Hi! I have put the blog on a temporary hiatus due to life stuff. However, I will be revamping the blog and hope to reopen it early 2014. Please watch our Facebook page for updates and for open scheduling.

Help wanted:

I am looking for reviewers and a blog admin to assist with scheduling and posting. If you are interested please email me at booksamour@gmail.com.

Thanks for stopping by and your patience.
Lia

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Halloween, Headless Horsemen and a Veil Between Worlds by Ranae Rose


I love to write about the paranormal, whether I’m simply weaving a few ghostly elements into a story, or crafting a tale that revolves around them. I’m enamored with the mysterious, the otherworldly and romance entwined with dark elements. This is probably due at least partially to the otherworldly stories, movies and TV shows I started reading and watching at a very early age. One of my very favorites was The Legend of Sleepy Hollow – I read the book when I got older, of course, but started out watching the animated Disney version.

Fast forward a couple of decades and I’ve created my own romance series inspired by The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. My Sleepy Hollow world centers around the M/M/F ménage romance between my three main characters, and – of course – the headless horseman legend is an integral part of the story. And by the end of Haunted Passions, there’s no doubt that the famous specter is indeed from another world.
With Halloween approaching, the current time frame in our world matches the time during which Haunted Passions takes place. It may be unlikely that any of us will run into any headless horsemen (outside the pages of Haunted Passions, anyway), but who knows – we may experience something otherworldly ourselves. Some people believe that the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is the thinnest on All Hallows’ Eve, making it more likely that we’ll come in contact with spirits.

What do you think – is the barrier that separates the living from the dead really less effective on All Hallows’ Eve, allowing spirits to walk more easily among us, or is that just an old wives’ tale? Tell me and you’ll be included in a drawing for an ebook from my backlist – any title of your choice. (I’ll draw the winner in a week.)


Haunted Passions

A dangerous romance unfolds between two men and the woman who's captured both of their hearts, but their love is haunted by the ghosts of the Revolutionary War in 1784 Sleepy Hollow, New York.
Losing one's heart to another man is dangerous enough without the added threat of a supernatural terror. But that hasn't stopped John Crane and Brom Bones from falling hard in love - with each other, and with the alluring Katrina Van Tassel. When Brom becomes engaged to Katrina, John is sure the wedding will tear him and Brom apart, and their love sparks a struggle between passion and loyalty. But Brom is determined to keep both of his lovers, and Katrina has some secret desires of her own - desires that haunt only the wildest of John's dreams and blur the lines they've all been fighting not to cross. Is it possible for three people to be in love? Their passion won't be enough to keep them together if something isn't done about the evil that's haunting Sleepy Hollow: a headless horseman who rides to kill.


Haunted Passions is available from retailers such as…




Meanwhile, Whiskey Dreams, the M/M prequel to Haunted Passions, is currently free at Amazon and many other ebook retailers. Download it at:



Read on for an excerpt from Haunted Passions

John had never thought that his heart could be ripped out by just a few simple words, and yet, that was exactly how he felt. “We’ll be announcing our engagement tonight…” Brom’s voice echoed in his memory. “I wanted to let you know myself.”

“God damn you, Brom,” John said, wiping dampness from his forehead with his sleeve. The curse was a distraction, a failed manifestation of some emotion he didn’t know how to express – he didn’t really mean it. A part of him broiled with anger, but it was a small part; mostly, he felt dreadfully sick. He pressed a hand to his stomach, conscious of the leaden weight that had settled there when Brom had laid his hand on his shoulder, just before he’d delivered the news.

John had known that something was wrong as soon as Brom had touched him. Brom’s touch had been tense, his hand stiff and awkward as it closed ineffectually on John’s shoulder. Brom Bones had never touched anyone like that before, and likely never would again. He was a man who always knew what he wanted, a man who laid hands on a body with confidence, already sure of what he intended to do. John knew that, perhaps better than anyone. But Brom’s hand had nearly slipped off of John’s shoulder as he’d told him of his engagement to Katrina. “God damn you…” John rasped, his stomach contracting around its burden as he touched his shoulder, seeking some trace of heat, some proof that Brom’s fingers had really rested there so recently.

There was none. Only the rough fabric of his coat and the autumn chill that hung in the air and had worked its way into every stitch of his clothing, every fiber of his being. He felt as if he were already dead. Soon, he would be. 

He drew a pistol from beneath his coat, caressing the barrel. There was promise in every inch of the cold steel – the promise of oblivion. It called to him, the temptation carried on the biting night breeze. He glanced over his shoulder, promising himself that it would be for the last time. His heart jolted and sped at the sight of the large farmhouse looming in the distance, its windows glowing with candlelight. The spry, shadowy forms of dancers darted back and forth behind the glass. Everyone was making merry, celebrating a good harvest, and perhaps Brom and Katrina’s engagement – had they announced it yet?

No. He wouldn’t dwell on it any longer – not the engagement, anyway. Brom and Katrina themselves, however, were different matters altogether. He turned resolutely, forcing himself to face the dark forest that stretched at the edge of the Van Tassel farmlands. Under any other circumstances, the sight of it at this time of night would have sent a chill down his spine. But what did it matter now? If there were wild beasts afoot, they could do no greater harm to him than his own hand, and if there were spirits lurking… Well, he was about to join them.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he committed his thoughts to Brom. The man’s face formed perfectly in front of his mind’s eye, complete with the oh-so-familiar strong jaw, dark eyes and even darker hair. It curled a bit at his temples and at the nape of his neck. And it felt like silk, slid easily between one’s fingers, like sweet spring grass after the rain… John inhaled, smelling not the autumn night, but the spring afternoon during which he’d first met Brom seven months ago. The memory was a double-edged sword, sweet and bitter at once. His entire body tingled, hot despite his thin clothing and the bitter wind. “Brom…” The man’s name was a whisper on his lips and was quickly swallowed up by a rushing breeze that tore several locks of his hair loose from their ribbon and whipped them across his face. They tickled his mouth, teasing, like the memory of Brom’s lips.

Katrina had lovely lips, as well. A mouth like a rosebud, in fact, and cheeks that were just as pink. He’d tasted those perfect lips just once, and had perhaps taken the experience too seriously. A wry bark of a laugh escaped him, and his thoughts spiraled rapidly toward the dark place inside him that Brom had opened up with his words. Struggling for control over his unruly emotions, he thought of Katrina’s eyes. Blue and sparkling, they were more brilliant than the brightest summer sky. Framed with golden ringlets, her face was just as perfect as Brom’s. Picturing them together was both the most beautiful and most excruciating thing he could imagine. Shoving the image from his mind, he thought finally of himself.

Though his eyes were still closed, he had no trouble seeing himself as he was: a slender figure against the dark wilderness, clad in threadbare clothes that whipped around him as a particularly violent gust of wind howled by, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. He was young, and more than a little afraid of death, when he really thought about it. If anyone had been there with him, they probably would have been able to see that, would have been able to read his face like a book. But he was alone, and morbidly aware of that fact. Another vicious breeze tore his ribbon loose and carried it away. His hair flew with it, each strand stinging his face. He relished the petty pain for what little distraction it provided from his greater suffering.

The wind stilled, leaving him alone with the knowledge of all his inadequacies. He hadn’t decided to take his own life because he was angry with Brom or Katrina. In all honesty, he wished them well. He was going to end his existence because he wasn’t worthy of a man like Brom, or a woman like Katrina. When he’d found out that his chances – however flimsy they’d been in the first place – of ever having lasting happiness with either of them were nonexistent, he’d realized that they were all he really cared about. At some point since he’d arrived in Sleepy Hollow, his world had shifted on its axis and begun to revolve around Brom and Katrina, his two secret loves. And now his world was over. Swallowing the last of his inhibitions, he pressed the barrel of the gun firmly to the side of his head. “Christ – Brom, Katrina… I love you both, but neither of you will ever belong to me, and it’s more than I can bear.”

His heart beat hard and fast, his pulse thrumming in his ears so that he almost didn’t hear the faint sound of hoofbeats coming from somewhere in the distance. Was someone riding through the wood, about to discover him? He didn’t have time to wonder who it might be – not if he was going to pull this off before being seen and losing his nerve. He squeezed the trigger and something rushed unseen out of the darkness and gripped his arm so hard he thought the bones would snap.
The explosive boom of the discharging pistol threw him off balance, and he fell, ears ringing. All the breath was knocked out of him when he hit the ground, and the earth seemed to sway and pitch beneath him, like a ship on a storm-tossed sea. The pressure was still there on his arm – could it be the angel of death?

“God damn it, John!” A deep voice growled from above, shockingly familiar. “What do you think you’re doing?”

It never occurred to John to answer. Instead, he lay flat on his back, staring up at the huge figure looming against the night sky. A clunk rang out loud and clear as Brom threw the pistol, and it bounced off of a tree, falling uselessly to the ground. 

As a little breath worked its way back into John’s lungs, it became clear that he hadn’t, in fact, succeeded in shooting himself. The knowledge that he’d failed in even that simple endeavor was infuriating. He ground his teeth as Brom crouched over him, leering.
Brom’s breath buffeted John’s face in hot blasts that cut straight through the cold air. 

“You look like a madman,” John said, meeting Brom’s narrowed eyes.
Brom snorted and seized John by his arms, jerking him into a sitting position. “You have a lot of nerve, saying that to me.”

John could feel his flesh bruising beneath Brom’s grip, but he said nothing. He couldn’t speak – there seemed to be a blockage of some sort in his throat. He wanted to shout at Brom, to tell him that he had a lot of fucking nerve, interfering like that. But he couldn’t, so he just breathed, letting the cold air chill his insides, which had rapidly begun to heat as soon as he’d heard Brom’s voice.

“John!” The third voice was something like the sound of a bell, and it cut through John’s heart, stopping it as effectively as a bullet.

* * * * *

Ranae Rose is a best-selling author of over a dozen historical, paranormal and contemporary romances, all of them delightfully steamy. She lives on the US East Coast with her family, dogs and horses and spends most of her time letting her very active imagination run wild, penning her next story. When she's not writing, she can usually be found in the saddle or behind a good book with a cup of tea.

You can find out more about Ranae and her books at:

Connect with Ranae via…

Twitter: @Ranae_Rose

4 comments:

  1. i do believe in the dead being able to come back and haunt having a couple of experiences myself so i wouldn't be surprized if there IS more 'hauntings' or activity on halloween

    parisfan_ca@yahoo.com

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  2. I do believe in the veil thinning both from my spiritual believes, but also becaus myths & legends are based in truths. It was a way to explain the supernatural.

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  3. I do believe in the veil thinning on Halloween. I love Halloween and all of the spookyness that goes with it.

    smurfettev AT gmail DOT com

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  4. I also believe the veil is thinner on halloween, partially due to the sheer number of people who are believing in the veil at that point in time. Just my personal theory though! Thanks for entry to win a book. I am reading like a fiend right now due to my slowly healing broken wrist. So winning a free book is an awesome opportunity. Thanks! krestia1 at yahoo.com

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