Finding Emmaline. A Blackwood Series Novel.

Excerpt from

Finding Emmaline

A Blackwood Series Novel

As I lay draped over his arm, he raised his head to look down at his handiwork, his chest heaving as he observed the wetness from his mouth. Placing a palm between my breasts, he let his hand smooth down the center to my bared midriff,  following the movement with his gaze.

”My beautiful Emmaline,…"

With a cry, I came fully awake.

I was sweating, my heart was pounding, and I could barely breath. What the hell was that?

I sat up and looked around my bedroom, half expecting someone to be lurking behind the curtains, or peering around the corner of my open door.

But, of course, there was nothing there.

Running my hands through my damp hair, I let out a tired sigh. Just a dream.

Suddenly Daisy jumped up on the bed beside me and I screamed loud enough to wake the dead. “Daisy! You scared the shit outta me!” The little blonde bundle of fur just sat back on her haunches, her big brown eyes round as saucers as she began to whimper.

Yep, that was my Daisy. Sweet as pie, and the best little cuddle buddy you could ask for on a rainy night, but steal her place on the bed, and my precious little angel cried like the Titanic had just taken the children. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” I uttered, moving over so she could settle at my feet. “Diva,” I griped affectionately, reaching down to give her soft head a pat.

Sitting back against my white antique headboard, I scrubbed my hands over my face in frustration. I’d never had an erotic dream in my life! And now, I’d had not one, but two in the space of a week. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm my frazzled nerves.

When I opened them again, my gaze automatically landed on the painting.

Oh…my God. It had happened again. I’d just had another dream about William. Another erotic dream about William. What the hell was wrong with me? Was I seriously that hard up for a man that I was having sex dreams about a guy that had been dead for over two hundred years? How pathetic was that?

Determined to put the disturbing dream out of my mind, I scrunched back down under my comforter, willing myself to go back to sleep. But after ten minutes of tossing and turning, I finally gave up. Banging my hands flat against the mattress, I got out of bed and stomped to the bathroom. Maybe a cold shower would help.

Fifteen minutes later, I climbed back into bed, settling under the covers. The shower had helped, and I felt a little better. But I still couldn’t get his face out of my head.

The last thing I remembered thinking before exhaustion took hold was,….why had he called me Emmaline?

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Finding Emmaline

A Blackwood Series Novel

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