Thanks for having me here, June. I’m Sara Daniel. I write contemporary romance fiction—irresistible romance with captivating family drama. Not only do I aim to entertain, I also want to give people hope and a belief that everything can and will turn out happily ever after. So, I really hope my readers have that wonderful, warm fuzzy feeling and come away a little less cynical about the world around them.
I am so excited to write for the Wiccan Haus series with Musa Publishing. This is my first foray into a paranormal world, and I am loving it. All the world building has been figured out for me. The cast of continuing characters are quirky and well-loved that readers feel like they are visiting an old friend, and I get to visit them when I read Wiccan Haus books by other authors. For me writing a multi-author series is the best of both worlds. I have a great author community that’s as invested in this world as much as I am, and I get to focus on what I do best–writing romance, emotion and bringing my characters to the happily ever after they so desperately need.
He has nothing left to offer. She’s determined to show him just how much he’s worth.
Shot by a member of his military team, Justin Lawson retreats to the Wiccan Haus. Holly Walters refuses to accept her boyfriend’s out-of-the-blue rejection without an explanation, even if getting the answers forces her to be trapped on a bizarre island for an entire week. She’s going to use every minute to work Justin out of her system once and for all. Justin’s body and spirit begin to heal under Holly’s loving ministrations. As she talks about never seeing each other again, he realizes he never wants to let her go. But the rogue assassin who had gone after Justin before is after him again. Before he can fight to make Holly believe in their love, he’ll have to fight for both their lives.
“How did you hurt your knee?” Holly asked.
“Occupational hazard,” Justin muttered.
That wasn’t very comforting, considering he was in the military and always going off on missions that he couldn’t give her any details about. “Did you fall and break it?”
“Bullet shattered it.” His words were clipped.
She flinched, wanting desperately to reach for him, hating to think of the pain he’d been in, the pain she’d known nothing about. “And how long before or after this happened did you send me an eight word break-up text?”
“About seventy-two hours after.”
She immediately knew she’d been right not to take his text at face value. The self-destruction of a client and the week of lost work were worth it. She’d needed this explanation. More than that, it proved there was still hope for them. “So you conceivably could have still been under the effects of anesthesia.”
“But you were on pain medication for sure.”
“Don’t make excuses for me. I was an ass. I broke up with you, and you deserve better.”
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