Farraway Mist
by Tani Hanes
Date of Publication: November 17th 2017
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Tagline:
Can she fall in love with a haunted man?
BLURB
Scout
Lawson is fleeing an unhappy past, and thinks she's run as far as she can from
Yale University when she lands a job restoring a library in Cornwall, England
for reclusive rock star George Wilder, who dropped out of sight after the death
of his beautiful wife the year before.
As soon
as she arrives at his estate, Farraway Mist, however, strange things start to
happen. As the couple's feelings for each other grow, the events become more
harrowing, until everything they hold dear is in peril.
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Excerpt
She
walked over next to the window so she could examine the binding of the book she
held in the light. He leaned over curiously, trying to see what she was looking
at.
As
they bent over the book together, the curtain rod gave one warning rattle and
crashed down, catching Scout across the forehead, opening up a flap of skin as
she smashed her head on the sill.
"Jesus!"
George
yanked the curtain and the offending rod off of Scout as the dogs scurried for
cover.
"Scout!
Scout! Are you okay?"
She
blinked up at him from the floor, nodding, trying to focus. She raised a hand
to her temple, but George grasped it and held it away, shaking his head.
"No,
don't touch, there's blood," he murmured. Blood?
Jess
and Bandit came back, sniffing at her worriedly, making her smile in spite of
the circumstances.
"Make
sure none of the blood gets on the books," she said, carefully placing the
book up on the windowsill.
George
smiled at her words as he helped her up.
"Well,
I intend to have some very strong words with my staff about how they replaced
the curtains after they cleaned them," he said as he led her from the room.
"You
have a staff?" Scout said asked in an amused voice.
"Well,
okay, I guess 'staff' is rather a grandiose word for Alfred and Sunil from the
village," George admitted. Scout was surprised at how relaxed and friendly
George sounded. It was a different side to the silent and kind of sarcastic,
frightening person she'd met earlier.
They
entered what looked like a guest bathroom, and George sat her down on the
counter next to the sink so he could delicately dab at a fairly bloody but not
deep gash on her temple with a bit of tissue, much to her embarrassment. The
dogs hovered and watched.
"I
can do this myself," Scout said, laughing.
"Don't
be silly," George said, holding the tissue out of reach when she reached
for it. "What if you were to become faint at the sight of your own blood
and pass out cold, falling off the counter in the process?" He stopped
talking so he could look in her eyes, staring from about an inch away. He could
feel her warm breaths on his face, and backed up a little.
"When
I was ten I rode into a mailbox on my bike while I was turned around yelling
something to my friend Kenny, and I had to push my bike home for nearly a mile
with my lip torn away from my cheek. It was over an inch long," Scout said
conversationally. "I had to hold the skin closed the whole way. I needed
seven stitches. You can still kind of make out the scar, see? I was fine,
honest."
But
George insisted, and Scout finally gave up and let him minister to her, drawing
in little hissing breaths as the antiseptic touched the raw wound. He finally
stepped back, blowing on it. "Okay, all finished. I think you'll survive.
And you might even have another romantic scar."
He
looked critically into her pale blue eyes. "Do you have double vision or
anything?
I'm
a bit concerned about concussion, if I'm honest. I wonder if I should have a
doctor out here to examine you?"
"No,
I'm sure I'm fine," Scout protested. "Not feeling sleepy?"
George persisted.
"Well,
a little, but that's probably just jet lag, don't you think?" Scout said.
"I promise I won't fall asleep."
George
looked at her.
Scout
hopped down off the counter and stood before him, a slight figure, standing
straight.
George
finally nodded.
"How
about this, then?" George proposed. "We'll make some coffee, go sit
down, and talk until dinner. If you seem fine, that is to say if you're not
drowsy or slurring your words or anything, then no doctor, okay?"
Scout
nodded too. "Okay," she agreed. "I guess you wouldn't want
anyone dropping dead in your beautiful house," she joked.
Oh
fuck.
He
just looked at her for a moment before leaving the bathroom. She took quick
steps and put a hand on his arm.
"I'm
so sorry, Mr. Wilder, I really am. I'm always shooting off my mouth and waiting
for my brain to catch up," she said contritely.
He
looked at her hand, then her eyes before giving her a small, crooked grin.
"It's all right." He took a few steps before turning back.
"And
Scout?"
She
looked at him. "Please call me George."
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Author Info
Tani
Hanes was born in Yokosuka, Japan. She spent the first few years of her life
traveling back and forth between Japan and the US, making the permanent move to
the Central Valley of California when she was five. She visited family in Japan
on a regular basis, and attended college in Tokyo for one year at ICU before
getting her degree in Language Studies from UC Santa Cruz. She has two
children, and was a substitute teacher for fifteen years. Hanes currently
resides in New York City with her husband and cats, Moss and Lily.
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