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Supporting our fighting
men and women, and the
sacrifices they make.
Come home safe!
men and women, and the
sacrifices they make.
Come home safe!
"Esther Mitchell...pens believable players and a fantastic
adventure story. "
adventure story. "
Cherokee, Coffeetime Romances
“Ms. Mitchell proves that she can give John Grisham and
Nora Roberts a run for their money.”
Nora Roberts a run for their money.”
Belle Dessler, eCataRomance Reviews
Darkness surrounds us. We see it in the crimes that are committed,
the terrors that stalk not just our nightmares, but our waking lives as
well.
But from the darkness comes the purest light: that of hope, love, and
the desire for peace and freedom. From our most terrifying nightmares
are born the most fervent desire and enduring love.
So take a walk in the dark side of passion, fear, and the supernatural.
Find your deepest desires, and release the magic within....
the terrors that stalk not just our nightmares, but our waking lives as
well.
But from the darkness comes the purest light: that of hope, love, and
the desire for peace and freedom. From our most terrifying nightmares
are born the most fervent desire and enduring love.
So take a walk in the dark side of passion, fear, and the supernatural.
Find your deepest desires, and release the magic within....
Mac prowled restlessly from the window
to the door, and back, battling temptation
with every step. As he stopped at the
door, hand on the knob, for the tenth
time in the past fifteen minutes, Mac
pressed his forehead against the cool
wood with a tortured groan, his free hand
clenched in a shaking fist. He wanted to
storm down the hall to Meg’s room and
claim her with all the raw lust that still
tangled in his gut. Instinctively, he knew
she’d meet his savage passion with her
own – they were equally matched in that
dark realm not even the elusive Sgàil
Ealdhainean could touch.
to the door, and back, battling temptation
with every step. As he stopped at the
door, hand on the knob, for the tenth
time in the past fifteen minutes, Mac
pressed his forehead against the cool
wood with a tortured groan, his free hand
clenched in a shaking fist. He wanted to
storm down the hall to Meg’s room and
claim her with all the raw lust that still
tangled in his gut. Instinctively, he knew
she’d meet his savage passion with her
own – they were equally matched in that
dark realm not even the elusive Sgàil
Ealdhainean could touch.
His jaw clenched as his body throbbed with the lust he couldn’t banish.
Spirits of Shadow, he could still taste her on his lips, still smell the sweet
nectar of her desire. Meg filled up every pore of his body, until he wanted
to rage with the painful need she stirred. But he wouldn’t. He was a Master
Draoidh, damn it all; he would control himself!
Mac’s head raised as, through the hot blood pulsing in his ears, he heard
the faint strains of a familiar tune. He froze. Music? How could that be?
No one played the baby grand piano Ys had begged him to put in the cabin’
s unused formal dining room four years ago. He knew his sister had plans
to play the instrument, someday; she would learn music as well as song and
storycraft at Bardic school. And she had a natural ear for music. But Ysabet
wasn’t here. She wouldn’t cross the Strata alone at night.
Brows furrowed in concern, Mac eased open his door and cautiously
made his way down the stairs. At the entrance to the formal dining room, he
stopped, feeling as if someone had sucked every drop of air from his body,
leaving him weak and dizzy – with need.
Limited copies available. Get your autographed copy today!
Spirits of Shadow, he could still taste her on his lips, still smell the sweet
nectar of her desire. Meg filled up every pore of his body, until he wanted
to rage with the painful need she stirred. But he wouldn’t. He was a Master
Draoidh, damn it all; he would control himself!
Mac’s head raised as, through the hot blood pulsing in his ears, he heard
the faint strains of a familiar tune. He froze. Music? How could that be?
No one played the baby grand piano Ys had begged him to put in the cabin’
s unused formal dining room four years ago. He knew his sister had plans
to play the instrument, someday; she would learn music as well as song and
storycraft at Bardic school. And she had a natural ear for music. But Ysabet
wasn’t here. She wouldn’t cross the Strata alone at night.
Brows furrowed in concern, Mac eased open his door and cautiously
made his way down the stairs. At the entrance to the formal dining room, he
stopped, feeling as if someone had sucked every drop of air from his body,
leaving him weak and dizzy – with need.
Limited copies available. Get your autographed copy today!