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Shiver

Jo Leigh

Private Sessions

Tori Carrington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Shiver

Jo Leigh

It’s said that you have to lose yourself in order to find who you really are …

What you find might change your life!

Dear Reader,

Carrie Sawyer is a lot like me. She’s cynical, stubborn and determined. The last thing in the world she wants to do is go to a ghost hunting convention with her best friend. Carrie doesn’t believe in ghosts, and never will. She does believe in having a holiday fling with the sexy and single owner of the hotel.

At first, Carrie gets her shivers from Sam Crider. His touch, his kiss. Even the way he looks at her. But then … mysterious things start to happen, and there are shivers of a whole different kind.

I had a ball writing about Carrie, because I was one of those people who scoffed at ghost sightings and psychic predictions. Now? I rather like the idea that the world is filled with magic and wonder. And love. Definitely love.

Hope you enjoy your time with Carrie and Sam. I sure did. Visit with me at www.joleigh.com or on Twitter @jo_leigh. I’d love to hear about your personal encounters with the supernatural!

Sincerely,

JO LEIGHhas written over forty novels. She’s thrilled that she can write mysteries, suspense and comedies all under the blaze ®banner, especially because the heart of each and every book is the love story.

A triple RITA ®finalist, Jo shares her home in Utah with her cute dog, Jessie. You can come chat with Jo at her website: http://www.joleigh.com, follow her on Twitter @jo_leigh and don’t forget to check out her daily blog!

To Charlotte.

For writing so beautifully and inspiring me so much. Also for the LOLS.

To: SororitySisters4ever@egroups.com

From: AdventureGirl@FantasyEscapes.com

Okay, ladies, I did it. Fantasy Escapes is opening its doors to the public tomorrow morning and I’m officially trolling for business among my best friends—call me tacky, but I think you all deserve a fabulous getaway!

For those of you who’ve been under a rock this last year, I’ve been working on a new start-up business ever since Premiere Properties downsized me out of a job. I’m putting my extensive travel experience to good use to help clients take one-of-a-kind vacations.

Need a massage on the beach in Miami? I can book you with the best hands on South Beach and I know which places have the most luxurious cabanas.

Need a ski trip complete with a sleigh ride?

A bicycle trip to the top of a Hawaiian mountain? I can make sure you pick the best time to see the perfect sunset while you’re there.

You’ll recall I’m a bit Type A? Picture the power of Marnie perfectionism at your fingertips! I’ll create that once-in-a-lifetime experience you dream about.

So here I sit, brimming with knowledge and ready to send one of my fave foxy friends on an adventure. E-mail me when you’re ready to get away! You all know you deserve it … I’m talking to you, Carrie Sawyer!

CARRIE CLOSED THE e-mail from Marnie and pulled up her own Web site. Her comic, Cruel, Cruel World, needed some new panels since she was only ahead by eight days, but she also needed to check the CCW forum, which was a lot easier at the moment since she had no idea what she was going to draw.

Her thoughts drifted back to Marnie’s message before she even clicked on the first new comment. She should call Marnie. They hadn’t spoken in forever. It was good to see that her old friend was jumping into the deep end of the risk pool. Marnie was too smart to be anyone’s flunky.

Man, they’d had some great times way back when. Especially she, Marnie and Erin. They’d met during pledge week freshman year, and the friendship had grown and blossomed as they’d shared their undergraduate years. There were other friends, but none as close. Carrie wasn’t sure why she and Marnie hadn’t stayed in touch, except for the distance thing. Unlike Erin, Marnie had settled in Miami, and neither of them was particularly great with the phone calls.

On the other hand, Carrie and Erin spoke three or four times a week. On the phone mostly but in person when they could. It helped that they both lived in downtown Los Angeles. Carrie had found this giant old loft two weeks after she’d graduated, god, five years ago. The neighborhood was a little dicey, but the light that came through the windows in the converted factory was spectacular, and Carrie loved the space.

She’d only been able to afford it because of Cruel, Cruel World. The comic had started as an experiment. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know about it back then, and she’d written under the name of Carrie Price, but it turned into a marginal hit the first three years of college. Incredibly, the comic had struck syndication gold when she’d become a senior. She’d been picked up by a number of newspapers, and had also built a considerable Web presence with not just the Monday, Wednesday and Friday strips, but the forum, merchandise, her graphic novels and appearances at pretty much every geek and nerd convention across the country. Which meant she was rarely off the clock.

As for Erin, she’d fallen in love with the buildings. She’d come to L.A. to pursue her graduate degree in architecture at USC. Erin had found a place a couple of blocks away from Carrie, which was about the best thing that could have happened.

Left to her own devices, Carrie wouldn’t leave the loft for days at a time. She didn’t need a lot of live interaction, not when most of her social life was online with all the other comic writers, readers, gamers and bloggers. Not that she had anything against going out in general, but if it wasn’t with Erin, she didn’t exactly have a smorgasbord of available companions. Especially since her relationship with Armand had crashed and burned. He’d seemed so perfect. A misfit, a musician, a mystery. He’d been great in bed, fun to go out with and a complete cheating bastard.

Despite knowing he was all wrong for her and that he hadn’t ever really made her happy, she missed him. It was crazy and stupid and it felt horrible. She shouldn’t miss him. He was bad for her, and she deserved better. But her brain and her emotions didn’t seem to be speaking to each other.

Sadly, the disconnect between what she knew and what she wanted had been going on for a while. In particular, when it came to men. So she was taking a break, a sabbatical from relationships, until her heart and mind joined forces.

The phone rang and Carrie answered without a glance at the caller ID. “Hey, Erin. I assume you got the e-mail from Marnie, too?”

“Lunch at the deli. Ten minutes, max.”

Carrie sighed. “Yes, ma’am.” As she disconnected, she wondered what Erin was going to get her into this time.

THE DUDE’S ELBOW POKED the side of her boob. Again. Carrie couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just clueless. If she had to make a guess, it would be clueless.

It was bad enough the Crider Inn was over an hour from the Denver airport, but the shuttle bus was so packed Carrie hadn’t even been able to sit next to Erin. Although Carrie shouldn’t complain too hard. At least she was wedged against the luggage rack on one side, whereas her friend was in the middle of a creepy-guy sandwich. The one on her right looked to be in his thirties, sported a world-class mullet and kept pushing up his tortoiseshell glasses with his middle finger, making it look as if he were flipping everyone the bird. Repeatedly. On Erin’s left was a nice-enough-looking guy, somewhere in his twenties, who wouldn’t be bad at all if he hadn’t snorted every two seconds. The postnasaldrip kind of snort that even if you gave him a tissue, it probably wouldn’t do any good.