Solstice Surrender

by

Tracy Cooper-Posey

A man of mysterious powers.
 
A woman who fights her destiny.
 
On mid-winter’s eve she must decide.

When her SIA partner and lover is killed on assignment, Jenna hides away in
Banff
,
Canada
for the Christmas season to lick her wounds in private.
 
When she forces a rude stranger to dump coffee in his own lap just by thinking about it, Jenna is tipped into a shadowy world hidden to most humans.

Rhys Cellyn knows that dangerous, powerful world intimately. He helps Jenna avoid the many enemies who now want her for her fast-developing powers, while Jenna struggles to accept the truth about her true fate, her growing feelings for Rhys and their twined destinies.
 

Time is against her, for she must make a choice and the future of the world is at stake…if she can only keep Rhys and herself alive until the moment of the winter solstice.

The characters were not only hot, they were smart, strong and the sex was smokin.
Alternative Read.com

Fast paced and filled with love scenes of the
OMG
sort, this one will certainly appeal to paranormal romance lovers.
Just Erotica Romance Review

Solstice Surrender
begins with a scene that we all wish would happen to the bullies of the world. I found
Solstice Surrender
to be a non-stop action- packed adventure.
The Best Reviews

This story is hotter that hot. The love scenes scorch the pages. This story is a must read for anyone who loves paranormal reads.
The Romance Studio

The must read story of the year. The way this author uses her words to draw you into her story is like a work of art.
Fallen Angels Reviews

How A Little Novella Turned Me Onto Paranormal Romance

Solstice Surrender
started out as something quite different from what it ended up becoming.

In 2003 I was invited by Ellora’s Cave to write for an anthology that would include two of their bigger name authors at the time, Denise A. Agnew and Rosemary Laurie.
 
It was my first year writing for Ellora’s Cave and to that date I had only written historical romances and the first of a new series for me, a romantic suspense series set in a fictional Hispanic island nation called Vistaria, located one hundred miles off the coast of
Mexico
.
 
The series would eventually warp into the Vistaria Affair series, but the first book,
Red Leopard
, had just emerged from the editing process, so being invited to write for this new romantic suspense anthology was a genuine thrill for me.

It set me back a bit when I was informed that the anthology was going to be a paranormal romance anthology. You see, I had never written a paranormal romance.

I had, by that stage, published seven books and written a good many more, but none of them had been paranormal or come close to being paranormal.
  
Paranormal romance was hugely popular even in 2003 (and the demand hasn’t slowed down by so much as a micrometre per second in the decade since) but I had resisted writing and publishing in the genre simply because it
was
so popular.
 
If I had abruptly switched gears and begun writing paranormal romances after seven romantic suspense and historical romance titles, I felt that readers would rightly accuse me of jumping on the popular bandwagon just to exploit it.

Besides, I felt uneasy talking about magic and spells and things that go bump in the night with a straight face.
 
I didn’t think I could do it without rolling my eyes, and the readers would surely spot that in my story-telling.
 
I was, until that point in time, a hard science fiction fan.
 
I wanted science and
facts
to explain the mysterious.
 
If there was an all-powerful force holding an object up in mid-air, it better by gum be generated by a machine or mind-machine meld, or
some
sort of pseudo-science with a basis in logic, or I was out of there.

Here I was, though, committed to a paranormal romance anthology and facing having to write a novella-length romance that was going to keep company with two of the best writers in the business...who also happened to write some of the best-selling paranormal stories of the day.

I started researching not just my story, but the paranormal romance genre in general, as it was a whole new field for me.
 
I ate and drank paranormal
everything
for weeks, looking for trends, meanings and a way I could write a story within the genre without feeling like a complete charlatan.

I very quickly noticed that more than a few paranormal stories plug into history and mythology...and that was my entry card.
 
I love and adore history, mythology and anthropology.
  
So I fell back on one of my favourite Celtic myths; the Arthurian legends—which are not without their own tales of magic and wizardry—and built up from there a modern day world of supernatural powers, evil forces and fated destinies.

Jenna’s reluctance to embrace her powers and her scepticism about anything “weird” was a reflection of my own original uneasiness with all things paranormal.
 
By the end of the book both Jenna and I had accepted our new roles completely.

Solstice Surrender
went on to be published as part of the
Winter Warriors
anthology that year.
 
In 2009, Ellora’s Cave republished it as a stand-alone novella, in December, almost on the exact day of the winter solstice (their publishing schedule wouldn’t permit them to release it on the exact day, although I coaxed and begged).

Also in 2009, I embraced the paranormal world fully and began writing vampire romance books under the Teal Ceagh pen name for Ellora’s Cave.
 
Within three novellas I was utterly hooked.
 
I have stopped releasing books under the Teal Ceagh pen name now, but I am still writing and publishing vampire series and paranormal romances under my own name and I have no intention of stopping.
 

I’m thrilled to be able to release
Solstice Surrender
in this, my Author’s Edition.
 
It has been re-edited and expanded—there are no whole new scenes, but there has been enough wordage added throughout the story that it is now no longer just a novella but a short book; one that can be published as a print edition in its own right.

Enjoy.

Despite every table in the coffee shop being filled to capacity, Jenna could still hear every contemptuous word the man in the taupe wool coat said. Each cutting phrase rang clear despite three tables and the blended babble of French, English and Japanese that separated them.

If she could hear perfectly well, then the petite brunette sitting next to him must be benefiting from a Dolby surround sound experience.
Shadows dusted the skin under the woman’s eyes, and she kept her gaze on her big round coffee cup. Occasionally she sipped it. Otherwise she left her hands in her lap.

“Why on earth you thought it necessary to order breakfast for five a.m. defies analysis.” The man in the taupe coat stirred his latte with violent flicks of his fingers. Yeah, he was a real prince. “I booked the guide for this afternoon. I don’t know why I should have to get out of bed before eight a.m. for anyone. My porridge was as cold as a wet herring. A complete waste of food and money.”

It was the second time he had been through this diatribe since Jenna had been drawn to the sound of his rich English baritone and begun to listen.

Jenna looked up at the big clock behind the five girls tripping over each other behind the counter, as they rushed to fill orders. Breakfast for even the most lay-about person in the world would have been three hours ago.

She glanced back at the bowed shoulders of the woman beside the Prince and shoved her distaste for the man up to active dislike.

“I’m sorry, Nigel.” The woman seemed to whisper compared to his penetrating bass. “I thought we might go window shopping before the hike—”

“Shopping?” He almost dropped his coffee cup in his amazement. “We come half way around the world on the trip of a lifetime, to the most stunning mountains on the North American continent and you want to
shop
?” The contempt in his voice would have withered the ego of Lady GaGa. The woman shrank into herself even more.

Jenna’s top lip tried to curl up in disgust.

The woman picked up her coffee cup. Her hand trembled a little.

Dump the coffee on him
, Jenna silently urged her.

The Prince rolled on as if his companion hadn’t spoken. “Your utter lack of a brain is ruining this entire tour. I should have left you at home, but then you would just get yourself into even deeper trouble there, wouldn’t you? If I didn’t dance attendance every hour…good lord, you’d probably die of cold because you’re too stupid to re-start the oil heater, or something or other.”

Pressure built up in Jenna’s temples as she stared at the woman. Her gut clenched, roiling with anger.
Dump the goddamn coffee in his lap!
The powerful mental urging worked Jenna’s throat as if she had actually cried it aloud.

 
The woman swung her hand around in a ninety-degree arc until the coffee cup hovered over his thighs. Deliberately, she turned it upside down, emptying it of a steaming half-liter of rich brown mocha.

Jenna’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

Chaos let rip with a sound like thunder.

The Prince bounced to his feet with a roar of pain and cracked his thighs against the edge of the table with a wet slap. The impact produced a sharper scream of agony and he plopped back down with the suddenness of a puppet whose strings had been severed. Only his chair wasn’t there anymore — his abrupt rise to his feet had pushed it back out of the way.

He hit the floor and the thud jarred the ancient beams. Jenna felt the impact reverberate through her table and chair.

The Prince stayed down this time, while the room of tourists gasped and exclaimed in their native tongues. From across the room, Jenna heard a single snigger, quickly muffled.

The woman looked even more amazed than Jenna felt. She still held her cup out at half-mast, upside down, drops of coffee beading on the rim. She stared at it as if it had suddenly come alive in her hand.

Those nearest the Prince dived to help him as he flopped about on the floor, simultaneously trying to lift his soaked, steaming trousers away from his crotch and massage his bruised thighs. Paper napkins began to float through the air like oversized confetti as customers tossed handfuls toward the man on the floor, between the legs of those surrounding him.

Two of the café staff were hurrying over with cloths and a mop and bucket. One was carrying the universally recognizable bright neon yellow caution sign, with a stick figure of a man falling flat on his ass.

Jenna bit her bottom lip even harder as she glimpsed the caricature.

Her satisfaction over the swift turn of events died, though, as she watched the woman. No one else was paying the woman much attention. The brunette lowered the cup to the table with the same care one used to handle an antique crystal decanter…or a rattlesnake. Then she rose and stepped away from the cup as if it might leap at her.

She crouched beside the man and patted him with her napkin. “Nigel…I don’t know what to say. I have no idea how that happened. It was like watching someone else do it.”

Jenna saw the smiles streak around behind the woman.
 
The barely hidden amusement. They didn’t believe her any more than the princely Nigel likely would.
 
Who could blame them? Jenna had watched her pour coffee all over him. Of course the woman had done it herself, because if she hadn’t acted from her own free will, then what had just happened here?

She glanced around to see if anyone stared at her, if anyone thought she had anything to do with this.

A man lounged at the table by the door, a day-old
Calgary Herald
in his hands. He was watching her, his face bereft of even a hint of the hilarity that gripped the rest of the room.

Delly’s stomach clenched with tension and a strong urge to flee the café gripped her. She drained her coffee cup, then moved towards the only exit—the door the man sat beside.

When his gaze did not move away from her as she approached, Jenna’s heart picked up speed. She talked to herself firmly.
Maybe he just likes your hair, Jenna. In this tourist town casual vacation affairs start quick and end quicker.

But she couldn’t discount the pandemonium going on behind her. Every other eye in the room had stayed glued upon the Prince, who was swearing as lustily as any dock worker while staff, customers and the brunette worked to soothe him and clean up the mess.
 

In a room with a mini-drama unfolding right behind her, anyone who could ignore the chaos to focus upon something else was highly motivated.

So what did he want?

The habits of her profession kicked in. Jenna took a mental snapshot of the guy’s face, cataloguing the features for future reference. Large brown eyes, thick brows and blonde hair trimmed neatly. Strong jaw and neck. The neck was layered in muscle and thick, like a body builder’s. A luxurious overcoat hid the rest of him except for a polished toe of an expensive casual leather shoe. Clearly, snow and slush were not an issue for him.

One all-encompassing glance then she lifted her chin, kept her gaze on the sidewalk outside and headed for the door in as confident a don’t-mess-with-me bearing as she could manage.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when he stood, clearly intending to halt her.

A hand settled on her shoulder, big and heavy. She felt the body belonging to the hand slide into place on her other side. A quiet voice sounded. “Keep walking straight past him. Don’t look around. Out onto the street. Quietly, now.”

Dozens of questions arose. A hundred, perhaps. Jenna pushed them aside, focusing instead on the fact that this voice, this body, intended to help her. Somehow.

She swallowed back her fear and pummelled every doubt and instinct that was screaming at her that this was a completely lunatic idea, turn around
now
, Jenna! She made herself keep walking as instructed. She didn’t look behind, because a normal pedestrian wouldn’t. She didn’t look up at him, either, although she was sorely tempted .She could tell from the way his hand rested on her shoulder that he was tall.

Outside in the street, the guiding hand on her shoulder lifted away. He picked up her hand. “Can you run?”

Before she could even turn to face him he surged ahead, shouldering his way through the crowded sidewalk and dragging her with him. All she could see of him were wide shoulders under a black wool overcoat and black hair that curled over the collar.

She was dragged along in his wake, protected from a lot of jostling by the swathe he cut through the people, but because she didn’t have to worry about their direction, she automatically monitored their rear. It was a trained reflex, triggered by his haste. In her profession, there was only one reason to run away from something: the something pursued you with hostile intentions.

She heard behind her the unmistakable sounds of pursuit—hurried footsteps crunching through the snow, a male voice muttering apologies as the crowd re-forming behind them was again pushed aside.

“Avaon, damn you!”

Directed at the man holding her hand? Did their pursuer know him?

Then she heard something that made her blood run cold. The pursuer whistled sharply. Two short notes. A signal. A call for help.

Her adrenaline surging, Jenna put on a turn of speed and gripped the man’s hand with a strength that would defy most attempts to separate them. He’d just saved her from a bad situation and was trying to deliver her to safety. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if she let go and didn’t intend to find out.

They dodged around clumps of pedestrians, heading for the corner and the traffic lights. A thick group of people stood waiting for the lights to change. They would never get through them. But at the last second when she thought he would bowl his way through, sending people flying into the gutters, he abruptly dodged left, sprinting out into the gearing-up traffic that was accelerating now that their lights had turned green.

Jenna’s heart leapt and her throat closed up, even as she acknowledged the smart move.

He stepped around a hood that nosed out over the traffic light stop line and she jinked sideways to match him and not break their handgrip. Horns blared one-note insults at them. The car in the lane she had just cleared floored its gas pedal and leapt forward with a snarl of the motor. It neatly blocked off their pursuers.

He leapt onto the opposite pavement, pulling her with him, and began to run again, now that the crowds had thinned once more. A dozen more feet at full tilt, then he made another unsignalled change of direction into an arcade that opened to their left, through to a courtyard, then another arcade, onto another street….

Jenna lost track of their location. She’d only been in Banff three days and didn’t know the streets well—there had been no reason to study a street map and learn the layout as she wasn’t here on business. Now she regretted the break with custom.

Despite three weeks in hospital, her wind was still good and she kept up with him well. He slowed, still changing directions, but bringing them down to the same speed as every other tourist in town. They mingled. Walked.

Jenna lengthened her stride and caught up with him. “We’ve lost them.”

“For a while.” His head was still averted, but not through shyness—he was checking each store they passed. “That’ll do,” he declared with a tone of satisfaction.

He slipped sideways into a deep door recess and pushed open an elegant art-deco door with a brushed steel handle that swooped in a shallow arc the length of the door.

Warmth bathed their faces as they stepped inside and Jenna drew a long slow breath, feeling the air reach the bottom of her lungs.

It was a clothes store selling outerwear—luxurious stuff way out of her financial reach. Racks and store dummies were draped with furs, suede, glowing wool, and leather garments while more shelves, boxes and tables were spread with accessories and smaller items.

The store was hushed and still, with the peculiar sort of muffled quiet that seemed to belong only to ridiculously expensive retail stores.