The Holler: Book Two of the Tribe Novels
Genres: Adult, Paranormal Romance
Cover Artist: Harper L. Jameson
BlurbIt’s been nearly 200 years since the
ice storm that almost destroyed McAllen. Sheriff Jessica Attwood was born there,
in a little valley in the Ohio Appalachians known as Wright’s Holler. If she
isn’t careful, she’ll die there.McAllen has a morgue full of
bodies, a file of missing persons dating back decades and a sheriff that is
determined to find out what is happening to her town. Her investigation leads
her to the half-breed mountain man, Sig, and her reality is thrown into a chaos
that only makes sense when she’s in his arms.The Misignwa has stayed out of it. His
job is to protect the forests of his ancestors, enduring the scorn of a
population almost completely unchanged by progress. The problems of the white
men aren’t his concern. Not until they come into his woods and duty brings him
face to face with the local sheriff, a woman he’s watched from the shadows for
years, drawn to in a way he can’t explain.Jessica’s investigation pulls her
deeper into Wright’s Holler, to a world of lost magic and small town legends–legends
that tell of spirits roaming the woods, of lost witches and a battle between
good and evil that has raged for centuries. As her fascination with Misignwa
grows, something is calling her into the forest, into his arms and onto the front
lines.Wild animal, crazed woodsman…
Jessica’s guesses about the killer’s identity are as thick as the trees but as
the line between the worlds starts to blur, the superstitious townsfolk voice
another theory from a time when magic wasn’t just for fairy tales. Something’s
stalking the witches of the holler. And it wants Jessica.
Don’t hurt him. It had been as binding as a command from the Great Spirit, all of Misignwa’s aggression channeled away from the coughing deputy at his feet and directed toward the woman who had somehow seized control of his impulses and turned them into something less lethal but no less violent. Only what he wanted to do now involved fewer spectators and a whole lot less clothes between them. Then again, maybe the spectators didn’t matter.
“I ain’t gonna hurt him, kweewa. Not if he don’t try anything else that might get him nailed to the wall again.” Misignwa actually really wanted to hurt Tank as he lumbered to his feet, rubbing the bruise on his throat and pulling his gun free as he stepped closer to the pair of them, obviously intending to put himself between Misignwa and the woman. Misignwa wasn’t going to let that happen. Not when he finally had her so close to him and his nostrils flared at something sweet rising up through her natural scent. Something like- his eyes flared wide, glowing gold as his cock thickened behind his fly, the teeth of his zipper biting into flesh grown hard and heavy with recognition. Jess smelled like a woman should.. soft and warm and welcoming. She smelled like want and he growled, his whole body gone rigid against the instinct to answer the call her desire was putting out.”What’s your name boy?” Tank croaked out, trying to shove by the Indian to no avail and struggling to sound threatening when he couldn’t draw a whole breath to command his usual booming voice. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like that the man had come into town. Didn’t like that he was tearing up Sowers’ store and he damned sure didn’t like that he was staring Jess down like he could see right through her uniform.
Misignwa ignored him in favor of staring at the woman, his muscles drawn tight around the aching burn in his shoulder… an animal ready to spring on prey. Jess. Her name is Jess. His thoughts were a graphic tangle of images, vivid flashes of all the things he would do to her if he got her alone, all the ways he would taste those curves until she screamed herself hoarse in her ecstasy. Ecstasy he was dying to bring her to. His eyes glinted a citrine glow and he grappled it back with a soft, throaty rumble of appreciation for the delicate female standing him off without any sign of fear.
This was wrong. He didn’t want any woman, their instincts toward manipulation and deceit making them too untrustworthy as anything more than a bed warmer and some of them not even that. A woman might let you into her body. She might spear her nails into your shoulders and scream your name, but Misignwa knew all too well that she’d just as quickly stick a knife in your back. Only somewhere in the primitive recesses of his brain, he was sure that bedding Jess would be completely worth it.
Harper L. Jameson was born in South Eastern
Ohio and raised on the stories of the family seat in the holler–a tiny hamlet
nestled in the shadow of the Appalachians. Her imagination ran wild, fueled on
tales of folklore and superstitions…of Indian burial sites and haunted woods
where magic still runs free. Beginning with her debut novel “The Spirit”, she’s
putting a new spin on paranormal romance by bringing the old legends back from
our forgotten past. She currently lives in North Carolina with her husband and
children, but she never really left the holler. No one ever does.
Connect with Harper and stay up to date
on all the latest news, events and releases:
Sign up for Harper’s Newsletter and receive her short story “The Blanket: A Legend of the Tribe” for free! Click HERE.