With: Mae Clair
I’m not sure how other writers feel, but I have an easier time writing a novel set in a particular season when the weather outside reflects that time of year. It’s far simpler to channel the surroundings by immersing myself in the sights, sounds, and scents that make each season unique.
Oddly, I wrote most of MYTH AND MAGIC, my new romantic suspense/mystery novel—which is set in October and features a strong Halloween theme—last summer. I guess it’s only appropriate that it release now when I’m slathering myself with sunscreen before dipping into my backyard pool.
Even then, however, I can appreciate rumors of ghostly happenings, a secluded corporate retreat with an infamous past, and a tension-filled Halloween party. These are just a few of the things creating issues for my hero—a P.I. who returns to his hometown to investigate strange happenings at a lodge his family owns. Unfortunately, he’s been estranged from his family for twelve years, and the lodge is managed by the only woman he ever loved.
Why not make your summer a bit Halloweenish through a ghoulish helping of romantic suspense with MYTH AND MAGIC? :)
MYTH AND MAGIC
Love and danger intertwine
AS CHILDREN THEY PLAYED GAMES OF MYTH AND MAGIC…
Veronica Kent fell in love with Caith Breckwood when they were children. As a teenager, she was certain he was the man she was destined to marry. But a traumatic event from Caith's past led him to fear a future together. He left Veronica, hoping to save her from a terrible fate. Twelve years later, Caith, now a P.I., is hired to investigate bizarre incidents at the secluded retreat Veronica manages. Returning to his hometown, Caith is forced to face his nightmares—and his feelings for the woman he’s always loved.
THEN ONE DAY THE MONSTERS BECAME REAL.
After the callous way Caith broke her heart, Veronica isn’t thrilled to see him again. But strange occurrences have taken a dangerous toll on business at Stone Willow Lodge. Forced to work together, Veronica discovers it isn’t ghostly apparitions that frighten her, but her passion for a man she has never forgotten. Or forgiven. Can two people with a tarnished past unearth a magical future?
Veronica suppressed a chill. The familiar creaks and groans of the old lodge had stopped, replaced by unnatural stillness. She felt trapped, confined behind her desk, a target for a faceless assailant lurking outside. The hair prickled on the nape of her neck, sending a string of goose bumps down her arms. Crossing to the door, she held her breath then paused on the threshold, listening for telltale signs of intrusion.
Some creep’s playing a game. He probably saw Kelly’s article and thought it would be fun to scare me.
It was working.
Before the incident with the dog, Stone Willow’s cook, had sworn she’d seen the ghost of Warren Barrister standing on the basement stairs. Veronica had heard eerie sobbing during a routine check of the vacant third floor two days earlier. Whether the occurrences were supernatural or contrived, they were mounting and unquestionably spooky.
Forcing herself to stay calm, she crept down the hallway, her tread light by nature. As a child, Merlin had compared her to a fairy queen, saying she looked the part with honey-kissed hair and green eyes. They’d been enraptured by myth and magic in those days, unaware there were real monsters in the world. Monsters like the men who’d murdered Trask and destroyed Caith’s life.
Shaking the memories aside, she stepped into the lobby. All looked as it should be. The back of the check-in desk was visible, webbed in patches of velvety shadow. Towering glass windows hugged a cathedral ceiling, crisscrossed by thick wooden beams.
I left something in the fireplace, the caller had said.
Veronica hugged the collar of her bulky green sweater closer and padded across the waxed floor toward the stone hearth. She was still several feet away when her mind processed the sight.
A charred, cracked lump, broken by knobby protrusions of white, burned on top of the stacked logs. Something popped with the sound of cooking meat.
Choking on terror, she stumbled backward with a scream.
A severed human hand was swaddled within the dancing flames.
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About the Author:
Mae Clair opened a Pandora’s Box of characters when she was a child and never looked back. Her father, an artist who tinkered with writing, encouraged her to create make-believe worlds by spinning tales of far-off places on summer nights beneath the stars.
Mae loves creating character-driven fiction in settings that vary from contemporary to mythical. Wherever her pen takes her, she flavors her stories with mystery and romance. Married to her high school sweetheart, she lives in Pennsylvania and is passionate about cryptozoology, old photographs, a good Maine lobster tail and cats.
Connect with Mae Clair:
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