Read The Shop of Shades and Secrets (Modern Gothic Romance 1) Online
Authors: Colleen Gleason
The Shop of Shades and Secrets (Modern Gothic Romance 1) (41 page)
He glanced at her, but she’d tilted her head back and had her eyes closed. “It’s no big deal. I’m glad I was there to help.”
At the large clapboard house, Diana alighted from the car before he was able to come around and help her out, reinforcing his initial impression of her as prickly and stiff. She started up the porch steps, clutching her straw bag, then turned toward him. “I’ll need the keys, please,” she said, holding out her hand.
He dropped them into her palm and watched as she turned to fit one into the lock. She stopped, shook her head, and looked down at the keys, sifting through them one by one. “Oh …
no
….” she said, her voice low and frustrated.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed and looked up at him, sheepishness poorly hidden in her features. “I forgot to take the house keys when I left. I haven’t added them to my car keys yet. I guess I’m locked out.”
“I can fix that,” Ethan explained easily. “Belinda always kept an extra in the birdhouse.”
He turned to stride off the porch.
“Uh … wait,” she called. “Never mind, it won’t work.”
“What do you mean, it won’t work?” he grunted, reaching up into the birdhouse. “It’s right here.” He pulled the key from its hiding place, holding it up for her to see.
“I—uh—” She looked embarrassed.
Ethan came back on the porch and brushed in front of her to fit the key in the lock. He stopped, noticing how shiny and new the deadbolt was. He didn’t even have to try the key to know it wouldn’t fit. Understanding dawned and he stepped back as she said, “I changed the locks.”
“I see that.” He looked out off the porch, suddenly darkly furious. “I’m sorry if I imposed upon you in any way. I’ll—if you like,” he flashed a stony glance at her, and was gratified to see a dark red flush on her face, “I’ll open a window and help you get back in, then I’ll just be on my way.”
~*~
To order
The Cards of Life and Death
for your Kindle, click
here
.
(Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt from
Guarding Suzannah
by award-winning author Norah Wilson)
~*~*~
Colleen Gleason
is the international best-selling author of the Gardella Vampire Chronicles, a historical urban fantasy series about a female vampire hunter who lives during the time of Jane Austen. Her first novel,
The Rest Falls Away
, was released to acclaim in 2007. Since then, she has published fifteen novels with New American Library, MIRA Books, and HarperCollins (writing as Joss Ware). Her books have been translated into seven languages and are available worldwide.
She loves to hear from readers, and can be contacted through her website:
http://www.colleengleason.com
Other Titles by Colleen Gleason available on Kindle:
The Gardella Vampire Chronicles
Victoria Gardella
: Vampire Hunter
(
sample short story)
The Regency Draculia
The Vampire Dimitri
The Vampire Narcise
Siberian Treasure: A Marina Alexander Adventure
The Medieval Herb Garden Series
Writing as Joss Ware:
(
http://www.josswarebooks.com
)
The Envy Chronicles
Embrace the Night Eternal
Abandon the Night
Night Betrayed
****
Exclusive excerpt from
Guarding Suzannah
, Book 1 in the Serve and Protect Series
by award-winning author Norah Wilson
Criminal defense attorney Suzannah Phelps is the bane of the Fredericton
P
olice
D
epartment (they call her She-Rex for her habit of shredding cops in the witness box). She is currently being stalked, but is reluctant to report it to the police, whom she half suspects of being the perpetrators
of the low-level harassment
.
Detective John (Quigg) Quigley
has
always had a bit of a thing for
Suzannah Phelps. When he learns of the harassment
,
it gives him the perfect opportunity to interact with her.
They've struck sparks off each other in the courtroom, and he's burning to do the same in the bedroom.
But when the stalker ups his game, Quigg knows it’s not a case of disgruntled cops razzing her. It’s deadly serious, and he’s determined to protect her
.
To do that, he must
pose as her boyfriend, but the closer they get, the more the lines between pretense and reality blur.
Guarding Suzannah
Excerpt
Detective John Quigley stepped inside Courtroom 2, closing the door quietly behind him. One or two people in the small gallery glanced up at him briefly, then returned their attention to the front of the courtroom where a young patrol officer was being sworn in.
Quigg took a seat, glancing around the drab, low-ceilinged, windowless room.
Provincial Court
. Nothing like the much grander Queens Bench courtrooms upstairs or the Court of Appeal chambers on the top floor. But aesthetics aside, they did a brisk business here. In the fifteen years Quigg had spent on the Fredericton force, he’d been responsible for sending quite a few customers through these doors. Doors that all too often turned out to be the revolving kind, the kind that spit offenders right back out on the street to re-offend.
On that thought, Quigg glanced over at the accused. Clean shaven and neatly dressed, he sat off to the right, beside the Sheriff’s deputy. His long hair, drawn back into a ponytail, glinted blue-black under the fluorescent lights. If he were conscious of Quigg’s scrutiny, he didn’t betray it with so much as a twitch of a muscle. Rather, he kept his flat, emotionless gaze trained on the witness.
“Your witness, Mr. Roth.”
At the magistrate’s words, Quigg faced forward again.
“Thank you, Your Honour.” The Crown Prosecutor adjusted his table microphone and directed his first question to the witness. Mike Langan, the impossibly young looking constable in the witness box, responded, his answer clear and concise.
Over the next fifteen minutes, the prosecutor methodically built his case with one carefully chosen question after another. Constable Langan’s manner in the witness box was confident and assured. He referred often to his notebook, which appeared to contain copious, comprehensive notes. Quigg unclenched his fingers and leaned back into his seat. What could go wrong?
Everything.
His gaze slid to the one area of the courtroom he’d so far managed to avoid, the defense table.
Suzannah Phelps
. There she sat, primly erect, all that straight blond hair pulled up into a knot at the back of her head. Even under the black tent-like court robes, she still managed to look model-elegant. His pulse took a little kick.
Dammit, why did he do this to himself? He didn’t have to be here. He was off today. He didn’t have even a glancing involvement with this case, or with Constable Langan.
Because you’re a bloody masochist
.
“Any questions on cross, Ms. Phelps?”
The magistrate’s voice cut into Quigg’s thoughts.
“Just a few, Your Honour.”
A
few
?
Yeah, sure.
“Please proceed.”
Quigg glanced at Langan, saw the younger man tense.
Relax man
. He tried to send the thought telepathically.
Don’t let her get to you. Don’t let her see you sweat
.
“So, Constable Langan, you didn’t actually see my client flee the crime scene?”
“No, ma’am. Not from the actual scene. But I did see a man fitting the robber’s description running just four blocks from the scene.”
“And who provided this description?”
“The shopkeeper.”
“And the description was...?”
“Native ... er, First Nations individual, average height, stocky build, long black hair worn in a ponytail.”
“Were those the shopkeepers precise words? First Nations
individual
?”
“Huh?”
“Did the shopkeeper describe the perpetrator as Native? Native American? First Nations?”
“Not exactly.”
Quigg sank lower in his seat, suppressing a groan. This was gonna be a train wreck and Langan didn’t even know it yet.
“Exactly how
did
he describe him, then?”
“He made it clear that the individual was Indian.”
“Those were his words, then? Indian?”
“No.” Cst. Langan shifted, glancing down at his notebook.
“What were his precise words, Constable?”
Langan glanced at the judge, then back at Suzannah Phelps. “I believe his precise words were,
wagon burner
.”
“Which you took to mean a member of the First Nations?”
“Yes.”
Quigg massaged his temple. Ah, Christ, here we go.
“Thank you, Constable.”
Her voice was polite, prim, even. Which just served to show that sharks came in all kinds of guises.