Sunday Snippet, 10.30.22

In the spirit of spooky season, please enjoy this Sunday Snippet from my sapphic Gothic romance, The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall!

Trouble was, Kit mused as she wandered the winding corridors of Heatherhurst Hall, the circumstances most conducive to ghosts were least conducive to photography. Ghosts required midnight storms with howling winds and guttering candles. Photographs required brightest daylight, or, lacking cooperation from the weather, ignited magnesium. But even with chemical assistance, unless she had enough luck to time the snap of the shutter precisely with the flash of the lightning, any photograph she attempted to take in a storm would turn out as black as thunderclouds.

Still, perhaps a ghost or two might be brave enough to come out into the sunshine.

The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall is a Gothic romance rife with horror and heartache, wherein an American heiress makes an ill-advised marriage to bring herself closer the woman who’s stolen her heart.

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Sunday Snippet, 10.23.22

In the spirit of spooky season, please enjoy this Sunday Snippet from my sapphic Gothic romance, The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall!

Love had made Alexandra stupid. Love had frayed her steely nerves to the point of snapping, had forced her to question her own behavior, had made her look within herself and realize she had grown as much a monster as any malevolent spirit lurking within the crumbling edifice of Heatherhurst Hall. Her own selfishness had made her unworthy of Kit.

And it only made her love Kit all the more.

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Sunday Snippet, 10.16.22

In the spirit of spooky season, please enjoy this Sunday Snippet from my sapphic Gothic romance, The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall!

Kit ran her fingers over her keys again as a physical reminder of her defense against the metaphysical. She might not have a key to the attic, but she at least had a key to her own bedroom.

Then she remembered Alexandra had the very same ring of keys.

Her breath caught in her throat as a vision flashed before her mind—a vision of herself, asleep, alone in her marriage bed, a full moon hanging in the sky outside the high-arched window, throwing off just enough illumination to reveal the turning of the doorknob, the slow inward creak of the door, and a shadow sliding across the floor with supernatural ease, rising up beside the bed in the form of the raven-haired Alexandra, looming over Kit, helpless and utterly ignorant of the danger—until Alexandra swooped down upon her, and—

Kit snapped out of the waking nightmare, her heart pounding with new fear—or perhaps some other, more unspeakable emotion.

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Sunday Snippet, 10.9.22

Sunday Snippet from my sapphic Gothic romance, The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall!

Alexandra shrugged again and glanced out over the cemetery’s wide expanse. “It’s a pity you haven’t found occasion to use your camera yet today. You should capture something before the light fades.”

“I could capture you.”

Alexandra whirled to face her. Kit clapped a hand over her own mouth. She hadn’t meant anything by what she’d said, merely echoing Alexandra’s phrasing, but the moment it left her lips and touched her ears she realized how horrible it sounded.

But a gleam came into Alexandra’s steel-grey eyes, and her bow-shaped lips widened into a delighted grin. “Could you, indeed? I should like that very much.”

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Sunday Snippet, 10.2.22

Welcome to Spooky Season! Please enjoy this Sunday Snippet from my sapphic Gothic romance, The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall…

Alexandra smiled, her Cupid’s-bow lips spreading into a fond expression. “I do hope you’ll forgive my shocking familiarity. But as you’ve no doubt heard my Christian name on my brother’s lips, I wondered if I might ask you yours?”

Kit’s mouth went suddenly dry. “Catherine.”

Alexandra smiled. “I’ve had a wonderful evening with you, Catherine.”

“My friends call me Kit,” Kit blurted. If she’d had a hand free, she’d have clapped it over her own mouth in horror. Until now, the only people to call her Kit were her childhood nursemaid, her cousin Phoebe, and Lucy. It was absurd to think an aristocrat such as Miss Cranbrook would ever want to use such a childish nickname. Though nothing Kit said could take her presumptive comment back, she couldn’t stop herself from adding, as if it would help matters, “Close friends do.”

Alexandra’s smile widened. “Then I hope I may someday earn the privilege.”

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