Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Virtual Book Tour and Giveaway: Crimson Vale by Jennifer Harlow

Crimson Vale: A Modern Gothic Love Story
by Jennifer Harlow

Genre: Horror, Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Devil on the Left Books
Date of Publication: September 11, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-7326854-0-6 
ISBN: 978-1-7326854-1-3
Number of pages: 300
Word Count: 99,000
Cover Artist: Jennifer Dowis

Welcome to Crimson Vale.

It’s a dream come true. A vast inheritance. A beautiful mansion in the heart of the small town South. A seductive, mysterious, literal man of her dreams offering true, pure love. Ravaged in both body and mind, Jane Harrow leaps into that living dream with abandon.

Despite the voices.

Despite the visions.

Despite the warnings from both the living and the dead.

Because what Jane doesn’t know is nothing and no one are what they seem.

Because demons from the past are patient. 

Because dreams can quickly turn into living nightmares, especially in…Crimson Vale

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“Mrs. Harrow, may I present my son, Bram. He’s the one who tracked you down.” D.J. glances from his son to me, eyes narrowing in confusion. “What the hell is the matter with you two? Y’all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“We’re fine, sir,” Bram says with only a faint trace of a Southern accent. “Just got a chill. Old house and all.”

“Oh. Well, you can get someone to fix that, I guess. Bram can give you the handyman’s name and number. He’s been the one taking care of things. Hey,” he says to his son, “I’ve been meaning to ask. What happened to all those weird looking creatures and symbols that used to be on all the walls and tables? The gargoyles and such? There were still a ton of them even after the renovation.”

“I, uh, had them removed.” Bram turns to me. “I hope you don’t think I overstepped my bounds. I had them remove the medical equipment too and clean up. I just…wanted to cheer the place up for your arrival.”

“Um, thank you. For thinking of me.”

“Your grandmother would have wanted me to, um, make things as comfortable for you as possible.”

“You’re very kind,” I say, blushing. I’m sure as red as a fire engine. I look over at D.J. “Both of you.”

“So, have you decided what you’re going to do with the place?” D.J. asks me.

“I haven’t really thought that far ahead.”

“But you’re planning on staying, right?” Bram asks with urgency. “At least for a while?”

I meet his eyes again, instantly overpowered by the intense fear in them. I can stand it for only a millisecond. “Um, I-I guess.”

“Well, you are welcome to stay here while the will’s in probate. Or the Cypress Hotel is lovely. There’s also the Crimson Vale Motel, but it’s a tad low rent.”

“Um…” Do I really want to spend the night alone in this house? Two people died here, and those are just the ones I know of. I don’t believe in ghosts—your soul either enters heaven or hell—but this house feels as if it’s under an enchantment. Frozen in time by an evil witch. But it’s mine. I came all this way, and if I don’t stay in this house tonight, I never will. “No, I’ll be staying here. The letter said everything was still turned on?”

“It is,” Bram says. “I-we kept the utilities up to date for when you finally arrived.”

“Thank you. Both.”

We stand in silence for a few awkward moments. I sense Bram staring at me, waiting for something, but I can’t return his gaze. My eyes remain glued to the floor. “Well,” D.J. says, “we’ll get out of your hair. You’re probably tired from your trip. Bram?” The son follows the father down the hall and stairs with me three steps behind to show them out. Bram glances back, each time his mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it each time. “You have my card if you have any questions,” D.J. continues. “Don’t hesitate to call, even if it’s just for the name of a good restaurant.”

“Thank you.”

The men step out onto the porch, but I wait at the threshold. “Remember. Anything,” D.J. adds as he ambles to his BMW.

All I want is for you to leave now. “I will. Thank you.”

His son moves toward his own BMW SUV, but halfway there Bram suddenly stops, doesn’t move for a moment, then spins around to face me. For some reason my stomach clenches from nerves as he does. I grip the door handle in case he’s about to finish what he started in the hall, whatever that was. “I, um, I…” he says. His mouth clamps shut again to find the right words. If possible, he’s as unnerved as I am. He shakes his head to clear it and smiles. “Welcome home, Jane.”

Those words send a cascade of warmth through my body like warn rain just washed over me. I haven’t a clue what to say back. All I can manage is a weak smile before retreating inside like a mouse into a hole. The moment the door shuts, I turn my back to it and rest against the wood with a sigh. What is the matter with me? Have I replaced voices and seeing invisible people with nymphomania? I remain pressed against the door until I hear both men drive away, the tension waning as the sounds fade, leaving nothing but glorious silence. The house is still. My house. Mine.

About the Author:
Jennifer Harlow spent her restless childhood fighting with her three brothers and scaring the heck out of herself with horror movies and books. She grew up to earn a degree at the University of Virginia which she put to use as a radio DJ, crisis hotline volunteer, bookseller, lab assistant, wedding coordinator, and government investigator. Currently she calls Atlanta home but that restless itch is ever present. In her free time she continues to scare the beejepers out of herself watching scary movies and opening her credit card bills. She is the author of the Amazon best-selling F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad, Midnight Magic Mystery series, The Galilee Falls Trilogy, and won the Independent Publisher’s Award for Best Mystery Novel.

For the soundtrack to her books and other goodies visit her website here.

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