Can she free the familiar Scot that haunts her dreams before it's too late?
Scottish legend tells of a fourteenth century chieftain cursed by a remorseful sorceress in order to escape certain
death at the hands of his lover's English husband. While visiting her native Scotland, Alicia Cameron stumbles upon the secrets
of the old MacKintosh castle, and the truth of her own tragic past…
Enslaved by a cursed amulet, Zachariah MacKintosh has roamed the remains of his castle for six centuries. Guided
by fate, he’s reunited with the woman linked to his misfortune…the sole key to delivering him from his immortal
hell. He realizes he must find a way to jog her buried memories, for if he should fail in this quest, the horrid curse would
bind him for all eternity.
There is just one problem… The curse has left him in the form of his clan motto: a cat.
Excerpt from Amulet of Fate:
"Now ye see a staircase. Climb the stairs until ye reach the top." He paused. "At the top of the staircase
is a tunnel." He paused again. "At the end of the tunnel, there is a door. Go inside and look around. Are ye alone? What are
ye wearing? Do ye know the date?" Marcus hesitated briefly between each question allowing her subconscious to take note of
her surroundings.
Ali followed his instructions to the letter. She looked around after entering the room at the end
of the tunnel. The fog grew thicker and Marcus’s voice faded farther into the distance with each step she took. Straining
her eyes, her heart began to pound rapidly. A panicked strangling sensation consumed her as the fog began to clear.
What was happening?
Peering about wild-eyed, she looked down at herself. She was wearing a long, dirty white shirt of
some sort, with a torn sleeve that flapped softly in the breeze from the opened door. She could taste a foul dread in the
air, feel doom dance along her spine as it wafted in with the wind. Some blood spilled onto the sleeve from a gash on her
arm.
She was in what appeared to be an old abandoned cottage. The door lay on the ground in the entry,
as though it had been deliberately placed there. A fire burned in the stone fireplace. She could hear it sizzle and crack,
could smell the burning embers.
And, God help her, she was not alone.
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This novel was a truly labor
of love and practically wrote itself! |
