Blessed Friday & Giveaway Winner!

Happy Friday Ocean Dreamers! Any exciting plans coming your way? Wanna take a few from me pretty please because I am feeling a tad stressed over everything that is coming. Seriously. But…it will be fun! Yay!

It is time for Blessed Friday my lovelies. Oh, and it is time to reveal the winner, but not yet. You have to wait. Ha ha ha, so sorry! Keep reading!

Sooo…

1. I am blessed that tonight I am hosting a Bachlorette Party at my apartment. Party! Nah, we are actually just chilling and painting our nails, eating yummy soup and chatting. This is the kind of party I want to be a part of! Wish my nails looked like this!

2. Checking out an Interior Design school to see if I want to add to my current career. So excited to learn all about interiors! I am blessed that I have many opportunities living in Cali!

3. Blessed to get my hair done all blonde again. Yipee! I admit it has been way to long since I got my hair done, it is just so expensive now and at least my roots are a shade of blonde, just not the pure blonde I prefer like in the pic below! I used this pic before in my Blonde July post, yep, it’s a repeat.

4. Birthday party for a friend Saturday night…at a lovely Mexican restaurant that I adore by the water. I am blessed to be surrounded by friends and celebrating a birthday!

5. Going to a wedding on Sunday, same friend that the Bachlorette party is for. Big Kiddo and I have bit of a road trip – it is about an hour and a half away. I love weddings and I look forward to celebrating the love that my friends have for one another! Love this photo by the way.

Okay, so that about sums up my blessed Friday happenings and activities that I am thankful for.

Now it is time to reveal the winner of my chocolate giveaway!

The winner is Hanako66 @ Through The Looking Glass

Hope you don’t mind that I stole a picture from your blog love! I couldn’t resist. If you haven’t checked our her blog, you must and you will fall in love!

I love this lady’s heart and her fashion sense, so this is just perfect for her. Plus, every girl needs some chocolate, right?

I hope you all have a great weekend! I’ll be back to play catch up on your blogs once all of my madness is over.

XOXO,

Dreamy Wonderland

Happy Sunday Ocean Dreamers, I hope you all are having an amazing weekend. Thanks for all of your input on which costume you like, I am still in the decision process but when I decide I will let you know!

When I came across a simple image at my lovely friend Clare at Clarebelle, I was entranced by this model’s beauty in a particular photo. Ironically I again came across an image of the same model, Hollie Swan, at another site that I have enjoyed looking at: We Heart It. I was excited to find out that the link took me to the photographer’s page that had all of the photo shoot pictures there.

I just had to share some of my favorites with you. I don’t know what amazes me the most about this photo shoot. Maybe it is the vintage flare, the Alice in Wonderland theme, Hollie’s big eyes, her blonde hair and loose gorgeous braids, or the romantic scenery and poses, but I could never grow tired of daydreaming with Hollie. I hope you enjoy this dreamy photo shoot as well.

You can view all of the photos here, which Ramdaq Photography calls Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Broken Angels

Broken Angels

First Part

 

Chapter One

 

Three children.

Was the universe playing some cruel joke on her? Rebecca wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but all humor evaded her. Instead, she stared dumbly at the stern-looking, gray-haired attorney in the expensive Hugo Boss suit, fighting an onslaught of symptoms she hadn’t experienced in months—the damp palms, the erratic heartbeat, the all too familiar stabbing sensation beneath her ribs. They gripped her with steel claws, assaulted her like a recurring nightmare, as she sat on the comfortable brown leather couch next to the man she’d sworn to love a lifetime.

A lifetime that had lasted but eight sweet, miserable years.

His familiar scent wafted toward her—that musky fragrance of mint and rain, peppered with a dash of aftershave. It strangled her almost as much as the word children had. How could one simple word overload all her senses? How could it instantly bring to mind the overpowering smell of baby powder, the heartrending sound of a giggle, the burning heat of a soft body snuggled against her breast? For a moment, she almost convinced herself what she was experiencing were memories. But they weren’t. They were only broken dreams.

“There must be some mistake.” She hardly recognized her own voice. It was hoarse and held a barely noticeable trace of terror that only someone who knew her well could detect.

Of course, Zach caught it. Sympathy sped across his face, and she wanted to scream. She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want anything from him anymore. He’d walked out on her when she’d needed him the most. He’d discarded her like a defective piece of merchandise. He’d left her to wallow in a sea of pain and misery so deep she’d nearly drowned.

But she hadn’t. She’d taken all the hope in her heart and locked it away in that dark little box where all her demons dwelled. Then she’d picked herself up and learned to move on and live again. Two long, hard years she’d worked to regain her sanity and accept the blow fate had dealt her. Two long, grueling years.

And after all was said and done, it took only that dreadful word children to make it all come crashing down on her again. Wave after wave of anger, fear, and anguish submerged her. And Zach just sat there, looking at her as if he understood all too well how she felt.

“I assure you, Mrs. Ryler—”

“James.” The word popped out before she could stop it.

Confusion pleated the attorney’s bushy brows. “Excuse me?”

“My name is Rebecca James. Mr. Ryler and I are divorced.” She could almost feel Zach flinch beside her. She angled a glance his way, noted the sharpness of his features, the way his lips tightened and his dark blue eyes suddenly refused to meet hers. Had she intentionally said that to hurt him? A part of her—the part he’d torn to shreds when he’d walked out on her—probably had.

He looked thin, drawn. His usually tanned skin was pale beneath the harsh glare of the fluorescent overhead lighting, his midnight black hair—although still as thick as the day she’d met him—laced with gray at the temples. Grief had taken its toll on him, but he would rather swallow a glassful of nails than show it.

His ability to bottle up his emotions, to take control of a situation and accept life’s twists and turns with grace and a humbling sense of self-discipline had always driven her crazy. Why wasn’t he shaking his fists at the sky, screaming bloody murder at the heavens? His baby sister and brother-in-law had just been shot to death, leaving his niece and two nephews orphaned. That should have been enough to send even Ghandi over the edge, but not him. Nothing shook Zach Ryler. Not death, not heartache, and certainly not the slow, devastating loss of a dream.

Sensing the tension between them, the attorney—Neil Hopkins, or was it Hawkins?—cleared his throat and continued. “I assure you, Ms. James, there’s no mistake. I had the benefit of working with Liam for nearly five years. I deeply hope he saw me not only as his boss, but as his friend.” He paused, took a second to compose himself.

“What I’m trying to say is that I knew Liam on a personal level, and he and Lindsay made their wishes very clear. You and your husband—ex-husband—” he corrected, “have been named legal guardians of their three children.” Errant sunbeams trickled in from the window and gilded the smooth surface of the mahogany desk that dominated the room. Behind it, the lawyer sat, looking aggrieved.

Panic unfurled inside her. Her windpipe constricted.

Get a grip. Don’t start hyperventilating.

“I’ll take care of my niece and nephews on my own.” Zach’s voice scraped the air like sandpaper. This was the first time he’d spoken since they’d entered the stifling office in the downtown Boston high-rise. “I don’t want or need Rebecca’s help.”

Why did his dismissal cut her so deep? He was giving her what she wanted—a way out. She should’ve been thrilled. Instead, a wrenching ache blossomed in her chest.

“Social services may take issue with that,” the lawyer replied. “A man raising three young children on his own—”

“Widowed and divorced fathers do it all the time.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, his hands fisted between them. She recognized the non-negotiable stance, noted the square set of his shoulders and the slight spasm in his jaw. He was digging in his heels, literally and figuratively. His eyes, however, remained shuttered—as clear and flat as a calm sea on a windless day.

Fighting to keep her wits about her, Rebecca rose. Her nails dug painfully into her palms. “I’m sorry.” She slanted a beseeching look Zach’s way. “I loved Lindsay like a sister, you know that, but I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

The lawyer looked stunned and, for the first time since he’d called them into the leather-scented office, at a loss for words.

Zach simply nodded. “I know.”

Quiet understanding wrapped in a thread of regret passed between them. Rebecca steeled her heart and broke the unsettling eye contact, then shot out the door. It slammed behind her, a loud, hollow reminder of what a coward she was. She was an expert at slamming doors. She’d slammed the door on her marriage, she’d slammed the door on all her dreams of home and family, and now she’d just slammed the door on the second chance fate had seen fit to grant her.

Guilt tainted her insides, but her fear was blacker, impossible to wash away. Still, the thought of letting Lindsay down gnawed at her. Lindsay wasn’t only her sister-in-law, but her lifelong best friend. Or she had been until Rebecca turned her back on her. Ever since she’d separated from Zach, she’d been unable to bear being around Lindsay anymore. Lindsay—with her perfect marriage and three beautiful children—had been a reminder of everything she’d never have. Just thinking of her had jammed painful needles in her gut, had driven in her failures with the force of a sledgehammer.

Instead of facing the pain, she’d opted to hide from it, and in the process she’d not only lost a best friend, but a sister.

She’d missed her these past two years. Missed her so much her belly ached. Loneliness was an insidious thing, sharp-toothed and pervasive. It slowly ate away at you until you were hollow inside, a frail shell encompassing nothing.

For months she’d been meaning to call her, but every time she picked up the phone she’d lose her nerve. Now it was too late. Lindsay was dead, and Rebecca could never tell her how sorry she was.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have walked out just now. She owed it to Lindsay to make sure her children—her three sweet-faced, innocent, orphaned children—were okay. She had to put her personal feelings aside and do what was right.

Damn it, why couldn’t she breathe? Her heart pounded louder than a symphony of drums. The walls of her throat swelled. Too late, she realized she was hyperventilating. Her senses swam. The narrow corridor stretched, trembled, and lost focus.

Dear God, please don’t let me pass out.

She thought she was past this, thought she’d finally gotten a handle on her emotions. Had she just spent the last two years fooling herself?

No, she couldn’t accept that. She was solid now, on her way to finally being whole again. This little lapse in her self-control was perfectly understandable. She was still reeling from Lindsay’s death, was coping with feelings of pain and loss, salted with an unsavory dose of guilt.

“I’m sorry, Becca,” Zach’s voice pierced the heavy mist smothering her brain. She hadn’t heard him creep up behind her. “I had no idea. I would have expected Lindsay and Liam to change their will after the divorce.”

She wanted to tell him to leave her alone, to let her wallow in her despondency the way he had two years ago, but the words remained trapped in her throat. All she could do was inhale one sharp breath after another until her knees buckled and her head began to float.

“Are you all right?” Zach anchored her with his body, placing one hand on her lower back and the other on her elbow. His touch hardly helped matters. Part of her wanted to recoil, her flesh scorched by yet another reminder of all that was lost to her forever. But another part of her—the traitorous part—wanted to lean into his embrace, to let him comfort and support her.

Great solace could be found in the familiar, and Zach’s touch was like the comfortable sweater you’d had since you were a teen or the house you’d lived in all your life—full of memories and feelings, both good and bad, but always a soothing balm to a bruised spirit.

“I meant what I said in there. I’ll take care of those kids on my own. So, you can breathe easy.”

The lump blocking her windpipe thickened. “I…can’t…”

His heat branded her, made her body flush and her heart crash. The scent of mint and man enveloped her like sunshine on a rainy day. A thin whistle chimed in her ears.

Then her senses blurred and the room spun into darkness.

 

***

 

A few minutes later when she came to, she was back in the attorney’s office, lying on the smooth leather couch, beneath a mottled blanket of sunlight. Her mouth felt unnaturally dry, her head fuzzy.

She swallowed to wash away the grainy feel in her throat and propped herself on her elbows. “What happened?”

Zach stood at the window, nothing but a dark silhouette against a pale backdrop of light. The slight inclination of his head was the only indication that he’d heard her. “You passed out,” he said after a short pause.

She groaned as mortification sluiced through her. All she’d wanted was to show him how put-together she was now, how well she’d reassembled the shattered pieces of her life. She’d wanted him to see that she was whole again, that she didn’t need him anymore. Instead, she’d gone and fainted in his arms. He was probably silently congratulating himself for walking out on her two years ago, and she wasn’t sure she could blame him.

“Where’s the lawyer?” The chair he’d occupied was empty, the desk impeccably neat. The few pages that had littered its polished surface only minutes ago were gone.

“He was late for a meeting. His secretary will lock up after we leave.” Zach finally turned to look at her. The sight of his eyes slid deep inside her and squeezed. They were tired and so achingly sad, despite his best efforts to conceal it.

The old impulse to reach out to him—to nurture and soothe—reared within her, but she fought it. It wasn’t her job to comfort him any longer. He was on his own, just as she was.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“I can breathe again. I figure it’s a good sign.”

A whisper of a smile fluttered over his lips. She’d always loved his smile. It brightened his whole face, made his eyes sparkle and long grooves dimple his cheeks. But today, it was half-hearted, strained.

Rebecca wet her lips and sat up straight. “I didn’t mean to react that way. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do.” He walked toward her, his gait smooth, his body lean and square. She was aware of every muscle his gray cotton shirt concealed, was intimately acquainted with the wide curve of his shoulder, the springy whorls of hair on his chest, the powerful arc of his back. Her fingers still burned with the feel of his flesh beneath them. Why did the body—the heart—remember, even as the mind struggled to forget?

She fisted her hands and pushed herself to her feet. “I’m past that now.”

“Yeah? Then how come the mere thought of kids knocked you out cold?”

He was right, of course, but there was no way she’d admit it. Just the idea of children—other people’s children—crippled her. It wasn’t that she didn’t love kids. On the contrary, she loved them too much. Loved them so desperately, she’d made herself sick with yearning. She couldn’t allow that yearning to take root within her again. This time, it would destroy her.

Hope was a double-edged sword, as sharp as it was seductive. It could carve you to shreds if you weren’t careful. She’d learned that the hard way.

“It was just a shock to my system,” she said in her own defense. “I never expected to have any children, let alone three at once.”

He nodded, his gaze so piercing, she felt it all the way down to the marrow of her bones. She tried not to squirm, but failed. Butterflies brushed silken wings against the walls of her stomach. “Could you please—” she faltered. “Could you please tell me about the shooting?” She’d wanted to ask him about it when she’d seen him at the funeral two weeks ago, but it hadn’t seemed appropriate at the time. Everything had been so new then, the wounds still shockingly fresh. “Did the children see—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Did they see their parents murdered?

Zach sat on the edge of the gleaming desk, as if he’d suddenly grown so weary he needed the support it offered. “No. They were in bed when—” He released a thin stream of air that was half sigh, half snort. “When the son of a bitch broke in.”

A shadow passed behind his eyes. “No one heard a thing. He probably had a silencer.”

“Who discovered them?”

“The next door neighbor.” A lengthy paused followed. “Kristen had forgotten her favorite teddy bear at her place earlier that day. She came to drop it off. The police think she probably scared the killer off, that’s why the children were spared. She took the kids to her place while the cops worked, so they wouldn’t see—” His voice failed him.

She raised her fingers to her lips, gently shook her head. “How could something like this happen? Why?”

She didn’t expect an answer, but he answered just the same. “Because some junkie was looking for his next fix and was short on cash. Because some nut job wanted to try out his new gun. Because the world has just gone crazy. Take your pick.”

Something arctic-cold and lethal blew across his face. “My sister was shot in the heart. Death was so instantaneous, she barely bled. Liam’s death was a little slower. He must have realized what was happening.” He clutched his hands, wrapped his palm around his fist in a steel clamp. “That’s all it takes. One shot and you’re out.” The latter was spoken so softly she barely heard it. “Now, I’ve got three brokenhearted kids and no idea what to do about it.”

Something inside her shattered. “I can only imagine how Noah and Kristen felt when they found out.” Her heart shriveled. “Who told them?”

Zach’s gaze latched onto hers, and she read the words before he spoke them. “I did.”

“Oh, Zach.” She lost the battle and went to him, but stopped herself before she reached for his hand. It seemed so natural to touch him, even though a chasm of time now gaped between them.

“Noah just turned nine, so he understands what death means. He took the news like a man.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “That’s what worries me. He didn’t react at all. No shock, no pain. He has to let himself grieve like a child, but he won’t.

“Kristen is just the opposite. She refuses to believe her parents are gone. Death is an abstract concept to a five-year-old. She’s convinced they’re just sleeping and they’ll come home once they wake up. No one ever dies in cartoons, right?” His voice dripped with bitterness.

“And Will,” he continued, “he’s barely walking, so he doesn’t understand much at all. All he knows is that his mother isn’t there to hug him or rock him to sleep, and he thinks if he cries hard enough she’ll hear him and come to him. The other night he chewed on his fist so hard, he gnawed the skin off.”

Rebecca inhaled a sharp, deep breath that rattled in her chest. As much as she fought it, the overwhelming urge to draw that baby into her arms and hold him until his tears dried and peace befell him seized her.

Her demons awakened, reached long, scaly limbs through her veins. She battled to subdue them, all the while knowing what she had to do. Those children needed her. It was time she stopped wallowing in her misery and did the only thing her conscience allowed.

“I’m going to do it.” Her voice was firm and resolute, void of the tremor that passed through her.

Zach arched two puzzled brows.

“I’m going to help you take care of those kids if it kills me.”

And she meant it.

 

Favorite Scene in Middle

 

So they’d gotten through another day. That’s how Zach measured success now—not in terms of award-winning advertising campaigns or multi-million-dollar accounts, but in terms of meals consumed, games played and a minimum number of tears shed.

The sun had set two hours ago. The sky was a deep indigo spattered with stars. Silver moon shadows danced along the edges of the water, making it pulse with a neon blue glow. Waves serenaded him, a seductive whisper that matched the rhythm of the breeze, as he sat on the porch steps, gazing absently into the empty distance.

Why did life look so simple here at the rim of the world? Why did he feel that maybe, just maybe, everything would work out somehow? Was he deluding himself?

Probably, but right now he didn’t care. He wanted to savor the strange sense of peace he’d found, to drown himself in the unfamiliar hope that splashed through him. The children were safe and healthy and able to smile occasionally. Their hearts were ravaged, but in time they’d heal. They had no choice. The body had a self-preservation mechanism that forced you to survive, whether you wanted to or not.

What’s more, Becca was here, back in his life again. There was something different about her—something solid and composed that hadn’t been there before. Something that told him maybe history didn’t have to repeat itself. She could smile through her pain, wrap her arms around a weeping child, listen to a mother talk about her children without shriveling inside. Had she learned to accept what she couldn’t change? Had she finally made peace with fate? Could she be happy with their makeshift family or would she always feel cheated, always crave more?

The ocean shivered, and from its depths a figure emerged. She walked toward him, bathed in starlight, her body glistening. Her wet hair fell in undulating waves down her back.

Zach’s next breath snagged in his throat. For a moment he thought she was a siren, a mythical creature rising from the sea to seduce him. His lungs felt crushed, deprived of air. The walls of his throat narrowed as an electrical charge pulsed across his nerve endings.

Then he realized the siren was Becca. She’d gone for an evening swim. She loved swimming at night because the water was always warmer then. Shadows danced along her curves, making her hips rounder, her stomach flatter, her breasts more full. Her hair was a deep bronze kissed by moonbeams, her skin a translucent ivory.

His body instantly responded to the glorious sight of her, aching. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he’d vowed to keep his hands off her. None of it seemed to matter anymore.

She grabbed a towel from the porch railing and swathed it around her figure, and it took all of his self control to bite back the protest that scratched at his throat.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” he muttered instead. His voice sounded gruff.

“After I tucked Noah and Kristen in, I decided to go for a swim. You were busy with Will, and I can always use the exercise.” She lowered her body next to his, smelling of the sun and the sea. Water dripped from her hair. Rivulets trickled over her shoulders and slid down her arms.

Unable to stop himself, he captured on of the drops with the back of his index finger. It was cool against her warm skin, silky. Their gazes locked, and awareness sizzled between them.

“Did Will go to sleep okay?” Her question pierced the cloud of lust enveloping him.

“Yeah.” He let his hand fall away before he was tempted to explore more of her. “He was exhausted.”

“We had a pretty full day. The kids were really excited, weren’t they?” A hazy smiled ghosted across her lips. “It’s nice to see them having fun.” The tenderness on her face shook him. It was the same look Lindsay always used to get whenever she spoke of her children, the same expression that had glazed Tess’s features several times this afternoon.

He eyed her steadily. An image of her playing in the waves with the kids earlier today flashed through his mind. “You’re incredible with them.” He couldn’t suppress the note of wonder in his voice. “I never expected it.”

“To be honest, neither did I.” Bolt ambled onto the porch to sit beside her, and she stroked him absently. Zach’s gaze was drawn to the gentle rhythm of her fingers as she threaded them through the dog’s lustrous coat. He remembered how those hands had felt on his body when she’d massaged him last night, the way they’d twined in his hair and chased the tension from his limbs.

“I guess I just understand how they feel,” she continued, oblivious to the dangerous path his thoughts were taking. “I understand Noah’s anger, Kristen’s totally delusional hope, Will’s tantrums.”

Zach made a sound that was half chuckle, half snort. “At least one of us does.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself as usual. You’re great with them. I can see how much they look up to you.”

“That’s because I’m tall.”

Her heartfelt laughter filled the night. God, he’d missed hearing her laugh. The sound of it made a strange energy hum in his pores and burrow deep within the marrow of his bones. It took all his self control not to reach out and touch her again. Instead, he clasped his hands together and let them hang between his knees.

“Can you answer a question for me?” He stared at his joint fingers, unable to look her in the eyes for fear of what he would see there.

“Sure.”

“When I suggested adoption, why did you refuse? I thought maybe you believed you couldn’t love a child that wasn’t biologically ours. But now that I see you with these kids I can’t help but wonder—”

“You thought I couldn’t love a child I didn’t give birth to?” She sounded offended.

He ventured a glance in her direction. Even in the dark, he couldn’t miss the indignation that flamed in her cheeks.

“I didn’t know what to think,” he answered honestly. “You were so set against it.”

“Because I was angry. Because if I couldn’t have what I wanted, then I wanted nothing at all. It was the injustice of it, the unfairness. Why should I be deprived the joy of feeling my child grow inside me when it came so naturally to everyone else? Adoption felt like acceptance, like throwing in the towel.”

“Would that have been so bad?”

“At the time, yes.”

“And now?”

She hesitated. A soft breeze lifted her wet curls from her shoulders, sent them rioting around her face. “It doesn’t really matter anymore,” she whispered. “The choice is no longer mine to make.” He barely heard her past the whoosh of the waves.

“That sounds oddly like acceptance.”

“Maybe it is. Even I have to give up sometime.” Her inflection held a hint of amusement, but he wasn’t buying the flippancy.

“Is that what this feels like to you, giving up?”

She was quiet for a long time. The waxing moon haloed her head and made her eyes sparkle like liquid gold.

“No,” she answered with more conviction than he’d expected. “It feels like family.”

Vulnerability sparkled in her eyes, more potent than her glistening skin, her clingy swimsuit, the small towel wrapped around her breasts and hips. Zach lost the battle and extended his hand to cup her face. Her skin was soft, an odd blend of velvet and satin. It tickled his palm as a strange current traveled up his arm and thrummed along his flesh.

He never should have allowed himself to touch her. Now the need to kiss her blinded him. It was a physical ache, sharp and insistent. She turned her cheek into his palm, moved closer…

“Becca—” Her name tore from his chest, both a desperate plea and a growl. In the same heartbeat, his mouth crushed hers. Fire shot through his veins, turned his resolve to cinders. Need raged through him, and every minute he’d spend without her only seemed to stoke the blaze.

Her lips instantly parted to receive him. He wasn’t sure if the sound she made was a gasp or a sigh, and to be honest he didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to taste her. Her mouth was moist, inviting, as he slid his tongue in to mate with hers. She brought her palms to his abdomen, let them glide across his ribs and around his back, and he knew she wouldn’t put up a fight. A part of him was hoping she would because, right about now, he wasn’t exactly thinking with his head. Not the one on his shoulders, anyway.

She had no intention of making this easy for him—the way the movements of her lips matched his, the way she edged in closer and flattened her breasts on his chest.

She had no idea what she was doing to him. Or maybe she did. He couldn’t be sure. He tasted boldness on her tongue. Boldness and a trace of desperation.

Suddenly, he wanted more. He wanted to feel every inch of her, to recapture what he’d lost, to once again anchor himself to the one woman who could keep him from drifting away. She was his purpose, his meaning, his joy and his heartache. She was the missing part of him. He couldn’t be whole without her. He’d been a fool to ever think he could.

Decisively, he stood and pulled her to her feet so that the length of her damp body pressed against his. He felt every delicious curve, every fragrant curl, the wild tempo of her heart as it galloped in perfect beat with his own.

There was no more room for doubt. With a groan, he clumsily pushed open the door, and they stumbled into the house. He tugged at the straps of her swimsuit, his mouth traveling down her neck and over her shoulder. The towel slid to the ground. He wanted to tell her to take it easy, but he couldn’t find his voice. All he managed was a grunt.

Then he was lifting her off her feet and carrying her to the bedroom, with nothing but the moon and stars to light his path.

All content on this website is copyrighted 2009 by Romance Junkies and any reproduction of any kind is prohibited. All book excerpts contained in this site are copyrighted by the author.

Dreamy Wonderland

Happy Sunday Ocean Dreamers, I hope you all are having an amazing weekend. Thanks for all of your input on which costume you like, I am still in the decision process but when I decide I will let you know!

When I came across a simple image at my lovely friend Clare at Clarebelle, I was entranced by this model’s beauty in a particular photo. Ironically I again came across an image of the same model, Hollie Swan, at another site that I have enjoyed looking at: We Heart It. I was excited to find out that the link took me to the photographer’s page that had all of the photo shoot pictures there.

I just had to share some of my favorites with you. I don’t know what amazes me the most about this photo shoot. Maybe it is the vintage flare, the Alice in Wonderland theme, Hollie’s big eyes, her blonde hair and loose gorgeous braids, or the romantic scenery and poses, but I could never grow tired of daydreaming with Hollie. I hope you enjoy this dreamy photo shoot as well.

You can view all of the photos here, which Ramdaq Photography calls Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Hunter’s Moon

Hunter’s Moon

First Part

Prologue

Hunter Hartley sipped her cappuccino, waiting patiently for her brother’s mocking laughter to stop. She knew her predicament would amuse him. What she didn’t know was how long, or hard, David would laugh. She glanced at the couple sitting at the next café table, giving them an apologetic smile.

David wiped his eyes, and groaned. Hunter placed her cup on the table. “Finished?”

“I think it’ll be the funniest time of my life!”

“David, be fair.”

“You’ve harassed me for almost five years about my chosen profession. Now, I get to make fun of you.”

Hunter sighed as she slid four pages of typing across the table. “Dad worked at the Cock and Bull Magazine for twenty years. He won awards for his photography. I’m sick of freelancing. I never get the good jobs, and my finances are running very low.” She studied David, frowning at the amusement shining from his eyes. “The editor wants a photo of a werewolf to go with that article you’re holding. A man allegedly saw someone turn into a wolf on a property in the mountains.” Hunter never thought she would hear those words leave her mouth. “I’ve arranged for us to stay at the unused house on the property.”

David burst into laughter again, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth. Clearing his throat, he leaned forward, his brown eyes watering with the laughter he restrained. “You’re terrified of dogs,” he said, the words muffled by his hand.

“I know that. I’m sure I could overcome the fear.” Hunter’s threaded fingers turned scarlet with the force of their grip. Drawing in a deep breath, she unclasped her hands. “Mind over matter, right?”

“I didn’t think you believed in werewolves.”

“I don’t. But, I need to try. The editor said that if I get a picture of a werewolf, I can have the staff photographer position that just opened.”

“What happened to the last photographer?”

Hunter pursed her lips. She didn’t want to tell her brother what happened to the last photographer.

“Hunter?”

“He thinks he’s a vampire.”

David stared at her for a moment. Hunter raised her hazel eyes to the clear autumn sky. Only a few more seconds until her brother would go berserk with excitement.

“Oh, my God! That is priceless!” David clapped his hands and released a disbelieving laugh. “A vampire! Oh!” More laughter, thankfully a little more subdued. “That’s why I became a paranormal investigator! I’d love to see some of the things Dad witnessed.”

“We grew up surrounded by this stuff.” Hunter sat back, rubbing at the skin puckered on her forehead. “For twenty three years I listened to Dad’s stories about mermaids, Bigfoot, and the werewolf colony of the Sunshine Coast. I’ve studied his photos until my eyes blurred. Not once did I see what he claimed to be a ghost, or a fairy, or…”

“Then, why do you want this job?”

Hunter watched the traffic for a moment. Why did she want a job doing something she didn’t believe in? She loved photography. She could get a job doing something a little more mainstream.

In her heart, she wanted to do what her father did. She wanted the respect and adoration that James Hartley earned until he died suddenly two years earlier. Digging into her bag, her fingers found the small memory card posted to her a few days after her father’s funeral. A note had accompanied the card, telling her watch the video, the last minutes of James Hartley’s life. She just couldn’t bring herself to watch it.

“I want the job because I miss Dad.”

David’s expression softened. “I miss him, too. Okay, where do you want me to meet you?”

“At a place called Caleb’s Rest.” Hunter passed him the address. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

“The full moon isn’t until Saturday.”

“I know. I want a day or so to look around. They think I’m interested in the history of the old house.” Hunter smiled even though the lie she had told the caretaker of Caleb’s Rest made her feel guilty.

“I’m busy tomorrow,” David replied. “I’ll meet you there on Saturday morning.”

“That sounds good.” Hunter’s mood brightened. At least she won’t be traipsing around the Sunshine Coast Hinterland alone.

 

Chapter One

A small Caleb’s Rest sign poked from behind the masses of lantana cascading down the wall of rock. Finally! Hunter turned left, as the sign directed, and glanced in the rear view mirror. All signs of life had vanished. She couldn’t see any houses, electricity poles or streetlights. A few feet ahead, the tar road stopped, a gravel road continuing in its place. Then, through the trees, she caught the glimpse of a majestic two-storey sandstone mansion down in the valley, complete with wrap around veranda and air of timeless beauty. 

Stopping at the next break in the trees, she climbed from the car, reaching for her digital SLR camera. She wanted to remember the very first moment she saw Caleb’s Rest. Maybe a werewolf would jump from the trees and pose for an award-winning photograph. She scoffed a laugh and shook her head. Dream on, Hunter!

A thick conifer forest stretched from the rear of the house to the rolling hills that encased two sides of the acreage. The mountain, where she stood, formed another border, while the land spreading from the front of the house continued as far as the eye could see. A lake sparkled from the edge of the forest, and the roof of a cottage peeked between the conifers.

Hunter snapped photos, intrigued by the silent grandeur of the old house. When she zoomed the lens, every detail became clear, including the fountain decorating the curved driveway and the tangled, overgrown gardens. Focusing on the front veranda of the house, she photographed the ornate columns, taking particular care to include the spider webs. Each small imperfection added to the charm. Hunter jumped when a man wearing blue jeans exited the house and walked straight across her sight. She hadn’t expected the house to be occupied. The caretakers lived in the cottage in the trees behind the main house. So, who was this man?

Lowering the camera, she watched the man in the distance, her curiosity piqued. Glancing around to make sure no one watched her she raised her camera again, focusing on the man as he walked the length of the veranda, a cell phone plastered to his ear. His dark hair curled at the collar of his light blue t-shirt, and his jeans hugged his well-toned thighs and backside. Unable to stop herself, she clicked a photo. He may not be a werewolf, but he deserved immortality within the confines of a photograph!

The man turned and Hunter almost dropped the camera when the lens focused on his groin. She shifted her attention, snapping a few photos of the fountain and the neglected vineyard nestled against the furthermost hills. She peered over the camera through the trees, wanting to get a closer look at the man. He strolled the length of the veranda, his movements fluid and relaxed.

Just one more look. She slowly focused her camera until the man’s hard chest filled the lens, clear as day. Adjusting the viewfinder slightly, Hunter’s heart stopped beating when his face dominated her view, his gaze cast downwards as he spoke on the phone.

“Goodness,” she whispered, unable to tear her attention from his arresting features.

The man leaned his back against an ornate column, giving her an even better view. His dark hair fell lazily onto his forehead and he pushed it back with a hand, revealing high cheekbones and a long, handsome face. The shadow of a beard covered his square jaw, and he smiled as he talked, deep lines creasing the edges of his mouth. Then, he raised his gaze to stare straight down the lens at her. Eyes of the palest cerulean narrowed, his brows lowering slightly. His phone now rested by his side as he stepped from the veranda. Within seconds, she lost sight of him behind the trees.

Hunter scanned the property through the zoomed lens. Then, she caught a blurred glimpse of a light blue object, moving very fast. She hurried around to the driver’s seat. How did the man see her? She must be half a mile away and partially hidden by the trees. Her heart pounded in her chest as she opened the car door. Why did she do such silly, impulsive things?

“How many times do I need to explain to you reporters that there are no werewolves here?”

Werewolves? Turning slowly, Hunter stared, too stunned to speak. The man from the house stood before her, even more handsome close up. The tremble in her hands deepened when stepped closer, the subtle scent of vanilla veiling her. How had he reached her so quickly? He pointed to her camera.

“Your camera, please.”

“I wasn’t—.” Hunter clamped her mouth shut under the man’s galvanizing stare and handed her camera to him. “Don’t break it,” she muttered.

“I won’t break it,” he replied as he flicked through the digital photos. “Although I should.” He glanced at her. “Maybe I should call the police and have you charged with trespassing. This is a private road.”

His gaze lowered to the camera again, his left eyebrow raising a fraction. So embarrassed that she could die, Hunter succumbed to the hot blush infusing her cheeks. After deleting the photo of his posterior, he handed the camera back to her.

“You only needed to ask for a photo.” Disappointment faded the sparkle in his eyes and he shook his head. “There are no werewolves here,” he told her.

Hunter almost laughed at the absurdity of his words. “Werewolves?” she asked. “Has my brother put you up to this?”

For a moment, he watched her intently. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said slowly. “Are you a reporter?”

Hunter paused. Technically, she wasn’t a reporter. “No, I’m not, I’m a photographer. My name’s Hunter Hartley.”

“Hartley did you say?”

Hunter nodded. The man’s sudden grin caused her heart to beat a little faster. She waited for him to offer his name. Instead, he raked his fingers through his hair, his smile becoming apologetic.

“I think Gordon and Arabella are expecting you.” He walked to the edge of the sharp decline leading to the house. “Please, ignore the werewolf comment.”

“There are no such things as werewolves,” Hunter replied.

The man turned to her, the humor back in his expression. “I wouldn’t say that.” He assessed her for a moment. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay here. I know I will.”

Hunter stared after him as he disappeared down the wooded hill towards the house. How did he get from the house to her so quickly? Edging towards the drop off, she peered into the dense vegetation but he had disappeared.

Climbing back into the car, she turned the ignition, disgusted that her fingers still trembled. No man had ever conjured that sort of reaction from her, and she wasn’t sure she enjoyed feeling so open and vulnerable. Steering onto a sealed road, Jacaranda trees bowed over her car, their leaves stirring in the light breeze. She eased through the open ornate iron gates and followed the driveway in a circle, parking in front of the house.

Tall Alexander Palms swept across the front of the stone-pillared ground floor, shading the house from the harsh midday sun. Water dribbled from the ornamental urn fountain into a putrid marble trough below. At the end of the veranda stood a bougainvillea-covered pergola, inviting her to wander further into the neglected gardens.

“Can I help you?”

Hunter smiled at the balding, middle-aged man waddling down the stairs leading from the veranda. He pushed his thick glasses up his nose at least three times as he cross the ten feet between the house and Hunter.

“I’m Hunter Hartley,” she replied. “I’ve come to take photos of the house for my research.”

“Ah, of course. My name is Gordon. My wife and I are the caretakers. Come on in. Do you need help with your bags?”

“No thanks. It’s just me, my laptop, my camera, and an overnight bag,” she replied, hoping her research lie doesn’t come back to bite her on the ass.

Hunter followed Gordon, glancing at the paint peeling from the wooden beams as she passed. The floorboards creaked and rocked as she walked. To her, the small imperfections didn’t make Caleb’s Rest any less beautiful. If anything, the deterioration increased the building’s appeal. The cool air inside the vast entrance hall caressed her skin. Sadness oozed from the walls, and desperation rose from the wooden floor beneath her feet. The feeling that the house held dark secrets piqued her curiosity.

“Tell me a little bit about the history of the house,” she said, following Gordon up the curving wooden staircase to the second level. “I would like to know whether anything bad happened so I can portray the mystery in my photos.”

Gordon’s steps slowed and he glanced over his shoulder uneasily. “Angus Scott built Caleb’s Rest in 1890.”

“It’s beautiful,” she replied, hoping her interest would keep him talking. “The house must have been very special in its day.”

“Yes, it was. In 1893, Angus named the house Angel’s Rest and the name stayed until his death in 1910. Then, it became Caleb’s Rest, named after his eldest son. Your room is this way.” Gordon led her along the corridor to her left. “There are twenty-five rooms all together, twenty on this side of the house, and five on the other. Angus wanted a maze built into the house, so the north wing consists mostly of doorways and corridors.”

“How did Angus Scott die?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Gordon replied before quickly changing the subject. “There’s no electricity here, so there are plenty of kerosene lanterns and oil lamps along the walls.”

Hunter stopped. The overnight bag slipped from her fingers, the plastic feet on the bottom of the bag clattering on the floor. How could a house be so primeval? “No electricity?” she asked, just to make sure she’d heard correctly.

“Caleb’s Rest hasn’t been occupied for quite a while. Arabella and I live in the cottage at the back of the house. The current owner comes and goes.” Gordon flashed a smile. “We heat hot water in a cauldron in the kitchen every morning for washing.”

Hunter’s head spun. How would she survive with no electricity or instant hot water? “What about toilets?” She followed Gordon along the hallway again.

“If you want flushing toilets, you’ll have to run about fifteen miles up the mountain to the shopping centre. Otherwise, the toilets are outside.”

“Outside toilets?” she managed to squeak.

Gordon unlocked a door and pushed it open, indicating for her to enter the room. “You are the first guest to want to stay here for nearly fifty years, and probably the last for the next fifty. There’s no need for creature comforts.”

Creature comforts! What about hygiene necessities? Hunter glanced around the sparse room. The sweet fragrance of gardenias lingered on the warm breeze, drawing her to the slatted balcony doors. Stepping onto the balcony, she breathed in the fresh air, determined to enjoy her stay. She’d come to snap a photo of a werewolf, not to condemn the beautiful old home. The distant sound of a dog barking sent her blood cold.

“Are there dogs here?” she asked, not even attempting to disguise the tremble in her voice.

“No dogs.” Gordon passed her the keys to her room.

“Dogs terrify me,” she whispered. Nothing brought her to her knees like a dog. Big, small, hairy, furry—it didn’t matter. If it walked on four legs and barked, it could beat her.

“We get a few wolves on occasion. I think the next property owns dogs but I’ve never seen them here.”

The slow, melodic notes of a piano drifted through the house. Hunter turned to Gordon, startled by the fear flashing in his dark eyes. The caretaker managed a tentative smile as he adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Gordon nodded. “I’m not used to having so many people here at once. The owner of the property arrived a week or so ago. I must say I was surprised after not hearing from him for more than two years.”

“Is that who’s playing the piano?”

Gordon wiped perspiration from his brow with the back of a beefy hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the owner of Caleb’s Rest.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, a trickle of anxiety causing her to shiver. Why did Gordon look so scared?

A multitude of corridors and doorways branched from the main ground floor hallway, creating an intricate maze-like layout. In some rooms, three or four doors led outside, to other rooms, or into dimly lit corridors. Hunter smiled, her excitement building. So much to explore! The lack of electricity and amenities suddenly didn’t seem like such an inconvenience. It added to the mystery of Caleb’s Rest.

The sound of the piano became louder as she followed Gordon into the northern side of the mansion, and into the music room. An immaculate Grand Piano sat in the centre of the octagon shaped room. Cushioned benches, where an audience would sit, adorned the walls under the numerous windows. Sunlight flooded the room, the warm glow reaching the man sitting at the piano. His body rocked to the tempo of Beethoven’s Moonlight, his fingers moving across the keys quickly.

Hunter licked her lips, a nervous tickle starting in the pit of her belly when she recognized him as the man she met earlier. As the music grew in intensity, the man’s body became more animated. The muscles in his back flexed, stretching his light blue t-shirt almost to capacity, the fabric contouring to the strength of his body. He finished the piece with a flourish, his long fingers hovering over the black and white keys as the final note dissolved to nothing.

Quiet filled the room, almost unbearable after the beautiful music. The man sat with his head bowed, his dark hair falling forward. His wide shoulders slumped as he rubbed his face and heaved a sigh. Gordon cleared his throat and the man turned suddenly, an annoyed frown creasing his brow. A lopsided smile replaced his frown, catching Hunter off guard with its sensuality.

“Hello Hunter,” he said.

“You know each other?” Gordon asked.

“We met earlier today,” the man replied as he stood, reaching towards Hunter. “I didn’t even introduce myself. Forgive my rudeness. I’m Caleb Scott.”

“Hello again.” She placed her hand in his. Caleb’s deep voice disturbed her inner serenity and she drew in a deep breath when his vanilla cologne swirled around her.

“I trust you’ve left your camera in the car,” he said, his eyes glowing with amusement. “Or must I shield my backside every time you walk by?”

“No, you’re safe with me. I’m sorry about taking the photo without asking.” A blush heated her cheeks when his pale blue eyes captured hers. Her attraction to him strengthened, his warm skin and seductive magnetism causing her heart to flutter.

“I should be the one apologizing, threatening to have you arrested.” He released her hand, his smile widening. “Compared to the dusty shadows I’ve recently kept company with, you are a fresh, pleasant change. Welcome to Caleb’s Rest.”

“Thank you,” she said. I think. “My brother arrives tomorrow. I’ve come early to look around and take some casual photos. Your home is beautiful.”

Caleb sat on the piano bench. “This house hasn’t been a home for years. Unfortunately, Caleb’s Rest lost its splendor almost a hundred years ago. It’s become nothing more than a lifeless shell, just like its owner.”

Hunter stared at him. What did he want her to say? Was he fishing for compliments? Plenty of flattering words about him filtered through her head but her mouth remained closed tightly.

“You’re quite welcome to stay while I play the piano,” Caleb said. “I plan to play for the rest of the afternoon.”

Hunter wanted to stay but she’d come to spend the weekend looking for something that didn’t exist, not drooling over Caleb Scott. Although, at that moment, she would much rather drool.

“I might go back to my room and settle in before I go into town for dinner. I want to look around as much as I can before David arrives.”

Caleb’s mouth curved into a smile. “Hopefully, I’ll see you in town tonight.”

 

Favorite Scene from Middle

 

Hunter slid between Caleb’s legs and pulled the heavy photo albums along the floor before snuggling against his hard chest. He placed a light kiss on her temple, wrapping the blanket around them both, keeping the evening chill from penetrating their naked bodies.

“Are these your father’s albums?” Caleb asked, his warm breath tickling her ear.

Hunter nodded. “These aren’t all of his photos. I’ve got boxes of them under my bed, and Dad kept his photos from the last two or three years on memory cards.” She ran her hand over the vinyl cover of the first album, her memories of her father pure and clear.

“I’ve seen some of your father’s work. I like it.”

Hunter opened the album. “I think I saw one of my father’s pictures in your apartment.”

“It’s one of my favorites. The color is amazing. James saw the world in a different light.”

Hunter nodded her agreement. Then, his words registered. Twisting, she studied Caleb’s face. “How do you know my Dad’s name? Did you know him?”

“I met him once or twice.”

“Werewolves fascinated him.” Hunter chuckled. “Everything fascinated him. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like him.”

She turned the page of the album and studied the photo. A horse stood in a lush green paddock. Patches of bright blue sky broke through angry grey clouds, and a complete rainbow illuminated the sky. The angle of the photo made it look as though the horse stood at the end of the rainbow.

Unexpected tears burned Hunter’s eyes. Her father grinned from the next photograph, the creases around his mouth and brown eyes deepening with his humor. She stroked the picture, her own smile widening. “A self portrait,” she told Caleb. “He loved taking his own photo.”

A group of people milled in the background of the image, just out of focus. A red haired woman, frozen mid laugh, tipped a champagne glass precariously. The woman looked like Cherie. Hunter pulled the album closer. A dark haired man, partially hidden by her father, stood with the woman. He looked like…

Hunter jumped when Caleb turned the page to reveal another self-portrait of her father, this time from a different angle. The dark haired man became a little clearer. A strong jaw line, smile lines exactly like… Uneasiness settled low in her stomach. If the man in the photo turned to her, she knew his eyes would glow like icebergs against a bright blue ocean. Caleb turned the page again.

“This is a good picture,” he said.

Hunter’s mind lingered on the people standing behind her father. The woman definitely looked like Cherie, and the man… “How well did you know Dad?”

Caleb’s breath stirred the hair on top of her head. His gentle finger traced a pattern on the back of her hand. He pointed to the next photo. “I like this one, too.”

A twinge of insecurity ruffled Hunter’s bliss. She stared at the photo of a ten-year-old David pretending to eat the Sydney Opera House. Her father had trick photography down to a fine art. Try as she might, she couldn’t distract her mind from the fact that Caleb avoided her question.

“That photo at your house,” she ventured. “I’ve never seen it before. Where did you get it?”

“Hunter, please don’t ask.”

Twisting again, she peered into Caleb’s handsome face. A shadow of disquiet darkened his eyes. “It’s a simple question,” she said.

“Not so simple to answer,” Caleb told her. A muscle at his jaw pulsed.

His answer annoyed her. Pushing the photo album away, she stood and walked into her bedroom, Caleb’s body warmth dripping from her skin. A faint thread of insecurity sat heavily on her heart. Closing the bedroom door, she locked it before leaning against it to study the bed she’d spent almost three hours in. The same bed where she had allowed Caleb to bring her fantasies to life.

For some reason, the fact that Caleb knew her father set alarm bells ringing. Slipping on her jeans, she paused when Caleb knocked on the bedroom door.

“Hunter, I knew James.”

Yanking a green sweater on, she sat on the bed and stared at the closed door. “How well did you know him?”

Caleb’s heavy sigh filtered through the wood. “Better than I let on. Like you, he came to Caleb’s Rest for photos of a werewolf. I befriended him. I couldn’t help it. Also like you, he was so damned easy to like.”

Foraging through her handbag, she found the small memory card and studied it. She glanced at the door when Caleb knocked again.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Did you send me the memory card?” she asked.

A moment of silence from the other side of the door. “No. Hunter, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

Hunter swallowed the indecision in her throat and slipped the memory card into her laptop computer. Almost instantly an image appeared. Lowering onto the bed, she watched the screen. The video camera’s angle changed to show the moon riding high in the sky.

“Okay, it’s 12.04am and the moon is full.”

Hunter bit her lip, her father’s voice bringing more pain than she thought possible. The camera lowered, a forest of conifers visible in the poor light. It looked like the forest at Caleb’s Rest.

“Caleb, are you ready?”

Hunter’s heart lurched, her fingers tensing in her lap. The image on the computer screen bobbed up and down as James Hartley walked forward.

“Where is he?” James whispered. “It’s so quiet.”

The camera slowly turned until the silhouette of Caleb’s Rest against a lighter night sky filled the screen. Hunter’s pulse quickened. She jumped when Caleb pounded on the bedroom door, causing the entire room to shudder.

“Hunter, you don’t want to know what happened. You’re better off thinking that he died of a heart attack.” Desperation filled Caleb’s voice.

Hunter lowered to her knees to watch the rest of the video. Darkness spread across the lens, the trees barely visible in the pale glow of the camera’s light.

“Caleb, where are you? Stop playing games. Come on, mate!” James’ breathing whispered from the speakers. He swore under his breath.

“Jim, I can’t control it.”

Hunter stiffened, a shard of ice slithering into her heart when Caleb’s strained voice came from her computer. The picture on the screen steadied, the trees dark and menacing in the distance.

“What? Caleb?”

Screaming echoed from the woods. Hunter’s hands trembled as she wiped a tear from her cheek. James Hartley swore profusely.

“That’s it, I’m out of here. You just can’t trust a werewolf.”

Comprehension trickled through Hunter’s confusion. She understood why Caleb didn’t want her watching the video. Fear churned her stomach, rising bile to her throat, but she couldn’t tear herself away from the computer. She’d come this far. She needed to know what happened to her father. The image jolted again as her father hurried towards the house.

“Jim, ruuu—.”

A frenzied howl cut off Caleb’s panicked bellow from within the trees. Hunter’s father cursed and the movement of the camera became erratic as he ran towards Caleb’s Rest. James tripped, the camera shuddering as he hit the ground.

Hunter shot to her feet, her hands covering her mouth. Panic filled her until she thought she would explode. Her father climbed to his feet and ran through the overgrown garden, the same garden she’d wandered through only a few weeks earlier.

Then, the camera faced the trees. Hunter’s legs gave way and she fell to her knees again, her low sob of despair sounding strange to her ears. The black wolf pounced into the shot, mouth open, huge teeth bared. James screamed. The camera hit the ground with a thud.

“No! Caleb, stop!”

Menacing growls filled Hunter with terror. Her father fought against the wolf, kicking the camera back into focus as he writhed and twisted to escape the relentless teeth. The beast’s massive body blocked the viewfinder, sending the screen dark. The frightened cries of her father battered her, forcing the truth into her head.

The wolf moved away from the screen. Hunter dry retched. James lay on the stepping stone path leading through the back garden of Caleb’s Rest. The wolf raised its nose to the sky and bayed to the moon, the sound turning her blood cold. The wolf nudged the camera with a huge paw as it passed.

Hunter’s eyes remained glued to the computer screen. Tears stung her throat but she couldn’t look away. Her father twitched, and then dragged himself to the camera. Blood covered his face and matted his grey hair. Life drained from his vibrant brown eyes. He reached towards the camera, his hand covering the entire screen.

“Remember, David and Hunter, that I’ll always love you.”

The screen went black.

Hunter couldn’t breathe, her misery so acute that it became a physical pain. He killed her father. Clutching at her aching heart, she doubled over, a low groan of primitive grief ripping from her chest.

All content on this website is copyrighted 2009 by Romance Junkies and any reproduction of any kind is prohibited. All book excerpts contained in this site are copyrighted by the author.

Chasing Butterflies, Watching Turtles, and Sammy

This weekend was so blissful. I hope yours was the same. I was able to clean my apartment because both of my roommates were away, I went to another bonfire, and then on Saturday and Sunday I hung out with Big Kiddo.

Saturday we went to Cheesecake Factory (yummy) and shared our favorite dish: cashew chicken. Then we saw The Proposal – I had already seen it but wanted him to see it. He laughed the whole way through like me! Yay! So no fireworks for us, but it was nice to kind of relax and enjoy our 4th indoors.

Sunday was my favorite day. Big Kiddo took me to this hiking location that I didn’t think existed…it was out in the nature and had so many fun animals and trails to explore. Afterward we went to the beach where we fell asleep under our umbrella, it was so perfect.

Where we went hiking there were many butterflies on the trail. They were flying everywhere. I had to catch my breath because I felt overwhelmed with their playful nature and beautiful whimsical ways! I wish I could fly with them and I imagine I would look like this if I could chase butterflies all day long:

Flickr Photo by Pareeerica

Big Kiddo and I also encountered many turtles by the lake where we hiked. I think life as a turtle would be so care free and fun, swimming and basking in the sun all day, don’t you? I didn’t bring my camera because I wanted to enjoy my time with Big Kiddo, but this is exactly how the cute turtles looked:

Flickr Photo

Ironically enough Big Kiddo asked me where my camera was so I could post some photos on my blog, and this is how our convo went:

I said: “I didn’t want you to think I was blog obsessed so I left it behind.”

He answered: “It’s okay. I want you to take pictures for your blog. You should bring it along sometime.”

I responded: “Okay, thanks baby!!”

I was a happy girl after that, especially since now Big Kiddo understands my need to share everything with all of you! Ha ha.

So I need my Ocean Dreamer’s advice on something….

When Big Kiddo and I were at this hiking location, there happened to be an animal shelter there too where we parked our car. Well, we decided to wander in just for the sake of looking at these kind hearted creatures. Well, let’s just say I fell in love. Head over heels in love. My Big Kiddo fell in love too, with this little guy…

Let me introduce you to Sammy. This cuddly and adorable Dachshund puppy started to whimper when we approached. He looked at me with his big brown eyes and I was in love. He looked so sad in that big cage by all of the other big dogs! I wanted to rescue him that instant. My Big Kiddo said we “had a connection and that I should take him home.”

I responded, “But I don’t know anything about dogs!”

He said, “But he would be easy to take care of…”

I said, “He is adorable, but I have roommates and my apartment doesn’t accept dogs…”

So we ended up leaving the shelter, but my heart was totally broken. If only my roommates were in favor of getting a dog…If only I wasn’t in a no dog apartment…
If only my boyfriend could take him…but his apartment doesn’t allow dogs either…

I thought maybe one of my girlfriends could take him for a while, but it would be hard on the little guy to get used to them and then get used to me. Another thought was that I could keep him in my apartment and not let anybody know…he he, I know that would be wrong but could he do for a short while? Oh well, I don’t think it was meant to be…but I feel so bad that I had to leave Sammy. I am sure he will find a home, and I hope he finds a home soon so he doesn’t have to be all alone. If you have any clever ideas, please let me know. I would love to keep Sammy. For now I went online and sponsored him so at least he would have food if it takes a while for him to be adopted.

I have considered getting a dog before, but maybe now I should just wait until I move into a dog friendly apartment structure. Plus I would need to make sure it would be okay with my roommates too. Grr! Who knows, maybe by then Big Kiddo and I would live happily ever after and get a doggie. I feel like whenever I want to get a dog it never works out and there are always obstacles. I wish it was easy and no hassles, especially because I really like Sammy and I think I would be a good owner and have a new best friend. I could learn how to be a good owner and take care of this adorable puppy….Aww, don’t I wish.

Thanks for listening Ocean Dreamers! Isn’t nature and animals just a lovely gift to remind us to cherish life to the fullest? I think so.

Keepsake Award and Photo Story

Thanks Lins @ Goodbye, Martha for this fun tag. Sorry darlin, it wasn’t Big Kiddo and I, but I’m sure you’ve had enough of us with all of my sea adventures lately. So here are the rules…
* Open my first photo folder
* Scroll down to the 10th photo
* Post that photo and story on my blog
* Tag five friends to do the same

I went to Laguna Beach with my mom and aunt while they were visiting in May. I fell in love with this old telephone booth and the crown on top of the booth caught my eye. So I had my mom snap the photo. I love my mom’s artistic flair – she always has to snap a phone with an angle to give it a little pizazz.

Can’t wait to see your photo selection, so I tag some of my newest friends, which by the way, I am really enjoying your blogs:
Ash @ Alligator’s Apple

Heather @ When Heather Met Blog

Tracy @ Then I got to thinking…

Joelyn @ The Sydney Girl

Diary of a Young Designer

I’m also passing along the Keepsake Award. Thanks Ali @ The Way I See It, you are such a doll to pass this award my way.

Here are the rules:
* Post a funny or sweet keepsake that says something about who I am.
* Pass it on!

Hmm, sweet keepsake:

I’m passing along these clouds. I took this photo from my phone on a day when I was really sad and I just needed a pick me up. I was driving and I stuck my phone out the window to snap a picture really quick while I was on the freeway! Talk about seize the moment. Well, let’s just say that God really picked me up that day. I looked to the clouds and the sun that was shining through gave me hope that everything would be okay. That is my prayer for you as well, no matter what you might be going through!

Ali, even though you gave me the award, I’m passing it back your way because I think you would like the clouds sweetie.
Ali @ The Way I See It: Thanks for being such an amazing person and for demonstrating your caring nature and love for others in our little blog world!

Tudor City Girl: I love your blog, your sincerity, and just how genuine you are. Know that your hopeless romantic ways will bring you love in due time.

Libby @ Color By Libby: Her daughter has recently had swine flu. I hope she is feeling better Libby and that you are having an amazing week!! Your eye makeup and style tips always make me so happy. Thanks love!

Tonight I went to a bonfire with some friends and I had such a great time. I’ll be back tomorrow to post some pictures. I just can’t seem to get away from the beach. Sweet dreams darlings!