Farraway Mist
Tani Hanes
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: November 17, 2017
ISBN:1973331683
ASIN: B077LCFM6Z
Number of pages: 210
Word Count: 87,210
Tagline: Can she fall in love with a haunted man?
Book Description:
Scout Lawson is fleeing an unhappy past, and thinks she's run as far as she can from Yale University when she lands a job restoring a library in Cornwall, England for reclusive rock star George Wilder, who dropped out of sight after the death of his beautiful wife the year before.
As soon as she arrives at his estate, Farraway Mist, however, strange things start to happen. As the couple's feelings for each other grow, the events become more harrowing, until everything they hold dear is in peril.
Excerpt 1:
She walked over
next to the window so she could examine the binding of the book she held in the
light. He leaned over curiously, trying to see what she was looking at.
As they bent
over the book together, the curtain rod gave one warning rattle and crashed
down, catching Scout across the forehead, opening up a flap of skin as she
smashed her head on the sill.
"Jesus!"
George yanked
the curtain and the offending rod off of Scout as the dogs scurried for cover.
"Scout!
Scout! Are you okay?"
She blinked up
at him from the floor, nodding, trying to focus. She raised a hand to her
temple, but George grasped it and held it away, shaking his head.
"No, don't
touch, there's blood," he murmured. Blood?
Jess and Bandit
came back, sniffing at her worriedly, making her smile in spite of the
circumstances.
"Make sure
none of the blood gets on the books," she said, carefully placing the book
up on the windowsill.
George smiled at
her words as he helped her up.
"Well, I
intend to have some very strong words with my staff about how they replaced the
curtains after they cleaned them," he said as he led her from the room.
"You have a
staff?" Scout said asked in an amused voice.
"Well,
okay, I guess 'staff' is rather a grandiose word for Alfred and Sunil from the
village," George admitted. Scout was surprised at how relaxed and friendly
George sounded. It was a different side to the silent and kind of sarcastic,
frightening person she'd met earlier.
They entered
what looked like a guest bathroom, and George sat her down on the counter next
to the sink so he could delicately dab at a fairly bloody but not deep gash on
her temple with a bit of tissue, much to her embarrassment. The dogs hovered and
watched.
"I can do
this myself," Scout said, laughing.
"Don't be
silly," George said, holding the tissue out of reach when she reached for
it. "What if you were to become faint at the sight of your own blood and
pass out cold, falling off the counter in the process?" He stopped talking
so he could look in her eyes, staring from about an inch away. He could feel
her warm breaths on his face, and backed up a little.
"When I was
ten I rode into a mailbox on my bike while I was turned around yelling something
to my friend Kenny, and I had to push my bike home for nearly a mile with my
lip torn away from my cheek. It was over an inch long," Scout said
conversationally. "I had to hold the skin closed the whole way. I needed
seven stitches. You can still kind of make out the scar, see? I was fine,
honest."
But George
insisted, and Scout finally gave up and let him minister to her, drawing in
little hissing breaths as the antiseptic touched the raw wound. He finally
stepped back, blowing on it. "Okay, all finished. I think you'll survive.
And you might even have another romantic scar."
He looked
critically into her pale blue eyes. "Do you have double vision or
anything?
I'm a bit
concerned about concussion, if I'm honest. I wonder if I should have a doctor
out here to examine you?"
"No, I'm
sure I'm fine," Scout protested. "Not feeling sleepy?" George
persisted.
"Well, a
little, but that's probably just jet lag, don't you think?" Scout said.
"I promise I won't fall asleep."
George looked at
her.
Scout hopped
down off the counter and stood before him, a slight figure, standing straight.
George finally
nodded.
"How about
this, then?" George proposed. "We'll make some coffee, go sit down,
and talk until dinner. If you seem fine, that is to say if you're not drowsy or
slurring your words or anything, then no doctor, okay?"
Scout nodded
too. "Okay," she agreed. "I guess you wouldn't want anyone
dropping dead in your beautiful house," she joked.
Oh fuck.
He just looked
at her for a moment before leaving the bathroom. She took quick steps and put a
hand on his arm.
"I'm so
sorry, Mr. Wilder, I really am. I'm always shooting off my mouth and waiting
for my brain to catch up," she said contritely.
He looked at her
hand, then her eyes before giving her a small, crooked grin. "It's all
right." He took a few steps before turning back.
"And
Scout?"
She looked at
him. "Please call me George."
About the Author:
Tani Hanes was born in Yokosuka, Japan. She spent the first few years of her life traveling back and forth between Japan and the US, making the permanent move to the Central Valley of California when she was five. She visited family in Japan on a regular basis, and attended college in Tokyo for one year at ICU before getting her degree in Language Studies from UC Santa Cruz. She has two children, and was a substitute teacher for fifteen years. Hanes currently resides in New York City with her husband and cats, Moss and Lily.
Website: http://tanihanes.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/TaniHanes
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tanihanes/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/tanihanes/
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