I'm finally a bit settled here in Montevideo, (More on that on Friday) so I thought I'd do a quick promo for my latest BRAND NEW RELEASE.
I'm so excited to finally have a new Wandering Star release out. The first two stories, What Happened in Mexico and Hustle Into Love started out as FREE BLOG stories that I rewrote, edited and reissued. But this one...this one is the first actual story I've written since Jonathon and I have been on tour with Cirque du Soleil. And since it takes place in Paris, which is one of my favorite cities on the planet, I'm very happy to present this awesome book to my readers.
Enjoy this brief look at Tourjours...Always and as always, please leave a comment!
In Paris' Ghostly City of the Dead, Two Unlikely Lovers Unravel a Century Old Curse.
Jana Hayes has a problem. As a professional photographer, she’s used to giving only her best. Yet every photograph she takes of this certain tomb at Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris France, always comes back with a smudge on it. It’s not her camera—she’s figured that much out—so just what is causing it?
Étienne Bolet has been trapped within the borders of the cemetery for more than two hundred years, damned to wander between worlds, living a half existence as he tries to break his curse. Every day he longs to be free from this fearful existence, but it’s not until Jana appears with her sweet smile and curious eyes that he wonders if his chance has finally come.
When Jana discovers her “smudge” is an Ethereal entity, she is both terrified and intrigued. Who is this haunted man whose eyes are filled with pain and sorrow? Why is she the only one who can see him? And why does Étienne look at her with such need and desire?
The passionate magic between the two of them burns hot, and they soon discover it’s only when they give into the feelings between them that they can change their future forever.
CJ England has done it again. Her latest book is filled with such heart and you can't help but fall in love with her characters. Definitely a Recommended Read.
~~~The Romance Librarian
She was back again.
He stood near the corner of the sepulcher in the shadow of the rain-wet trees and watched curiously. By his reckoning, it was the fourth time she’d visited. She was circling the tomb and muttering darkly to herself. Every once in a while she would lift her camera and take a picture then wipe the lens and quickly take another one. While he liked the company, it made no sense. What was she doing? And why did she keep coming back?
It was easy to tell she was an American. It showed in her clothing, her bearing, and he’d been around enough of them in the cemetery to pick up their language. Though what she was saying made no sense to him. Smudges? Smears? He tried to see the monument through her eyes, but still couldn’t understand. Yes, the tomb was filthy. Why would a few specific marks matter to her?
Once, she came so close to him, he could have touched her—had actually reached out his hand to do so, but at the last minute, pulled back. Instead he contented himself with just looking at the intriguing beauty of her face. She was all sunshine and light, her pale hair glowing like a beacon in the soft springtime sun. She had eyes as blue as the violets that grew wild among the graves in the cemetery, and her skin was as smooth and clear as the small pond outside the bedroom window back at his country estate. Her lips, even turned down in the frown she wore now, were delectable, and he wished he had the ability to taste them. Just one time.
She was sleek and shapely, her body curved in all the right places. And in the short skirt she wore, he could admire her long legs and trim ankles. These styles were one of the things that very much appealed to him. So much better than the ridiculous, uncomfortable styles worn by the noblewomen of his century.
He watched as she hefted her camera and made another round of the sepulcher. How many pictures was she going to take? It seemed to him she must have enough already. This tomb was of no historical significance. No one important was buried here. Only a man of noble birth who’d died fighting for what he believed. A man whose true name wasn’t even the one etched in the stone lintel above the door. No. He shook his head sorrowfully. That man didn’t even deserve to have his name remembered.
His eyes narrowed as she let her camera dangle and standing on tiptoe, traced the carvings on the tomb. “Okay, Marquis,” he heard her whisper, “so where are you? Are you going to be in these pictures, too?”
He frowned at her words. Pictures? Impossible. How could she think the Marquis was in her pictures? As he watched, she continued on with her exploration, sweeping her hands gently over the damp tomb as if it were a lover. A shudder went through him, and his cold body heated. He couldn’t help but groan as he thought of how her hands might feel on him.
To his surprise she went utterly still, her head snapping around, her gaze anxiously searching the shadows where he stood.
He froze as well. Could she have heard him? He shook his head again. Non, that was another impossibility. No one had ever heard him before, and God knows he’d tried. Over and over again throughout the years until he’d finally given up. He was doomed to this horrific half existence, able to see the living but unable to communicate with them. A type of Hell even a demon wouldn’t contemplate.
But this girl…this lovely woman with the dreamy eyes and sweet smile…could she be different?
Steeling himself against disappointment, he stepped closer. Cupping his hand, he concentrated, putting everything he had into touching her. He willed himself to caress her cheek, wishing all the while he could actually feel the softness of her skin. And he watched, his heart pounding, as her eyes widened in astonishment, and she shivered uncontrollably.
She’d felt him.
It was a miracle. Eagerly, he wrapped his ethereal hand around hers. And he smiled as she looked down at her fingers in unmistakable shock.
“Can you hear me, ma fleur?” he whispered, hoping beyond hope this wasn’t a figment of his lonely dreams. “Please tell me you can hear my voice as well as feel the touch of my hand.”
To his joy, she answered him. “It’s you, isn’t it? I-I know you’re there. I think I felt something…h-heard something. Like a whisper on the wind. Is it you? Or am I going crazy?”
His eyes narrowed as he gazed down at her. She’d heard him, yet she hadn’t. Perhaps she was psychic or a sensitive. He’d learned they were no longer considered witches in this century. Did she have the gift of sight? Was that why she could sense his presence?
“Are you still there?” she cried, her gaze sweeping the tomb. “Please don’t go away. Not yet. I want to understand. To truly see you. You’re in all my pictures of this place, so I know you must be real. Can you answer me? Will you let me feel you again?”
So that was why she’d returned. Why she continued to take so many photographs. Somehow his essence…possibly a picture of his spirit had shown up in her photography.
Perhaps if he were within the tomb she would truly be able to see him. That was where she’d been aiming her camera. Quickly, he stepped back into the doorway, yet still close enough he could touch her.
“I would give up everything I ever owned to let you feel me…see me,” he said hoarsely, putting all his strength into communicating with her. He placed both his hands around hers and prayed God would have mercy on him. “Do not give up, ma fleur.”
There was a long silent moment. Cold touched her fingers, and Jaina flexed them instinctively in response. She could hear the trees whispering above her—the slow and steady dripping of midnight’s leftover raindrops, but other than the quiet songs of the birds, there was nothing else. Her heart dropped in disappointment.
“I know I heard you,” she whispered. Whirling around, she paced a few steps away from the cold of the tomb then turned and stared back into the shadowed depths. “Maybe I am crazy. Maybe my camera is just dirty, but I could have sworn I heard something. Felt…something.”
Her hands tightened on the camera cord around her neck. “I can’t leave without knowing for sure. Please, if you’re there, show yourself to me. I need to see you.”
There was another long silence, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. “Please, God,” she prayed softly. “If there is something here…some reason you keep bringing me back to this place, show me. I don’t believe I’m going crazy, so that means you’ve brought me here for a reason. What is it?”
At first, her only answer was the breeze rustling the wet grass at her feet. The shadows within the tomb remained the same. The cracked stained-glass window a tribute to its forgotten occupant.
Then she saw it. A change in the color of the shadows. Where darkness had been, now she could see a movement…a slight swirling of the gloom-filled air. She took several steps back, her throat tight with a combination of excitement and fear.
The shadow took form and shape. Slowly, so slowly she thought she might be imagining it at first, but suddenly it was there, in front of her, and her lips parted in surprise.
It was a man.
*End of Excerpt*
Want more? See how they got to this point by going to the link HERE.
Hugs to all of you!