Farraway Mist
by 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.
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Excerpt 2
It was a glorious
day for being outdoors. Scout was enchanted with her new clubs, and enchanting
as well. She exclaimed over how well balanced they were, and how well they
swung, their heft. And how shiny they were, and how pretty the color was.
George just smiled, pleased with how well received his gift was.
They played the
whole links, while the dogs bounced back and forth, rambling along the
different scents. In golf, at least, they were well-matched, and had a good
game, with Scout having the weaker but more accurate stroke.
The fog and mist
began to come up just as they reached the last few holes. "Maybe we should
stop," George suggested, looking around.
"Oh, come
on, this is all private, right?" Scout coaxed. "No one else is
around, there's no danger of anyone up ahead getting hit by a ball or
anything." She looked at him imploringly. "We can be quick, can't we?
It's just that I haven't played in so long."
"Okay, but
let's be very quick," George stressed, once again enticed by the lovely
sight of her hips as they twisted when she swung her club. "You've seen
how rapidly the mist can come up."
They played
through quickly, trying to see up ahead as the fog rose up the cliffs.
George tried to
explain the topography a little to help out, and Scout did okay, calling on her
memory from her previous walk along the links. They kept the dogs close to
avoid hitting one of them with an errant ball.
The fog finally
got thick enough to block out the sun, and Scout pulled on her sweater, which
had been tied around her slender waist.
"You
cold?" George asked. "We can head back if you like?" He stepped
close and rubbed her arm.
Scout shook her
head.
"This is
the last hole, right?" she asked. "Let's finish." George nodded
and stepped up to the tee.
They played
through, by which time their hair was wet from the mist and fog. They could
hear the waves, too, crashing into the rocks. They quickly shouldered their
clubs and began walking toward the house, which was shrouded in fog.
"Scout!
Slow down, please. Remember how slippery this bit here can be," George
entreated.
Scout nodded and
slowed her steps. After a minute or two, she stopped and looked around.
"Where's Jess?" she asked.
George, too,
looked. "Fuck it all, where's she gone off to now?" he asked,
irritated beyond all measure. For no reason he could fathom, he was uneasy. He
wanted to get back to the house, he wanted to get Scout back to the house. The
longer they stayed outside, the more nervous he felt.
"Keep
going, Scout, carefully, though. I'll call Jess and catch up in a mo,
okay?" he said.
Scout was going
to say she'd just wait with him, but she saw the look on his face and just
nodded, not wanting to worry him any more, and turned and kept walking. They
had to be pretty close to the house by now, anyway.
"Jess! Come
on, girl!" George called. Bandit, understanding that Jess' absence was
gumming up the works, promptly went to look for her. George knew that he'd find
her and bring her back right away, and that she'd probably be contrite and
embarrassed.
Jess was nothing
if not polite.
He turned to see
how far ahead Scout was, and stopped dead in his tracks. Oh god.
There was
something on the trail next to her, some amorphous shape, darker than the
surrounding fog. It was hovering about eight inches off the ground, hulking
over Scout, who didn't seem aware of its presence.
"Scout!"
Her name was torn from his mouth, a warning which she would never understand.
How could he convey what he needed from this distance with mere words? That she
needed to run, defend herself, be careful?
Scout turned
toward him, not understanding her danger, but hearing the terror in his voice.
As she turned, she slipped, dropping her clubs with a clatter. She grabbed for
the railing, which she knew she should've been holding all along.
She lost her
footing, reaching desperately for the iron fencing. She saw George drop his own
clubs, coming toward her at a dead run, Bandit appearing out of the fog behind
him like a wraith. There was no way he'd reach her in time.
The ground
beneath her feet began to crumble, and Scout knew that she was going to fall,
and probably die. It was at least a couple hundred feet down to the beach
below, and it wasn't a
soft, sandy beach, but rather a rocky, cove-like one, deep and beautiful for
taking photographs. The stairs were cut sharply into the cliffs, and she would
probably hit most of them on the way down.
Fuck.
There was a
brief moment when she thought she could save herself, when she managed to grab
the edge.
But then,
inexplicably, she felt something else, and it pushed her, pushed her body and
hands, peeling her fingers off and shoving her over the edge.
And suddenly,
just as she was sure she was going to fall, George was there, throwing himself into
the breech, literally throwing himself behind her somehow, grabbing her around
the waist, changing her trajectory, so she fell, not into the chasm underneath,
but onto a tiny ledge, a V-shaped opening between two rocks carved into the
stairs.
They both landed
with a hard thump, hitting the rock wall hard. Scout carried the momentum for
both of them, being so much lighter, and kept going, nearly over the edge.
George kept his hold around her waist, hauling her back just in time. He pulled
her close, his heart beating like a triphammer in his chest.
They looked at
each other, knowing how close their escape had been, both breathing like they'd
just run a marathon.
"Oh my god,
George, thank you," Scout gasped through chattering teeth. They looked
around at their tiny, wet surroundings.
Now what?
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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