The Pit and the Passion

She held her gaze steady, mainly so she could delve deep, deep into those chocolate eyes. Together with his sharp, angular nose and intense, almost predatory, expression, he reminded her of a peregrine falcon on the hunt.

The Pit & the Passion

Monday, July 18, 2016

Brand New Romantic Ghost Story from Gray Dixon

Please welcome Gray Dixon and her fascinating new release--a romantic ghost story, Lost in the Sea of You.

Can you tell us about it?

On a February day as cold and dry as it gets in Maine, a mysterious boat appears high and dry in the middle of the small town of Marneport. That’s how Valentine’s Day began for Mikael Larson, ex-Army, relatively new sheriff and unattached man. By the time he walked into the station, the day turned weird on the way to the unexplained.

Convinced the event was nothing more than a prank, Mikael dismisses the story about a woman lost at sea fifty years ago in a boat fitting the description of the one found.

Expecting a night spent alone, he’s surprised and greeted by a woman seated on his doorstep. The bizarre story fascinating and waterlogged refugee tells has him wondering if he’s going crazy.
Crazy or coincidence her story matched the one of the woman lost at sea fifty years ago?

Or, was he falling in love with a figment of his imagination caused by the trauma he suffered in war?

Excerpt: The Day After

Damn it! What am I thinking? Disgust hit him square in the face. Had he gone so long without sex that he’d force his attentions on a woman he didn’t know? Lusting after a helpless woman sleeping in his bed was crazy. He needed to get out more.
Well damn it, that’s what he thought he did by moving to Marneport. He slipped deeper into the chair, grabbing the chenille throw and wrapped it around his shoulders. He had spent the remainder of the night chiding himself for thinking about the woman. Frankly, he’d spent too much time chasing after females who didn’t live up to his wants, needs or desires. He had high hopes for the relationship with Paula until everything they had once meant to one another collapsed in a deluge of finger pointing and recrimination. Why he spent one second thinking about her, he didn’t know. With one kiss, the cute bundle in his bed made him realize he could move on. Amid a flurry of reassuring thoughts warming his mind, he finally succumbed to the Sandman in the early morning hours.
Now, in the light of day, the memory of the kiss from the night before lingered and still warmed his skin when he awakened. As he glanced over at the slumbering angel who had danced erotically through his dreams, he stretched and readjusted in the club chair pushing against the ottoman his legs rested on. The forced movement caused the round stool to slide across the wood floor making a loud scraping noise. The woman stirred, moaning faintly as she fluttered her eyes open. Long, blonde tresses fell across her face.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
Obviously startled by his voice, she jerked backward. She opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. After clearing her throat, she attempted again. “You…you’re not Edmond. Who…who are you?” She scrunched under the cover, clinging to the bedcoverings tucked under her chin.
Standing, he stepped closer to the bed. “Mikael, Mikael Larson. You’re in the bedroom of my house.”
“Your house? No. This is Edmond’s house.”
The shaking covers made him realize she shivered from fear and not a chill.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. You were on my front porch when I arrived home last night. What’s your name?”
Tears glistened in her eyes as they widened to meet his. “Where’s Edmond?”
“I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t know who Edmond is. This is my house. I bought it several months ago. I’m the new sheriff in Marneport and I may be new, but I don’t remember meeting you before. Do you live around here or in the next town?”
“No, this is my home. I mean, this is Edmond’s but Marneport is my home. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
Taking another stride toward the bed, he searched for any apprehension on her part. Seeing none, he sat on the edge of the mattress at the foot of the bed. “I’d like to help since you did end up on my doorstep. Why don’t we start with the last thing you remember?”
The expression on her face told him everything. She appeared frightened, confused and not sure to trust him. “It is all right, I won’t hurt you. I’m trying to help. Why not start with your name.”

Moments passed before she spoke. “Nissa. My name is Nissa Moore.”

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About the Author

Gray Dixon, the nom de plume of erotica writer of hot, sexy stories for the adult crowd, loves walks along the beach at sunset, a glass of wine over a romantic dinner and a night of love.

On the serious side, she currently resides in Orlando, Florida, the land of magic, surrounded by the treasured gems in her life, a caring, loving husband, dutiful and loyal daughter, and precious, delightful granddaughter. Oh and not to forget her mischievous Silky terrier, Fitzy.

Many things excite Gray—crafting, watching the History Channel, reality shows (not all, but some), travel, and of course writing. She’s worked hard all her life in many interesting fields and enjoyed all of them, but she finally found enough time to relax and enjoy escaping into the worlds she creates through her stories. She writes contemporary and paranormal erotica with BDSM elements, and hopes readers will enjoy the tales she weaves.

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