Dear Reader,
Nocturne Falls has become a magical place for so many people, myself included. Over and over I’ve heard from you that it’s a town you’d love to visit and even live in! I can tell you that writing the books is just as much fun for me.
With your enthusiasm for the series in mind – and your many requests for more books – the Nocturne Falls Universe was born. It’s a project near and dear to my heart, and one I am very excited about.
I hope these new, guest-authored books will entertain and delight you. And best of all, I hope they allow you to discover some great new authors! (And if you like this book, be sure to check out the rest of the Nocturne Falls Universe offerings.)
For more information about the Nocturne Falls Universe, visit http://kristenpainter.com/sugar-skull-books/
In the meantime, happy reading!
Kristen Painter
Welcome to Nocturne Falls, the town where Halloween is celebrated 365 days a year. The tourists all think it’s a show: the vampires, the werewolves, the witches, the occasional gargoyles flying through the sky. But the supernaturals populating the town know better.
Living in Nocturne Falls means being yourself. Fangs, fur, and all.
Retired supermodel Ember Guerra moved to the mountains outside Nocturne Falls in order to escape the paparazzi who hounded her. The Amazon beauty adores the privacy of her remote home. Until she discovers a hidden camera on her property.
Bigfoot researcher Dean Hawkins is in real danger of losing his grant money if he doesn’t find evidence of his subject soon, so he’s furious after someone vandalizes his video equipment. When a dark-haired siren admits she’s the culprit, he expects an apology. Instead, she unloads both barrels on him.
Ember refuses to help Dean pursue the elusive Sasquatch since she was also relentlessly harassed. Even so, the nerdy professor is the most interesting guy she’s met in forever, and she lets down her guard long enough to start falling for him. But could Dean be so ambitious that he’d sacrifice love for the sake of his career?
BEAUTY AND THE BIGFOOT HUNTER
A Nocturne Falls Universe Story
Copyright © 2018 by Wynter Daniels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction and was made possible by a special agreement with Sugar Skull Books, but hasn’t been reviewed or edited by Kristen Painter. All characters, events, scenes, plots and associated elements appearing in the original Nocturne Falls series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kristen Painter, Sugar Skull Books and their affiliates or licensors.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or Sugar Skull Books.
Published in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About Wynter Daniels
Also by Wynter Daniels
Dedication
For everyone who believes in magic!
Acknowledgment
A big thank you to Dr. Dennis Wagner—optometrist and Bigfoot enthusiast—
for planting the seed from which this story grew.
Special thanks to Barbie Pomales for help with the Spanish translations.
Chapter One
Ember Guerra tied Lycia’s reins to a tree then rubbed the brown hair on the horse’s neck and chin. “I won’t be long, girl.” Inhaling the sweet smell of honeysuckle blooms, she hiked up the short trail to the top of the mountain—the spot that gave her the best view of the waterfall. Tonight’s waxing lunar phase promised a spectacular show. She sat down on a flat rock and sighed, enjoying the solitude and beauty of her own slice of paradise.
There it was, right on time—a perfect moonbow. Midnight blue, blood red, darkest emerald, and more. All the colors of a daytime rainbow, only darker, deeper, fuller. This was her lugar feliz, her happy place.
After so many years in the limelight, being surrounded by people who wanted something from her, she now liked nothing more than being all by herself. Her horse and two cats were the best company she could keep.
A twinge of guilt nudged at her belly. She loved her family with all her heart, but in truth, she’d been ready for their visit to end, and was a little relieved after they’d left yesterday and headed back home to Miami. It had been difficult to keep to her schedule while they’d been staying with her. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed her time with them—cooking delicious Cuban picadillo with her mama and little sister, her papa playing guajira music on his old guitar on her back deck, and the constant din of each of them trying to talk over the others in Spanglish. But there was a reason she’d bought fifty acres in the middle of nowhere.
A low hoot drew her gaze back toward a nearby cloche of pine trees. She couldn’t see the owl though and was about to return her attention to the moonbow when she could have sworn that she glimpsed a green light flash somewhere in the thicket. There it was again.
What the…?
Why would there be some sort of electronic device on her property, high on a secluded mountaintop? She narrowed her eyes in that direction and saw it again—a camera. What else could it be?
From the age of twelve until shortly after her twenty-seventh birthday, her whole existence had been the glare of lights, endless photo shoots, and vodka-infused, all-night parties. Once she’d made it big, the paparazzi had been relentless. They’d stalked her constantly—as she’d run errands, gone on vacations, and even at her grandmother’s funeral, no doubt hoping to capture a drunken outburst or stumble.
Familiar tension crept into the muscles of her shoulders at the mere thought of her old life. She reminded herself that now she was free of those demons—the paparazzi and the alcohol. She’d escaped that world, and now she lived a quiet, sober existence just outside the tiny hamlet of Nocturne Falls, Georgia.
Or had she?
Could they have found her? A chill slithered up her spine.
Being in the spotlight had nearly cost her her life.
Despite her attempt to keep the frightening memory at bay, thoughts of that awful night wormed their way through her defenses.
The blaring music worsened her headache. It had been two days since she’d had a drink and all she could think about was how much she needed one. How was she supposed to handle this media event when she was the only one there without a drink in her hand? Sweat dampened her skin and made her dress stick to her.
Ducking away from her bodyguard, she pushed through the back door of the venue into a dark alley. She was sure she’d seen another bar across the street.
Just one drink. No one will know. I’ll be back before anyone notices I’m gone.
Slipping on her dark glasses, she headed toward the neon sign. But before she’d made it out of the alley, a strong, hairy arm grabbed her from behind and wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air supply. She’d struggled against him, but when he stuck a dirty rag that smelled both sweet and chemically over her mouth and nose, she’d been unable to fight him anymore.
Gritting her teeth, she shook her thoughts back to the present. She wasn’t the same person she’d been back then. Relying on her physical strength alone hadn�
��t been enough that night. Not only had she mastered krav maga in the past two years, but she’d also become an expert archer, worthy of her Amazon ancestors.
She got to her feet and made a mental note of the location of the light. Then she returned to where she’d left Lycia. The mare whinnied when it saw her.
Ember moved aside the right stirrup to get her scabbard. “Just one more minute, girl. I’ve got to take care of something.” She took out her bow and two arrows, but after a moment’s thought, put one of the arrows back. “I’m a good shot, right?”
Lycia neighed her agreement. But just in case, Ember grabbed another arrow then headed to the pine trees. Once she’d reached the spot, she turned on her cell phone’s flashlight and trained it on the tiny green dot. Yup, definitely a camera—a fancy one. Whoever had mounted the equipment had taken the extra step to conceal their work by tying a few branches around it.
Paparazzi.
She returned her phone to her back pocket. Heart hammering, she loaded the bow and took her stance. She drew back, rechecked the target, and finally relaxed her hand. The arrow flew, hitting its mark with a quick ping. The green light went out as bits of metal, plastic, and leaves rained down onto the forest floor.
She allowed herself a satisfied smile, but she couldn’t let down her guard. The mysterious photographer might still be around. Scanning the area, she returned to her horse.
“All done,” she told the mare as she tucked her bow back into its case. As she untied the reins from the tree, approaching footsteps galvanized her attention. Slow, heavy footsteps, as if someone were stalking her.
I refuse to be a victim ever again.
She reached for her weapon, fully prepared to use it.
A persistent electronic beeping nudged Dean Hawkins from a fitful sleep. He took a moment to get his bearings. Rather than the familiarity of the comfortable bed in his apartment near campus, he reminded himself that he was out in the field, ground zero of his research area in the Georgia mountains. Unzipping his sleeping bag, he sat up and rubbed his eyes then scanned the small tent for the source of the noise.
His laptop flashed a message. He inched close enough to see what the heck was going on.
Signal lost scrolled across the computer. Then the screen divided into quarters, each one displaying one of the four remote feeds from the trail cameras he’d set up in the vicinity. The second box, which corresponded to camera two, was nothing but a rectangle of black and grey static.
“What the…?” He’d spent a significant portion of his very limited budget on video equipment. If one of those expensive devices was malfunctioning after only a few days, he’d be forced to use up the rest of his grant money to replace it. Groaning, he pulled on his pants and boots. Field research was the best and the worst part of his work. And the only way to do the job on a shoestring was to camp out close to his laboratory, which in this case, was a rather inhospitable mountainside. No fancy high-tech camper for him. It would all be worth it, though when he could share his findings with the rest of the scientific community.
Dr. Adele Stephens—his fellow researcher—was the current darling of the administrators of the mammology department. Not only had she been given the entire summer to use the department’s lab-on-wheels to work on her project, which focused on endangered loggerhead turtles, but she even had four grad students at her disposal, compared to his one. And Dr. Stephens was lucky enough to set up the mobile lab on a beautiful beach only a couple hours from the University of Florida campus.
Dean had spent the last two years poring over aerial maps, and listening to hundreds of hours of audio recordings of testimonials before he’d chosen this place, which thankfully, was public land. Very soon, he was confident that he’d find credible evidence of Bigfoot, and all of his colleagues at the university would have to admit that he’d been right all along. Not only him but more importantly, his father, too—the man who’d first introduced him to the idea that Bigfoot was more than a myth. Now that his dad’s health was declining, Dean was more determined than ever to give his father what he’d always yearned for—pictures of the creature they both knew was real. With his dad’s dementia growing worse with each passing month, time was running out.
His father had shown his photos to Dean many years ago—pictures that were unfortunately destroyed in the fire that had severely damaged the old biology building only days before he’d planned to share his findings with the world. His dad had never gotten over the loss.
Wincing at the memory, Dean grabbed his phone then started out to Quadrant Two, which was close to the top of the mountain, and just above a waterfall—a spot he figured the creature would likely frequent. Negotiating the heavily forested terrain lit only by moonlight, it took him twenty minutes to get there. A few yards from where he’d mounted the camera, he stopped in his tracks. The apples he’d set out to entice Bigfoot were gone.
Leaves rustled nearby, then abruptly stopped. He stood perfectly still.
An odor caught his attention, something akin to the ape cages at a zoo he’d visited as a kid, very strong and male. Exactly as his dad had described the scent of Bigfoot.
His heart pounded. Heavy footfalls came closer, slowly. Dean held his breath and waited.
Something crunched on the forest floor. Then a low grunt filled the air and whatever it was retreated—fast, its steps shaking the ground.
Please let it be.
Dean eased aside a branch in time to see a large, fast-moving animal melt into the darkness of the woods. No way could he catch up to it now. The unpleasant smell faded, but excitement pulsed through him. Could be Sasquatch.
Had to be. All the time Dean had invested in research, and now he was a hair’s breadth from realizing his dream—and his father’s too.
He pulled out his phone, opened the compass app to note the direction the creature had gone then turned on his night vision app. Training his beam up to the high trunk where he’d attached the equipment only a couple of days before, he gasped. An arrow was sticking out of the tree, pinning the remnants of his four-hundred-dollar camera to the spot. Bits and pieces of it were scattered on the ground below, definitely not the work of Bigfoot.
A branch snapped nearby. The equipment vandal?
Gritting his teeth, he scanned the immediate area. “Hey!” he shouted. “Who’s out there? What do you want?”
A dark figure emerged from behind a tree. Tall, but slim with soft curves—a woman. She aimed her bow and arrow at him. “The question is, who are you?”
He clenched his jaw even tighter. “You destroyed a very expensive piece of equipment. More importantly, you very well might have thwarted a priceless scientific discovery.”
Lowering her bow, she laughed. “I doubt that.”
Heat flushed through his body. “Are you denying that it’s your arrow impaling my camera?”
She stepped into the moonlight, which illuminated her features—high cheekbones, plump lips that turned up slightly at the corners. She had her long dark hair cinched in a tight ponytail that would have been too severe for an average-looking woman, but she was far from average. Although she wore jeans and a simple white t-shirt, she had an uncommon elegance.
Setting a hand on her hip, she narrowed her eyes at him, and he noticed that they were a stunning dark emerald color he’d never before seen. “Absolutely not. But your camera was attached to my tree, on my property.”
Her property? No, definitely not. “Is your name Georgia? Because that’s who owns this land, the state of Georgia.” He tipped his chin toward the carnage of his camera. “And that tree. I’ve been doing some very important research here, or I was until you harpooned my equipment.”
“Research. Hmm.” She shifted from foot to foot.
“I’m a biology professor.” Not that it was any of her business.
“Is that right? You’re not very good at your job then.” Another laugh.
He gritted his teeth and took a few step
s closer, which afforded him a better look at her. Her skin was flawless, like silk over glass. The woman was as brazen as she was beautiful. “I’ll have you know that I’m a past winner of the National Medal of Science,” he said. “Which happens to be an extremely prestigious honor.”
“I guess you’re slipping then, or else the competition isn’t very impressive.” She turned and started away.
Irritation throbbed at his temples. “And why is that?”
Without stopping, she spoke over her shoulder. “Because apparently, your research about who owns this mountain was flawed.”
He marched after her, catching up in less than a minute, and heard the steady splashing of the waterfall. “Excuse me, miss, but you can’t just walk away.”
“I think I can. It’s past Lycia’s bedtime.” She stopped at a clearing, by a dark-colored horse tied to a tree.
“What about my camera?”
Untying the reins, she shrugged. “What’s your name?”
“Dean Hawkins, why?” Was she going to write him a check for the equipment she’d destroyed? Doubtful.
She adjusted the scabbard slung over her shoulder. “Sheriff Merrow will want to know your name when I call him to report that you’re trespassing on my property. Or—if you don’t leave my land right now—he’ll need to know your next of kin.”
He swallowed. “I was told that this area was part of the state’s wildlife preserve.” His grad student had assured Dean that he’d checked the public records.
“It was, until two years ago when they sold part of it. To me.” Facing Dean, she folded her arms over her chest. The woman was only a few inches shorter than his six-foot-two. “Exactly what is it you were trying to capture with that camera out here?”
What would she think if he told her?
A memory flashed through his mind. He’d been a kid, maybe seven or eight when his dad had taken him along on an expedition in the Great Smokies. Dean had been having a great time helping his father set up video cameras, and lay out fruit to lure a Bigfoot. Until they’d gone into a nearby town for supplies.
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