When two insanely hot guys encounter a few distressed spirits in the beautiful Whiskers’ Seaside Inn, love becomes entangled with a mystery that must be solved.
Whiskers’ Seaside Inn doesn’t sound like the most exotic location for a weekend getaway, but it’s certainly intriguing. Ethan Roberts is smitten the moment he sees the weathered clapboard inn, and even more so when he meets the establishment’s hunky handyman.
Cade Wyatt seems like a good man to have around. He’s muscular, handsome and very protective of the inn and its occupants. He falls into lust, and then bed, with Ethan.
The inn has two paying guests, but Ethan discovers there’s another cast of characters who come and go. Cade might be nonchalant about the ghosts, but Ethan’s not sure he feels the same. He wants Cade more than anything, but Cade won’t leave the inn. Somehow, Ethan must find a way to live with the spirits as well as the man he’s come to love.
A haunted lighthouse, a handsome keeper and one freelance writer with a penchant for ghosts keep things hopping at Whiskers' Seaside Inn.
David Sanderson arrives at Whiskers' Seaside Inn, excited by the prospect of investigating the local ghosts. He's a freelance writer with a keen sense of the supernatural and enthusiasm to spare. When the ghosts fail to make an appearance, David is directed to the Harbour Point Light, where an active spirit is known to exist. And one handsome lighthouse keeper.
Hunter Pierce isn't sure he wants someone writing an article about his lighthouse and the ghost who inhabits it. He lives a quiet, solitary life in his little house by the tower and doesn't relish the idea of tourists taking over the place.
Their priorities might clash, but David and Hunter mesh in all the ways that count. Can an intense physical relationship be enough? And are there more ghosts at the lighthouse than the captain? Someone doesn't like David hanging around. David vows to figure out why, and hopefully, in the process, figure out what to do with the new love he's found.
Excerpt From: Ethan's Choice
When Ethan pulled his SUV into the car park and saw the inn, he immediately knew he was going to have a wonderful weekend. He’d always loved the west coast of Canada and had been looking forward to visiting British Columbia ever since he’d booked his room. This particular place had a very intriguing advert in the tourist brochure. The name alone had been enough to make him smile. Whiskers’ Seaside Inn. The ad featured a cute, black-and-white spotted seal pup with long, white whiskers. The same picture was etched into an old, battered sign in front of the building.
The structure itself was small, only two storeys, with wood siding that had once been blue but was now grey from the salt water. Despite the weathered appearance, the place seemed well cared for, judging by the beautifully landscaped gardens and lawn stretching in all directions. He could see the beach even from where he stopped outside the well-marked entrance. The white sand stretched for miles. Further along the beach, rocky outcrops, like fingers of some deformed giant, reached towards the surf and sky. Blue upon blue with the white-capped waves crashing against the shore. Fir trees, stunted and deformed from the battering of winter storms, hugged the ground, their roots reaching across the sand. Gulls circled the bay, rode the wind like kites, dipping and weaving in their search for food. As it was barely spring, he was sure the inn wouldn’t be crowded. Peace and quiet sounded like heaven. The advertisement had said ‘rustic luxury’, and he was definitely ready for that.
He climbed out of the car and reached behind the seat for his bag. With it in tow, he headed for the front entrance. The cool wind tugged at his scruffy, collar-length, dark hair, and again, for the hundredth time in the past few days, he thought about getting it cut.
A noise from the side of the inn caught his attention, and so did the man he saw when he faced that way. Tall, bronze-skinned and beautiful in a pair of cut-offs and work boots, the man was clipping one of the vines that crawled up the side of the building and cursing as he pulled the leafy stuff aside. Drool worthy, Ethan thought and grinned. He’d have eye candy, at least.
He watched for a few moments but didn’t want to look like he was staring, so he reached for the door. Once inside, he walked straight to the long, wooden counter ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a dimly lit seating area with a fireplace taking up nearly one full wall, windows the rest. An opening across from where he stood showed a carpeted hallway leading off to where he assumed the rooms were. On his right, there was a small dining area with four or five tables and glass doors opening onto a patio on the beach.
An older man, white-headed and wrinkled, waited expectantly and greeted him with a smile when Ethan dropped his bag in front of the counter. “Good evening, do you have a reservation?” The man flipped open a large, hardcover book and ran his finger down the page.
“Yes, under Roberts, Ethan Roberts. I booked online. It should show I paid by credit card.” Ethan reached into his back pocket for his wallet and dug out his driver’s licence.
The old fellow peered down the sheet and found Ethan’s name at once. “Yes, here you are, Ethan Roberts. Two nights, maybe more.”
“That’s right. I wanted a room right on the ocean, if you have one available.” He handed over his licence and watched the clerk check the numbers.
The man nodded and handed it back. “Yes, a room on the beach. It’s the slow season, so one of our best is available.” He handed Ethan a key and spun the book around so he could sign in.
Ethan scrawled his signature and reached down for his bag. “I’m surprised you’re not doing more business, even if it is off season, Mr…”
“Felton, Stan Felton. My wife and I own the inn.” Ethan smiled. “So you can clue me in to the unusual name. Whiskers? He looks like a seal but sounds more like a family pet.”
“Both. The first owner of the inn was a retired sea captain. He rescued a seal pup after the mother had been shot. Back then, there was a bounty on seals, five dollars a nose. Fishermen shot them for the money.”
Ethan fingered a business card on the counter that bore the seal logo. “Sounds grim for such a cute, little guy.”
Felton shrugged. “Apparently, fishermen and other people used to debate the value of seals. But, as I said, that was a long time ago. They’re protected, now. Still not popular with the fishermen, but they’ve learned to get along with each other. The inn is listed in guide books and registries all over the world by this name. The previous owner told me it’d be too much work to change it, and I tended to agree with him. So, Whiskers’ Seaside Inn it remains.”
“With an interesting story for your guests.” Ethan nodded. “I look forward to my stay.”
“You can go down the hall,” Mr. Felton said, pointing towards the opening Ethan had noticed when he’d entered. “Or, if you’d like a more scenic route, there’s a walkway along the ocean side of the building.” He nodded to the set of double glass doors in the dining area. “Your room will be right at the end, number eight. Do you have more luggage?”
“No, this is it. Thanks.”
Ethan was just about through the outside exit when Stan Felton called to him. “Continental breakfast is from eight ‘til ten. There’s coffee in your room. If you need anything, just come to the desk or call.”
Ethan looked back and said, “Thanks. I’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
He walked outside and inhaled the salty tang of the ocean air. It lifted his hair, chilling the back of his neck as he looked out at the surf. The tide was in, and the breakers sounded like they were only a few feet away. He made his way along the wooden walkway towards number eight.
“I wonder where Mr. Hunk went?” he muttered and smiled. I hope he’s a regular around here.
Excerpt From: Hunter's Light
David pushed open the driver’s door of the van, and heat struck him like a blast furnace. Sweat popped on his forehead. More gathered under his arms, trickling down his sides.
“Damn,” he muttered, climbing out and standing beside the vehicle. He stretched his arms over his head then wriggled his shoulders. It’d been a long drive, and he was glad to be at Whiskers’ Seaside Inn, even if he might bake before he got inside. He glanced at the building, a nice, two-storey affair set close enough to the ocean to gather any winds coming from that direction. Even as he thought it, a cooling breeze swept over him.
Quickly, he slid open the side door and grabbed his overnight bag. He’d come back for the other one when he was signed in and had a room. He pushed the slider closed, clicked the lock and headed for the entrance. Off to the right, waves crashed against the shore, and he wondered, idly, if the tide were going out or coming in.
He stepped inside the entrance and welcomed the chill of air conditioned comfort. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light then crossed to the desk, where a good-looking, dark-haired man in a crisp, white shirt looked up and smiled.
“May I help you?” the man asked in a kind voice.
“Yes, I’ve got a reservation. David Sanderson.” David dropped his bag and looked around the lobby, admiring the fireplace and the cosy seating arrangement in a semi-circle, facing it. He looked a little closer and was surprised to see it wasn’t a ‘real’ fireplace but electric or gas.
“Ah yes, here you are. Reserved for the weekend but left open for longer. I’ll need your license plate number,” the man added
David reeled it off and dug out his credit card. “I’ve heard you have an assortment of ghosts in the building.”
The man glanced at him with surprise on his face. “Excuse me?”
David handed over the plastic and waited for it to be processed. He pushed it back into his wallet and added, “I’ve read articles on Whiskers’.” He smiled. “I’m sorry, I should explain myself. I’m doing research into the paranormal, and your inn came up a number of times while I was looking for places to dig into. Hope that’s not a problem.”
At first, the handsome man appeared as if he might object, but then he replied, “It should be all right. I can’t have you disturbing my other guests, though. Any sign of trouble, and you’ll get tossed.”
David raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not here to cause any trouble, honest. I’d just like to walk around, check out the building and grounds, if that’s all right.”
It took a moment, but the man finally smiled and held out his hand. “Yeah, it’s fine. My name is Ethan Roberts. I’m the owner of the place.”
David reached forward, and they shook. “I was afraid I’d gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m really sorry if I did. I’m honestly just here to check on the paranormal incidents I’ve read about.”
“Well, Mr. Sanderson, you’re more than welcome to look around. Just let me know if you’re planning on doing anything weird. I’ll warn the ghosts.” Ethan smiled.
David grinned. “Right. If I decide to get into one of those fancy Ghostbuster outfits, I’ll yell. No problem. I’d love a beachfront room on the ground floor if you have one. It’s been a while since I was anywhere this nice, and I’d like to take full advantage, if I can.”
Ethan checked the register and said, “You’re in luck. I’ve got one left. It’s a single, but no kitchen facilities.”
“Sounds perfect. I wasn’t planning on doing any cooking. All I need is a bed, maybe a desk or table.”
“You got it, as well as a TV and bathroom.” He reached down and fumbled under the counter, at last coming up with a room key. “You’ll be in room six.”
When David had the key in hand, Ethan walked out from behind the desk and strode to the centre of the lobby. He nodded towards the hallway to their right. “Room six is three-fourths of the way down.”
David revised his opinion on Ethan’s looks, deciding he wasn’t just good-looking, he was a hunk. Tight jeans hugged his hips, and if the bulge in the man’s crotch was any indication of his size, his wife was a lucky woman. He quickly joined Ethan and peered down the long, well-lit hall. “Fine. Oh, is there a coffee maker?”
“Yes, every room has one. There should be two packets and the fixin’s, as well.”
Ethan had just opened his mouth to add something when two more good-looking men came into the lobby from the seaside entrance. One, a tall, bronze-skinned fellow wearing a pair of cut-off jeans and a ragged T-shirt, had dark eyes and a warm smile.
The other one captivated David’s interest. Tall with shaggy, blond hair, he sported a short, well-trimmed beard that made David’s heart skip a beat. He’d always been a sucker for facial hair. He decided the rest of the guy wasn’t bad, either. The khaki shorts and tank did little to hide the man’s body. His physique was amazing, and David’s breath caught. He wouldn’t mind getting acquainted with this hottie.
The men were talking, almost loud enough for David to make out their conversation but not quite. Unfortunately, they didn’t approach but paused and said their goodbyes. The bearded hunk veered away and walked out of the inn. David watched him until he was nearly out of sight.
The owner of the inn spoke in a cheerful voice, dragging David’s attention back inside. “Hey, Cade, I didn’t expect to see you until later.” He took a step towards the newcomer and held out his hand. Instead of shaking, as David had expected, Ethan dragged the man close and gave him a hug.
“I finished sooner than I thought I would.” The man returned the embrace then backed away, looking David squarely in the eye. “Hi, I’m Cade Wyatt, handyman and partner to this guy.” He patted Ethan on the arm affectionately.
David gaped for a moment. He wasn’t used to seeing men act so familiarly with each other, but liked it. “Nice to meet you. I’m David Sanderson. Just arrived from the interior.”
“Mr. Sanderson’s going to be doing some ghost research. He’ll be around for a few days, at least.”
Cade looked at David, a wry grin on his face. “So, our ghost stories are getting around, are they?”
David wasn’t sure if the man was trying to make fun of him or simply making conversation. Deciding to tread carefully, he replied, “It would seem so. The rumours, anyway.”
Cade nodded. “The ghosts are here. I’m sure you’ll find one or two for your research.”
David thought he was serious. He couldn’t be sure, looking into the man’s eyes. They seemed to contain a spark of mischief. A long, blond ponytail down his back bespoke a streak of independence.
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