Maggie Blackbird

Snippet Sunday is a group where writers come together to share a few sentences about their current project–whether it’s a recently released novel, a WIP (work in progress), or an older manuscript that’s being revived. For my third post, I am sharing a snippet from my upcoming publication She Talks to Eagles, a time-travel, paranormal romance.

He’s shocked that the beautiful girl in the picture is alive…

Maybe the stories of the notorious Route 66 are true because road trips don’t result in encountering ghosts, but they do for Collin Bird.  When he spies a beautiful girl hitchhiking during a thunderstorm, he can’t believe his eyes.  It’s Rosemary, a young woman from his Ojibway community who went missing over forty years ago.

Rosemary Kakeway is dead.  Her only hope to reach the spirit world is Collin.  Before departing to the place of her ancestors, she seeks vengeance against her killers, and Collin is the man to help her do just that.

A ride with Rosemary through pea-soup fog brings Collin to 1977, where he meets a very much alive nineteen-year-old Rosemary.  The bold and wild girl is nothing like he imagined her to be as she introduces him to a time he embraces.  Knowing they are meant to be together, neither wishes to say goodbye, but that’s up to Rosemary’s spirit in the twenty-first century to decide.

Genre(s): Paranormal Romance, Time Travel Romance, First Nations Romance, Contemporary Romance
Heat Rating: Level 2
Publication Date: Coming Soon
Publisher: eXtasy Books

(Note: This is an unedited piece.)

Just as Collin set his fingers on the volume button, the corner of his eye caught the slim silhouette in his right headlight.  Someone was out on the road in this mess?  A woman?  He let his foot off the gas and downshifted, casting his gaze to the rearview mirror but he only saw his red taillights.

With the windshield wipers continuing to zoom back and forth, he guided the car to the shoulder and shifted the stick into neutral.  A shiver bumped down his spine.  He tried to shake off the eeriness crawling along his skin.  It wasn’t like a serial killer was lurking about on a stormy night.  Way too cliché, something straight out of a horror movie.

He threw open the door, shouting, “Hello?”

The rain pelted his face, so he drew up the hood to his hoodie.  Cupping both hands around his mouth, he again shouted, “Hello?”

Insane.  There was nobody out here drowning in the rain.  He threw open the car door and got back inside the vehicle.  What he saw…The eeriness on his skin intensified and his heart boomed louder than the crackling thunder.  How could this be?  She was missing.  Most likely dead.  But there she sat in the passenger seat—Rosemary Kakeway, the woman whose picture he’d studied a million times.

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