Holt pinched his eyes.
“I’d better get to bed,” Scarlett said to sever the heavy chains of grief.
He glanced at his wounded knuckles. “And I should hop in the shower.” He coiled and uncoiled his fingers.
“Yeah,” he said. “Until we meet again.”
She reentered the guest room and just as she grabbed the knob, Holt sidled in.
“You know where I’m at if you get lonely,” he said, a hint of ketchup floating from his breath. She hadn’t reacted, yet he added, “Don’t go ballistic. I was joshing. Do you need anything?”
The definitions in his chest muscles held her gaze. “No, thanks. I’m fine.” Holt stoked a feminine curiosity she believed she had disciplined years ago.
“Okay. Sleep tight.” He slipped away as subtly as her ghost friend Charlie had the first time she’d spotted him near a radiator in a previous apartment.
She pushed the door closed and turned the lock. That relentless mind-fuck of a word traipsed through her brain again—lonely.
“Lots of positives to aloneness,” she mumbled. “Meditation, relaxing baths, uninterrupted games of solitaire.” She untied her boots and set them next to the nightstand. She kept her clothes on. “I’m not ready for cronehood, but people appreciate my service, so, mind out of the intriguing gutter.” Most of her energy was invested in her professional growth, which undoubtedly left a deficiency in her personal life.
She lay in bed and let the idea of making love to Holt creep forward. Their rough edges colliding like tumbling sea rocks. For a few hours, he’d open his fists and she’d hide her gifts. She imagined his coarse hands painted in purple strands of hair, his lips leaving dots of saliva on her warped wrists, and the combined grit of their souls, salty enough to keep an orca alive.
In a blink, she was repulsed by the magnitude of their baggage. She swiftly cleared her thoughts, and shut her gummy eyes until the sun shone in her face the next morning.
Her ankle suffered a mild kink. She tossed off the blanket to rub her joint, noting a conversation in the living room between Holt and another guy. Slowly, the discussion became audible.
"Midnight Road" was fun because it wasn't what I expected. The title had me thinking it would be romantic suspense, but it threw me for a loop. Every time I thought I knew what was happening, the author threw in a twist.
- Nona Raines, Reviewer
"SOME THINGS ARE MEANT TO BE"
Drew Mathews lost her husband months after purchasing their dream home in Wisconsin. Now her deceased spouse haunts the property and she finds comfort in his unearthly presence. Before long, his best friend, Dominic, reveals her late husband's dark secrets. Drew's crushed. She turns to Dominic and neighbors for support, and stumbles into a passionate love affair, and bizarre similarities restricted to the residents of Midnight Road. As mysteries unfold, inalterable conditions threaten her romantic relationship, her life, and possibly, the world.
If someone had asked Zoey Hawthorne eighteen months ago to describe her life she would have said it couldn't be better. Perfect marriage, booming business, and best of all her son was alive. Today she's divorced, unemployed, and pissed at the universe for taking her child, a loss that's cracked her soul in half. To date, she's addicted to pain meds and anger, with no intention of turning back.
"I read Midnight Road expecting paranormal romance with a twist, but it turned out to be far more than that. Beneath the romance lies an amazing storyline strange and bizarre, with characters and a backstory that existed before this one began. It's not often you read a story that immediately makes you want to know more about the other stories behind it, but this one certainly does. So, more please!" - Chris Lambright, X Desk Publishing
When Zoey inherits a ranch in rural Colorado from an estranged great uncle, she leaves Chicago behind to self-destruct in peace. But lightning changes her plans. Zoey is struck and left with an extrasensory gift that lets her see one more problem on her hands: vengeful spirits haunting her land. To stop the cycle of death rampant on her property, Zoey must solve a fifty-year-old mass murder while keeping her hot lover from melting her armor. She's tough enough for the task--provided she isn't killed in the process.
Scarlett Prowse survived a hard-knock childhood, and today channels the dead to pay her rent. But nothing prepared her for Holt Cavanaugh, an intriguing new client riddled with familiar inner wounds and questions about his brother’s murder. To retrieve answers for him, Scarlett channels the darker side of the afterworld. There, sudden heightened abilities on her part thin the veil between life and death, enabling her to obtain vital information.
Meanwhile, in the physical realm, a mystery person terrorizes Scarlett. Simultaneously, Holt’s shady street dealings slowly come apart. Her curiosity and his protective streak set them on an inseparable course where the afterworld and the underworld collide.
Scarlett and Holt’s nonstop journey through urban pockets, along with her jaunts to the hereafter cultivates a sensual romance, and exposes a tightly spun web of large-scale crime, mutually crossed paths, murder, and a relentless stalker with fatal intentions for Scarlett.
Here's the thing about Medium Crossing. It's a paranormal romance about a woman, Scarlett, who is a medium, who reads auras, and who crosses back and forth between the herenow and the hereafter to communicate with the dead. Her new client, the very sexy Holt, hires her to go talk to his recently murdered brother to figure out who killed him. I went into this story not really knowing what to expect, but knowing that I would probably enjoy it simply for the ghosts and supernatural elements alone. Lorelei Buckley does not disappoint. The book kept me guessing at every turn. - Wind Trail Publishing Five Star Full Review On Amazon
Star Review "Buckley takes readers on a pulse-pounding suspense ride with a touch of romance. While the sex scenes between Zoey and Lance are hot, most of the story is given to solving the intriguing mystery, with a twist at the end readers won't see coming." Read Publishers Weekly's Full Review.
Lorelei Buckley © All rights reserved.
Dominic stared with the intensity of an iridologist diagnosing her body through her irises. She’d had it done once, and the practitioner had accurately alerted her of a cyst in her ovary. If Dominic could read her emotions through patterns and tissue, he’d know her deepest desire undeniably happened to be him. Her apprehension disappeared.
Everything she’d experienced over the last two years, including living with a ghost, contributed to this moment’s surge of fearlessness. Roland, please forgive me, her conscience whispered as she fell forward and smashed her lips into Dominic’s. His breath, sweet as butterscotch, rushed up her nostrils.
Dominic groaned, dug his fingers in her hair, and pressed his mouth harder to hers. Warm and delicious, their tongues twisted uniquely compatible, and the déjà vu hunches made sense.
Leaning sideways, she clutched his firm torso, one arm under his armpit and the other arm over his shoulder, like a puzzle snapping in place.
His palms massaged her body. Instinctively, he caressed favorite spots, those even her husband had overlooked.
Droplets of sweat tickled her skin. She peeled away from him, and licked his saliva from her lips. “Wow.”
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”
“Better late than never.” She repeated the text he’d sent earlier. “You’re too easy to appreciate. I’m feeling guilty.”
“No, you aren’t.” He scraped hair from her forehead. “We’re way overdue.”
“I loved Roland.”
“So did I.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I can’t hide my feelings anymore. I love you, Drew.”
Maybe he did. She couldn’t be positive. But the fact they’d pined for each other for two years meant she had to consider the possibility of a relationship. “I take it you’re staying the night?”
“Yes.” She smiled, mesmerized by their harmonious chemistry.