The Curse of a Single Red Rose (Haunted Hearts Series Book 7) (25 page)

AFTERWORD

I hope you enjoyed reading
The Curse of a Single Red Rose
as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I enjoyed writing this book very much.

As with the first five books in this series, each book in this second set of five has its own storyline and conflict resolution, and just like the first set, this second set has an overarching storyline with a plot arc that begins with the first book and doesn’t resolve until the last book in the set. It’s like a five-episode television mini-series. Each episode has its own plot, but the five episodes viewed in order tell the whole story.

I’m excited about this second set, books six through ten, because they are set in south Louisiana, a locale rich with history and unique in cultural heritage. I’ve used research as an excuse to visit New Orleans and the River Road area several times in the last few years.

The first book in this set is titled
The Unmistakable Scent of Gardenias
. If you haven’t read it yet, I invite you to do so before you continue reading the next books in this set.
Gardenias
contains material that allows the reader to view the stories that follow in a broader context, making each story just a bit richer.

My plan is to keep a new book in the series coming every three or four months. The tentative titles for the next three books are:

The Trail of Crushed Azaleas

The Rush of Wind Through Magnolias

The Sweet Madness of Honeysuckle Vines

If you enjoyed
Rose
, I think you will enjoy the rest of the series as well. Keep flicking pages and you will find the first chapter of
The Trail of Crushed Azaleas
at the end of this eBook.

Thank you so much for reading
The Curse of a Single Red Rose
. If you have an opinion about this book that you would like to share with the world, please leave a review on the site where you bought the book when you finish reading. Feedback is so important to a writer.

If you found Nick Moreau an intriguing character, I’m excited to announce that he will have his own five-book series with his quirky, psychic girlfriend, Jerilyn. Please look for the first book in the
Prescience
series entitled
Second Sight
coming in early 2017.

Denise

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Denise is a Southern girl. She has lived in Louisiana all her life, and yes, she has a drawl. She has a wonderful husband and two incredible children, who not only endure her moods, but also encourage her to indulge her writing passion. Accounting is a skill she learned to earn a little money to support her writing habit. Besides writing paranormal suspense, she holds a part time job in public accounting and loves to travel, read, and cook (something she never thought she would admit she enjoys).

She wrote her first story when she was a teen, seventeen handwritten pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she had read. She’s been writing off and on ever since, and with twenty-five stories already published and seventeen still available for purchase, she plans to continue releasing new books for years to come. In 2015, her Haunted Hearts series sold over 19,000 copies, placing the series on Amazon’s best-seller list of ghost thrillers for over a year.

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www.denisemoncrief.com

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www.denisemoncrief.blogspot.com

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OTHER TITLES BY DENISE MONCRIEF

Deceptions Of The Heart

The End

Cross Examination

The Memory Catcher

Arkansas Hauntings

Boxed Set (Books 1 – 5)

Laurel Heights (Haunted Hearts #1)

Victoria House (Haunted Hearts #2)

Ashley Ridge (Haunted Hearts #3)

Shaw’s Landing (Haunted Hearts #4)

Chelsea Lane (Haunted Hearts #5)

River Road Hauntings

The Unmistakable Scent of Gardenias (Haunted Hearts #6)

An Impostor in Town (Colorado #1)

Purgatory (Colorado #2)

Twin Rivers (Colorado #3)

Crisis of Identity (Crisis #1)

Crisis of Serenity (Crisis #2)

COMING SOON

Crisis of Security (Crisis #3)

Second Sight (Prescience Series #1)

The Trail of Crushed Azaleas (Haunted Hearts #8)

BONUS MATERIAL

THE TRAIL OF CRUSHED AZALEAS

Chapter One

Near Destrehan, Louisiana

May 1936

Celia Soileau leaned out the window, allowing the cool night breeze to brush across her flushed face. The air inside her room had grown stuffy causing her head to pound with a headache. She sat on the wide window ledge and fanned her face with a magazine. Tears welled in her eyes, and not for the first time in the last few weeks. The room she had loved since she was a child had become her prison.

What kind of man locked his daughter in her room? Her father hadn’t been the same since her mother died the year before. Surely, her mother was rolling in her grave.

Her father’s words rang through her tired mind.
Your wishes don’t matter. You have to do this to keep our land in the family.
No, Celia could not marry a man who was as dirt poor as she was.

Paul Soileau had made an unholy deal with the Wakefield devil, but Celia was certain she would be the one to suffer from it. Her father’s solution to their financial problems had been to marry her to the oldest grandson of old Simon Wakefield. He would be able to pay off the plantation’s debts.

The thought of Leslie Wakefield touching her made her shudder. His eyes were strange. No warmth glowed on his face. He had brushed her arm once with icy cold fingers. The man was creepy.

Well, she had news for Paul Soileau. Her nightmare was about to be over. That night, she was running away with the man she loved, and by nightfall of the next day, she would be a married woman, and it would be too late to sell her to Wakefield to save The Grove.

All evening, her anxiety level had escalated. A sob caught in her chest. Richard was late. Had something happened to him? Had her father somehow learned of their plans? He had threatened Richard’s life if he ever showed his face on Soileau land again. Celia had seen what a double barrel shotgun could do to man. That was a memory that would never leave her.

An image of Richard with his chest torn apart from buckshot filled her mind. She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. Was her vision the product of her fear-filled imagination or a horrible premonition?

If her father killed Richard, there would be no trial. The sheriff would turn a blind eye. That old man still protected the rights of the old plantation aristocracy, what was left of it. As a woman in rural Louisiana, Celia had no rights. The sheriff would support Paul Soileau’s right to marry his daughter off to whomever he chose.

Oh yeah, she had news for the sheriff of St. Denis Parish too. Just the day before, Celia’s birthday had given her the right to choose a husband for herself. She was of legal age. She’d marry whom she chose. If Paul Soileau and Les Wakefield dragged her to the courthouse to proceed with a sham wedding, then she would be the one objecting to the marriage.

Along the edge of the woods, a pinpoint of light caught her attention. She drew in a deep breath and released it. The tension that had coiled in her belly relaxed a bit. Richard had come for her. For the first time in her life, she was glad her bedroom was on the back of the house, facing away from the Mississippi River.

Their plan was to travel on horseback through the woods headed for Mississippi and points north. They would marry in the first town with a justice of the peace.

Her mood brightened as he neared the house. She glanced toward the clock on her wall. He’d waited until nearly midnight. Her father had gone to bed hours earlier. If they were careful to keep the noise down, they could escape Louisiana in the middle of the night.

Without a word, she wiggled through and hung from the window, her fingers straining to keep a grip on the sill. She glanced down to see his arms stretched toward her, ready to brace her fall. He grunted when she fell to the ground, and the two of them rolled in the thick grass. In full bloom, the azaleas formed a semi-circle around them. How many times had Richard left a trail of azalea petals through the woods so that she could follow him? Laughter gurgled in her throat, but she pushed it back down. No expression of joy could pass their lips. They couldn’t afford it. Not yet.

He placed a quick, sweet kiss on her lips and then pulled her up from the ground. His arms wrapped around her, and he captured her mouth in his again. Being with Richard was the sweetest thing she’d ever experienced. Oh God, how she loved him.

His eyes glowed with bright excitement. He placed a finger over her lips. The warning was unnecessary. Her father had always been a light sleeper.

Together, hand in hand, they slipped across the grassy lawn into the darkness of the woods behind The Grove. Tall oaks draped with moss created oddly shaped shadows along the path that led away from her captivity. Heavy moisture hung in the air. Minutes passed before they came into a small clearing where Richard had tethered the horse. The skinny creature whinnied as they approached. How would the emaciated animal carry them for miles without collapsing? She sighed. She had chosen to marry a man who could barely feed himself, let alone his animal.

Yet hope filled her heart. Surely, their prospects of survival were greater up north. Surely, the north would pull out of the depression quicker than the south. Together, they would make it.

She placed her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle. Just as she had settled her rear in place, a commotion flew at them from the path. Richard tossed her an anxious glance. He placed his hand on the pummel to pull up and onto the horse behind her, but before he could lift off the ground, three men burst into the clearing.

All of them carried shotguns, but it was the anger on Les Wakefield’s face that scared her the most.

Paul Soileau spat on the ground. “I told you they were up to something.”

The sheriff stepped in front of the other two men. “Richard Adams, you’re under arrest.”

“Under arrest? What for?”

The sheriff smiled, a wickedly ugly smile. “I’ll think of something. Did you rape that girl?”

Richard spluttered, but apparently could find no words to deny such a heinous accusation.

The horse shied and pawed the ground. Celia held tight to the pummel, determined to stand her ground. “Don’t be ridiculous. He hasn’t done anything wrong to me. He loves me. We’re leaving, and you can’t stop us.”

Paul roared with anger. “You are my daughter.” He lowered his shotgun from where he had perched it on his shoulder. The barrel aimed straight at Richard.

“I’m of legal age. I will marry whoever I want, and I don’t want to marry him.” She pointed at Les. The expression on her face was surely one of disgust.

Les’s angry scowl made her skin crawl. “You will regret your words, Celia.”

Never.

Three angry men stared at the love of Celia’s life. Richard broke the stare down and once again began to mount the horse.

“Stop right there, Adams. I’m warning you.” The sheriff’s command rang around the clearing.

Les Wakefield rushed them, causing the horse to rear and dislodge Richard before he could get his leg over the saddle. He fell onto the ground, sprawled in front of the men. The horse’s hooves pounded the ground near his head.

Celia pulled the reins, steering the horse away from Richard.

“You’re going to jail, Adams.” Paul grinned with satisfaction. “You should have never messed around with my daughter.”

Richard jumped to his feet. “You’re the one that should be arrested. What kind of man locks his daughter in her room? You’re crazy. All of you are crazy.”

That was the wrong thing to say to Paul Soileau because crazy ran in the family, something the Soileau family had been trying to live down for generations. “Never call me crazy, you sorry son-of-a-bitch.” The boom of the shotgun firing drowned out the rest of his angry rant.

Richard lay on the ground with his chest torn to pieces, just as Celia had seen in her vision. Before he drew his final breath, he had one last word for Les Wakefield. His hand shook as he pointed at the spawn of Simon Wakefield. “Someone has to die.”