DEAD OVER HEELS: BLACKHAVEN MANOR, BOOK 6
Paranormal M/M Romance
47k+ Words
47k+ Words
It’s been twelve years since the Awakening. Otherlings are out of the paranormal closet. The whole world knows that creatures like vampires, werewolves, and witches exist. So, seeing dead people barely even rates on the freaky scale. Right?
Wrong.
Fritz Tolliver figures he must have done something terrible in a previous life to be afflicted with such a curse. In fact, every bad thing that has ever happened to him can be traced back to his unwanted ability. So, when a stupidly hot werewolf who’s way out of his league claims to be his mate, he should be thrilled. And he probably would have been if he hadn’t gone and gotten himself haunted by a nasty spirit on the same day.
When a human male strolls into the station asking for a job—and promptly spills an entire Americano on him—Sheriff Vander Hale has a feeling it’s going to be a bad day. Then, the door opens, the wind shifts, and suddenly, his whole world changes. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his mate, no battle he wouldn’t wage, even if his enemy is technically already dead. Unfortunately, there’s just one problem with his plan.
He’d go to hell and back for Fritz, but how is he supposed to fight something he can’t see?
Wrong.
Fritz Tolliver figures he must have done something terrible in a previous life to be afflicted with such a curse. In fact, every bad thing that has ever happened to him can be traced back to his unwanted ability. So, when a stupidly hot werewolf who’s way out of his league claims to be his mate, he should be thrilled. And he probably would have been if he hadn’t gone and gotten himself haunted by a nasty spirit on the same day.
When a human male strolls into the station asking for a job—and promptly spills an entire Americano on him—Sheriff Vander Hale has a feeling it’s going to be a bad day. Then, the door opens, the wind shifts, and suddenly, his whole world changes. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his mate, no battle he wouldn’t wage, even if his enemy is technically already dead. Unfortunately, there’s just one problem with his plan.
He’d go to hell and back for Fritz, but how is he supposed to fight something he can’t see?
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Excerpt
Soft footsteps against the linoleum drew his attention, and he glanced up as a male who looked to be in his early twenties stumbled to a stop at the end of the counter.
“Oh,” the guy breathed. “Um, hi.” He lifted his hand in a stiff wave.
Dressed in a red vest with a matching tie over a white button-down, he looked ridiculously out of place in the grungy station. He wore his dark hair a little longer on top and spiked with probably half a gallon of styling gel, but the look suited him, and it highlighted big, wide-set eyes the color of fresh cinnamon.
Eyes that could drown a man, that could pull him under so that he never wanted to surface.
Vander turned to Hardy and nodded. Okay, he’d give the deputy this one. Fritz was absolutely stunning.
Bringing his attention back to the newcomer, he softened his smile. “Hello, I’m Sheriff Vander Hale.”
“I’m—oh, I almost forgot!” He rushed over to the waiting area, which consisted of four folding chairs and two tiny, square tables. Grabbing a familiar-looking paper cup, he held it up like an offering. “I brought you coffee.”
Pleasantly surprised by the gift, Vander grinned. “I appreciate that.”
“Americano.” Fritz stared at the cup with a furrowed brow. “I think it’s black. I don’t know. Emrys made it.”
So, the little pixie was in on this scheme as well. Fritz must have made quite the impression for so many people to be pushing for Vander to give him a job. At that point, he half expected to start receiving calls from every person the guy had even briefly interacted with in town.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” In the eight years since he’d been going to the hotel café, Emrys had yet to make him a bad cup of coffee. “Thank you.”
“Right.” The guy ducked his head as his cheeks flushed an alluring shade of pink. “Well, here you go.” Still staring at the floor, he stretched his arm out as far as he could reach to offer the cup again.
Vander barely managed to choke back his laughter. Damn, the kid was a fucking mess, but in a sweet, endearing sort of way. He was beginning to see what all the fuss was about.
Stepping forward to take the drink, he didn’t anticipate that Fritz would decide to bring it to him instead. They collided in the middle of the waiting area, crushing the flimsy cup between them. Coffee exploded from the top like a geyser, spraying directly into Vander’s face and sloshing down the front of his uniform.
“Oh. My. God.” The blood drained from Fritz’s face, leaving him deathly pale, and he took several steps away on trembling legs. “I’m sorry. Shit, I am so sorry.” If possible, his eyes grew even bigger. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say shit.” Then, he dropped his head and whimpered. “Just shoot me now.”
“Oh,” the guy breathed. “Um, hi.” He lifted his hand in a stiff wave.
Dressed in a red vest with a matching tie over a white button-down, he looked ridiculously out of place in the grungy station. He wore his dark hair a little longer on top and spiked with probably half a gallon of styling gel, but the look suited him, and it highlighted big, wide-set eyes the color of fresh cinnamon.
Eyes that could drown a man, that could pull him under so that he never wanted to surface.
Vander turned to Hardy and nodded. Okay, he’d give the deputy this one. Fritz was absolutely stunning.
Bringing his attention back to the newcomer, he softened his smile. “Hello, I’m Sheriff Vander Hale.”
“I’m—oh, I almost forgot!” He rushed over to the waiting area, which consisted of four folding chairs and two tiny, square tables. Grabbing a familiar-looking paper cup, he held it up like an offering. “I brought you coffee.”
Pleasantly surprised by the gift, Vander grinned. “I appreciate that.”
“Americano.” Fritz stared at the cup with a furrowed brow. “I think it’s black. I don’t know. Emrys made it.”
So, the little pixie was in on this scheme as well. Fritz must have made quite the impression for so many people to be pushing for Vander to give him a job. At that point, he half expected to start receiving calls from every person the guy had even briefly interacted with in town.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” In the eight years since he’d been going to the hotel café, Emrys had yet to make him a bad cup of coffee. “Thank you.”
“Right.” The guy ducked his head as his cheeks flushed an alluring shade of pink. “Well, here you go.” Still staring at the floor, he stretched his arm out as far as he could reach to offer the cup again.
Vander barely managed to choke back his laughter. Damn, the kid was a fucking mess, but in a sweet, endearing sort of way. He was beginning to see what all the fuss was about.
Stepping forward to take the drink, he didn’t anticipate that Fritz would decide to bring it to him instead. They collided in the middle of the waiting area, crushing the flimsy cup between them. Coffee exploded from the top like a geyser, spraying directly into Vander’s face and sloshing down the front of his uniform.
“Oh. My. God.” The blood drained from Fritz’s face, leaving him deathly pale, and he took several steps away on trembling legs. “I’m sorry. Shit, I am so sorry.” If possible, his eyes grew even bigger. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say shit.” Then, he dropped his head and whimpered. “Just shoot me now.”