This is my stop during the blog tour for Forever and One Week by Caroline Cairn. This blog tour is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours. The blog tour runs from 25 till 29 May, view the tour schedule here.
Start reading this series now for free!
Grab your free copy of Forever Hers on amazon
The Spirits of Saoradh, who carry the guilt of a crime they committed when they were alive, now spend their ghostly days in the Void, dark nothingness where time and space are distorted. Until they get bound to a human. As often as needed, that human can call them to the real world, ask them to grant a wish, then send them back to the Void. The Spirits also have to follow strict rules or be punished, unaware that they can earn their redemption through a selfless sacrifice.
Spirit Logan despises the obedience he has to show to his humans, and prefers the enjoyable solitude of the Void. For three years, he has managed to threaten them into severing their bond, thus having his memory wiped of their existence. Except his latest human, an emotionless woman with a secret past, isn’t scared of him. Worse, she doesn’t care about his ability to make wishes come true.
Tessa, a twenty-six-year-old nursery teacher in Fort William, Scotland, doesn’t expect a sullen ghost only she can see and touch to burst through her solid defences. Both dismayed and intrigued, she offers Logan a deal he can’t refuse: to live with her in the human world for one week, at the end of which she will agree to release him.
Slowly, Tessa braves through the safety of her detachment towards people to show Logan some kindness. But the more her feelings deepen, the more Logan increases his distance…
“What the hell do you want?”
The sharpness of his voice didn’t shock her as much as him turning up in her dining room. She presented the coffee tin to the Spirit lurking in the shadowed corner. She didn’t notice herself pressing on the metal until it created a dent.
“I would like a full one, please.”
If he could fill the can with the same beans he had used the last time he had granted her wish, she would cry in happiness. His coffee had tasted like smooth chocolate with a hint of bitter nuttiness. The fruity flavour of her usual brand had suddenly vanished to blandness.
“Are you asking for freaking coffee again? Are you serious?”
Her extended arm began to ache. “Please, and I need some painting supplies, too.”
He crossed his arms. She couldn’t watch the expression on his face as it was bathed in darkness, but his posture was relaxed. “I thought you didn’t need me.” The sarcasm was drenched in triumph.
She brought the empty tin to her chest. He hadn’t been cross at her for her lack of reaction yesterday. He had been cross because he had been unable to rebuff her. “I take it you won’t give me anything.” She threw the tin in the bin.
Feet spread out in front of her fridge, she opted for the last of the yoghurts, the lemon flavour one she hated. Why the supermarkets insisted on using this vile fruit in their value range, she had no idea. Paper lid removed, she tucked into her breakfast without enthusiasm, standing in the middle of the room.
“Are you kidding me?”
She carried on eating, bracing herself for what was to come.
“Hey—” He grunted with annoyance. “Hell, I don’t even know your name.”
“Tessa.” The slightly acidic and too-sweet yoghurt churned her stomach.
“Well, Tessa, you need to wish for it. I can’t get you anything until you use the proper word. Say it.”
She plunged her spoon in the foul creaminess. “What’s the point? You’re going to refuse me anyway.”
His arms unfolded as he levitated, crossed-legged, elbows wide. His fingertips drummed his thighs with increasing speed. “Try me.”
She didn’t bother replying. She knew his kind. People who had to have their way because they considered themselves so much smarter than others. Tessa dealt with them with casual indifference, because that meant they wouldn’t search for trouble. They would leave her alone.
He grated that part of her she had put to sleep a long time ago.
She didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
Yet it compelled her, like a chickenpox itch you know you shouldn’t scratch but can’t resist.
Once she had dropped the empty yoghurt pot in the bin, she proceeded to wash her spoon, aware of a glare cutting a hole at the back of her head. She wiped the cutlery dry with slow movements, blew on it then polished it. The sound of fingertips on denim was getting louder in her ears. So he was getting frustrated.
She couldn’t wait for his next move.
Water running from the tap, she rinsed her sponge, soaked it in a lavender-scented cleaning spray and wiped every nook and cranny, from the sink to the kitchen counter, with deliberate fussiness. She lifted her kettle and her toaster, pushed her plant to the left, then back to its place, and scrubbed those pesky corners. The cupboard doors were next, after a few more sprays of lavender.
If I started singing, would that be too much?
His hoarse breathing had turned into a low growl.
But she was too far gone to stop. So when her wrist got captured by a powerful hand, an unexpected thrill coursed through her.
“Say it,” he ordered. “Say how much you wish for coffee.”
His grip was painful. Implacable. It brought her back to reality, chased away that stupid excitement she never should have pursued. Logan was just like everyone else. No doubt he would resort to violence because she had taunted him. Because she hadn’t done as she was told.
So she shut herself down, and let him pull her to face him.
“Jesus Christ, not again.” He yanked his hand away from her.
Images of her mother flashed like a nightmare. She had to concentrate to keep her vision focused on him.
“How can you go from provoking me to this lifeless thing?”
She rubbed her wrist, where his print had marked her flesh. He could scream as much as he wanted and take out his anger on her. A calm resolution had flooded her senses. It shielded her soul. Nothing would hurt now. The soft glow of his eyes had intensified to blazing gold, a sheer contrast to his reddening face. His eyebrows were so low they could cast their own shadow over his cheeks. And his lips…
A painful twinge hit her in the throat.
His bottom lip was cut, the blood dried up as a crust. But it was his neck that had her stumbling back against her sink. It had two perfectly parallel, crimson crevices crossing from one side to the other. She was no expert, but these scars were fresh, and made by a razor-sharp blade. She could swear it.
His tirade halted abruptly.
He seemed to hesitate between retreating in the corner and standing his ground. That he chose the latter didn’t surprise her.
“That’s none of your business,” he replied to her silent question.
You can find Forever and One Week on Goodreads
Feisty twenty-four-year old Holly, or Miss Greedy as her friends call her, receives a wooden cube as a gift from an enigmatic elderly lady who happens to be her mother’s new neighbour in Lossiemouth, a small Scottish fishing town. What she doesn’t expect, is for the cube to contain Blayne, a Spirit of Saoradh only she can see and touch.
Blayne is a playful, headstrong ghost with no recollection of his human past and an ability to grant Holly’s wishes whenever she calls for him — as long as said wishes don’t raise any questions from the public that is. So a shiny new car might be out of the question, but the possibility of a flat stomach, a consistently spotless house or a perfect daily hairstyle more than make up for it. Through their incessant banter, Holly and Blayne grow closer while fighting against their mutual attraction since they have no possible future together.
But when the painful reality of Blayne’s existence is revealed, Holly will realize that it’s not always the girl who needs to be saved.
Holly went straight to her bedroom and fell on her bed. She lay motionless for a while, staring at the ceiling, mind blank, the ache still digging at her. She grazed the wood with her fingertips, her eyelids getting heavier and heavier. A sudden thump woke her from her torpor.
“Damn it.” She straightened herself to see her court shoe had come off her foot and fallen on the pristine, white wooden floor, scattering bits of mud all around. Holly’s shoulders slumped as she realized her shoes had smeared dried up soil everywhere she’d walked. Better sweep the lot up before clean freak Isobel told her off. She hauled herself up with little grace and put her shoe back on. She placed the box on top of her chest of drawers before she dragged herself downstairs. Armed with a broom, she swept the kitchen, the stairs, and then her bedroom. She was about to fetch the dustpan and the brush when her corner vision caught something that made her halt. Frowning, she approached Max’s wooden cube.
It had a marking on it.
How was it possible? Both she and her mother had examined it thoroughly earlier, and there was no inscription of any kind. She touched the black symbol. It was smooth against the wood, as if it had been printed, rather than engraved. Holly rotated the box, scrutinizing each side. No, no other marking. She put it back on her chest of drawers, and her lips fastened in a bewildered pout. A black triquetra inside a circle made out of chains. Very strange symbol indeed. She pushed hard on it, part of her wishing that somehow, it would trigger something. Nothing happened. She scratched her temple. Okay, still no opening. But still, this new black mark was pretty cool. No wonder Adelaide had called it magic. Maybe it was activated through a certain temperature? She’d have to show her mother; she was bound to be impressed.
She turned around to pick up the broom she had propped against the wall earlier, and her heart stopped.
There was a man on her bed.
You can find Forever Hers on Goodreads
You can grab your free copy of Forever Hers here:
About the Author:
Born and raised in France, Caroline Cairn studied hotel management before spending a couple of years in England, Ireland and Belgium. In 2001, she and her husband settled close to the Loch Ness monster in the Highlands of Scotland, and soon, two children and about thirteen fish joined them.
Dramatic scenes are still her favourite to work on, which is perhaps a reminiscence of her teenage years when every single ones of her stories had to end in epic tragedy (Shakespeare had nothing on her).
Thankfully, these days, she veers towards the happy-ever-after finale in a glorious orange and red sunset.
There is a tour wide giveaway for the blog tour of Forever and One Week. One winner will win a print copy of both Forever Her and Forever and One Week by Caroline Cairn and some Scottish goodies.
For a chance to win, enter the rafflecopter below:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl