Ghost
of a Chance
by
McKenna
Dean
Pre-order link: http://a.co/35Fub3A
Released: August 7th
BLURB:
At
sixteen, Sarah Atwell walked away from her love of horses and a promising
career as a competitive rider after discovering she’d inherited the
family curse. Years later, her grandmother stunned everyone by leaving Sarah
her horse farm—worth millions—but with conditions Sarah might
not be able to meet.
A
former Redclaw agent, Casey Barnes retired when a security assignment went
bad, killing his partner and leaving him as a partial amputee. His inner wolf
is in hiding. He’s been living quietly as a horse trainer, but June
Atwell’s death now pits him against her granddaughter for rights to
the stable.
With
both of them snowed in at the farm, a series of increasingly
serious accidents draws Sarah and Casey closer together, but
they both harbor secrets that might tear them apart.
QUOTES:
Her
parents always made her feel like a faded flower pressed into someone else’s
journal.
The
backlight of falling snow through the glass in the shadowed hallway created the
suggestion of a black-and-white photograph. The only spot of color was the
bright red scarf at the collar of her coat and the wine-dark lipstick she wore.
She leaned against the wall with her eyes closed. Something inside him clicked,
as though recognizing a scene from a movie. His heart stopped a beat, flipped
over, and thudded again with increased intensity.
Casey
half-turned. The outdoor light from the stable behind them highlighted an
impossibly wicked smile. It seeped into her bones and filled her from the
inside out with an unaccustomed rush of warmth. Where the heck did that come
from?
He
stood at the kitchen sink, silhouetted against the window, his back toward the
door. Silver moonlight limned his form, bleaching his skin of color and
painting him like a marble statue. Every line of his body was as visible as if
lit by the sun, so bright was the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside. He
was simply gorgeous: from the broadness of his shoulders to the narrowing of
his waist, down to the strong, rounded muscle of his ass. He was utterly
perfect.
EXCERPT:
For
some reason, he glanced back at Sarah where she waited by the door. The
backlight of falling snow through the glass in the shadowed hallway created the
suggestion of a black-and-white photograph. The only spot of color was the
bright red scarf at the collar of her coat and the wine-dark lipstick she wore.
She leaned against the wall with her eyes closed. Something inside him clicked,
as though recognizing a scene from a movie. His heart stopped a beat, flipped
over, and thudded again with increased intensity.
No.
It couldn’t be. Not her.
He
hurried away, head still reeling at his reaction.
When
he returned with an armload of clothing, she was nowhere to be seen. Her laptop
sat by her shoes, one pretty little pump turned over on its side. As expected,
he discovered her in the living room, staring at the pictures on the wall.
“There you are.”
She
jumped at the sound of his voice.
“Sorry,
didn’t mean to scare you.” He adjusted the heap of clothing piled over one arm
and held out a pair of snow boots.
“She
had so many photographs of me.” Sarah took the boots almost automatically, and
indicated the walls covered with pictures, ones Casey had seen many times.
That
had to be it. Why she felt so familiar. Why she seemed to be the one. Relief
washed over him. Obviously he’d spent too much time alone if he thought Sarah
Atwell was his destined mate.
The
subdued light coming through the windows dimly illuminated the living room as
he stepped over the threshold. The room had a museum-like quality, re-enforced
by the presence of antique furniture and framed photographs on nearly every
surface and wall. The pictures seemed to have propagated like mushrooms toward
the end of June’s life. Photos of foals in misty, dew-covered fields. A much
younger June jumping a copper-colored horse over a frighteningly tall wooden
fence on an overcast day. Laughing people mugging for the camera at some sort
of party held at the barn. A dog silhouetted against the open stable door,
staring out at something unseen beyond. A collection of autumn leaves caught
floating on the surface of a pond. Ming, slightly cross-eyed and inscrutable,
glaring haughtily back at the camera.
Sarah
spoke quietly, as though she felt a sense of reverence as well. “So different
from my own place. My walls are largely bare.” She turned in a slow circle,
taking in everything in the room.
“Why
is that?”
Her
shrug seemed self-deprecating. “Less to dust, according to Simon. I got rid of
most of my furniture when I moved in with him. It made sense at the time. His
place was small and there wasn’t room for all my clutter.”
“I’m
not much of a house-keeper myself.” There was no way he’d ever let someone as
classy as Sarah into his ramshackle single-wide trailer. “But if something
makes you happy, I think you should keep it.”
She
smiled, though not at him. At his words perhaps. “This room is a shrine to a
life well-lived. A love letter to the beauty Gran found in the little things
around her.”
“Yeah.
Exactly.”
On
the wall facing the door, so it was the first thing a visitor saw on entering
the room, was a large dramatic shot of a bay horse jumping down from an
impossibly huge obstacle into a body of water. Where her forelegs struck the
surface, the spray shot up into the air, beading in the sunlight like tiny
prisms. It was Casey’s favorite photograph of Athena, one of the best horses
June had ever bred. Taken at one of Sarah’s last competitions as a teenager,
Sarah was rocked back in the saddle, the reins looking dangerously long to the
untrained eye. Of course, she had let them slip to allow Athena to drop down
into the water. Seeing Sarah standing in front of the photograph now sent a
weird jolt of recognition combined with dissonance through him. It was hard to
believe she was the girl riding that mare. The look on her teenaged face in the
photo had always captivated him. It was one of sheer joy, the thrill of the
ride itself.
That
girl had not only found life worth living, but had taken it by the reins as its
master. The woman standing beside him looked closed off from joy, shielded.
What
had happened to her?
McKenna
Dean has been an actress, a vet tech, a singer, a teacher, a biologist, and a
dog trainer. She’s worked in a genetics lab, at the stockyard, behind the
scenes as a props manager, and at a pizza parlor slinging dough. Finally she
realized all these jobs were just a preparation for what she really wanted to
be: a writer.
She
lives on a small farm in North Carolina with her family, as well as the
assorted dogs, cats, and various livestock.
She
likes putting her characters in hot water to see how strong they are. Like tea
bags, only sexier.
LINKS:
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Website: http://mckennadeanromance.com/
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