Laurel Cremant is back with another book, this time a modern fairy tale romance. Read on for more...
Congratulations to Oluwakemi Babalola who wins a copy of Midnight Mistletoe by Laurel Cremant from last week's guest author post.
(WYNTER TALES, Book I)
AUTHOR: Laurel Cremant
GENRE: Modern Fairy Tale Romance
PUBLISHER: Winged Moon Publishing
An unsuspecting mortal, A Keeper of Dreams, And a group of Gods intent on reclaiming powers they no longer deserve...
Melania Wynter has a big problem, the man of her actual dreams is becoming all too real. Determined to gain back some control over her life, she hopes that a a little vacation will be enough for her psyche to stop comparing her real life to the vivid dreams she's had since childhood. But one patch of ice, a solid pine tree and a nasty bump on the head derail her plans.
Daiomone, Keeper of Dreams has always been drawn to Melania. He's bided his time, waiting for her to cross-over to his realm, but manipulative God's have interfered in unexpected ways. With a helping hand from fate, he must go to Melania and keep her safe.
Together they must navigate the wilderness and survive both the cold and trouble-making Gods.
“Melania, you need to snap out of it.”
She tensed as Daimone’s voice filled her head again. Reaching up, she touched the throbbing knot on her head and moaned.
It was official. She’d finally gone off the deep end. “This is so not happening.”
His deep chuckle resonated through her mind. “Ignoring me won’t make me go away.”
She huddled tighter against her drawn up legs.
“Trust me. I know,” she mumbled.
He was a major contributing factor in her need for rest and relaxation. Her trip had been a last ditch effort before she threw in the proverbial towel and saw a therapist regarding her little problem.
However, now thanks to a stupid patch of ice, her brain was scrambled and her dream man on the loose. Somewhere on WebMD, there must be a section dedicated to her current condition. It would be a perfectly descriptive affliction that fit her every symptom to a “T”.
Ohshititis—hallucinations and hysteria brought on by extreme situations and chronic bad luck.
“You need to get moving, love.”
Why not just go with it? Considering her circumstances, she was, after all, due for a little hysteria.
“Well, excuse me if I want to take a moment to recover from a death-defying event here.”
“The storm is coming closer, love. You have to get moving.”
Lifting her head, she peered up into the thick veil of snow falling all around her. She blinked rapidly as a flurry of snowflakes drifted down on her face with, she was sure, a type of maniacal glee.
“The clock is ticking, Princess.”
“First of all, you are so not the boss of me. You’re not even real. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”
“We really don’t have time to discuss this right now.”
“Wait, I’m still unconscious, aren’t I?”
She glanced back at her car, partially expecting to see a specter of herself slumped over the wheel.
His long sigh drifted through her mind. She could almost feel his breath tickle the nape of her neck.
“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” he responded.
She scrunched her brow at his words, refusing to be badgered by a figment of her imagination. Considering the state of things, her choices were either unconsciousness, insanity, or worse yet, admitting that she was well and truly screwed.
She opted for unconsciousness.
It must be the only thing that explained the presence of Daimone’s voice in her head. For as long as she could remember, she’d dreamed of him. He’d appeared in her dreams even as a child. In the beginning, he was a child just as she’d been. But as the years passed, he’d aged along with her.
Sometimes, months would pass between his visits, but even when she dreamed of other people and things, she’d felt him watching her in the corner of her mind. He’d been her secret companion, her solace for years.
Her cheeks heated as she thought of how he’d also become other things to her. It began the night she’d returned from her family’s summer vacation at the beach. She’d only been fifteen at the time and missed frolicking in the sun with friends. That night, she’d dreamed of lying on the beach soaking in the sun.
Daimone had appeared and sat down next to her, nudging her playfully in the ribs. She’d opened her eyes, and for the first time, noticed the breadth of his shoulders, his strong jaw, and twinkling blue eyes.
A flash of heat had raced across her flesh as sunlight had kissed his golden skin. For the first time, she felt the urge to kiss a boy. Her body had yearned to touch and be touched.
Her lips quirked as she thought back on that dream. She’d acted on impulse then. She’d reached up and pulled him down to her, pursing her lips onto his. He’d yanked away looking surprised, but she still remembered the way she’d tingled at the touch of his lips on hers.
She rarely saw him in her dreams for several years after that. He would appear as a passerby or random face in a crowd, but never played a starring role. Not until her parents died several years after she completed college did he become a reoccurring feature in her dreams again.
“As much as I love this little jaunt down memory lane, it’s time to make a decision.”
His voice had lost its calm tone and held a definite edge of irritation.
“I’ll make this easier for you. You’re not unconscious, you’re not crazy. So that leaves only one option.”
“Don’t say it,” she said.
“You’re fucked, love, and not in a good way.”
Of course she was.
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wynters-fall-laurel-cremant/1117786927?ean=2940148910886
ABOUT LAUREL CREMANT
Laurel is a romance author, who like most writers loves to read. Her first love (pun intended) has always been romance. From the sappy YA romance novel to the more risqué erotica novels, Laurel is a sucker for a good love story.
Laurel writes paranormal and contemporary romance and is a self-proclaimed, out of the closet nerd. She admits that she can't seem to avoid adding a bit of "nerdology" or "geek-dom" to all of her books. Living in Miami, she also admits that she can't seem to avoid giving her heroines gorgeous shoes, "In Miami, we worship everything strappy, open toed and just plain hot!"
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