Drawn together across centuries,
will their love be strong enough to defeat an ancient
Colonel Caleb DeCardian was fighting America’s
Civil War on the side of the Union when a freak
shower of ball lightning transported him to the
present, along with rival and former friend, Seth Reilly. Adapting to the 21st
century is hard enough for the colonel, but he also has to find Seth, who cursed
him to life as a werewolf. The last thing on Caleb’s mind is romance. Then
fetching Arianna Hart nearly runs him down with her car. He can’t deny his
attraction to the outspoken schoolteacher, but knows he should forget her.
Arianna finds Caleb bewildering, yet intriguing: courtly manners, smoldering
sensuality and eyes that glow silver at night? When she sees Civil War
photographs featuring a Union officer who looks exactly like Caleb, she begins
to understand the man she is falling in love with harbors multiple secrets--
some of which threaten the possibility of their happiness.
Finding a decent guy who'll commit is hard enough. How can she expect Caleb to
forsake his own century to be with her?
“Stop it!” Arianna shook off Wyn’s grip, pivoting to face him. “Are you crazy?”
Before he could answer, something slammed against the door. Caleb screamed.
The sound knifed through her like the violent jolt of an electrical wire.
“Caleb!” She launched herself at the door, panicked and terrified by the thought
of the man she loved in horrific pain.
“Don’t!” Wyn stiff-armed her aside and grabbed the knob, forcibly holding it in
place. “Get a chair. Something, anything! We’ve got to keep him locked inside.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Arianna, get a fricking chair. Now!”
There was another crash, and then a bang as something heaved against the
door, making it shudder from top to bottom. Arianna heard a snarl that turned
her blood to ice. The door rattled in its frame, weakening as something battered
against it. Something inhuman locked in the room with Caleb.
A cold fist clamped over her stomach.
“Wyn, what’s going on?”
“Chair!” he spat. “Get me a damn chair.”
The raw urgency of his voice plowed through her confusion. She darted into the
dining room, snagged a chair, and dragged it into the hallway. The thing in the
parlor was still hammering away, heaving itself against the door in an attempt
to burst through. Wyn’s face was white with strain as he struggled to hold the
door shut with both hands. He rammed the top of the chair beneath the knob,
wedging it securely into place. A blood-thirsty howl exploded from the other side,
kicking Arianna’s heartbeat into overdrive.
“My God, Wyn, what’s going on?” She lurched for the door.
“Don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing.” Wyn caught her around the waist
and swung her up against the wall.
She tried to squirm free. “I know Caleb’s trapped in there. We have to help him!
There’s something in the room. Can’t you hear it?”
He held her wrists, pinning her arms to the wall. “Listen to me!” His eyes were
wild, his face inches from hers. With a single frenetic skip of her heart, she realized
he was as terrified as she was.
“There’s nothing in the room. Only Caleb. Do you hear me, Arianna? It’s Caleb.”
“No!” She shook her head, unwilling to believe what he told her, but another
ear-splitting snarl fanned her fear higher. Nothing made sense. Not the stark
fear in Wyn’s eyes, the sweat-slickened grip of his palms crushing her wrists or
the chillingly inhuman sounds coming from the parlor. The man she loved could
never sound so guttural or barbarous.
“I don’t care!” She ripped free of his hold. “I don’t care if he’s by himself or in
there with something else. You have to help him!”
She lunged for the door, but Wyn grappled her around the waist, holding fast.
They were still struggling when the sound of shattering glass rang through the
narrow center hall of Weathering Rock.
Mae Clair knew from the time she entered grade school that she wanted to be a
writer. She credits her parents with instilling in her an insatiable love of reading
through weekly trips to the library when she was a child. Her father, an artist
who tinkered with writing, encouraged her to create characters and make-believe
worlds by spinning tales of far-off places on summer nights beneath the stars.
Inspired by folktales, legends and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night, she loves to
blend the fantastical with the ordinary. Her heroes are known to be flawed and
complex, her heroines capable, independent and sexy.
Throughout the years she has been actively involved in various writing and
critique groups and is a past President of the Central Pennsylvania Writers’
Organization. She lives in Pennsylvania and is married to her high school
sweetheart (a.k.a. the Love of Her Life). In her downtime she enjoys reading,
digital scrapbooking and unwinding with her husband by the pool when the
fickle PA weather permits. A self-admitted idealist, Mae is passionate about
writing, old photographs, a good Maine lobster tail and cats.