Responsibilities VS Magic

Remember when you were a kid...the holidays seemed to hold such magic. You only had to work on the fun decorations, go to the parties, and never had to worry about clean-up. I have a feeling that's why some of the magic disappears from the holidays as we get older. Now we know what it's like to have to prepare, buy, budget, and put everything away afterwards. Even though we are creating magic for others, it carries a lot of weight with it. Which makes a good book even better! At least for a little while, we can lose ourselves in the magic of other worlds, mystery, and romance...and forget the hectic preparations for a few precious minutes. In fact, I'd argue that it's necessary to keep our own magic high in order to pass it along! I'd love to hear what story you are indulging in this holiday season! Take care, Dani Cover of Holiday Storm  

Indulge in a Gothic Holiday story with the conclusion of my Covington Corner series, Holiday Storm.

As her boss, he’d made her life miserable for years. Now she’s snowed in with him for the holidays…with access to the secrets he’s been hiding from her. Piper Waverly’s boss demands she collect a contract from his house during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve…that is his frustrating M.O., even if he is a sexy former rock star. What she didn’t expect was to spend Christmas at his isolated mountain retreat—just the two of them. But seclusion with the thorn-in-her-side has some surprising benefits. Her arch nemesis shows a surprisingly sensual side that draws her. She is also able to pry into the side of his life he’s hidden from her for so long. Tantalizing…until his secrets hit too close to home. Does the hidden room in his house hold the key to her family tragedy? Has he always been closer than she thought? Will her newfound love withstand the coming storm? Read the entire Secrets of Covington Corner novella series: Shadow Manor Haunted Heritage Dark Destiny Shadow Manor Amazon Barnes & Noble Kobo Apple Books

My Favorite Things (Winter Edition)

It's my newest Favorite Things list!

I bet you thought I was gonna talk about fall again! Well, I’ll admit it’s my favorite, but we’re finally moving into the winter months here in the South. I do love the holiday season, even though I do not enjoy it being dark when I leave work…
  • So here are a few of my favorite things for WINTER:
  • Picking out fun gifts for my family that make them smile.
  • The (slim) possibility of snow
  • Hot chocolate mixed into coffee
  • Spending time with family and friends
  • Cooler weather
  • Baking for the holidays
  • Fuzzy socks
  • Layering on sweaters
  • Christmas lights
  • All the time off the day job between the holidays (I work at a University and am blessed to have leave between Christmas and New Years!)
  • Turkey & dressing & chocolate chip bundt cake
  • The feeling like I’m restarting and preparing for a new year!
What about you? What are your favorite things for winter? I’d love to hear from you—feel free to reply, or come visit me on my Facebook author page  https://www.facebook.com/readdaniwade Take Care, Dani  

How about a little gothic romance to encourage your holiday spirit?

  Holiday Storm cover. Picture of rocker woman in front of a gate in the snow.  

Holiday Storm: A Secrets of Covington Corner novella

As her boss, he’d made her life miserable for years. Now she’s snowed in with him for the holidays…with access to the secrets he’s been hiding from her. Piper Waverly’s boss demands she collect a contract from his house during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve…that is his frustrating M.O., even if he is a sexy former rock star. What she didn’t expect was to spend Christmas at his isolated mountain retreat—just the two of them. But seclusion with the thorn-in-her-side has some surprising benefits. Her arch nemesis shows a surprisingly sensual side that draws her. She is also able to pry into the side of his life he’s hidden from her for so long. Tantalizing…until his secrets hit too close to home. Does the hidden room in his house hold the key to her family tragedy? Has he always been closer than she thought? Will her newfound love withstand the coming storm? Download Now for some Holiday Fun! Amazon B&N Kobo Apple Books      

A Cool Breeze of Inspiration

  "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall." - F. Scott Fitzgerald   Fall has always been a season of beginnings for me. Weird, I know, but its traditionally a time when I re-evaluate or begin plans anew. Maybe it’s a holdover from school, when autumn was time to buy new supplies and adopt new schedules. Or maybe its that the relief from the brutal southern heat as summer ends gives me a renewed sense of energy. (I’m never high energy anyway, so I have to take what I can get.) Basket of fresh picked apples with saying Judge each day not by the harvest you reap but by the seeds you plant. A genuinely cool breeze. Tidying up the yard. Hiking. This is even when I get the urge to clean out my closets (no spring cleaning for me! That’s when I’m out in the flower beds.) So I was also excited to start this month with Romance Author Mastermind, a conference for established romance authors. Most conferences I find a few things that inspire me, but most of it is about connecting with readers. At RAM, the ideas for leveling up your author career are like drinking from a fire hydrant. Massive amounts of inspiration, A little bit of overwhelm, and a lot of imposter syndrome (for me). As an author with a day job, I have to be careful what I pick and choose to work on. But pairing up with this feeling of fall, and the start of a new year, I can look at the ideas with more motivation,. It’s really helpful that they encourage us to just pick a few things to start with, a few things to work on and implement, not the whole shebang. Winter is a time that’s perfect for writing, hibernating underneath a fuzzy blanket while the scenes play out in my head. For me, the next year’s goal will be consistency. Regardless of what’s happening in other areas of my other journey, it will help my motivation if I can maintain consistency. The story will flow better if I can consistently hold the images in my head no matter what else is going on. Hopefully that means you’ll be hearing from me more often!! Take Care, Dani Dark Destiny book cover with young woman in front of abandoned hospital with title and woman standing in front of an abandoned hospital.   Discover more secrets from Covington Corner: She knew something incredible waited in the shadows of the abandoned mental institution, but she never imagined it would lead to love. Jamie Dixon and her fellow video game developers set out to document the layout of the famed Harrington Institute for the Mentally Ill. Then an accident leaves her to explore the decaying buildings with only Ian, the one guy she’s crushed on since high school. Too bad he never seemed to notice she was a nerd of the girly variety. But Ian Jameson has a secret agenda for coming to Harrington. As they uncover the ramblings of an abusive doctor, evidence of a secret prisoner and an obsession over an ancestral line, Jamie and Ian discover a passion that transcends their former workplace camaraderie. Will the old trunk in the attic reveal a new kind of storm? Will his investigation into a long lost heir destroy the very love they’ve both been longing for? Amazon Barnes & Noble Kobo Apple Books

Creativity Update/Upgrade

It’s hard to feel inspired and connect to creativity during hard times. We’ve all seen that in the past year. But it’s just as hard during busy or chaotic times when other things in your life have to take precedence. Combine the two and being creative can be nigh to impossible. I haven’t posted about this a lot because I hate to be all “doom and gloom” for y’all (that would expose my natural Eeyore tendencies a little too much!). Besides, we’ve got enough of that going on every day. But I’ve definitely struggled with my depression, doing two positions for the price of one at the day job, health issues, and renovating our garage over the last year. I’ve completely lost touch with my creative side and words are ephemeral right now. As we move into the fall season in the US, I find myself longing for that connection once more and the chance to rejuvenate my creativity. But this takes purposeful choices (I know this from past experience). Here are a few of the choices I’m making right now. Hopefully by sharing I can inspire you to reconnect with your creative, dreaming side too. I want to read and have quiet time **Rest Yes, this is the opposite of doing something, but it is a choice to be made. I’m not just talking about sleep (though I personally love a nap!), but just slowing down, reducing the number of obligations I have, letting my mind wander, and leaving time in my life unplanned.   **Cleaning What?!?! I know y’all think I’m crazy, but this is totally true for me. When life gets hectic, my house/office/car/yard gets totally cluttered! It’s hard to relax with all that stuff staring me in the face. While I don’t have time for a major declutter, working on some “hot spots” definitely helps with my mood and feeling like I have at least some control in the midst of chaos. Add an 8th day to the week for reading. **Explore/Discovery This is more about refilling my well and awakening my curiosity than actually accomplishing something (a big driver in my day-to-day activities). For me, this can be an intellectual pursuit like reading articles about subjects I want to learn more about or just watching videos about random stuff (I have a morbid fascination with creepy/scary/tragic things so will sometimes binge Youtube channels like Ask a Mortician). But it’s also about physically exploring! Personally I like to get out in nature, whether its walking on campus or hiking nearby trails. But this might also mean wandering a local craft store, meandering through an antique mall, or braving a new restaurant.   **Pampering myself I hesitate to call this “self-care” because all of the pursuits in this blog fall under that label for me. But I am trying to purposefully make time to do things I love that make me feel good right then, that I don’t often make time for! A long soak in a hot bath. A night with the family around the fire pit roasting marshmallows. Putting out my seasonal decorations. Puttering around in my flower beds. Yes, I actually have to give myself permission to do something that’s fun, that doesn’t normally fall on my To Do list.     There are other things I’m working toward, like giving myself permission to just brainstorm, writing long hand, researching my story/characters without putting pressure on myself to log in words…but those are specific to my writing practice. While I long to put words on the page once more, I want to reawaken the creative side of my whole being!   I hope this was inspiring to you if you also struggle, or at least gave you some insight into my process as a creative. I’d love to hear how you reconnect with your creative side during trying times. Comment below or send me an email with your tips!   Take care, Dani readdaniwade@gmail.com

Inspiring Author Research: Biltmore Estates

  The most frequent question authors are asked is, “Where do you get your ideas?” Well, the idea for my upcoming contemporary Gothic series has been long brewing, but when it came to the setting – I have real life inspiration. I had counted down the minutes and it was finally here – the long postponed trip to celebrate our anniversary with my husband. Last year was our 25th, but we had to put off our big celebration until this spring. Dani Wade and her husband on the back porch of the Biltmore doing research But I’ll admit, as authors often do, my trip had a dual purpose. Research! A huge part of my upcoming Gothic series is a grandiose, atmospheric prep school and I needed something sweeping and grand for story inspiration. My research led me to America’s Largest Home—Biltmore Estate in North Carolina. The perfect place to refill my research well and spark creative ideas. Imposing front facade of the Biltmore Estate Close view of one of Biltmore's front towers #1:  Most of my research of the Biltmore had to do with the interiors (what kind of rooms? How many bedrooms? How are things arranged?). I wasn’t quite prepared for it to look and feel like a castle. I can just imagine it in fog or a thunderstorm… Apropos, yes? The game room at Biltmore Estate #2:  My brothers-in-arms – brothers by  choice, rather than blood—need a space to hang out and bond. Doesn’t this make a very elegant man cave? Dining Room fireplace at Biltmore Estate #3: The ambience here is perfect for a prep school dining hall, even if it’s a little small. This school is a labor of love for these men – a chance to provide opportunity for those less fortunate. A way to make up for their own sins. Can you imagine the awe of eating here every day? The spiral staircase in the library at the Biltmore #4: I’ll admit – I wasn’t emotionally prepared for the library. It’s every book lover’s dream! I could have stayed for hours. Gothic decor and statue at Biltmore Gothic doorways in Biltmore #5: Lots of touches the ad Gothic ambience. The creative hamster in my brain was working overtime. Imagine sneaking down this tunnel… creeping across the hall lit only by the flickering sconces… standing at the bottom of the stairs in the darkness wondering if something is coming down to meet you… All around the Biltmore is beautiful and a must see. I found it inspirational. You see, research isn’t just about finding facts. It’s also an author’s need for new sights and unique experiences—oh, and hubby enjoyed it too.  😊 What’s the most inspirational place you’ve ever visited? I'd love to hear from you! Dani

Interested in another gothic read? Try Dark Destiny, a Secrets of Covington Corner novella.

Dark Destiny book cover with young woman in front of abandoned hospital with title and woman standing in front of an abandoned hospital. She knew something incredible waited in the shadows of the abandoned mental institution, but she never imagined it would lead to love. Jamie Dixon and her fellow video game developers set out to document the layout of the famed Harrington Institute for the Mentally Ill. Then an accident leaves her to explore the decaying buildings with only Ian, the one guy she’s crushed on since high school. Too bad he never seemed to notice she was a nerd of the girly variety. But Ian Jameson has a secret agenda for coming to Harrington. As they uncover the ramblings of an abusive doctor, evidence of a secret prisoner and an obsession over an ancestral line, Jamie and Ian discover a passion that transcends their former workplace camaraderie. Will the old trunk in the attic reveal a new kind of storm? Will his investigation into a long lost heir destroy the very love they’ve both been longing for? Novellas in the Secrets of Covington Corner series in order: Shadow Manor Haunted Heritage Dark Destiny Holiday Storm Amazon B&N Kobo Apple Books  

Plans Change, So Should I…

The best laid plans…often go awry…  Robert Burns I’m definitely a planner. I’ve talked about this often. I do a lot of scheduling, lists, goals, etc., for both my every day life and my creative life too. But many times I don’t take into account how outside forces/life happenings/family needs/many other things can affect or halt those plans. I’ll admit, I’m not good at “going with the flow”, so these types of things often derail me. My goal for the early part of this year was to get my new series started, specifically write the first of my contemporary gothic books. I knew my day job was going to ramp up, because my colleague retired and I would take on her job until we hired a replacement, but in true Dani-fashion, I reasoned I could do it all somehow. Card holding saying But the strain of the pandemic on our family and doing a job I had to learn and do took its toll. Every evening, my brain was so tired it simply could not create (or do much of anything else). So I spent a few weeks beating myself up for my lack of productivity (outside of the day job) before coming to my senses. Here’s what I started to tell myself INSTEAD:
  • Sometimes, you can’t do it all.
  • Sometimes, forcing yourself to do something doesn’t produce your best work.
  • Sometimes, you have to set goals aside for a season and come back to them when you can.
  • Sometimes, the “dig deep” button is not worth resurrecting. (Brene Brown)
So, why am I telling you this? Well, I’m pretty sure there’s someone else out there like me who needs to be reminded there is a season for everything. Beating yourself up over that serves no purpose other than to compound your own misery and sorrow. Be kind to yourself. Be gentle with yourself. And come back to what you love, what feeds your soul, without regret for the time you had to spend away.   Take care of yourself. ~Dani Gunner’s story is coming soon! Have you started the Backstage Pass series?? Book 1, FINDING HER RHYTHM, is FREE on all platforms. Finding Her Rhythm book cover with musician kneeling with a guitar in a cloud of purple smoke

Do You Really Need a New Craft?

Over Christmas break, my day job closes for 10 days. Most years, that’s catch-up and family time, but this year, I was determined it would be a true rest for me. The pandemic has created a lot of mental overwhelm for me and I knew, going into the new year, that I needed to step back from everything and just hibernate for a while. Focus on me, sleep, and time with my family. For once, that’s actually what I did! (I know, all of my fellow achievers are just as shocked as I am…) I spent a lot of time planning (which is both helpful and crafty…I decorate spreads on my Passion Planner that I use to track goals throughout the year). Reading. Journaling. Cooking…and starting a new art journal. Wait…what? Collage of 4 pages of art journaling in process.Do Yes, if you are a craft person, you know how the lure of a new artistic expression can sneak up and overtake you. I happened to be playing around on YouTube and came across an artist’s channel called The Unexpected Gypsy. Lovely woman from Wales with the most soothing accent of all time! In addition to painting, sketching, etc, she does art journaling. Now, I’ve seen it before, and always thought it looked cool, but never actually tried doing it. Here’s what drew me:
  1. It can be as complicated or uncomplicated as you like.
  2. It can be about anything that interests you…important or unimportant.
  3. No measurable goals.
  4. Whatever you create can be added to, covered over, layered until it is transformed into whatever final vision you want.
I’m very goal driven, to the point that being off from my goals by even a small bit can make me feel like a total loser. Every craft I’ve ever tried has turned into an obligation in some way. But not this. I can’t sell it, measure it, or create it for someone else. So this would be pure artistic expression…something that excites me and allows me to return to the fundamentally creative person that I’ve always been. Sound like fun? What excites you at the moment? Dani Don't forget to grab your copy of HOLIDAY STORM before it goes off sale next week! Currently only 99 cents! Check it out HERE!

Dark Destiny Sneak Peek!

Dark Destiny releases Today!

Read Chapter One below!

Dark Destiny book cover with title and woman standing in front of an abandoned hospital.

 

Blurb:

She knew something incredible waited in the shadows of the abandoned mental institution, but she never imagined it would lead to love.

Jamie Dixon and her fellow video game developers set out to document the layout of the famed Harrington Institute for the Mentally Ill. Then an accident leaves her to explore the decaying buildings with only Ian, the one guy she’s crushed on since high school. Too bad he never seemed to notice she was a nerd of the girly variety.

But Ian Jameson has a secret agenda for coming to Harrington. As they uncover the ramblings of an abusive doctor, evidence of a secret prisoner and an obsession over an ancestral line, Jamie and Ian discover a passion that transcends their former workplace camaraderie.

Are ghosts leading them to the truth of Harrington’s haunted history…or to the promise of a future beyond friendship?

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

Jamie Dixon braced herself as the pickup truck turned off the main highway onto the road leading to Harrington Institute for the Mentally Ill. The big vehicle shifted back and forth as the ruts in the little-used road grew unavoidable. She kept as stiff as possible, trying not to bump against Ian Jameson despite the lack of space.

The temptation to lean a little closer, to let her body brush his, had been a struggle the entire ride up from Covington. She told herself she was trying to maintain her self-sufficient façade, but the truth was the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was deliberately invading his space. Even if there wasn’t much she could do about it in the truck cab. But Ian had never shown any indication of noticing her as a girl—even after seven years none of the guys in their close-knit group had—and she had no desire to push herself on him.

Even if he did smell really good at the moment.

That might not be true after a weekend spent mapping out the abandoned institute with no showers or running water. Not that she should be focused on that part of being here.

Since their first video game had gone viral, three of their group of five were here to record the interiors of the institute in preparation for building their next big thing. She’d been excited about the trip for months. The surely haunted, spooky building was right up her alley.

The fact that they even got permission from the owner was a miracle. The institute was rumored to be haunted, but the owners had never allowed investigators in before now. Maybe she’d see a ghost along with the deteriorating walls and floors.

The truck jerked as one of the tires dipped into a deep hole in the cracked asphalt. Caught unawares, Olivia’s body pitched to the side, smacking her forehead against the window with a loud thud. Instantly pain exploded, causing her eyes to water, her vision blurring for a moment.

“Easy, Becker,” Ian said.

“Sorry, man. I’m just trying to get us there before the rain hits.”

Jamie understood his urgency. They had a huge amount of equipment in the back of the vehicle, which would’ve been safer in a van, but none of them had one. With just the three of them taking the trip, it made sense to use Becker’s truck. Only the last thing they wanted was to have rain pouring down on it, and the clouds had grown thicker and lower the farther north they’d driven into the mountains.

And that would ruin every last plan Jamie had meticulously laid out before coming here.

She was distracted from thoughts of her To Do list when Ian turned toward her, twisting as best he could in a tight space. “Are you okay?”

She looked up at him, blinking her eyes a little. “Yes,” she assured him even though her temple throbbed. Because that’s what she did. As the only girl in their group of gamers, she was not about to appear weak in front of any of them. Especially Ian. The rest of the guys were like brothers to her, but she’d never been able to see Ian that way.

Probably never would.

Instead of accepting her assurance that she was fine, Ian lifted his hand to brush his thumb over the sore spot on her temple. “It’s awfully red,” he said. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

The truck shook again, and Ian cupped the side of her head as if to keep it steady. Jamie tried to tell herself it was his usual responsible self watching over her.

Under normal circumstances, Ian would have pulled back immediately. For that matter, he never would’ve touched her in the first place. Never had. But the diminishing warmth of the sun and the tingle from his skin against hers had her eyes widening, her gaze arrowing straight for his.

An almost confused expression crossed his handsome face. As if he wasn’t sure what he was feeling but his hand didn’t move. In fact, his fingers curled a little bit as if to burrow into her hair.

Jamie felt a sudden tightness around her lungs, making it hard to draw breath. She was familiar with her attraction to him. Something she’d always kept hidden from him, from the group, so she didn’t risk upsetting what they all had together. Only her close circle of girlfriends from Covington Corner knew.

But did his current expression mean…could he possibly be feeling it too? After all these years?

Slowly he pulled back, his hand curling in on itself. As he shifted back into place, what little light there was glinted off the diamond stud in his ear. Jamie blinked away a sheen of moisture from her eyes. Ian had started wearing the stud the year before. It was his mother’s, who had died in a car accident. Though it added an edge to his blue-eyed, blond boy-next-door look, every time she saw it she was reminded of his overwhelming grief when the only parent he’d ever known had been taken from him.

For a moment, she thought he might speak to her. Instead he muttered in Becker’s direction, “Just be careful. We don’t want everything wet, but it doesn’t need to be broken either.”

And there was the Ian she knew. Always watching out for them. Always worried about safety. Between the two of them, they’d been dubbed the “parents” of the group. Always taking care of the business stuff and keeping everyone on track.

Even ten years after high school, the rest of the guys were still carefree and fun-loving. Though they were able to step up when necessary. Until this last year, they’d all held stable IT jobs that put food on the table.

They needed this to work to make those resignation letters a thing of the past.

She released a low, slow breath as they continued to navigate the obviously neglected drive. That had been a close call. Knowing her tendency to relive and worry over every interaction with Ian, she forced herself to think about something else.

Instead she studied the road. The concrete had cracked like a web through the original pavement, leaving it bumpy and full of holes. Better watch closely. She didn’t need to hit her head on the window again. Then her weekend would be over really quick.

That was the last thing she wanted—that any of them wanted. The chance to explore Harrington Institute had come after a long process of repeated requests and extensive paperwork, but they were determined to represent the building as authentically as possible to set their next video game apart.

They’d built their first one right out of high school, the five members of the video game club no one in the school had ever acknowledged. They’d met in the basement, talked over things no one else cared about or understood, and unknowingly built their futures. They’d released the game indie and thought nothing of it besides a few updates to keep their skills sharp. There were no illusions that it was going anywhere—they’d just been kids, after all.

But they continued to meet on a regular basis to play with computers and coding and their love of geek lore. They’d had the idea for a sequel for years but never really moved forward on it.

Then last year, a Big Name gaming influencer had plucked their game from the obscurity of the Internet and loved it. His raves over live play had pushed their game into the spotlight, and the orders had rolled in.

They were all making a fortune in a way they’d never dreamed possible—doing what they loved. Now was the time to release a huge game number two—before the spotlight disappeared.

And Harrington Institute for the Mentally Ill was just the place to set it. Jamie had spent many, many hours researching the history of one of the most famous mental institutions of the time period in the southern United States…and every page sent shivers down her spine. Current pictures had been hard to come by, but she had no doubt it wouldn’t disappoint.

The place had been vacant for almost twenty years. Before that it had housed hundreds of people seeking treatment for everything from mild depression to psychotic tendencies. A few murders had taken place. Even more suicides.

There had to be a mystery or two left inside.

The truck broke free of the trees that had crowded against the drive. Jamie sucked in a breath as the huge building came into view.

Patterned after the Kirkbride building tradition used during that time period in the United States, three stories of brick manor stared at them with empty eyes. Jamie almost expected to see a figure appear behind one of the cracked windows. The immediate area around the buildings still had a trim sloping lawn, but what she could see of the woods from behind seemed to creep ever closer. Another shiver shot down Jamie’s spine.

“The perfect Halloween attraction, right, Jamie?” Becker asked.

The other love all of them shared—haunted houses. The thrill of the scare had led to the building of their first horror action game. The ultimate haunted house adventure—escape if you can.

“You know it!” Jamie loved all things about the creepy season. Scary movies. Haunted houses. Spooky settings and decorating for Halloween. Though she’d let that go this year knowing she’d be gone on this trip.

They all had their hands full right now.

“You’ve got brass balls, girl,” Becker said.

Not really, Jamie thought as she stared up at the broken windows, wondering if the shifting shadows were just her imagination, the movement of the truck, or something...otherworldly. She did enjoy the adrenaline rush of a good scare, but Harrington Institute was a whole other ball game. There was no telling what they might run into inside, and Jamie was a firm believer that untethered souls still lived on in some version or another after they died. She’d had plenty of time to think about it when each of her girlfriends had lost family members over the last several years.

But she wasn’t about to let the guys see how unsettled she was.

“Dude,” Becker said, the way he drew out the word telling her she wasn’t the only one impressed.

Ian remained completely silent and still as the truck wound around the circular drive in front of the colossal, creepy building, coming to a stop before the main entry steps. Jamie stared up at the vine-covered brick walls, her excitement growing, but underneath a touch of trepidation lingered that had her heart beating a little harder in her throat.

Movement in the doorway caught her attention.

“Someone’s there,” she said.

“That should be the caretaker, Vincent,” Becker said.

“Time for the adventure to start,” Ian said from right over her shoulder. She glanced back at him, only to see his gaze shift from her to the building beyond.

She wanted to say something, to return to the intimacy of earlier, but couldn’t take the risk. Instead she opened the door and slid off the high seat to land both feet on the ground.

She moved forward with Becker to meet the caretaker at the bottom of the wide stairs, even as she was conscious of Ian behind her.

“Vincent, I presume,” Becker said, holding out his hand to shake.

The caretaker looked at his hand, then over at the truck, then spit to the side. Jamie noticed that he shifted a wad of what was probably tobacco behind his lip. It ruined the almost Santa-like appearance he had going on with his gray beard and overalls. He nodded toward the tarped bed of the pickup. “That’s a lot of equipment,” he said, his tone gruff and belligerent.

Becker cocked his head to the side, obviously picking up on the same vibe as Jamie. “Well, it takes a lot to do the job we’re here for. Cameras, lighting, plus safety equipment.” He nodded towards the house. “Don’t wanna take any chances out here, this far from town.”

Vincent seemed to calm a little at Becker’s professional approach. “At least it’s not the rocks and spray paint we found from other visitors.”

Ian stepped a little closer. “Do you get a lot of vandalism out this way?”

Vincent shook his head, relaxing a little more. “Not a huge amount, especially since they hired me on full-time as a caretaker about ten years ago. I worked as an orderly the better part of thirty years when the Institute was open for business. But trespassers aren’t common. We’re too far from town for that. Just teenagers on a dare, for the most part. We keep a close eye on everything, so that helps.” He looked back at Becker. “I’m still surprised the boss is letting you in. You’re lucky he agreed at all. I guess everything being torn down is making him soft. Bring the contract?”

Becker pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. “Here’s the signed copy. And there was an electronic copy sent to the lawyer. But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

Vincent shook his head. “I don’t understand why anyone would wanna roam around here for three days.”

Becker laughed. “We’re going to make it famous, dude,” he said, resorting to his overly laid-back manner.

“That’s all we need,” Vincent said, spitting again.

Jamie got the feeling he was expressing a feeling rather than a true need. Vincent seemed to be getting himself worked up. He started waving his hands as he spoke. “People running around, ruining things.” He turned to walk back up the steps, his voice carrying through the silence of the valley. “Raving about stuff they don’t understand. Disturbing things that shouldn’t be messed with—”

His rant cut off as he walked through the front doors of Harington. Jamie exchanged a knowing look with the guys.

“Stuff they don’t understand?” Becker asked, keeping his voice quiet. “Guess this place is as haunted as it looks…”

They all grabbed a piece of equipment out of the back of the truck, then headed up the stairs themselves.

“There should be an open foyer in the very front of the house where we can set everything up,” Jamie said.

“Are you going to be a know-it-all this whole time, James?” Becker asked.

Jamie clenched her teeth. He knew she hated it when he called her that, and she wasn’t about to let him ruin this for her. But she couldn’t resist a little dig of her own. “At least somebody did some research, Becky. We needed to prepare somehow.”

Becker smirked back at her over his shoulder. “You know I prefer to wing it.”

Ian threw in his two cents. “Don’t you mean that you prefer to waste our time wandering around aimlessly? Because we’re only getting three days. Remember that.”

“And well you should.” Vincent’s voice echoed off the high ceiling of the spacious entryway. Jamie jumped even though she knew she shouldn’t. The last thing she wanted to show was fear.

“That contract says three days. So when I come back on Monday afternoon, you’d better be packed and ready to go. Mr. Harrington may have let you come out here, but I’m gonna make you stick to the letter of the law.”

Jamie tried to distract herself from Vincent’s unwelcoming demands by taking in the incredible view of the entryway itself. The very front of the building was anchored with a long, rectangular central square from which the wings fanned out along the back sides. Stepping through the front doors led to an entry the size of a ballroom. At least two stories tall with a huge crystal chandelier that made Jamie nervous despite the metal chain anchoring it. The side walls were lined with a series of stained-glass windows leading to a grand staircase at the far end. Though the light outside was weak with the incoming storm, it still created incredible patterns in the dust on the floor.

“Beautiful,” she breathed.

That seemed to soften Vincent up a bit. He glanced at one of the windows himself. “It is beautiful. Dr. Harrington was all about showing off to anyone who visited, but he also felt like a lot of patients came in here with fear. The patterns in the windows were meant to distract them, give them something to focus on other than the turmoil in their own brains.” He shrugged. “Don’t know if it worked or not, but this is one of the few serene spots in the entire building.”

Ian set down his box. “Then it’s definitely a good place to sleep.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Vincent said, turning toward the back of the room. “I’ll let myself out and see y’all on Monday. Watch your step around here.” He paused to throw out, “That storm brings a lot of rain, it may wash over the road. You won’t want to be driving anywhere tomorrow.”

They watched as he disappeared into the shadows on one side of the impressive staircase facing them. Then came the sound of a door closing in the distance. Becker glanced back at them. “Isn’t he a bowl of jolly?”

They shared a laugh, then headed back out to the truck to get the equipment. Luckily set-up was fairly quick as Ian assembled some cots and a base camp, while Becker and Jamie sorted the various sets of cameras and flashlights and computers needed to map out rooms for realistic rendering.

“The generator can run some lights tonight and charging stations. We just need to reserve it so we don’t run out of gas,” Ian said.

“There’s plenty, dude,” Becker insisted.

“Maybe, but you never know when you might need it for an emergency,”

Jamie said, backing Ian up. Then again, she usually did. Ian was the sensible one in the group. It was if he’d spent a lifetime with responsibilities, unlike most unmarried 28-year-olds. He’d always been the voice of reason when the other guys were being stupid over something. Plus they didn’t fuss as much when the orders came from a fellow man, so she could usually trust Ian to take care of any unsafe nonsense that was gonna break a bone or knock a noggin.

“You know what that means, Jamie,” Becker said.

She didn’t trust the mischievous note in his voice in the least little bit.

“No lights on to keep the bogey-man away!”

She pretended to shiver, though the atmosphere here did leave her a little shaken. “Oh, Becker, I’m scared!” Then she scoffed, “What do you think I am, ten?”

“You are a girl. Aren’t they all scaredy-cats?”

“Maybe,” Ian conceded before looking Jamie’s way with a wink. “But I have a feeling this one would whoop your ass before admitting to it.”

“Touché. You know me well, my friend,” she said, glowing a little inside at his acknowledgment.

“That I do.”

The look he threw her way made her breath catch in her throat. Jamie had better be careful or she’d be seeing stuff that wasn’t there… literally!

In less than an hour, they were loading up their packs to start exploring. Jamie stared down at the map spread out on their war table.

“Okay, everyone has a copy of the map on their phones,” Ian said. “Today we will orient ourselves with this center portion.”

He indicated the central body of the building with a long finger. “This should have some of the main administrative rooms, nurses’ stations, the cafeteria, and kitchens. Then we will split up to map out each floor in B wing. Those should all be the same, mirroring each other and C wing in the other side. Except for a few key spots, like the chapel in C wing. And the basement corridors.”

“What’s down there?” Becker asked.

Jamie answered. “Medical rooms. Some doctors’ offices. And the morgue.”

“Ooh! Don’t get scared now, Becker,” Ian joked.

They all laughed as Becker flipped Ian off.

As they stood in the center of the foyer, Jamie shifted her pack to a little more comfortable position. It was heavier than she’d thought. She’d probably be hurting each night. Good thing she’d brought ibuprofen.

Each room would be measured, videoed, and photographed so that they didn’t lose any details. Plus they all had body cams to record some of the sights while walking through the building. Jamie started with the close-up pictures for details, while Becker videoed and Ian measured. Later they would split up and do all the steps on their own.

“These windows will make a killer atmospheric entrance,” Jamie said as she snapped picture after picture. Each window had a different layout. Even though they all used the same color scheme, the colors resided in different places. Their pointed arch shape reminded her of church sanctuary windows.

“We can really do a lot with those,” Becker agreed.

Jamie also took close-ups of the floor tile patterns, wall textures, and what furniture remained, all while taking notes in her travel journal for reference when she downloaded everything.

“Let’s move then,” Ian said after a final look around.

They met at the base of the staircase. “Up or down?” he asked as they took in the dilapidated majesty of what had once been sparkling marble.

“This doesn’t look like the most practical choice for a hospital,” Becker pointed out as he rested his boot on the first step.

“No,” Jamie agreed, “but from what I read, Dr. Harrington was wealthy and wanted people to be impressed. He had regular visitors from the political realm to support his work and research, along with notable scientists. I have a feeling this was as much a showpiece as anything.”

The once-white marble with gray veins rose to a first-floor landing, flanked on both sides by dust-coated, intricate iron railings. Whatever color the wide runner had once been was now darkened with age and dirt, leaving it to look like a threadbare rust stain.

“Makes sense. But one good fall and you’d crack your skull on this thing,” Becker joked. “Voila. New patients.”

“There’s actually another stairwell behind it for nurses and patients at the back of A wing,” Jamie said. “This one only goes from here to the second-floor waiting area, which is probably as opulent as the décor down here. Then you have to use the other staircases to move up and down...or the antiquated elevator system that was installed in each wing.”

“Hell, no,” Becker said with a sharp shake of his head. “I am not about getting stuck in no antique elevator.”

“For once I agree,” Ian said. “Let’s head up here, map that room, then move to the other stair system.”

Their steps echoed into empty space as they climbed.

“The second-floor waiting area was for visitors and for families of first-time admits,” Jamie explained.

For a moment they stood at the top of the stairs to take in the tattered surroundings. “Here they waited on plush sofas and were served tea while they filled out their paperwork to set them at ease. It was obviously a different environment from what their family members would be enduring.”

Thick curtains that must have reeked of affluence fifty years ago now hung in shreds from the tall windows. Only a couple of settees remained and not in any condition Jamie would have sat on. A few broken chairs and small tables were scattered around. But she could feel the echo of the elegance that had once been used to made families feel better about leaving their loved ones in this place.

Ian huffed. “He definitely knew how to make an impression, which feels strange considering these people were probably incarcerating a family member that would never be able to leave this place.”

Becker waved his hand at the room. “But wouldn’t you rather leave your family member here than in a hospital ward? He knew exactly what he was doing.”

Though it unsettled her, Jamie knew he was right. All the literature that she’d read on Dr. Harrington had been a mix of brilliant science and the ego of a man who’d always had everything go his way. But seeing it here, the difference between this room and what she knew probably lay on each side, made her feel for the people who made up the human element of this scenario.

They mapped this room quickly too, and were able to find the entry to the other stairwell. “Let’s do the upstairs rooms while there’s still light,” Jamie said.

The atmosphere in this stairwell felt really close even though it was probably twice as wide as a residential one. More space to get more people through. But the lack of windows and years of dust left it feeling claustrophobic.

They reached the next landing, which was cluttered with stacks of chairs to one side. Jamie went first, as there was only enough room for single file. Then Becker stepped in behind her, only to catch his foot somehow and fall forward. She turned back toward him when she heard him cry out, but as his body slammed down, the floor gave out beneath them.

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Jump Off The Hamster Wheel

I am addicted to productivity. There. I admitted it. I’m either making a list of things I need to accomplish. Actually doing things I need to accomplish. Checking off things I’ve accomplished…or feeling guilty over not doing the very things I should accomplish.  😊 My therapist told me I needed to work on letting go of all this. Anyone else there with me? So when I planned my writing retreat for this month, I though it would be just like all the other writing retreats I’ve been on. The goal has always been to get as many words as humanly possible during the period of time while I’m gone. After all, how else can I justify spending that time away from my family and using my precious PTO from the day job? Titled retreat time with pictures of a house, a fountain, and seating area for writing But that’s not how it actually worked out this time. I did get writing done…but this time I actually spent time doing, well, nothing. And I’m not a nothing kind of girl!!! But my brain simply wouldn’t focus on the story. Or at least, not the writing of it. I did some planning. I did some plotting. But none of it was measured by productivity. And that was a little weird, to be honest. Usually my brain is going 90 to nothing. So I found this disconcerting but possibly a step in the right direction. A chance to let my brain work out whatever it needed to. And it helped me come home with a better perspective on some things. A determination to enjoy the small things (which isn’t easy for me, but I’m trying). I guess all of that quiet, thinking time just reinforced some of the things I’ve been trying to come to grips with over the last few months. white hamster on a hamster wheel I’ve been pretty open about my struggles with mental health this year, hoping that others will realize they aren’t alone and we can all help each other. How do you help quiet your mind? What’s your favorite fun thing that gets your brain off the hamster wheel?   Take care, Dani Don't forget to check out my Secrets of Covington Corner series! HAUNTED HERITAGE is out this month! Amazon B&N Kobo Apple books Goodreads--Add To Your TBR List!

What is the house hiding?

New Release: Haunted Heritage

LIVE TODAY! Read Chapter One below.

Cover of Haunted Heritage, blond girl in front of haunted antebellum house.

Haunted Heritage, A Secrets of Covington Corner Novella

She’d prepared to be flooded in during the storm, alone…she didn’t plan on being stranded in a haunted house with him.

With an antebellum home to protect, Olivia doesn’t waste any time in her preparations. She’d promised her employer she would take care of the place while she was in the hospital. No power and no exit route is par for the course this far from town.

But her plans didn’t include a sexy PI who seems intent on digging into her employer’s every secret. Isolated by rising flood waters, Olivia can’t get away from his questions or the heated attraction he evokes. Still she can’t shake the feeling he’s hiding something.

Will the old trunk in the attic reveal a new kind of storm? Will his investigation into a long lost heir destroy the very love they’ve both been longing for?

Chapter One

Everything’s ready.

Olivia Lanford glanced around the empty room, cataloguing her efforts.

Flashlights—check.

Lanterns—two.

Generator—gassed up.

Firewood—in the boxes to dry out.

Miss Della had taught her to be self-sufficient and prepared. Olivia wouldn’t let her down, even if her employer couldn’t be here right now. Thunder boomed outside, shaking the hundred-year-old house around her. Olivia breathed deep. Everything would be fine. She’d stayed in Miss Della’s house plenty of times during storms. The fact that this was her first time doing it alone shouldn’t make any difference.

The lights blinked; then the room went dark.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” she asked aloud.

It was as if the house itself heard her thoughts and was determined to prove her wrong. Or maybe it had been Mr. Mason—Miss Della’s long-dead husband. The elderly woman was convinced her husband still inhabited the house, stroking her hair as she went to sleep most nights. The idea kind of freaked Olivia out, but she’d only had to deal with some unexplained slamming doors herself. That she could handle.

She reached out in the dark to turn on one of the lanterns. No sooner did the eerie white-gray light ignite, than the phone on the counter rang. The jangling noise made Olivia jump. As her heart beat in the base of her throat, she gave a little laugh. At least there was no one to witness her jitters.

“Hello?” she said after clearing her throat.

“Hey, girl!” It was her friend, Piper. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I should have known you’d be the one to call.” In truth, Olivia relaxed a little at hearing her friend’s voice. Anyone would be rattled in this big old house, alone in a thunderstorm. Right?

“It’s my day,” Piper said with a laugh. “We didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Olivia smiled, though her friend couldn’t see it. Her close group of girlfriends had been “checking on her” since Miss Della had gone to the hospital and she’d been staying here. “I appreciate it, though.”

“Well, we all know what it’s like to be alone.”

Olivia swallowed back a surprising surge of emotion. They did. All of them but Cara had lost their families. They’d supported each other through the losses and continued to watch out for each other, including an in-person coffee every Saturday at Covington Corner. The oldest corner to grace the downtown square had seen many changes, but now housed a cute coffee shop and outdoor seating area with a fountain. Perfect for them!

“I know the phone can go out at any minute,” Piper said, “so I’ll keep it short. Since you probably don’t have reception right now, the weatherman is saying the worst of the storm will be overnight and tomorrow early, then steady rain for several days. Watch that bridge. If the phone goes, you could be flooded in without contact for several days. Check in when you can, okay?”

“I will—”

Before Olivia could finish her sentence, the line went dead.

She stared at the receiver for a moment before putting it back on the old rotary base. That was probably her last conversation for days, as it would take a while after the storm was over for repair crews to make it this far from town. The silence settled around her for a short moment before the sounds of the storm crowded in.

Instead of letting her earlier nerves press forward, Olivia went to light the fire in the sitting room and secure the house for the night. The sound of the rain beating against the sides of the antebellum house and tin roof reverberated in her ears even though she was on the ground floor. The lantern created moving shadows on the walls as she went from room to room, never quite reaching the corners.

Olivia had loaded the woodbox earlier, here near the fireplace and on the back porch. Because she’d prepped starter in the fireplace, all she had to do was set a match to it. The days weren’t too cool this far into spring, but the nights could be, especially with the old heating system cut off. Besides, a fire would help her feel warmer…less alone…more settled, maybe?

Twenty minutes later she had a growing fire, warm pajamas, no bra, and her own comfy nest on the sofa. The flickering flames created points of light that shimmered off the fireplace bricks, golden picture frames on the walls, and the edges of the antique furniture. Olivia smiled over her fluffy blanket, hot chocolate, romance novel…everything inside of her relaxed.

She’d only read a couple of paragraphs, just enough to commiserate with the heroine’s bad first impression of the hero when an odd noise caught her attention.

Olivia cocked her head to the side. Was that more thunder? A tree falling?

No.

The repetitiveness of the thud negated her previous thoughts. What was that? She stood, staring back into the darkness of the house, the heat from the fire kissing her neck.

But she wasn’t soothed. All her senses jumped to high alert.

The next recurrence had her grabbing the flashlight from the side table. Her very special flashlight. Because that was a knock—at the front door.

Who in the world would be out here at this time of night? In this kind of storm?

For just a moment, a brief hope surged that maybe one of her brothers had taken it on himself to check on her. Maybe they cared enough— She quickly pushed it away. They wouldn’t even know where to look for her if they were even so inclined.

Which they wouldn’t be.

She edged toward the door with caution. Checking her cell was useless. It wouldn’t work in the house. But she doubted her girlfriends could reach her if she needed them, anyway. Another knock had her jumping. Then the knock turned to pounding.

“I hear you…” she murmured.

Finally she stepped into the foyer and let the beam from the flashlight hit the glass insert on the front door. A shadow shifted on the other side. A tall shadow. What the hell?

She gripped the little flashlight tight in her hand and made her way to the door. The glass insert was beveled, leaving it wavy with no clear picture of who was on the other side. Her breath sped up, sounding loud in her ears.

Olivia forced herself to think quick. Moving forward, she attached the rarely used safety chain across the door. Only then did she release the lock and pull the door open—but just a couple of inches.

“Yes?” she said to the dark figure on the other side, hating her need to clear the tightness from her throat. “May I help you?”

A man stepped into the beam of light. His dark, encompassing hoodie and faded jeans and boots that looked like he’d been wading through the mud gave a criminal first impression. Olivia couldn’t see many details of his face, except for a blondish-brown beard and abundant drops of water dripping from his clothes to the ground.

Behind him, rain washed through the air in heavy sheets that did not bode well for anyone stepping off this porch.

Not that she’d be giving him any other choice.

Fact was, she was a young woman here alone. She didn’t know this man, but she had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to be here. She kept a firm grip on the flashlight despite the door chain.

“Yes?” she asked again.

“I’m here to see Mrs. Mason.” The voice was deep, confirming he was male, and not someone she recognized.

Her stomach tightened. “She can’t come to the door right now.”

Olivia resorted to the standard southern reply. She didn’t want him knowing she was here alone. Let him make of it what he would.

“I was told this is where Mrs. Della Mason lived,” he said again. “It’s urgent that I see her.”

“Well, she can’t see you. And the power is out, so now’s not a good time. You’ll have to come back.”

“Look, it’s important.” He stepped closer to the door, blocking out sight of the rain with his broad shoulders. “It’s about her family.”

His urgency made her uneasy enough to shift on her feet. “Well, it can wait until morning. Good night.”

As she tried to shut the door, he stuck a muddy boot inside. “Look, lady. I will see her now.”

Excuse me?

Olivia's heart raced. She gripped the handle, wondering if she’d actually have to defend herself. She kept her tone firm. “You’ll do no such thing. Get back in your car and go home.”

“I haven’t come all this way just to come back tomorrow.”

Wow. This guy’s aggressiveness had all her alarm bells going off at once. Even this close, she could barely make out long lashes, a straight nose, and full lips. Surprisingly sexy lips. Every nerve ending stood on end as she glanced down at his boot, trying to determine her options.

“You don’t have any choice,” she said, not sure how she would back that up.

“Why?”

His persistence pushed her from uneasy to angry. “Go away!” she yelled as she stepped back, glancing around for something to defend herself.

Suddenly the door jerked from her hand. His grunt made her think he’d pulled it away, but then the door slammed hard against his foot. He stumbled back with a cry. Eyes wide, Olivia watched in shock as the door then banged shut…and the deadbolt clicked.

It took her a minute. She stared, trying to comprehend. Then she murmured, “Thank you, Mr. Mason.”

Serves you right, asshole…

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