Lori Wilde - There Goes The Bride (40 page)

The looking glass blurred.

She’d skipped breakfast this morning because she’d run out of Ramen noodles. Was that why she was feeling weak and a little dizzy? Tish blinked, shook her head. Her reflection swept in and out, her mirror image fading before her eyes as if she were in a slow, dreamy faint.

A face appeared. Indistinct at first. Fuzzy. A man’s face.

Her gut pitched and her knees swayed. Not just any face. But a familiar one. A face she loved. Joy, full and unexpected, filled her heart.

“Shane,” she whispered breathlessly. “Shane.”

And then she could see all of him. He was dressed the way she’d seen him last, in his Secret Service black suit, white shirt and black tie. Her man in black. Even through his clothes she could see the steel of his muscles and she knew that beneath the tailored material his body was ripped, perfectly define.

“Tish.” His jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed. Some who did not know him might think him angry. But she knew that look. She saw it in the edges of his mouth, the corner of his eyes. He was in pain. “I need you. I’m lost and I can’t find my way back. Help me, Tish, help me.”

Unable to believe-not what she was seeing in the mirror, but that the fact the her impossibly strong husband was calling out for her-she reached out a hand and her fingers touch the hard surface of the looking glass. Tish gasped as if she’d been splashed with cold water.

The vision vanished.

She stumbled backward, her temple pounding, eyes wide with awe and terror. She was back in her bedroom, back in the closet, gaping at the mirror, struggling to breathe. The cursed veil lay on the floor at her feet.

Her gut pitched. Her knees swayed. Impossible.

She reached out a hand and her fingers bumped into the hard surface of the mirror. Nothing was there except her own frightened reflection. Tish couldn’t explain what had just happened, or where she had been, but her body hummed and ached with raw energy, rattling her to the very core of her soul.

“Holy shit,” she exclaimed. “Shit, shit, shit. Today of all days, I certainly didn’t need this.”

THE DISH

Where authors give you the inside scoop!

From the desk of Annie Solomon

Dear Reader,

One of the fun things about writing my latest romantic suspense novel, DEAD SHOT (on sale now), is that it’s my first Nashville-set book, and I enjoyed using real locations around town. My heroine, Gillian Gray, is an art photographer who comes from a wealthy family. Their estate is in Belle Meade, which is where old Nashville money lives. The original wealth in that part of town came from racing horses on the Belle Meade Plantation, a historic site that is popular with visitors. There really is a statue of prancing horses at the beginning of Belle Meade Boulevard.

Out on Highway 100, just past the Loveless Café (best fried chicken and biscuits in town), you can see the house where Gillian lived when she was seven and found her mother’s murdered body. Or rather, the house I based my imaginary one on. The murderer was never caught, and Gillian’s been obsessed with death ever since.

The Gray Visual Arts Center is similar to the art museum in Nashville, in that it’s new (the real museum is several years older) and the arts community worked a long time to fund it. The real museum has never been picketed, but I can’t help wondering what would happen if it did exhibit Gillian’s macabre self-portraits—the dead shots of the title—which inspire several murders in the book.

When Gillian is attacked over her controversial photographs and someone starts re-creating them for real, her family hires a bodyguard, Ray Pearce. Ray lives in Sylvan Park, another actual location. As in the book, the streets are all named after states, and Nebraska, Ray’s street, actually exists. I pass by it on the way to Bobby’s Dairy Dip for their signature chocolate-dipped cones. Yum.

I know most people think of country music when they think of Nashville. But in DEAD SHOT, it’s murder and mayhem. So for a whole different take on my hometown—plus more real locations—check out my latest, DEAD SHOT. And next time you visit, you can check out the other side of Nashville, too.

www.anniesolomon.com

From the desk of Lori Wilde

Dear Reader,

When I first got the idea to write a series of bride-to-be stories centered on a magical, wish-granting wedding veil, I knew I had to do a little research. Google and I became fast friends as I scoured the Internet for bridal myths and legends. And then I discovered the coolest thing: There are only about eighty people left in the world who make hand-made rose point lace, and they’re all in Belgium.

I unearthed so many romantic stories about lace and wedding veils, it was mind-boggling. There was even one about a mysterious woman who supposedly made veils so beautiful, they cast a spell over anyone who wore them. Those fables were the jumping-off place for my imagination as I envisioned the most exquisite wedding veil ever made that also possessed the power to grant the wearer’s most heartfelt wish.

Then I thought, what if the women passed this wedding veil along from friend to friend as they each found their happily-ever-afters? What fun!

The Wedding Veil Wishes series starts with THERE GOES THE BRIDE (on sale now) and my heroine, Delaney Cartwright. Poor Delaney. As a kid she was the proverbial ugly duckling, and she still can’t believe she’s grown into a beautiful swan. She’s got a snobby, blue-blood mama she’s afraid to buck, and in her sleep she talks to the ghost of her dead sister. She’s been keeping all that bottled up inside for far too long!

Until the day the veil comes into her life and changes everything. Bravely, she wishes on the wedding veil, desperate to find a way out of her impending marriage to her childhood sweetheart. That’s when she meets sexy Houston PD detective Nick Vinetti, and everything starts to go completely
wrong
. . .

I hope you enjoy the book!

http://www.loriwilde.com