Alex’s body is in a coma. His soul, however, is not. Desperate to become whole, he must first convince stubborn beauty Evening Sinclair that he is not dead.
For generations, the Sinclairs have been healers. Using a gentle touch to heal the body and a soothing word to heal the soul, Evening Sinclair is no different. Yet despite her secret abilities, Eve has a somewhat normal existence. She enjoys her small physiotherapy practice, dotes on her eight-year-old daughter and occasionally helps souls get back into their bodies-that is until Alex, with his brooding good looks and glowing eyes, appears in her kitchen.
Alex is desperate to get back into his body-two innocent lives depend on it. His only obstacle is Eve and her stubborn fear. Unfortunately for Eve, Alex is ruthless and just as stubborn. He will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. He will not ‘go away’ and no matter how much Eve tortures him with her lush body and perfect mouth, he will not change his mind. Eve will merge him, and if it takes him haunting her day and night, she will merge him back with a body-any body.
“Why can’t you merge him?” she asked, her green eyes sharp.
Eve rested her cheek into her hand. “He has three bullet holes in him—one is very close to his heart, one probably in his liver and the other in his shoulder.”
Gran remained quiet taking in the information.
“He can move things too. Opens and closes doors.” Her heart began to beat faster when she recalled Alex closing the fridge door. Even now goosebumps crawled their way up her arms.
“Doll.” Gran leant forward and touched her bent knee. “I know the idea frightens you but are you sure he isn’t dead?”
“But you just said that he came to you, that he could move objects and that he has three bullet wounds one close to his heart. It sounds as though he’s dead.” Gran shook her head. “I told you seeing dead souls might happen sooner or later.”
“That’s just it, for a while I was so sure he was dead, then I touched him and—”
Gran sat up straight. “You touched him?”
“Yes,” Eve moaned covering her face. “I couldn’t help it, there’s just something about him.”
“What, doll?” Gran asked gently.
“I’m not sure.” She lied. She had wanted to feel, no that wasn’t right. She had wanted to know that he was real, that this man, who thought she was damn sexy was more than just a soul and why it was, that when she felt his heat seep into her hands, it felt as though her own soul sighed in relief?
“What did you feel?”
“Heat. He was warm…
Nancy’s addiction for a good trash novel began in her late-teens when her grandmother gave her a bag of Harlequin Romance books. She was hooked and spent the next few years lurking in the dark corners of used bookstores searching for her next fix. Until, one marriage and two kids later, her own ideas had her jumping up at 3 am (much to her husband’s annoyance) and typing them into her laptop. Beside her husband and children, Nancy has three passions, rearranging furniture, buying bed linens and, of course, writing. Nancy lives in Eastern Ontario with her family and two over sized lap dogs.
Email address: Fancyfirstname.lastname@example.org
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