Haunt Me Read Free

you asked for any help.” With a wink, he was off. Electricity sizzled over her. Damn if he doesn’t look as good walking away as he did arriving.
    …
    A few hours later, after returning the U-Haul and splurging on fast food for dinner, Mac headed home, pushing thoughts of her sexy new neighbor out of her mind. After parking her ten-year-old Ford Explorer under the carport, she glanced around the little plot of land.
    Mine.
    Sitting squarely atop a hill in the middle of twenty acres, behind a stone wall and overgrown hedges, was the single-story saltbox house with an added-on wraparound porch and a swing. Mac swung her gaze around the property, taking in the overgrown vegetation. She’d have to either grow some muscles and learn how to landscape or write another bestseller and hire someone.
    The stagnant heat of the day had given way to a cooler evening. The buzz of cicadas filled the air, punctured by the occasional hooting of an owl. Save for the lone light over her carport, the house sat in a pocket of darkness. The infused peace and quiet soothed her raw nerves. She’d done it. She survived the worst year of her life with her sanity intact and a few dollars still in the bank. “Thank you, Aunt Katherine,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
    A bang —like a door slamming—rent the silence. She jerked her eyes open. The cicadas went silent. The back of her neck itched, and she couldn’t shake the sensation of someone watching her. She searched the darkness, but detected no movement. Maybe the sound had come from Justin’s house—sounds carried in the country, or so she’d been told.
    She headed inside, slamming the door shut behind her, and the air conditioner came on with another bang , startling her. The cool air blowing out of the vent brushed her face like an exhale of laughter. Goose bumps appeared on her arms. Houses had personalities and made noise—lots of it. Still, she knew Summerfield had something no other house did.
    Its own ghost.
    She smiled. Hopefully, it didn’t mind a new roommate. Her mother had told her stories about the ghost time and time again. How Katherine had been haunted all her life. How strange sounds and eerie wisps of fog would drift over the property. Or how things would move, as if on their own.
    Like the bar of chocolate.
    Mac recalled the intense pressure to start writing again. Maybe the ghost inspired my muse.
    Shaking her head, she double-checked the dead bolt, then headed to the bedrooms, glancing at her watch. It was getting late—the rest of her unpacking could wait. She wanted a good night’s sleep and to rise before the sun and dive headfirst into her book.
    Stopping at her future bedroom, she paused to shut off the light, then wondered why it had been turned on. Maybe Justin had done so when he’d carried the bed frame into the room. She cast a quick glance around the room. The headboard, footboard, and mattress leaned on the wall where Justin had parked them. The rails for the bottom of the bed and the boards for the box spring lay in a neat stack a few feet away.
    Her life was a lot like that bed—in pieces. But that was okay, too. Putting her life back together was a challenge she relished. Just me, my haunted house, and a brand-new start… The perfect place to relaunch her career.
    A delicious sense of anticipation curled inside of her. “Get some sleep,” she told herself. “Deadlines wait for no one.”
    …
    A week later, a frustrated Justin sat in his office, staring at paperwork. “I can still make the revitalization plan for Penny Hollow work,” he muttered. He simply needed to find a way. And needed to stop being distracted in order to think. Since he’d helped Mac move in, she’d been all he could think about. It didn’t matter how attractive or feisty MacKenzie Dillon was or how much he liked her. She was a rock in the road, an obstacle to be removed or overcome.
    The door to his office burst open. A whirling dervish of nineteen-year-old