Alexa Chandler lusts after the fantasy man of her dreams.
She's always dreamed of a castle and a white knight who'd
sweep her off her feet and make mad passionate love to her.
Alexa's father and step-mother were killed in a car wreck,
leaving her millions of dollars and her father's hotel
conglomerate. Alexa is ecstatic when she discovers she's
been willed an island off the coast of Florida. It's not
the island itself that has Alexa so excited, it's the
castle that sits on it. The locals say the island is
haunted and no one has stepped foot on it since the castle,
brought over from Germany piece by piece, was re-built
years before. Alexa has dreams of turning the castle into a
resort and a resident ghost would make her idea all the
more desirable.
Alexa finds a way onto the island and manages to get
inside. There she finds an empty castle save for a large
painting. As she looks into the eyes of the man in the
portrait, she feels drawn to him, so much that she reaches
out to touch the canvas. Her hand breaches the painting,
her temperature rises and before she can scream, she passes
out.
Alexa has released Damon Forsyth from his prison inside the
painting, but he's still trapped inside the castle. Thanks
to the beautiful redhead, he can now exact his revenge on
the powerful Lord Rogan who used black magic to place him
in the painting for the last 400 years. When Damon tries to
exit the castle, he's thrown back as if lightening has
struck him. The gypsy's magic has bound him to the castle.
He cannot free himself. He knows he must seduce Alexa so
that she will agree to release him. She can't deny the
passion that ignites when he touches her body.
The black magic consumes Damon bit-by-bit the longer he
wields it inside the castle. The curse will enslave him to
its evilness unless Alexa can find a way to beat it. The
more Damon uses the power, the more evil he becomes, but
Alexa is immune to the magic because she unknowingly wears
a necklace that blocks it. When she touches him, the magic
leaves him and he is again her new lover.
Alexa's best friend searches for the answers that will free
Damon while Alexa's step-brother finds himself in over his
head with another who wants Rogan's magic. By day, Damon is
nothing more than a phantom, invisible to all, but by
night, he takes a solid form and this is when Alexa goes to
him. Drawn to him as the proverbial moth to a flame, their
passion ignites until Alexa knows she can never leave him.
He must agree not to use the magic. They have to find
another way to break the spell. Failing is not an option
for Alexa. She intends to have her knight and live happily-
ever-after.
Julie Leto's PHANTOM PLEASURES is a delicious story
with equal parts passion and adventure. The plot moves
quickly with the relationship building as intensely as the
danger. With a gypsy touch of magic and a flaming redhead,
one can't go wrong.
Hotshot hotel developer Alexa Chandler lusts after the
property she’s found off the coast of St. Augustine,
Florida--a haunted island complete with an abandoned
castle she intends to convert into her premiere luxury
resort. Inside, the only furnishing--a captivating
portrait of a man--calls to her. With a single touch, she
unleashes a phantom who has been trapped within the
painting for over two hundred years.
Centuries ago, Damon Forsyth charged into a mysterious
gypsy enclave on a desperate mission, but found himself
trapped inside a cursed painting by his mortal enemy. Over
time, he has contemplated little but revenge and
retribution--until undeniable need draws Alexa to his
lair. Though she releases him from the painting, Damon
remains bound to the castle where the portrait hangs.
Damon needs Alexa to break the final barrier. Using the
dark magic that enslaves him, he initiates a game of
seduction--with his freedom as the ultimate prize.
Unable to resist Damon’s fierce sexuality, Alexa
surrenders to his ghostly touch, but soon, she must choose
between thwarting the magic that holds Damon in
thrall...or her own mortality.
Excerpt
Alexa Chandler closed her eyes. The stone against her
back, so cold only moments before, suddenly warmed. The
heat eased through the thin layer of her clothes and
ignited her skin. She could feel the green-gray eyes of
the man in the portrait staring down at her. Into her.
Her step-brother stepped nearer, his gaze darting with
annoyance to the portrait as if the man were intruding on
their conversation. “Are you crazy? You want me to leave
you here alone?”
Fingers of warmth curled around her shoulders. Alexa
allowed her head to drop forward and the sensations
smoothed over her neck, then eased down her spine. Yes,
she wanted to stay. Yes, she wanted to be here alone.
“Alexa?”
Jacob grabbed her arm and tugged her away from the wall.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Alexa shook her head. Wrong? Nothing was wrong. Was it?
She was simply tired. Overwhelmed by her experience
earlier in the helicopter and now in the castle.
“Look, you’ll only be gone for a few hours, right? The
Coast Guard knows I’m here and I have the portable GPS. I
can activate the distress signal if I need to and our
friends will come running, I’m sure. And I have my phone.”
“I just lost the signal on mine,” he said, his expression
incredulous.
Guard dog.
“A cell, not satellite. And you had the phone working long
enough to hear the complicated and business-threatening
tales of woe from Boston. If I call you and all you hear
is ‘help,’ get here quick, okay? I’ve got water and
supplies. Just come get me before dark.”
His eyebrows slanted together at a hard angle. “I can’t
just leave you here.”
“Why not?” The farther she walked onto the landing, the
more the warmth seeped out of her, the clearer her mind
focused on the possibilities of the castle as a Crown
Chandler resort property. The stairs would be polished,
the cracks repaired. Lush tapestries would keep out the
drafts and keep in the cool air that seemed trapped in the
stone walls. She’d insist on electric or gas powered
torches to provide light and just enough ambience to keep
the shadows sufficiently spooky.
This could work.
She just needed time alone to concentrate. To allow the
ideas to flow uninterrupted.
She spun and lifted her chin. “Just take care of business
on the mainland and let me do my stuff here.”
Jacob made no move to leave.
She stared at him intently.
He groaned. “There’s no arguing with you when your chin
tilts up that way.”
She smiled. He was right.
“I’ll be back in two hours, no less,” he promised, jogged
down a few steps, then returned, removing a necklace from
around his neck. “Wait. Wear this.”
Alexa eyed the offering warily. She wasn’t sure she’d seen
Jacob wear this particular trinket before--a gold triangle
with a jagged corner, as if ripped off a larger design.
“What’s this?”
“A talisman,” he answered.
She crossed her arms.
He rolled his eyes. “Take the damned thing, Alexa. It’s
for luck. I’m betting this charm kept us from falling out
of the sky today on that helicopter.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need a good luck charm.”
He thrust the necklace at her. “Take it or I’m not
leaving.”
Alexa knew how to assess an opponent. From across a board
room table or on the landing of an ancient castle
staircase, she could estimate with amazing accuracy when
someone would back down and when they would not. Jacob had
correctly assessed her stubbornness a moment before. Now,
he was the one who wasn’t budging. Which meant the crisis
at Crown Chandler would only snowball. Sunlight would slip
away. Her chance to roam the castle halls would be lost.
She yanked the necklace out of his hand and while he
watched, twisted the chain around her neck.
“There,” she said. “Satisfied?”
After a quick kiss on her cheek, Jacob told her to be
careful and left.
Instantly, Alexa turned to the painting. Fingering the
triangle now dangling from her neck, she approached the
portrait with soft, measured steps. The closer she came,
the more intensely her body reacted. Her chest tightened.
Sweat curled along the back of her neck. Her breathing
shortened. His eyes seemed to rake over her. She jolted
when her nipples hardened in response.
Whoa.
She stopped. “Just who are you?” she asked the painting.
Touch me and find out.
She staggered backward, then spun around. The door at the
bottom of the stairs remained firmly closed. The voice had
been a whisper in her ear, a hot breath along the nape of
her neck...and yet, she was alone.
Alexa swallowed hard and turned sharply. She hadn’t come
this far to be afraid. She marched to the canvas and
balanced her fists on her hips.
“Say again?”
She waited.
Nothing.
“Just when things were getting interesting, you turn shy?”
she quipped.
His expression remained stoic, unchanged, but his eyes
brimmed with wild fury like thunderclouds rolling over
white-capped waves. Even through the layers of grime
coating the canvas, masking what she anticipated was a
rich depth of color, he intrigued her at the same time
that he unnerved her.
She shrugged out of the silk shirt she’d worn over a lacy
chemise and approached the canvas.
Hung high, the painting remained mostly out of reach. She
stretched on her tip-toes and flicked the shirt at the
corners, removing most of the powdery dirt and spider webs
that had accumulated on the surface and in the corners of
the once gilded frame. With a shiver, she tossed the
ruined material to the floor, but admired her handiwork
nonetheless.
He was gorgeous. The fire of male strength and power had
been captured in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, in
the broad width of his chest. The fabric and detail in the
cut of his clothes reflected money. Perhaps, influence.
The time period eluded her, but she’d have experts tackle
that question. She was more concerned with who he was--and
if he was the man she’d seen in the window. Was he the
type of man who would defy time, space and perhaps, death?
She closed her eyes and concentrated.
Who are you?
She ran her fingers over the frame. Once again, she felt a
surge of warmth. Funny. Ghosts were supposed to announce
their presence with cold, weren’t they? Clearly, this was
no ordinary spirit.
Or she was taking this fantasy thing way too seriously.
She nearly pulled her hand away when she heard the
whispered baritone once again.
Touch me.
She kept her hand steady. “I don’t go around touching
strangers,” she countered.
The air around her swirled with heat.
I’m not a stranger. We’ve met before. In a dream. In your
fantasy. Touch me and see.
Alexa couldn’t resist. She slid her hand off the frame,
then up the portrayal of his waist. She climbed as high as
she could on the top of her feet and stretched until her
palm settled on the spot where his heart would beat.
Did beat.
Strong.
Hot.
Heat seared her hand and yet, she couldn’t pull away.
The temperature rose. Her skin seemed to melt into the
canvas.
She opened her mouth to scream, but darkness dropped over
her and pulled her into a vortex. She scratched out,
stretched and twisted, fighting to keep from falling...but
lost.
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