Susanne Matthews was born and raised in Cornwall, Ontario, Canada. She’s always been an
avid reader of all types of books, but always with a penchant for happily ever
after romances. In her imagination, she travelled to foreign lands, past and
present, and soared into the future. Today, gets to spend her time writing, so
she can share her adventures with her readers. She loves the ins and outs of
romance, and the complex journey it takes to get from the first word to the
last period of a novel. As she writes, her characters take on a life of their
own, and she shares their fears and agonies on the road to self-discovery and
love.
Follow Susanne on her:
Website: http://www.mhsusannematthews.ca/
Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/SLMauthor
Twitter @jandsmatt
Book Blurb for Echoes of the Past:
Born Mohawk, raised white, forensic pathologist, Michelle
Thomas is trapped between two worlds—this one and the spirit world where the
ghosts of those who’ve drowned speak to her. Haunted by crippling nightmares of
her own drowning death and erotic dreams of a phantom lover, she strives to
make sense of her life. When two suspicious deaths occur at the Lake of the
Mountain Resort, she’s sent to investigate. She’ll face the greatest challenge
of her career when her past and her present collide. One of these men is her
future, but which one—the rich and powerful Mayor Ron Davies, or Tony Steele,
the hydrology professor who may be responsible for his students’ deaths?
Charged by the spirits of her Mohawk ancestors to atone for her previous sins
by protecting Lake of the Gods, can Michelle solve the murders, save the sacred
waters, and fulfill her destiny?
Excerpt:
He lays on
his side on the animal hide, his head propped up on his elbow, watching her
sleep. How long does she think her excuse of gathering roots and snaring
rabbits will last, especially when she has so little to show for the time she’s
been away?
The naked
woman beside him stretches in her sleep. Her copper skin glows even in the
dimmest light. Her ebony hair spreads fan-like around her head. Her features
are fine, her lips lush, begging to be kissed. When open, her almond-shaped
brown eyes, flecked with gold, add to her exotic beauty. She’s unlike any woman
he’s ever known, and he’s known many despite his mixed blood. It’s craziness to
stay here like this, but he can’t leave without her. The odds of getting caught
increase with every visit she pays to his secret grotto, but he loves her more
than he’s ever thought possible.
He reaches
for her, runs his calloused hand down the side of her warm, silky torso. Her
nipples pucker at his touch. Her eyes open, and she smiles. She raises her arms
and pulls him down on top of her. His lips meet hers with an insatiable hunger.
His tongue delves into her warm, willing mouth, feasting on her sweetness, and
he hardens painfully.
Without any
warning, the dreamscape shifts, and he runs through the brush, fleeing for his
life. Twigs and branches tear at his buckskin garments. A thorn bush rakes his
face. If he’s caught, it’ll mean torture and death, but he isn’t worried about
himself. He worries about her. Has she gotten back safely? He slows his pace.
Through the trees, he looks over at the far side of the lake and sees her tall,
lithe figure standing on the beach. Her beauty, grace, and majesty set her
apart from the other squaws. Those harridans point and scream, but she stands
still, wrapped in the woven, quilted blanket she showed him not two hours ago.
He doesn’t dare stop for a better look. His heart thunders in his ears, his
side aches, but he increases his speed, pushing his painful muscles beyond
their limit. The enemy approaches, but she’s safe, and that’s all that matters.
He doesn’t see the log across the path. He stumbles and falls…
Tony Steele awoke with a start. His heart pounded,
and sweat covered his body. His ragged breathing dragged air into his oxygen
deprived lungs. His muscles screamed and cramped the way they did after a
particularly grueling cross-country race. Not
again. For weeks now, these strange dreams had haunted him. Dreams? Hell.
These memories lingered as if it he’d actually done these things.
He shuddered despite the heat emanating from his
body. He rose, went to the window, and opened it slightly. He breathed deeply,
hoping to calm himself, knowing it wouldn’t happen any time soon. He glanced
into the parking lot. Through the curtain of rain, he noticed Aaron’s car
parked once more in the lot, but not in its regular spot.
Somewhat cooler, he shut the window. He raised his
hand to his stinging cheek, surprised to feel wetness there. He padded into the
bathroom, turned on the light, and stared in the mirror. Blood seeped from the
ugly red scratch on his face.
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