Gingerly the man sat up, wincing from apparent stiffness. He scrubbed his face with his hands to wipe away the remnants of sleep. His dark eyes looked sad and tired, the boy thought. When the man realized that he was awake, he said, “How are you feeling?”
The boy shrugged and even that small movement brought discomfort as every muscle complained. “Hurts,” he said, surprised by his own voice. He didn’t remember what it sounded like. But then again, he didn’t recall much of anything.
Except fear. Fear was the only real memory alive in his brain.
The man nodded and stood awkwardly, as if in pain himself. He gently urged the dog away from the bed with a soft nudge of his knee and a “Scat, Spottie.” Then he faced him and said, “Why don’t you lie back down while I get you some food…” His voice trailed off in question, but the boy didn’t understand what he wanted.
“Your name, son. What’s your name?”
The boy searched his brain, but couldn’t find the answer to that simple question, much less any of the others ricocheting through his brain.
“I don’t know.”
With a resigned sigh, the man said, “Could be the shot you took to your head. It’ll come back. Don’t worry.”
The boy lay down and as his head touched the pillow, he experienced tenderness at the back of his skull. He delicately rubbed his hand along the bump there, wondering how he had been hurt.
As soon as the man left the room, the beagle returned to the bed, but this time the dog scampered up right beside him. Almost as if sensing that he needed the comfort, the dog lay along his side and playfully butted his hand with the tip of its cold wet nose.
The dog’s antics pulled a smile to his face. He stroked the dog’s head, wondering if he’d had his own pet. There was something familiar about the dog’s actions that cried out to him as the warmth of the animal’s body seeped into his hand.
The boy welcomed the comforting warmth.
Unexpectedly the heat became even stronger, almost as if it had developed a life of its own. Beside him the dog whimpered, but the boy was too caught up in the surge of heat and vigor flowing through his body, driving away the assorted aches and pains.
With an almost tired groan, the dog’s body relaxed and the beagle released a weary little breath. Was it sick? he wondered, but then heard a soft snore and realized the dog was asleep.
He jumped from the bed, but there was something weird as he landed on the floor. He could barely see past the dusty skirt along the bottom of the mattress and as he moved, the wood on the floor was cold on both his hands and feet. On his paws, he realized as he padded out of the room, the scent of the man alive in his nostrils as he tracked him to the kitchen.
The man was at the sink, beating eggs, and turned as the boy entered the room.
“What are you up to, Spottie? Excited about our guest?” Smiling, he came close, bent down, and rubbed his head.
The boy tried to speak, but only a low woof erupted from his mouth. Fear took hold and he barked again, hoping to reach the man and make him understand.
The man heard the almost urgent yaps and peered at him more closely. He narrowed his eyes to examine him and must have realized the dog was different now. Lurching upright, the man ran back to the bedroom, the boy following awkwardly on all fours.
The man jerked to a stop as he noted the beagle sprawled on the bed, its muscles twitching as it chased imaginary prey in its sleep. With a hesitant glance from the dog lying on the comforter to the one hopping excitedly beside him, the man pivoted on his heel, looking all around the room as he sought out the boy.
The boy let out another yowl and jumped up and down on his front paws, long nails clacking on the floor, wanting the man to understand that he was right there.
The man finally dropped to his knees and touched the boy’s head. Trailed it down to cup the bottom of his long jowly jaw and urge his face upward. As the man’s gaze connected with the deep emerald of the dog’s eyes, the man’s eyes widened in stunned surprise.
“Holy Mother of God,” he whispered before scooping him up and holding him tight to his chest.
The boy let out a contented little mewl and wag of his tail at the comfort the embrace brought. The man would help him, the boy thought. And with his help, he would be home again soon.
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Roxanne St. Claire
Dear Reader,
BAREFOOT IN THE SAND opens during a powerful hurricane that forces the heroine and her daughter to hole up in a bathtub under a mattress and pray for survival. The scene, I’m sorry to say, took very little imagination for me to write. I’ve been there. On August 24, 1992, one of the worst hurricanes in the history of this country slammed into Dade County, Florida, and changed hundreds of thousands of lives. Mine was one of them.
Exactly one month pregnant with a baby that had taken four years and a quadrillion deals with God to conceive, I decided to spend the night at my sister’s house when Hurricane Andrew approached Miami. Despite the fact that the forecasters predicted the storm would turn north before making landfall, my husband and I had worried that our proximity to the coastline made us vulnerable, and that our east-facing double front doors might buckle with the wind. We braced the doors with the living room sofa and evacuated just eight miles north. My sister’s house sustained little damage that night, though freight-train winds ripped her patio screen and took down some beloved trees.
We headed home the next morning, and with each passing mile, it was clear that the southern section of Miami had taken the brunt of the storm. We sure hoped that sofa had held the doors closed.
We still laugh about that because, well, we never did find that sofa.
When we arrived at what we thought was our street—all the trees were uprooted or stripped bare and not a single street sign survived—all we could do was stare. The sofa was long gone (but our neighbor’s love seat was in our driveway!), along with our doors, every window, all the roof tiles, the garage doors, and just about everything we’d ever owned. Everything.
Inside, all the ceilings had collapsed, leaving snowdrifts of insulation. My beautiful home was covered in mud, drywall, and broken glass. Every remaining wall was green from the chlorophyll in the leaves that had blown around during what had to have been mini-tornadoes in the house.
I stood in the midst of that chaos and started to cry, of course. Shaking uncontrollably, unable to process what might lie ahead, I could barely suck in shuddering breaths and weep at the sight of my rain-soaked wedding album and shattered bits of my precious Waterford crystal.
Everything we had was gone.
Then my husband gripped my shoulders, giving me a stern shake and silencing me with two words: The baby. The baby.
Obviously, not everything was gone. When Mother Nature has a temper tantrum and breaks all your stuff, the only things that really matter are the people who are left.
When I needed the catalyst to set Lacey Armstrong’s story in motion and start the Barefoot Bay series, the lessons I learned from surviving and rebuilding after Hurricane Andrew were still fresh in my heart, even almost two decades later. It wasn’t hard to imagine riding out that storm in a bathtub; I had many friends and neighbors who had done just that. It wasn’t impossible to put myself in Lacey’s shoes the next day, digging for optimism in a mountain of rubble.
But I also had twenty years of perspective and knew that no matter what she lost in the storm, Lacey’s indomitable spirit wouldn’t merely survive, but thrive. She not only found optimism in that rubble, she found love.
P.S. “The baby” turns nineteen this year. And, no, we didn’t name him Andrew.
From the desk of Cara Elliott
Dear Reader,
Psst! I’ve got a secret to share with you about my hero in TOO TEMPTING TO RESIST. Okay, you already know that Gryffin Owain Dwight, the Marquess of Haddan, is rich, handsome, titled, and an incorrigibly charming flirt.
But I’ll bet you weren’t aware of this intimate little detail—he speaks a very special language.
No, no, not French or Italian! (Though as a dashingly romantic rake, he’s fluent in those lovely tongues.) It’s the secret language of Flowers, a highly seductive skill. For example, he knows that red roses signify “Love,” while orange ones mean “Fascination.” He can tell you that yellow irises murmur “Passion” and peach blossoms say “I am your captive.”
Now, you might ask how he came to know all this. Well, here’s an interesting bit of history (as the author of historical romances, I love discovering interesting little facts from the past): Flowers have long been powerful symbols in Eastern cultures, and in the early eighteenth century, Lady Mary Wortley Montague, wife of the British ambassador to Constantinople (and a fascinating woman in her own right), learned of a little Turkish book called The Secret Language of Flowers. Intrigued, she had it translated and brought it back to England with her… and from there the romantic idea that lovers could send hidden messages to each other via bouquets was introduced to Europe.
Today, the symbolic use of flowers is still flourishing. Here’s another secret! Kate Middleton’s bouquet at the Royal Wedding to Prince William was carefully designed using the language of flowers to express special meaning for the bride and groom and their families: Lily-of-the-valley, which means “Return of Happiness” (chosen in memory of Diana); Sweet William, which means “Gallantry” (isn’t that romantic!); Hyacinth, which means “Constancy of Love”; Ivy, which means “Fidelity, Friendship and Affection”; Myrtle, which is the emblem of marriage and love.
Now, getting back to my hero, Gryff has a number of other intriguing secrets. He’s a man of hidden talents—and hidden passions. It’s no wonder that Eliza, Lady Brentford, finds him irresistibly alluring, despite her distrust of rakes and rascals. She too has an interest in flowers, so when she discovers that he speaks their language…
And how does Gryff use this special skill? Well, that’s for you to find out for yourself! I hope you’ll take a peek at his story and let him whisper his petal-soft seductions in your ear!
From the desk of Caridad Piñeiro
Dear Reader,
I’ve been reading romances for as long as I can remember, going back to when I was twelve and read and re-read Wuthering Heights all summer long. At one point the librarian told me I could not take the book out again since other people needed a chance to read it!
Denied my broody Heathcliff and doomed Catherine, I turned my attentions to what some might say were an odd mix: Shakespeare and Ian Fleming.
It’s safe to say that those choices as a young reader were later reflected in what I wrote, especially in THE CLAIMED, the second book in the Sin Hunters series.
Action. Adventure. Angst. I’ve incorporated all those elements that I love into this tale of a determined and broody alpha hero, Christopher Sombrosa, and a woman who is the absolute wrong choice for him, Victoria Johnson.
So why is Victoria not the woman for Christopher? Think Romeo and Juliet, Capulet and Montague.
Victoria is destined to be the leader of her Light Hunter clan, while Christopher is not only one of the Dark Ones, he is likewise supposed to assume command of his Shadow Hunter people.
Add to the mix some rather nefarious villains in the form of Christopher’s father and ex-fiancée and the betrayal of someone dear to Victoria, and I think you’ll find THE CLAIMED will keep you turning pages until the very end.
I am very glad to say, however, that despite the hopeless Catherine, Juliet, and assorted Bond girls who could never win James’s heart, there is a path to a new and exciting place for Christopher and Victoria.
I hope you will enjoy their fight for a better tomorrow for not only themselves, but their race of Hunters.
ALSO BY CARIDAD PIÑEIRO
Sins of the Flesh
Stronger than Sin
The Lost
Praise for
CARIDAD PIÑEIRO AND HER NOVELS
THE LOST
“Piñeiro’s new series will excite readers, new and old. As a newcomer to her work, how I missed this author for so long, I’ll never know. Her characters and red-hot writing had me looking for the nearest cold shower. The Lost is an excellent beginning to a new series that will have readers counting the days until the second Sin Hunters book is released.”
—RT Book Reviews
“The talented paranormal author Caridad Piñeiro establishes her new otherworld inside an action-packed story line. The key support cast is fully developed, especially the stalkers, while the novel belongs to the vet and the millionaire… The opening Sin Hunters romantic urban fantasy is a great first act.”
—GenreGoRoundReviews.blogspot.com
“Four stars! Wonderfully exciting and powerful—the start of a new series that I can hardly wait to read more of.”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
“5 stars! Stellar! Caridad Piñeiro has crafted an exciting new series and, with this first story, I am hooked!… [She] actually seems to breathe life into each of her characters… I could almost feel the evil malice radiating from the Shadow Hunters… I am eagerly looking forward to the next story.”
—HuntressReviews.com
STRONGER THAN SIN
“A love story like nothing you’ve read before! This premise is utterly unique, and so original and brilliant that I wish I’d thought of it first. If you want something wonderfully different, do not miss Stronger than Sin.”
—Maggie Shayne, New York Times bestselling author
“[A] compelling and scintillating tale of mad scientists, devoted doctors, and wounded warriors. There isn’t a thing missing in this imaginative and fast-paced love story.”
—RT Book Reviews
“An entertaining and sizzling read.”
—RomRevToday.com
“I was enthralled by the story from the first page and could not put it down… Piñeiro has changed the face of paranormal romance and is definitely an author to watch.”
—FreshFiction.com
“Romance and intrigue… Be prepared to be sitting on the edge of your seat, anxiously awaiting the next book.”
—FallenAngelReviews.com
“Second in this series and just as tightly written as the first. It stands alone. This is suspenseful and the passion is strong.”
—Romance Reviews Magazine
SINS OF THE FLESH
“A sexy adventure with a luscious hero and an amazing heroine… I couldn’t put it down!”
—Angela Knight, New York Times bestselling author
“This has all the makings of a great paranormal romance—a beautiful heroine, a dark, sexy, and protective hero, and a compelling and relevant subplot.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Caridad Piñeiro never disappoints… No author is better at crafting novels which explore the paranormal than Caridad Piñeiro. Sins of the Flesh expertly intertwines suspense and passion to create a spellbinding story of the paranormal.”
—SingleTitles.com
“Page-turning action and sizzling love scenes as only Caridad Piñeiro can deliver!”
—L. A. Banks, New York Times bestselling author
“Faster than the speed of light… an action-packed thriller that never takes a breath… Caridad Piñeiro provides another one of her super romantic suspense thrillers.”
—Midwest Book Review
“This is as good as paranormal gets!”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
“Captured my full attention with its too-human characters and its too-real plot. A fascinating, adrenaline-fueled read! I could not stop turning pages!”
—Debra Webb, national bestselling author of Everywhere She Turns
“If you’re looking for a book that will grab your attention and keep it, get a copy of Sins of the Flesh today.”
—RomRevToday.com
“The best romantic suspense I’ve read in years. It’s truly her best book yet. Caridad
has created a whole cast of characters who seem to live and breathe.”
—AmericanChronicle.com
“Sins of the Flesh boasts enough heart-jacking action in its plot and enough relationship development to keep readers happily turning the page from the first line… to the chilling finish. This one should come with a ‘Satisfaction Guaranteed’ sign right on the front cover.”
—BittenByBooks.com
“Caridad Piñeiro is one of the most gifted and talented paranormal writers we have. She is on my automatic reading list! No one creates a page-turner like Piñeiro!”
—Lindsay McKenna, USA Today bestselling author of Dangerous Prey
Contents
FRONT COVER IMAGE
WELCOME
DEDICATION
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
The Claimed (Sin Hunters) Page 28
