We can’t wait to share the fourth book in our Triskaidekaphilia series, Haunted.

Because we’re so excited, we’re going to give you a sneak peek of the stories as we countdown the days until the September 13th release…this Friday!

Today we give you the start of Abeyance by ReLynn Vaughn.




by ReLynn Vaughn


Death plus twenty-four months

“Alan, you fucking asshole! Stop that!”

My husband ignores me as he wads up another of my silk blouses and stuffs it into a cardboard box.

“Alex, it’s me. Sadie. Dammit, look at me!” I try to grab his arm, but my hand passes through it like a rock falling through water. “Please!”

He grabs a pair of my shoes next.

“Dammit, not the Prada!”

Alan gives no sign he heard me.

“Stop pushing me out of your life!”

He hasn’t heard me in forever.


Not since that day.

Tires shrieked. Someone screamed. Everything stopped.

When I open my eyes, I stand in front of the door to our condo. Again. Every time I think back on that day, that moment, it happens again. Death drops me right back where it did the moment my life ended. Over and over, I keep ending up on my own damn doorstep.


“You really never give up, do you?”

Fuckity fuck fuck.

I’d lean my head against the door if I could. “What do you want?”

The man behind me chuckles. “Just enjoying the floor show, darling.”

“Not your darling,” I snap, pivoting like a hockey player about to hit the boards.

Nathaniel leans near the wall without touching it. Blue eyes. Tousled dark hair. A grin like a rogue. The cloying air of insouciance. Too damned attractive by half. Why am I even thinking that when my husband is in our apartment, boxing up the remaining evidence of my life?

“You should just give it up, six-oh-one. They all move on without us in the end.”

My non-beating heart freezes. Nope. Not Alan. Alan swore he’d love me forever. Eight years wasn’t forever. Not even fucking close.

“It’s been two years,” tall, dark, and annoying adds. “How long do you want him to mourn?”

“Fuck you,” I hiss. “Just because you got forgotten doesn’t mean I will. Alan loves me. Did anyone even give a shit about you?”

Hurt flashes quick as lightning across his face and something hot and thick like tar bubbles up in my chest. Something like shame. Before I can take the words back, Nathaniel straightens up. “Suit yourself, sweetheart.” Then he turns and passes through the wall behind him.

“Asshole.” Turning away from the empty hall, I melt through the door.



ReLynn was born in Northern California, and after a lifetime moving east, she took a u-turn and landed in the Puget Sound area of Washington State. When not writing fantasy and romance fiction, she works in higher education, participates in the SCA, and shares her home with her husband and two cats. And books. So. Many. Books.

You can also keep up with her on Twitter.





Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned

Not all ghost stories are simple sightings and things going bump in the night. Not all ghosts are left behind because of simple unfinished business. No, sometimes that unfinished business is messy, complicated, and even deadly.

These are not your typical ghost stories—they are desire, love, and most importantly, revenge—all rolled into one. Revenge for a love stolen away, a love that never was, a retribution for a horrific act, or even an act of war.

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