I read objects. I touch a thing and I get whoever owned it — their last four minutes, their worst Tuesday, all of it.
So I wear gloves. I've worn them since I was nine.
Then I picked up a burned motel key in a dead man's storage unit, and I saw a man locked in a room that was already on fire.
The bikers who came looking for that key don't scare easy. Their VP does. Deacon Vance is all silence and scar tissue, and the second my bare hand landed on his jacket, I knew things about him nobody living knows.
He should have sent me home.
Instead he asked me to ride.
Now there's a guest book in the Nevada desert writing down names before their owners arrive — and mine is already on the page, in handwriting that died in 1981.
Whose handwriting is it?
Genre: Paranormal Romance
So I wear gloves. I've worn them since I was nine.
Then I picked up a burned motel key in a dead man's storage unit, and I saw a man locked in a room that was already on fire.
The bikers who came looking for that key don't scare easy. Their VP does. Deacon Vance is all silence and scar tissue, and the second my bare hand landed on his jacket, I knew things about him nobody living knows.
He should have sent me home.
Instead he asked me to ride.
Now there's a guest book in the Nevada desert writing down names before their owners arrive — and mine is already on the page, in handwriting that died in 1981.
Whose handwriting is it?
Genre: Paranormal Romance
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Used availability for Tessa Knox's Ride the Ash