she’s moving back to the city as soon as
possible. When frightening events threaten her safety, though, he
can’t deny his protective instincts.
Unable to fight their feelings, they give in to desire…but another
battle looms. Lark’s arrival has awakened a decades-old mystery, and
the truth of what happened at Holloway House will only be revealed when it
claims yet another life.
EXCERPT
Lark Cavanaugh’s stomach did a sluggish flip as she caught her first glimpse of Holloway House. Her foot eased off the gas pedal, slowing the car even beyond the crawling pace that had still registered every bump and rut along the unpaved road that passed as a driveway. How was this her new home? With a grimace, she urged the tires up a small hill, and the trees opened up to reveal the entire structure. It sat in a cleared slice of land that nature seemed eager to reclaim, surrounded on either side by encroaching scrub pines and tangled underbrush. A semi-circle in front of the house, dotted with weeds and the remnants of broken white shells, appeared to serve as a combination front yard and parking area, so she pulled to a stop along the edge.
The empty house would have looked creepy even if she hadn’t known its history. In the evening shadows, the second story seemed to lean forward over the worn porch like a menacing beast leering at its prey. She shivered, blinking to clear the unsettling image. It was just her nerves working overtime. After all, the last ten days had been a traumatic whirlwind of shocking revelations and emotional turmoil. And now she was about to move into an abandoned house that the entire population of this small town believed to be haunted. It was a good thing she didn’t believe in ghosts. Deceitful, selfish people…yes, she believed in that. Now more than ever. Ghosts, no.
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, and her gaze drifted to the bare ring finger of her left hand. Closing her eyes, she blew out a breath, gritting her teeth against the new image that flashed behind her lids. That disturbing memory was seared into her brain forever, and she couldn’t chalk this one up to nerves. Another wave of nausea burned through her belly as she cut the engine. Don’t think about it.
A plaintive mewling brought her back to the present, and she threaded her fingers through the metal bars of the cat carrier on the passenger seat. “I know,” she murmured, stroking the corner of Preston’s soft mouth. “It was a long drive.” Six hours, in fact, from New York City to the town of Truro on Cape Cod, in a borrowed car that felt like it might break apart at any minute. She could relate.
No. She would not let this beat her. It felt as though the fates were testing her, hammering at her defenses in an attempt to shatter her into pieces. But she’d been through worse, and the prolonged nightmare of the last week and a half certainly wasn’t going to be the thing that brought her to her knees. At least not permanently. She would move into this strange, isolated house she’d suddenly inherited and regroup. She would come out stronger. “Right, Pres?” she whispered into the silence, knowing full well her cat couldn’t read her thoughts, and couldn’t answer even if he could. But she may as well get used to talking to herself until she could unload this place and get back to the city.
The lawyer had warned her it would be difficult to sell, for a number of reasons. The house sat on two acres, with a river running through the woods, but it wasn’t directly on the ocean or the bay. The town was sparsely populated and secluded. While the property had been maintained by a trust, the interior had been closed up since Lark’s great aunt Joan had moved into a nursing home ten years ago, before passing away last month.
And then there were the rumors swirling around the house, labeling it haunted and cursed. Apparently at least two of her distant relatives had died here, the wife in a tragic accident, the husband by suicide after a dark descent into grief and madness.
That had been 70 years ago, though. Every old house in Massachusetts probably had a grisly death or two in its past. Many of these towns had first been settled in the late 1600s. Homes with that kind of history had to come with a fair share of tragedies.
A movement caught the corner of her eye, and her gaze snapped up to one of the second-floor windows. A pale, gauzy face peered out at her from behind the cloudy glass. She gasped, her muscles tensing as her hand flew to her mouth. Who was in the house?
She blinked, and the face disappeared. Or, rather, the mirage her exhausted mind had conjured disappeared. Nothing was ever there, she silently reassured herself, sliding her damp palm down over her racing heart. I’m imagining things, that’s all. But as she craned forward, searching the upstairs window through the car windshield, she thought she saw the curtains ripple in the falling dusk.
Great. The stories were getting to her already. Rubbing her eyes, she heaved a long sigh. She needed to get inside, let poor Preston out of the crate, and put her feet up. Unpacking could wait, except for maybe the cat food. And the half-full bottle of wine she’d brought along in the cooler.
Warm June air and an uncanny silence greeted her as she opened the driver’s side door. The absence of honking horns, exhaust fumes, and harried pedestrians was nearly as jarring as the imaginary face in the window. Climbing out of the car, she stretched her arms above her head, then combed her fingers through her heavy auburn hair. As she rolled an elastic tie off her wrist and twisted it around a low ponytail, she surveyed the packed backseat of the car.
It wasn’t all that much, even adding in the bags in the trunk, when you considered this jumbled collection of boxes and crates basically represented her entire life. Some of the furniture in the apartment was technically hers, but she couldn’t have fit it, and besides, she didn’t really want anything that reminded her of the place she’d called home for three years right now. If she decided she needed something, she could deal with that when she returned the car in the middle of July, when the friend of a friend who’d allowed her to use it would return from an overseas trip. How she would get back to the Cape again was still an unsolved problem…but maybe, if she were really lucky, she’d find an interested buyer, and she wouldn’t have to come back at all.
“Not likely,” she grumbled, opening the passenger door to retrieve the cat carrier. Preston made a low guttural sound in response. Grabbing a duffle bag with her free hand, she trudged toward the house, praying the key would be where it was supposed to be. The lawyer had assured her a local realtor with a copy would come by and hide it for her.
It was there beside the door, tucked beneath an old planter filled with gray dirt and a few tenacious weeds. She slid the key into the lock, frowning at the slight tremble in hand. But a little anxiety was warranted in a situation like this, right? Long trip, new—old—house, and a growing need to locate the bathroom.
She twisted the knob, surprised at how easily the old metal turned beneath her sweaty palm. Almost as if someone on the other side of the door was helping.
About the Author
USA TODAY Bestselling Author Kathryn Knight writes books filled with steamy
romance, dangerous secrets, and haunting mysteries. Her novels are
award-winning #1 Amazon Bestsellers and RomCon Reader-Rated picks. When
she’s not reading or writing, Kathryn spends her time exploring abandoned
places and searching for ghosts. She lives on beautiful Cape Cod with her
husband, their two sons, and a number of rescued pets.
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