Jacey Hewson has inherited a haunted mansion. The Ames Mansion has been in the family since 1825. The house is believed to be haunted by a male family member. She intends to find the swords rumored to be hidden on the estate, refurbish the place and sell it. Griff Carpenter needs money. Refurbishing a haunted house wasn't what he had hoped for, but the woman of his dreams occupied it. Could he convince her to stay in Cyan, Indiana? Christopher Ames has other ideas. He won't be finished haunting until the evil soul who took his wife's life has been sent to hell. Excerpt: Cyan, Indiana, population 12,888. Established in 1865. Home of the healing waters of Falcon Mineral Springs. Welcome, Mayor Joe Waiter. The enormous green iron sign was outlined in silver, not brushed, but a blinding shiny gloss. The noonday sun sparkled off the glow from the banner onto her windshield. Spot‐blinded, she slowed down the car, and veered to the right. “Nice welcome, Mayor Joe.” Jacey jerked the wheel to the left, enough she could feel the gravel along the side of the pavement. Loose stones shot out and pinged the underside of her rented off‐road vehicle. The Jeep went down the side of the path, and as she corrected, the counter turn forced her back onto the middle of the street. A fire‐engine red truck slid sideways and screeched to a halt. The driver shifted the gears into park, grinding them along the way, and shot out of the cab. Jacey’s hand trembled as she regained control. She stopped her vehicle and remained sitting behind the wheel. She gathered her breath which seemed to have bailed, remaining on the other side of the road. “What the hell are you doing?” She loosened her death grip on the wheel and glanced at the handsome man talking loudly through the window. He wore a black T‐shirt emblazoned in white with Hank’s Hardware written across his muscular chest. A tiny graphic of a man, Hank she assumed, wielded a hammer below the man’s left nipple and the beaded pap stood out, pointing at her like an accusatory finger. The driver’s finger motioned from her to the tracks on the street, and then to his truck. At least six foot tall, light brown hair with streaks of white surrounded his face. He had a half‐moon scar on his chin and perfect lips, the top matching the bottom in shape and size. She had a strong desire to lock lips with this man who frantically twisted his hand, telling her to roll down the window. Would his kiss be fulfilling and satisfy her needs as a woman? She shook off the fantasy making her lips tingle and scooted on the seat to ease some of the ache forming in the junction of her thighs. The knob on the door slid beneath her sweaty palm. She wiped her hands on her jean‐covered thighs, and tried again before realizing the knob was the control for the rearview mirror. Frustrated at her predicament, she knuckled the button to lower the window. Humid August heat filtered into the car. He braced his forearms on the Jeep’s roof and leaned into her window. His gaze ran over her, sending more volts of electricity through her bloodstream and her sexual frustration multiplied tenfold under his piercing stare. She released the seatbelt and turned off the motor. The need to get out of the vehicle and move forced her to open the car door. He jumped back as it hit him in the waist. Oops! “Lady, who issued you a driver’s license?” His face appeared to be redder than a few minutes before. Should she offer him a seat in the car with the air conditioning? “The state of Indiana. Why?” She quirked a half–grin, daring him not to smile. “Because you nearly ran me off the road,” he said and shook his head. “I’m sorry. My vehicle slipped on the gravel. Are you injured?” She reached out to touch him, altruistically to find out if he had been injured, and intrinsically to feel his tan skin to see if any fat existed on the man at all. Pure solid muscles popped out under the short sleeves of the T and a bunch of material gathered at his narrow waist. “Damn,” he said. Her glance shot back to his face. He wore blue jeans like a prince wore his formal garments. Buff colored work boots topped off the hunky form in front of her. “I’m sorry I caused you to stop your truck suddenly. If any damage was done, I’ll take care of it. Here, I’ll get you my insurance card and you can contact them, Mr…” God, she was nuts, an escapee from a loony bin, but she was beautiful. Easily the most magnificent woman he’d ever seen. Available now at www.Cobblestone-Press.com All Rights Reserved.