Release date: August 8, 2016
Everything is looking up for Hallie York—she’s finally got her college degree and a job as a museum curator lined up at the Smithsonian. She’s even crossing off a bucket list item with an extended trip to London. But the vacation takes a strange twist when she wanders into an antique shop and buys a set of old journals from the handsome but rude owner.
Graham McCoy is intrigued by this new customer with the bird-shaped birthmark on her wrist that matches his own. Too bad when he opens his mouth, all he seems able to do is insult her. Still, the last thing he needs is a distractingly beautiful tourist hanging around. Fate has a different plan, however…
The journals contain a correspondence between lovers cursed to be separated in the afterworld, and soon spark some eerie events that pull Hallie and Graham together. To save their sanity, this unlikely duo must team up to try to reunite the lovers’ spirits. But if they do so, will all of their paths be changed for eternity?
Sensuality Level: Sensual
Christy Newton is a hopeless romantic who enjoys dark chocolate and happily ever afters. She lives in Indiana with her loving husband and two amazing daughters.
An excerpt from Eternal Paths:
“Come back!” Hallie York gasped for air as she sprung up in bed. Sweat dampened her cotton tank top and panties. She struggled to come to terms with the nightmare of Frederick leaving her all over again. She hadn’t seen her imaginary childhood friend since he’d disappeared when she started grade school. But there he was, in her dream, as vivid as the day she’d first imagined him. Frederick had been from London and had told her she belonged there with him. He’d visited her often and became her best friend.
Much to her parents’ relief, as she’d gotten older, the imaginary boy had vanished, but her strong feelings for London had not. After Frederick left her, she’d gone to the library and checked out every book on London she could find. She tried everything to get him to return. As much as she’d tried to forget about him and the faraway city, she couldn’t.
Being an adopted child, she’d never known her birth parents. And never would because of the closed adoption and Hallie’s respect to honor it. She guessed her birth parents were from London … that would explain a lot. The parents who raised her, both schoolteachers, never had the money to travel outside the United States. They couldn’t have been better parents, but she constantly sensed something was missing from her life.
Hallie glanced at the clock. The alarm was set to go off in thirty minutes. It was finally time to see if London was the missing piece in her heart. Then, in three months, she could come back home and begin her dream career as a curator for the Smithsonian … hopefully with the completeness she’d always been searching for.
After she took a quick shower, she put on her casual, medallion-print dress, then applied her makeup. After slipping into chic but comfortable sandals, Hallie gave the 900-square-foot loft she’d been renting one last look before heading out the door. To her relief, the taxi she’d called was already waiting outside the building. She placed her luggage inside the trunk. With a deep breath, she climbed into the car. Excitement bubbled up inside her—she was about to get that long-awaited stamp on her blank passport.
Graham McCoy tried to focus on the inventory in his shop and not on the fact that his ex had just taken away his sports car and his life savings. He raked his fingers through his hair. They’d tried to fix their relationship more than once but always fell short of any kind of real happiness. Barmy woman. He’d do good not to ever fall in love again.
At least she hadn’t touched McCoy’s Antiques, the store he’d inherited from his great-uncle seven years ago. At nineteen, he’d had nothing better to do, so he kept the place running. Now the shop would keep him on his feet, and he’d have a roof over his head, thanks to the attached flat. He could have moved back to the States, but his heart, what little of it was left, belonged in London.
Jane Whittaker, his full-time employee and somewhat of a mother hen, stepped in front of him and waved her hand. “You’ve been winding those pocket watches for an hour. Is something on your mind?”
Graham closed the gold watch in his hand, melancholy as ever. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be free from Abigail.”
She primped the gray bun on top of her head. “Ah, well, you’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Maybe you need a break. I can finish this inventory. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? It’s pleasant out now, but it’s supposed to rain the rest of the week.”
Graham placed the pocket watch back inside the glass case. “Sometimes I wonder who’s really the boss here.” He kissed her cheek. “Cheers then.” He shut the door and took a deep breath.
Jane was right. He’d let Abigail and his sham of a marriage take residence in his brain far too long. They’d gotten along fine at first, and then it was as if their marriage were cursed. They started fighting about anything and everything. Even the sound of her voice had begun to irritate him. After trying to make it work for three years, they both called it quits. He could do nothing to please the woman. Until he gave her an uncontested divorce along with his prized car and savings. That had pleased her.
He snorted and continued to walk down the pavement to his favorite pub. Graham strolled into The Lion Den and ordered a pint of bitter. He took a swig and let the alcohol work its magic. More relaxed already, he glanced outside as a pretty brunette walked by. Her shoulder-length hair was shiny and bouncy, like she was the star of a shampoo commercial. He guessed she was an American on holiday from the wide-eyed way she was sightseeing. There was something familiar about her, though he couldn’t place what. She had nice legs too.
He tossed down the rest of his drink and set outside to get a closer look. When he exited the pub, she was nowhere to be seen. Graham narrowed his eyes in the sunlight and looked every direction. She’d vanished. Oh well, it was probably for the best. Any woman who could capture and hold his attention like that had to be bad news. Pushing the brunette out of his mind, he made his way back to the pub.