Catriona’s
Curse
A.
T. Weaver
Genre: M/M romance, paranormal,
historical, fiction
Date of Publication: Dec. 2011
ISBN: 1470039168 * ASIN: B0060QDEP2
Number of pages: 239 * Word Count: 73,600
Cover Artist: Brad Shaw and Ken
Clark
Book Description:
Although Sunny Nelson was raised in
a dual theology family, he doesn’t really believe in reincarnation nor does
Jeff Davis. However, the visions and dreams Sunny keeps having lead them to be
regressed where they discover they have at least two past lives together.
With Jeff’s sister April, they
discover and attempt to dispel the spell cast by Sunny in one of these past
lives. Along the way Sunny and Jeff fall in love. Jeff finds Sunny’s Pagan
practices and the idea of reincarnation unsettling at first, but eventually
decides to accept them if he wants to be with Sunny.
Available at: Amazon Smashwords
Excerpt:
Boonville, Missouri, June 17, 2009
SUNNY
“Granddad, what
have you gotten me into now?” I thought as I drove down the gravel driveway
lined with majestic oak and walnut trees toward the one-hundred-fifty-year-old,
three-story rock mansion.
My name is Sunshine
Nelson, thanks to my hippie parents. Actually my first name is Matthew but,
since my dad was Matt, I’ve always been called Sunny. I’m almost thirty-five
years old and live in Los Angeles, California. My parents have known for nearly
twenty years I’m gay. They aren’t really happy with the fact, but have accepted
it.
My father’s father
died and left me this house my fourth-great grandfather built just prior to the
Civil War. My parents insisted I take a few days off work, fly to Missouri and
check out the place. In Mom’s words, “Getting away from California and Dan will
help you get over him.” After three months, I thought I was over Dan, but
seeing him at Dino’s Restaurant last week with his little bear cub hurt more
than it should have. After all, you don’t get over eight years of loving
someone overnight.
The sticky humid
eighty-five degrees made my mood somewhat touchy. I spent last night in Kansas
City with my old college roommate, Jack, and his partner, Bret. When Bret
suggested he tag along to keep me company, I had no idea what was in store for
me. We hadn’t gone twenty miles before I regretted bringing him along. Over the
last two hours I’d endured his unending flirty innuendoes and stories about the
sex parties he and Jack throw. I’m not one to indulge in sex just for the sake
of sex. I believe in monogamous relationships. I know they’re possible. I have
friends who’ve been together over forty years.
Driving toward the
house, I noticed newly-broken limbs on a few of the trees, but most of them seemed
to be healthy and well trimmed. The yard looked as though it could stand to be
mowed, but it wasn’t what I’d call overgrown. I stopped the car about fifty
yards from the house and studied it. The house stood just off Rocheport Road
about five miles outside of Boonville. Made of native stone, it sat in the
middle of an expansive lawn. The long drive formed a semi-circle in front of
the house.
A wide flat-roofed
veranda held up by huge pillars fronted the house and continued around both
sides reminiscent of the southern mansions I’d seen in movies. Except for a few
missing shingles on the roof and peeling paint on the wooden veranda, it
appeared to be in good repair. A sense of calmness settled over me. I felt like
I’d come home from a long trip.
Bret’s voice
interrupted my thoughts, “That looks more like a hotel than a private
residence; it’s huge.”
His words ignited
the glimmer of an idea into my head. I put the car into gear and drove the rest
of the way down the drive.
As we got out of
the car, Bret asked, “Sunny, do you see a shadow in the window to the right of
the door? Your grandma didn’t say anything about the place being haunted, did
she?”
I removed my
sunglasses and looked up. A female-shaped shadow quickly disappeared. “Not to
me. But then, she’s never been here. The only member of the family who ever saw
the place was Granddad the year he inherited it from a distant cousin. None of
us has been back since and no one has lived in it for twenty years. I’m going
to look inside. Watch the steps, they might be rotten.”
Bret fanned
himself with his scarf. “I think I’ll wait in the car with the air conditioning
on if you don’t mind.”
“Be my guest,” I
sighed. “If you weren’t wearing that scarf, you wouldn’t be so hot.”
“You’re just like
Jack,” Bret whined. “You don’t know anything about fashion.”
“I prefer comfort
to fashion.” I retrieved my camera from the car and took several shots of the
grounds before entering the house.
* * *
JEFF
My sister and I
were in what everyone called the haunted bedroom when we heard the car pull up.
April ran to the window and looked down. “Wow. Dibs on the blond; he’s
beautiful.”
I walked up behind
her and took a look for myself. The tall blond removed his sunglasses and I
felt a déjà vu like stirring deep inside. I knew I’d never seen him before. I’d
have remembered. He looked to be a little over six feet tall, athletically
built and close to my age. A pair of light blue trousers hung loosely around
his legs and a short-sleeved, cream-colored pullover almost the same color of
his hair accented his taut abs. Just then a ray of sunlight hit his hair and it
shone like silver.
On the other hand,
the man who got out of the passenger side was several inches under six feet and
stocky with dark hair. His outfit marked him as obviously gay. He wore grey
trousers and a coral long-sleeved, button-down shirt. A grey scarf the same
shade as his trousers wound around his neck.
“Sorry, sister
dear, but judging from his companion you aren’t his type,” I said.
Her voice
registered disappointment, “And I suppose you are?”
“More so than you.
It seems a shame if he’s taken.”
“I don’t know.
They don’t look very well matched if you ask me.” She shrugged, “But there’s no
accounting for taste.”
April left the
room and I followed.
About
the Author:
A. T. Weaver is the pen name of a
divorced grandmother of eleven, great-grandmother of one. She lives with her
cat, Cleopatra, in downtown Kansas City, MO.
When she was growing up, the word
gay meant happy and carefree and homosexuals were called queer or
‘one-of-those’. However, she never heard those terms until she was married and
a mother. When two men moved in down the street from their mobile home, her
husband had to explain they were queer. As far as she was concerned, they were
just a couple of men sharing a trailer.
In 2003, through a TV show called
Boy Meets Boy, A.T ‘met’ over 3,000 gay men in a Yahoo group. These men
educated her as to the inequalities suffered by the LGBT community and she
became a staunch ally. She visited one of the men in San Francisco who lived
just up the street from the Castro. As he showed her around, they stopped in
front of what was once Harvey Milk’s camera store. Her question, “Who was
Harvey Milk?” started her education into Gay history.
A. T.’s aim is to move you in some way. Whether you laugh or cry, love it or hate it, she welcomes all comments, whether good or bad.
A. T.’s aim is to move you in some way. Whether you laugh or cry, love it or hate it, she welcomes all comments, whether good or bad.
Tour
giveaway :
2 print copies any book on AT
Weaver’s backlist
(winner’s choice)
3 ebook copies any book on AT
Weaver’s backlist
(winner’s choice)
Booklover Sue, I would let you pick the book for me, since you have just introduced me to A.T. I read her bio on Amazon, and I was truly touched.
ReplyDeleteIf I am lucky enough to picked as one of the winners then I might actually make a choice, as I have a few of AT Weavers titles on my wish list and would love to win any of them. Thank you for the chance
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