Standalones
“Jessica Lemmon knocks it out of the park!”
The Haunted Mansion Book:
Excerpt from If You Dare
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Lily McIntire pulled to a stop in the crumbling driveway of 102 Willow Street in Fantom, Ohio. Dust settled around her car, revealing the decaying building in front of her, its slats weather-beaten, front door padlocked, and porch stairs splintering. You know, the place where she’d be getting absolutely no sleep tonight.
She chewed on her lip and reconsidered leaving the sanctuary of her car. But she had to. A gauntlet had been thrown, and thrown by a man she refused to lose to. Again.
Dammit.
“Probably just full of spiders, anyway,” she said aloud as she unbuckled her seat belt. Her voice came out paper- thin and not infused with the courage she so desperately needed, but she ignored that. She also ignored the fact that she hated spiders, and any number of creepy-crawly things, all of which were probably living in communal harmony
inside the decrepit building. “Look at the bright side,” she grumbled, climbing out of the car. “Spiders are better than what is allegedly lurking around here.”
This might have been the one and only case where spiders were preferable.
It seemed dangerous to admit even to herself that she was scared half out of her wits just being there, let alone staying overnight. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to give Marcus Black the satisfaction of winning the stupidest bet on earth.
One night in Willow Mansion would get her a four-day, five-night trip to Hawaii. All expenses included. And after two years of busting her hump as one of two lead designers at Cameron Designs, she had earned it. The dare Marcus threw at her feet? It was a no brainer. And if she lost, she’d owe him one date. One work date. She could do this. She would do this.
Straightening her shoulders, she tromped to the front of the house, kicking loose gravel and crunching a stray leaf here and there. The foliage had changed from green to burnished gold a few weeks ago. Some leaves still stubbornly clung to the trees, but the majority lay strewn in the overgrown grass and clogging the warped gutters overhead.
Lovely.
Other than a few obvious building code violations, the house didn’t appear too oppressive in the streaming sunlight. And under the wide, bowing maples, dappled with late September sunshine, Willow Mansion was almost...well... charming. Not that she’d recommend refurbishing it into a summer home or anything, but one night wouldn’t be that bad. A pleasant breeze kicked Lily’s hair and stuck a few stray strawberry-blond tendrils to her lip gloss. She tugged them away and smiled at the relic before her with newfound appreciation. Maybe all the rumors about the mansion had been wildly exaggerated.
A creak sounded overhead, and she diverted her attention to the upstairs windows. An ancient shutter shifted on its hinges, let out a grating whine, and fell from its precarious perch. She leaped to the right, a pathetic squeak trembling in her throat as the shutter crashed to the ground and sent a spray of pebbles onto her shoes. Heart hammering against her ribs, she glanced upward again and reconsidered going inside. Spiders or ghosts were now the least of her worries. Having a ceiling collapse in on her, on the other hand...
“Get me through this,” she said to the Man Upstairs through clenched teeth. “And I’ll never drink tequila again.” Yes. Tequila. All bad ideas started with tequila.
And usually ended with them, too…
. . .
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