Phoebe Henderson is many things–a recent widow, a beautiful woman who’s looking for her next step in life, stubborn and determined–but most of all she’s her Cherokee grandmother’s granddaughter. Her grandmother taught her the ancient rituals, and has even come to Phoebe’s home in ghostly form to protect her against those who would take what belongs to her.
Perhaps the most important part of her grandmother’s legacy is the ability to keep an open mind. For when a mysterious, magical man enters Phoebe’s dreams, she find herself a new path back to life.
A sensual aroma warmed Phoebe’s nostrils.
She looked over her shoulder and found a man watching her from the other end of the aisle.
Dressed all in black, from denim shirt to jeans to dusty sneakers, he made a striking appearance. Long limbs complimented a solid six-foot frame. Shoulder-length coal-black hair was woven into a sturdy single braid. A tan complexion and handsome features denoted Native American ancestry mixed with something else. Thick lashes framed intense gold eyes. His aroma was primal and exotic, as if nature had poured musk into the rain clouds and sprinkled in a few pheromones just for good measure.
Offering a smooth smile, he broke eye contact and ambled forward, like a panther stalking prey through the rain forest, his movements powerful yet agile. In fluid motion, he brushed her with a shoulder. Then a hip. And did not apologize for either.
Usually Phoebe objected to men intruding into her personal space, but this implied panther’s kiss was nothing short of orgasmic. She took a deep breath to shake off a silly schoolgirl flush, and then turned. To her surprise, he was gone. Only the scent of him remained to coat the store. That black-haired panther was not like anything she had ever seen on the edge of the Oklahoma prairie.
After stuffing the old paperback into the nearest slot, Phoebe walked to the front of the store. The tiny brass bell hanging over the door had not rung. He should still be in the store somewhere. Forgoing any pretense of nonchalance, she stalked the length of the store and peered down straight aisles. In the far corner she found only Twyla.
“Where is he?” Phoebe demanded with an odd mixture of confusion and annoyance.
Setting down an armful of books, Twyla headed to the front and slipped behind the counter. “Where’s who?”
“You didn’t see him?” Phoebe followed, sliding up to the old counter and dropping her arms on its scuffed surface.
“What did you see? Another ghost?”
Phoebe shook her head in absolute certainty. That was no ghost. “A man, dressed all in black.”
A small perfume bottle sitting on the countertop caught Twyla’s eye. “Did you put that there?”
“No.” Phoebe picked up the amber bottle and noticed it was from the small display box in the window. The label read: Musk Rain. “That’s what I was just thinking, musk and rain. Are you sure you didn’t leave it there?”
Curious, Phoebe unscrewed the bottle’s cap and took a strategic sniff. It smelled like the panther, whoever or whatever he was. She dabbed a drop on the inside of both wrists. Then rubbed a little behind each ear.
“I’ll take three bottles,” Phoebe announced…
A sexy martial artist. A conniving oil man. A ghost on a mission. And a young woman caught in the middle of it all.
Seven years ago Phoebe promised her dying Cherokee grandmother she would solve this riddle: “Take care of the land and the land will take care of you.” Now she fights her former brother-in-law Jack for possession of her home and farm near Oklahoma City. Just as she is ready to give up, a sexy and mysterious Native American martial artist named Alex offers to help. Who is Alex and what is his connection to Jack? Why does Jack want the farm? Why has her grandmother’s ghost appeared after all these years? Instead of one riddle to solve, Phoebe now has a fistful of them.
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