Since Alan died, Flynn isn't eating, isn't sleeping, and isn't spending a lot of time looking in mirrors. But maybe he should pay a little more attention — because something in that 18th Century mirror is looking at him…
Still grieving over the sudden death of his lover, antiques dealer Flynn Ambrose moves to the old, ramshackle house on Pitch Pine Lane to catalog and sell the large inventory of arcane and oddball items that once filled his late uncle's mysterious museum. But not all the items are that easy to catalog. Or get rid of...
There was just the right amount of mystery, paranormal, humor, and romance to make this story almost perfect. The only flaw I found was I wished it was longer because I wasn't ready to let go of Flynn & Kirk when I found myself looking at the last page.
1st Re-Read Review September 2018:
Mirrors can be a person's worst nightmare because they often reflect what we really don't want to see: ourselves. Well for Flynn and eventually Kirk, a mirror shows them something they never expected and its not themselves. I love how The Haunted Heart: Winter is a near perfect blend of contemporary, historical, paranormal, mystery, and of course romance. I have read scarier ghost stories but I don't know as I have honestly read any that blend all these parts evenly. This may have been a re-read for me so there was a little lack of adrenaline rush that comes with the first time but I was still on the edge of my seat from beginning to end.
There's just something about Flynn and Kirk that you can't turn away from. I won't say much about Flynn's past that lead him to where he is and why but I have to admit, I'm glad we didn't see more of his parents because even though I know they love their son and want to protect him I really found them to be overbearing bordering on an obsessive need to be in control. But their role is minor even though their influence may be larger it doesn't keep Flynn down, which only heightens my love for the character more. This is a true gem for my October reading but its wonderful at any time of year.
RATING:
Josh Lanyon
Mirrors can be a person's worst nightmare because they often reflect what we really don't want to see: ourselves. Well for Flynn and eventually Kirk, a mirror shows them something they never expected and its not themselves. I love how The Haunted Heart: Winter is a near perfect blend of contemporary, historical, paranormal, mystery, and of course romance. I have read scarier ghost stories but I don't know as I have honestly read any that blend all these parts evenly. This may have been a re-read for me so there was a little lack of adrenaline rush that comes with the first time but I was still on the edge of my seat from beginning to end.
There's just something about Flynn and Kirk that you can't turn away from. I won't say much about Flynn's past that lead him to where he is and why but I have to admit, I'm glad we didn't see more of his parents because even though I know they love their son and want to protect him I really found them to be overbearing bordering on an obsessive need to be in control. But their role is minor even though their influence may be larger it doesn't keep Flynn down, which only heightens my love for the character more. This is a true gem for my October reading but its wonderful at any time of year.
RATING:
Chapter One
I didn’t see him see until it was too late.
Even if I had seen him, I’m not sure it would have made a difference. My only thought was getting downstairs and out the front door as fast as possible. It turned out the fastest means was crashing headlong into someone bigger, and letting his momentum send us both hurtling down the staircase.
My… er… companion yelled and cursed all the way down the first flight. Well, in fairness it was one long yelp and a prolonged curse. “Yooouuu’ve gotta be fu-uh-uh-uh-uh-cking kid-ding me!”
We landed in a tangle of limbs on the dusty and none-too-plushy carpet. My elbow whanged one final time into the balusters and my head banged down on the floor. I saw stars. Or maybe that was just the dust, which had probably crystallized with age.
“What the hell was that?” moaned someone from the ether.
Good. Question.
What the hell had that been? It sure wasn’t a trick of the light. Though I’d done my best to tell myself that’s exactly what it was — and had kept telling myself that right up until the moment the figure in the mirror had tried to reach through the glass and touch me.
“Sorry about that,” I mumbled. His bare foot was planted in my gut, and I couldn’t blame him when he dug his toes in for leverage before lifting off me. “Oof!”
“What do you think you’re doing running down the stairs in the dark, in the middle of the night?”
I groped for the railing and pulled myself painfully into a sitting position. “I… thought someone was in my room.” Lying was second nature to me by now, but that was a stupid lie. I knew it, the instant the words left my mouth.
404-A — What was his name? Something Murdoch — got to his knees and gaped at me in the dingy light. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I am saying so.”
We both turned to stare up at the wide open door leading into my rooms. My lamp-lit and noticeably silent rooms.
We looked at each other.
404-A was older than me, bigger than me, shaggier than me. He had a beard and shoulder length black hair. His eyes were dark and sort of hollow looking — that was probably the lack of sleep. He looked like those old posters for Serpico, but he wasn’t a cop. He was a writer of some kind.
And a lousy guitarist. Then again, I wasn’t anyone’s ideal neighbor either. As indicated by current events.
“You think someone’s up there?” He asked me slowly, skeptically.
I weighed a possible visit from the local fuzz, and opted for resident whacko.
“I did. But… maybe I was wrong.”
“Maybe? Maybe? Why don’t we find out?” He was on his feet now, yanking his red plaid flannel bathrobe shut and retying it with a couple of hard, businesslike tugs that vaguely suggested a wish to throttle something. Without waiting to see if I was following or not, he stomped up the flight of stairs. Guiltily, I noticed he was limping.
It was actually amazing either of us hadn’t been seriously injured or even killed in that fall.
“Coming?” he threw over his shoulder.
“Uh… ”
He muttered something, and not pausing for an answer, disappeared through the doorway.
I admit I waited.
He couldn’t fail to see the mirror first thing. It was as tall as I was, cartouche-shaped, mounted on an ornate, ormolu frame. It stood propped against a Chinese black lacquer curio cabinet. The slight angle created the effect of walking up a slanted floor to peer into its silvered surface.
A draft whispered against the back of my neck. I shivered. This old Victorian monstrosity was full of drafts. Drafts and dust. And shadows and creaks. All of them harmless. I shivered again.
Footsteps squeaked overhead. “You can come in now. There’s nobody up here,” 404-A called at last.
I let out a long breath and jogged up the stairs. The elfin faces carved in the black walnut railing winked and smirked at me as I passed.
I reached the top landing and walked into the jumble sale of my living room. My gaze fell on the mirror first thing, but the surface showed only me, tall and skinny and pale in my Woody Woodpecker boxers. My hair looked like Woody’s too, only blond, not red. Definitely standing on end, whatever the color.
“I guess I dreamed… it,” I said by way of apology.
“First time living alone?” 404-A asked dryly. He was standing right beside the mirror, his own reflection off to the side.
“Ha,” I said. “Hardly.” But come to think of it, he was right. I’d lived at home until college and then after college, I’d lived with Alan. This was my first time completely on my own. “Anyway, sorry about dragging you out of bed and knocking you down the stairs. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” He continued to eye me in a way that seemed a bit clinical.
Yeah. I got the message. Maybe I had dreamed it. What a relief to realize it was just a nightmare.
If only I slept.
“Come to think of it, you were already on your way up here,” I remembered.
He said bluntly, “I was going to ask you to stop pacing up and down all night. The floorboards creak.”
“Oh.” My face warmed at this rude but effective reminder that I wasn’t alone in the world. Not even this dusty and dimly lit corner of the world. “Sorry.” To be honest, I forgot he was even in the building most of the time. He was pretty quiet, other than the occasional fit of guitar picking, and it was just the two of us here at 404 Pitch Pine Lane. It was a big, ramshackle house, and we were neither of us the sociable type.
I glanced at the mirror again. Just me and the edge of my neighbor’s plaid bathrobe in its shining surface. The reflection of the ceiling chandelier blazed like a sunspot in the center, obliterating most of us and the room we stood in.
I looked more closely. Had something moved in the very back of the reverse room?
404-A glanced down at the mirror and then back at me. He said, “I have to work tomorrow.”
“Sure. I didn’t realize you could hear me.”
He unbent enough to say, “I mostly can’t. Only the floorboards. Mainly at night.”
“I’ll make sure to pace in the other room.”
“Great.” He pushed away from the cabinet and headed for the door. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
His reflection crossed the mirror’s surface, large bare feet, ragged Levi’s beneath the hem of the bathrobe.
“Night,” I said absently. I remembered to ask, “What’s your name again?”
“Murdoch. Kirk Murdoch.”
“Right. Night, Kirk.”
“Goodnight, Flynn.”
I watched the mirrored reflection of the door closing quietly behind him.
Josh LanyonBestselling author of over sixty titles of classic Male/Male fiction featuring twisty mystery, kickass adventure and unapologetic man-on-man romance, JOSH LANYON has been called "the Agatha Christie of gay mystery."
Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
Josh is married and they live in Southern California.Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
EMAIL: josh.lanyon@sbcglobal.net
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