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The Drake House

Kelly Moran is a bestselling author of enchanting ever-afters. She gets her ideas from everyone and everything around her and there's always a book playing out in her head. No one who knows her bats an eyelash when she talks to herself. Kelly is a RITA® Finalist, RONE Award-Winner, Catherine Award-Winner, Readers Choice Finalist, Holt Medallion Finalist, and landed on the "Must Read" & "10 Best Reads" lists at USA TODAY's Lifestyle blog. She is a proud Romance Writers of America® member, where she was an Award of Excellence Finalist. Her books have foreign translation rights in Germany, the Czech Republic, and the Netherlands. Kelly's interests include: sappy movies, MLB, NFL, driving others insane, and sleeping when she can. She is a closet coffee junkie and chocoholic, but don't tell anyone. She's originally from Wisconsin, but she resides in South Carolina with her three sons, her two dogs, and a cat. She loves hearing from her readers. www.AuthorKellyMoran.com Trisha Eaton has been plagued by mysterious nightmares ever since her parents adopted her as a young girl. She chalked them up to childish nuisances until they return-- with a vengeance. Something about the Drake house next door to her family’s apple orchard haunts her. Now, her night terrors and sleepwalking seem to be luring her to something dark. When a series of strange events crops up, Trisha turns to Nick Mackey. As the new deputy in town, Nick just wants to put his traumatic past behind him. An undeniable attraction for Trisha has piqued interest and has him wondering if a shot at a normal life was possible. But Trisha has somehow struck a nerve, and a long-buried secret. A secret that someone they know will kill to keep veiled. Uncovered answers only seem to lead to more questions in a case where nothing makes sense. One chilling fact remains... some nightmares are all too real.

Kelly Moran · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
69 Chs

Chapter 6

"Get your fingers out of there." Nancy swatted Eduardo's hand away from her serving platter.

Eduardo sat with a plop next to Trisha at the kitchenette table and frowned. "You're her boss. Can't you do something?"

"I already got my hand slapped away. Besides," she said with a smile, "I learned a long time ago this is your wife's kitchen and I should stay out of the way."

"That's right," Nancy claimed without looking up from her task. "You're going out anyway. This is for our guests."

"It's just Wayne," Trisha informed. "He won't mind if we nibble some."

Nancy poked her head up with a look only a mother could give. "You invited that nice new man, too."

"He won't come. I was mean to him."

Nancy did her best to hide a smirk. "And why were you mean to him?"

Before she could answer, Chuck barreled through the kitchen door wearing what he called his "nice jeans" and a black T-shirt that said Ladies Beware. Brad trailed after quietly and sat down at the table across from her.

"Are we ready for guy's night out?" Chuck asked Eduardo.

Trisha shook her head and rose to smooth her knee-length plaid print skirt. "Just make sure one of you stays sober so I don't have to come get you again."

"You look nice." Brad offered her a bland, unreadable expression despite the compliment. What he was really saying was, You put on a skirt for the new guy.

No, she hadn't. Trisha just liked to wear something besides jeans all the time. She adjusted her long-sleeved black shirt and checked her black tights. "Thanks."

Chuck beamed from ear to ear. "It's the naughty schoolgirl outfit. Very nice. Who's coming over?"

Eduardo broke out in uproarious laughter. He put his hands up to surrender at Trisha's unamused glare. "Hey, I didn't say it this time."

"This is not a naughty schoolgirl outfit," Trisha defended. "And it's just Wayne coming over." How sad was it that the workmen know her wardrobe?

"Don't forget the nice new deputy," Nancy chirped, not even bothering to hide her smirk now.

"He's not nice, his name is Nick, and he's not coming."

Chuck made gushy noises. "Oooh, Trish has a date."

Nancy pulled off her oven mitts and rushed to answer the doorbell. Chuck took the opportunity when Trisha was distracted to throw her over his shoulder, hauling her around the corner and into the living room.

God, anything to embarrass her. "I am not a sack of potatoes. Put me down!" She checked desperately to make sure her skirt hadn't hiked up to her waist, relieved it hadn't. "I can fire you, you know."

Chuck gripped her harder as she squirmed so she wouldn't fall. His collar-length dishwater hair fell over his round cheeks as she thrashed. "That threat stopped working a long time ago."