Title: Calling Back Love
Author: Margaret L. Carter
Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance
Book Blurb:
War has stolen Kirsten’s fiance Shawn from her. After he’s reported missing and presumed dead in Afghanistan, she turns to witchcraft to bring him back. Though she can’t recall him from the dead, magic can grant them one last weekend together for a proper farewell. Once she has tasted his love again, she can hardly bear the thought of letting him go. Yet even this brief interlude violates the laws of nature. There is no way to make his return permanent—or is there?
Excerpt:
A white glare shone at the edge of Kirsten’s vision. She spun around to find the room ablaze with light. For a second it blinded her. Before she could raise her hands halfway toward covering her eyes, the light dimmed from white to rose. Her strength drained away. She collapsed to her hands and knees. The room dissolved around her while her stomach lurched as if she were plunging through the upside-down loop of a roller coaster.
Her head spun, and her vision grayed out. With a crack like thunder, reality twisted into its normal shape. The glow faded to nothing. Until her eyes cleared, she gulped deep breaths to keep from fainting. She had to blink for a few seconds until she adjusted to candlelight and the faint illumination from the ceiling lamp in her bedroom across the hall.
Shawn stood in the middle of the room wearing a camouflage uniform mottled with sand-brown and leaf-green. Around the edges of the helmet, his dark hair looked matted with sweat. Dust coated his skin and clothes. Sun exposure had darkened his usual tan and etched fine lines on his face.
It worked! He’s here.
Or was he? Could she have conjured up an astral projection or a ghost instead of a living man?
Wild-eyed, he glanced from side to side, a rifle clutched in his hands. His gaze locked on her. “Kirsten?” His voice sounded hoarse, half strangled. His grip slackened to point the weapon at the floor. “What are you doing here?”
Her chest ached with pent-up breath. She had to swallow a lump before she could force out an answer. “I’m right where I’ve always been.” She took one step toward him, wary of how he might react to sudden moves.
He scanned the room more slowly. “This is home. San Diego. How did I get here?”
Step by step, she closed the gap between them until she could pluck the rifle from his grip. She gingerly laid it flat in a corner before touching him, her fingers alighting on his forearms. Solid, not a spirit. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Leading my platoon through a mountain pass. We worked our way up a rocky trail with scrubby bushes on both sides. My sergeant took point in front of me—there was an explosion—I was right behind him—and now I’m here.” He grabbed her arms. “This is impossible. I should be dead. Or wounded, maybe.”
“But you’re not. You’re with me.” She stepped still closer and rested her palms on his chest. He smelled like dust, sweat, and gun oil.
“I’m dreaming, right? Or having one of those near-death hallucinations. Sooner or later I’ll wake up dead.” He let go of one of her arms to rub his eyes. “That’s got to be it. This is like that Owl Creek Bridge story we watched on the Twilight Zone marathon Christmas weekend, isn’t it?”
“Think of it that way if you want. The important thing is we’re together.”
He cupped her cheek. “You feel so real.”
“So do you. Act like it’s real and make the most of it.” She unbuckled his helmet, pulled it off, and dropped it to the floor. Running her fingers through his damp hair, she too could hardly believe they were touching in the flesh. Her hands shook as she traced the outline of his head, massaged the nape of his neck, and kneaded his shoulders.
He nuzzled her hair. “You smell like incense.”
“Oh.” She reluctantly let go of him. “Wait. Don’t move.”
He flashed a fleeting smile. “I’m not going anywhere if I can possibly help it.”
She scurried to the altar, traced a glyph of closure on the polished wood with the hazel wand, murmured a phrase to dismiss lingering energies, and blew out the candle. When she returned to Shawn’s side and twined her right arm through his left, he said, “You were casting a spell?”
“Praying to the Goddess for you.” That was close enough to the truth without revealing facts she couldn’t let him know.
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The heroine grapples with the question of whether it’s possible – or, even if so, morally lawful – to use magic to undo her lover’s death.
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Author Biography:
Reading Dracula at the age of twelve ignited Margaret L. Carter’s interest in a wide range of speculative fiction and inspired her to become a writer. Vampires, however, have always remained close to her heart. Her first published book was an anthology of vampire stories she edited, Curse of the Undead. Her work on vampirism in literature includes Dracula: The Vampire and the Critics, The Vampire in Literature: A Critical Bibliography, and Different Blood: The Vampire as Alien. She holds a PhD in English, and her dissertation contained a chapter on Dracula. In fiction, she has written horror, fantasy, and paranormal romance on vampires, werewolves, Lovecraftian entities, and other “monsters.” Her stories have appeared in various webzines and anthologies, including several of Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Darkover and Sword and Sorceress volumes. Her vampire novels include Dark Changeling and its sequel, Child of Twilight, now available in an omnibus edition, Twilight’s Changelings, as well as several vampire romances. With her husband, Leslie Roy Carter, a retired naval officer, she co-authored a fantasy series beginning with Wild Sorceress. Her recent novellas include a Christmas paranormal romance, Chocolate Chip Charm, and a spring-themed contemporary fantasy, Bunny Hunt. Her most recent novel, Against the Dark Devourer, is a dark paranormal romance with Lovecraftian elements. She and Les, who live in Maryland, have four children and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Please explore love among the monsters at Carter’s Crypt: http://www.margaretlcarter.com
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