Supporting our fighting men and women, and the sacrifices they make. Come home safe!
"Esther Mitchell...pens believable players and a fantastic adventure story. "
Cherokee, Coffeetime Romances
“Ms. Mitchell proves that she can give John Grisham and 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....
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.
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.