He runs his hand through his beard. “I just got a call from Dean McGregor...”
“I’m fired.”
“No,” Patrick sighs. “You’re too valuable. Unlike the rest of us, you write books people actually read.”
“Well, Brad had it coming.”
Patrick smirks. “Oh, your Dear John letter sounds fucking awesome.”
“But...”
“You’re to go on paid leave from now through the rest of the summer.”
“Are you kidding?That’smy punishment?”
He shrugs. “I’ll take care of everything—I’ll finish the class, give the final next week, get all the grading done, and keep Rhodes at bay. You just leave and forget about this place for a while.”
I sit frozen at my desk.
“Go on, Lizzie. You deserve so much.”
I get in my car and make the call before I’m even off campus.
“Hey, Sarah—I’ll take you up on the London town house offer.”
FromBlood Oathby A.D. Hemmings:
Chadwick Hall speeds along Wye Valley Road on the route to Tintern, autumn leaves rippling from the trees around him.
He needs this journey—not only to interview the latest victim’s sister, but to reassess his love life.
He can’t stop thinking about last night with Emilia Wren. Her scent, her stockings. She was bloody amazing. And she’d been so deft at that rooftop chase. Wren reminded him of the other partner Catherine (or was it Caitlin?) he’d shagged after one too many Irish whiskeys while they’d been on the heels of that sapphire jewel thief in Bangor.
Is yet another affair a good idea?
More importantly—will he ever be able to commit?
He runs his hand through his hair as his sleek olive Bentley picks up speed.
FromThe Heathcliff Saga:
“Where are we going?” Cathy asks Linwood as he leads her through the steep downhill path, heather brushing against her skirts.
“On a journey.”
He smiles crookedly. Her heart seizes up. She loves Heathcliff. But she’s not immune to Linwood’s charm, his chiseled chin, the way his blond hair falls over his tall forehead.
But she stops at the narrow cave entrance, an almost invisible slit between towering gritstone rock. Goose bumps prickle her neck.
“Nelly said never to come here. It’s the fairy bed...”
“Nelly doesn’t want us to know about the magic. We can summon it for ourselves, Cathy.”
He steps inside, reaches his hand out, beckoning her in.
She hesitates, peaty wind from the cave mouth blowingsoftly against her cheeks. “I don’t know, Linwood. Heathcliff inherited his powers—but the moor’s magic. It’s not to be messed with.”
“You’re afraid.”
