Sole Possession

by Bryn Donovan

Overview

After David Girard inherits his family's creepy old estate—a place that holds only tragic memories for him—he wants nothing to do with it. The sooner it's out of his possession, the better, so he hires Andi Petrowski to fix it up for a quick sale. He's immediately drawn to the feisty contractor, but he fears his father's cruel legacy will ruin everything.
The moment Andi enters the Girard mansion, she's haunted by disturbing visions. She tries to brush them off, but her attraction to David isn't as easy to ignore. Their relationship soon crosses the line from professional to personal, despite his guarded nature and warnings about his dark past.
When the dreams and visions intensify into very real violence, David and Andi are desperate to uncover the evil threatening to possess him. Could Andi's gifts be the key to uncovering the darkness within David? And will he be strong enough to break the family curse and protect the woman he loves?
86,000 words

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781426894503
Publisher:	Carina Press
Publication date:	02/11/2025
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	384
File size:	742 KB

Read an Excerpt

Andi parked her truck, got out and looked up at one of the most amazing houses she had ever seen.

The enormous three-story Victorian stood well back from the road on at least an acre of weeds. Elaborate white trim graced its gray fa ade, and lacy ironwork topped the steep mansard roof. A porch ran across the whole front of the house, supported by stately columns. Even in the Chicago suburb of Evanston, with all of its lovely historic homes, the mansion stood out like a movie star at a backyard barbecue.

But Andi felt a sudden sense of dread, as though remembering a bad dream. An anxious chill went through her, despite the mild October sunshine.

She knew that feeling. She'd felt it before, though not for a long time.

Oh, for God's sake, she told herself. She was twenty-eight, old enough to control her overactive imagination, or at least ignore it.

As she made her way up the front walk and got a closer look at the place, she observed that the man she'd traded emails with was right. It was in bad shape. Broken glass. Rotting trim around the windows. Missing shingles. The roof above the right dormer window on the third floor had a definite dip.

Andi had only been doing contract work on her own for a year or so, and she had never worked on a place like this.

The owner wanted to get it ready for sale fast, and it sounded as though he was bringing in other people as well to get everything done. He was only hiring her to strip and refinish the woodwork and the floors, which was her specialty.

A wrought-iron fence surrounded the lot. Rust frosted its little bent spires like a dusting of orange snow. Andi ventured up to the closed gate and reached over to the other side to undo the latch. It felt like trespassing. Silence surrounded her—no birds, no cars rolling by. She closed the gate behind her and noticed a small metal sign next to the walk, proclaiming the house a registered historical landmark.

Andi knocked on the wooden door. She waited and then banged again, harder this time. Nothing.

He might be upstairs, on the third floor, where he wouldn't be able to hear her. She reached out to turn the greening bronze doorknob, expecting to find it locked.

It gave way. She pushed the door, and it opened wide with a long, exhausted creak. Even in the middle of the morning, shadows stretched across the front hall. Large footprints muddied the scuffed and splintered floor.

She stepped in and looked up at the huge, curving staircase, its railing coated with tan paint. The carved panels lining the bottom half of the walls had also been painted over, and the beams in the entry hall were massive, almost daunting.

"Hey!"

Andi jumped at the man's voice, her heart lurching into double-time.

As he emerged from the shadows, she realized she'd startled him, too: he had been warning off a possible intruder. He was an imposing figure, over six feet tall, a black tee shirt and jeans hugging his broad-shouldered form.

"You must be the guy I'm supposed to meet," she blurted out.

"Can I help you?" He folded his arms across his chest, inclining his head forward. At five foot three, she was used to men looking down at her, but she found herself particularly aware of his height and muscled bulk.