What waits for her in the cellar? The Haunted Series by Allie Harrison

What waits for her in the cellar?

But something is different...something is...wrong.

Her past is a mystery. His future is in jeopardy.

Was it a dream? Or was it real?

Description:

Hargrove House (#1)

What waits for her in the cellar?

As a child, Torrie Reynolds entered the haunted Hargrove House on a dare. Terrified by what she'd heard while inside Hargrove House, she avoided it since.

Now fifteen years later, Will Dalton offers Torrie the job of refurbishing it, and she has no choice but to take the offer to keep her business afloat. But there is something about Will Dalton that Torrie’s heart can’t ignore, something that calls to her in her dreams, something about him that her soul recognizes.

As the house is restored and rooms come alive with character and color Torrie brings to them, her fear of the house fades and her attraction to Will grows stronger. Hargrove House begins to even feel like home to her. With each finished renovation project, it is harder for Torrie to leave the house...Or Will. 

And although she wants nothing more than a life with Will Dalton within Hargrove House, she discovers there are things more terrifying than ghosts when she learns why Will is digging in the dark, frightening cellar...

This is a stand-alone Paranormal Romance with a hot hero and a crafty heroine that will keep you turning the pages to the very end. 

EXCERPT

Torrie knew in her heart venturing into the haunted Hargrove House was a stupid thing to do. She sucked in a deep breath. She’d never been a chicken, and she wasn’t going to be one now.

The door knob was cold in her palm. Surely the door wouldn’t be unlocked. The old creepy house had been vacant forever.

It wasn’t locked. In fact, the knob turned easily and the door opened. The eerie thought that the house wanted her to come in slipped through her.

The light from the street filtered into the foyer, but only a little. Everything else was nothing more than a mixture of gray shadows. Still it was enough for Torrie to see elegance in the wide, beautiful circular staircase. Above her head a huge chandelier hung haphazardly. What was left of its crystal decoration reflected the small amount of light from the street.

It was beautiful.

How anyone could leave this house, she wondered.

Outside, the wind blew the leaves and branches of the trees in the front yard, and the shadows danced.

Torrie took a step back. She’d stayed long enough to fulfill the dare. Besides, she’d heard her father say often enough the place was probably rotten through. She’d break her leg if she fell through the floor. She could see the headline in the Liberty Banner now: Mayor’s Daughter Breaks Leg in Haunted Hargrove House.

Her friends who hid in the bushes outside were going to owe her big time, she thought.

The moonlight reflected on something on the floor a few feet away. Was it a piece of glass from one of the several broken windows? No, it was a single crystal obviously from the chandelier above her. Her hand itched with the need to touch it, to hold it. She took a few steps forward, weary of the possibly rotted floor.

Then she had it in her hand, an elegantly carved crystal, beautiful and perfect, a prize for a scary dare like a blue ribbon for winning a race. She turned to go back out the door. It was then she heard the voice.

It was really nothing more than a moan, a painful moan.

Yet, it said her name—“Victoria…”

Montgomery Manor (#2)

Welcome to Montgomery Manor, a beautiful Bed & Breakfast complete with gorgeous guest rooms, a five-star restaurant, and a haunting history of true love, betrayal, and murder...

When soulmates Quint and Meg Falkner inherit moldering Montgomery Manor, they are in way over their heads. With a bit of faith and strange push they cannot ignore, they jump head first into bringing the large, compelling house back to its original grandeur.

But something is different...something is...wrong. Quint isn't acting himself, and Meg keeps seeing visions, images of the past seeping into her very soul. When Meg becomes the target of a mysterious, dangerous admirer, her world implodes, leaving her vulnerable to the otherworldly inhabitants of the house...the very house calling out to her, its secrets begging to be uncovered.

Endless corridors, echoing darkness, and hidden treasure weave together in this tale of everlasting love and second chances.

Can Meg and Quint make a new life for themselves in Montgomery Manor, or will Montgomery Manor's secrets tear them apart forever? 

This is a stand-alone Paranormal Romance with a hot hero and a crafty heroine that will keep you turning the pages to the very end. 

EXCERPT

Meg gave one last quick glance about the party that filled the large room but didn’t see her husband, Quint anywhere. Needing some space where she could have a moment alone, she bypassed the kitchen where she found another small stairway, and ascended. After walking a long, dark, dusty hallway filled with tools and ladders, Meg realized she was in the part of the house Quint continued calling the North Wing. It was the part of the house he hadn’t refurbished or remodeled yet. It was quiet and dark and a bit colder than the rooms she just left, suffering from years without heat or cleaning or maintenance. She welcomed the cooler air.

Though echoes of the party drifted up to her through the darkness, for the moment, this place was what Meg needed. Quiet from the storm of the party downstairs, and the emotions pinging through her. She made her way to the windows at the end of the long hallway, and slipped off her shoes, allowing the bare floor to soothe her aching feet.

The view from the window captured her gaze. Through the steady rain and lightning of the storm, she saw the neglected gardens filled with weeds and trees and shadows. She heard the surf crashing against the nearby rocks and knew, without a doubt, that on a clear day, this window would offer a magnificent view. For now, she could only see the part of the parking lot lit by the streetlight.

She took a deep breath and inhaled the heavy scent of must and the lumber stacked nearby.

She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the chilly glass.

A slight frigid breeze flowed through the hall. Had someone opened a door? She didn’t open her eyes. The chance to rest against the chill of the glass was simply too good. What did she care if someone else snuck up here for a moment alone?

He moved her hair slightly. She could have sworn she felt Quint’s familiar touch. There was a soft touch to her neck; hardly more than the touch of a feather. It could have been fingertips. It could have been lips.

She sighed. So Quint had followed her to steal a moment alone. Wonderful…

She waited a few heartbeats, but the soft touches didn’t continue. Meg opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder.

She was alone in that dark, cold, musty hall.

Camden Place (#3)

Her past is a mystery. His future is in jeopardy.

From the first moment Clare Newman steps into Camden Place—from the squeak in the floor and the sweet scent of apple pie to the candles she lights on the dining room table—it feels like home. It's a place she can find refuge from her nightmares. It’s a place where she can make a fresh start…

…Except there's a misty figure with a knife who disappears into the library.

…Except there's Liam Camden, the man who built Camden Place over a century and a half before, who doesn’t disappear, who seems to be the only one who can see and talk to Clare.

But who is the real ghost? Clare, who somehow found the doorway to 1847? Or Liam, who died mysteriously one hundred and seventy years ago?

When danger creeps closer, will the timeless love they share be enough to keep them safe? 

This is a stand-alone Paranormal Romance with a hot hero and a crafty heroine that will keep you turning the pages to the very end. 

EXCERPT

Despite the echoing of a room empty of people and the house being empty for some time, the piano was in tune and sounded perfect. There wasn’t even the tin, hollow sound that often came with age or neglect. She opened her eyes and drew in a deep breath. A sense of calm filled her. Her music had always had that effect on her.

Without thought, she sat down on the piano bench. It creaked beneath her weight and made her smile. Piano benches always creak. She placed her fingers on the keys. They seemed to know just where to go. She supposed this was like riding a bicycle. No matter what happened to her, her fingers still knew what to do.

Amazing.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and played a song she’d written, something she called, “The Road to Anywhere.” The notes came to her as if they were merely an extension of her fingers. She played with hardly a mistake, despite the fact she hadn’t played this piece, or any piece, in over a year.

For a long moment, she relished in the sound she created. The excitement, the rush of her music filled her, flowing into the hollow spaces. She’d been so empty for so long.

In a single instant, for the first time in months, she felt…

Able.

Alive.

Not perfect, not near ready to perform before an audience again. Perhaps not ready to write a single note. Not ready to face all the demons still lingering in her nightmares.

But better. And, except for the headache, pain free.

She smiled and took a deep breath. The scent of the house, apples and cinnamon, filled her lungs. It was mingled with the heady aroma of furniture wax and candle wax.

Her fingers, still lingering on the keys, thrummed with an energy she’d never experienced before.

The sounds of dishes rattling and the echo of laughter drew her attention. She jumped from the bench as if someone dumped a cup of ice down her back.

What the hell? A ghost? After all, she'd just explored the house and was completely alone. A chill skittered over her, sliding a cold hand around her neck, her shoulder, down into her chest. She shuddered. Had she left the door open? She raced toward the dining room, only to stop in her tracks.

This is way too real and impossible…

Before she could gasp, hands—warm and strong—grabbed her. Her screams died in her throat.

Winsgate Drive (#4)

Was it a dream? Or was it real?

He visited her at midnight in a dream. He was a stranger yet her lover, whose touch started a fire in her soul. His passion left her yearning for more even after she awoke.

With the morning light, she discovered him at her door, leaving her to question just how much of her midnight fantasy had been a dream.

Kate McCoy can’t resist Jake Casperson. Nor can she resist the passion that flares between them day or night. At the same time, neither of them can escape the dreams. But the dreams soon become a nightmare that is overshadowed by something darker…

A murder that happened seventy years ago. Two young lovers who share Kate and Jake’s names.

Can she believe the dreams? Are they real, shared memories of a love cut short by murder?

And if they are, will history repeat itself and make Kate the next victim? 

This is a stand-alone Paranormal Romance with a hot hero and a crafty heroine that will keep you turning the pages to the very end. 

EXCERPT

Kate walked on, drawing closer while never taking her gaze off him. His back was to her. But she recognized him, recognized his brown hair, hair that would look as if it had a touch of gold if he stepped out into the sunlight. Her heart picked up the pace.

Yes, she did recognize him. Yes, she felt as if she knew him even though she had only known him in her dream. She forced down a hard swallow, barely managing it passed the lump in her throat, as she silently climbed her front steps. He turned and met her gaze. Her heart raced faster.

His warm gaze met hers and held, his brown eyes filled with an expression of surprise and expectation at the same time.

Kate remembered that look. It was the same look he’d had just before he kissed her, just before he made love to her…

Slowly, she shook her head, in disbelief as well as to clear her thoughts of the memory that wanted to play over again and again.

Seeing him, her dream lover, standing before her on her own front porch was enough to steal her breath away and she had to remind herself to breathe.

It was him; the dream lover who’d held her the night before. She couldn’t believe she was standing face-to-face with him.

Impossible.

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About the author:

Allie Harrison also writes as Allie Quinn. She lives with her husband in Southern Illinois. When she isn't enjoying fun family time, games with friends, reading, crafts, music and winemaking, she's working to build fictional worlds and unforgettable characters. 

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