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Publication date: May 26th 2014
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal
Goodreads
Synopsis:
The Horseman is unending,
his presence shan’t lessen.
If you break the curse,
you become the legend.
Washington Irving and Rip Van Winkle had no choice but to cover up the deadly truth behind Ichabod Crane’s disappearance. Centuries later, a Crane returns to Sleepy Hollow awakening macabre secrets once believed to be buried deep.
What if the monster that spawned the legend lived within you?
Now, Ireland Crane, reeling from a break-up and seeking a fresh start, must rely on the newly awakened Rip Van Winkle to discover the key to channeling the darkness swirling within her. Bodies are piling high and Ireland is the only one that can save Sleepy Hollow by embracing her own damning curse.
But is anyone truly safe when the Horseman rides?
Excerpt
The
plush terry cloth robe slipped from Ireland’s shoulders with a whispering
caress before pooling in a heap around her ankles. Marble tiles chilled her
bare feet as she stepped into the walk-in shower. The tips of her fingers slid across
stainless steel. With a flick of her wrist, the trio of showerheads flowed to
life. Welcoming heat came at her from all angles, pulsating over her curves with
a rhythmic seduction. Ireland turned, a groan escaping her as the streams
massaged all the right places. Steam rose, fogging the handle and creating a
cloud of humidity that hugged her frame. Tipping her head back, she let the
droplets rain down on her face and across her closed lids. Her lips parted,
welcoming the rush of warmth that flooded between them. Until it assaulted her
tongue with a rush of coppery warmth that clamped her throat shut with a
wretched heave. Her hands cupped to catch the droplets, her eyes widening as
thick crimson pooled in her palms, seeping between her ivory fingers. Formerly
white tiles were now smattered and smeared with blackish-red gore that sprayed
from the nozzles. Ireland threw herself from the shower, her feet slipping
beneath her. She reached out to steady herself, but found nothing to hold on
to. Nothing there to pull her back from the brink, except her own need for
self-preservation … and a shadowed silhouette in the corner. Instinctively, she
covered herself with her arms. Squinting, she craned her neck to see the figure
that was slowly turning to face her.
“Mason?”
Her voice echoed around her before she could even speak it.
He
stared straight ahead with fixed, unseeing eyes. Blood trailed down his face
from various points of origin, soaking the front of his shirt. “Cloak of night,
brings Horseman’s plight. His pricy toll, will be a soul.”
“Mason?
Are you okay?”
A
hard blink and his eyes found focus on her. A desperate panic flared his
nostrils, forcing his breath to come fast and ragged. “Help me, you have to
help me,” he pleaded, his teeth pink with the blood that streamed past his
lips.
Her
trembling hand reached for him, then recoiled at her own inept state of
confusion. “H-how? What do I do?”
“You
have to save us,” Mason’s words became more garbled by the fresh rush of gore
that bubbled up the back of his throat. His once handsome face contorted in
rage. Leaning forward he balled his fists and screamed with a force that bulged
the tendons of his neck, “Save us!”
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