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eBook Category: Romance
eBook Description: In From the Cold by Sheila Holloway: A breathy whisper. A misty form on a stormy night. Veronica Lowe's life will never be the same... Cue Me In by Nell Dixon: Fae Heath wants to be on T.V. but not just in any show. She wants to be on Ghost UK, the leading show on supposed paranormal activity. The Return of the Unwelcomed by Linda Lattimer with Suzanne Lattimer-Weaver: Brandi was certain she had seen the last of the boy who melted her teen-aged heart ten years ago, until Rob rides back into town and into her life.

eBook Publisher: By Grace Publishing/Roses/Pink Roses
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2006

1 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [517 KB], eReader (PDB) [157 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [138 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [125 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [153 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [181 KB], hiebook (KML) [341 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [216 KB], iSilo (PDB) [113 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [142 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [186 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [193 KB]
Words: 43347
Reading time: 123-173 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Veronica Lowe's lights flickered before completely zapping out. The old plantation house was as dark as sin, and just as scary in the middle of the early October storm.

Fargo, Mississippi was an old delta town with even older secrets. Veronica could feel them. They hovered like shadows in unused corners. Tonight, with the power out, they surrounded her. This house was the birthplace of at least one thing that's best not talked about.

Veronica sensed her way through the living room as she shuffled along. One misstep and she'd be black and blue come sunrise.

Auntie Beth had stored candles in the emergency drawer. Veronica just needed to get to the kitchen to find them. So many of Auntie's things remained here. Just as the candles, they were unmoved after the old woman died.

Maybe Auntie still hung around, like the Brewster boys she was fond of blaming mishaps on. When the laundry blew off the clothesline to cover the azaleas, or the house shifted and her china collector's plates fell to their doom, the Brewster boys, dead 150-some-odd-years, were arguing again. According to Auntie Beth, at least.

Red, white, and blue stars flashed in Veronica's eyes. That bookcase should have been at least two feet farther to the right. There would be a bump on her forehead, she thought, as pain radiated through her skull.

"Jebediah Brewster? Did you shove Auntie's bookcase over just for me? What about you Zachary? You playin' games with a defenseless woman?" she called into the pitch black of her inherited home.

A few more steps and she would be in the kitchen. There. The carpet ended, and she didn't even run face first into the doorframe. Hallelujah.

Veronica felt along the cabinet. One drawer. Two. Third drawer was a charm. She slid it open, put her hand in, and found tapered candles. A little deeper, and reaching fingertips met with a rectangular matchbox. Beside the matches lay a small pewter candle holder. The Brewster boys could play all the tricks they wanted. She had light to dispel the darkness. Or was that de-spell, as in remove one?

A match came to life with a hiss as she struck it against the box. The flame sputtered and grew from the candle's black wick. Veronica shook the miniature wooden torch before the fire could lick her tender flesh.

Light and shadow filled the room, making the modernized kitchen look more like the antebellum version that once stood detached from the house. Veronica could almost see the faces of the kitchen help as they bustled around the room. Imagination could be a hindrance in a house like this. Veronica knew she could let it scare the spit out of her.

She carefully slipped out of the kitchen to return to her living room chair. The bookcase in the wide hall sat exactly where it belonged. Those Brewster boys must have shoved it back in place while she gathered her candle and matches.

Once in her seat, Veronica picked up the Agatha Christie novel she'd been forced to abandon. The wavering light of the taper didn't produce the best illumination for reading.

"So, what do you do in the dark?" she asked the emptiness of the house itself.

A gruff chuckle from somewhere and nowhere answered her. She looked around for some indication of its source when a similar sound came from a window in the stairwell. That was classic. The gale blew a branch from the ancient red oak against the shutters. This sound always made her hair stand on end as a girl. She couldn't say things had changed much.

Wind drove rain against the front door, rattling the antique door knocker. It seemed as if the storm wanted in, but had the manners to knock.

"You can just stay out there, rain. Wind, you keep the rain company."

Her late night visitors must not have heard. A sudden gust shoved open a hinged window. Large water droplets splattered onto the floor. They created dark spatters on the floral wallpaper as well.

Veronica rushed over to secure her barrier against the elements. Cold blasted in. It wasn't natural. This cold had form. It stood between her and the window. Veronica hesitated. Could she reach out and touch it? The chill stepped aside, and allowed her to close the window with shaking hands.

She blinked her eyes a couple of times. The cold evidenced an outline. A head, shoulders, arms held straight as a military officer were all outlined in a foggy mist. Without her permission, her breath came a little faster.

Yes, imagination could scare the spit out of you if you let it.

"I'm not scared," she said directly to the cold, now standing to the right of her.

"I'm pleased," it whispered seconds before the lights snapped on, and warmth returned to the room.