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An Excerpt from The Haunting of Hillwood Farm! #Ghosts #Romance #Paranormal #Books #FridayReads

A dangerous ghost brings them together...
but will they survive long enough to find happiness?
As part of the Gift For Mom audiobook event, I'm sharing the entire first chapter of The Haunting of Hillwood Farm, an award-winning Romantic Suspense/Ghost Mystery.  This title is available on Audible, with fabulous narration by KJ the Voice Actor, and is also available in print and on Kindle (free with KU membership!)

The Gift For Mom event is a virtual FB celebration of audiobooks and Mother's Day...all are welcome, so please join here if interested...128 titles are being offered as giveaways!  The theme of many of the excerpts is a tie-in to motherhood, and this topic is important in several aspects in The Haunting of Hillwood Farm.  To say anymore about that might veer into spoiler territory, but Alice Turner, the beloved character who is the matriarch of Hillwood Farm and Luke's feisty grandmother, is introduced in the very beginning of this book...and so, it is safe to share the spooky incident that sets this story in motion.  Thanks for stopping by...Happy Reading!

An excerpt from

The Haunting of Hillwood Farm

By Kathryn Knight


CHAPTER 1


The sugar bowl slid across the kitchen counter, its lid rattling with jerky bursts of motion. Alice Turner froze, her fingers clenched around the mug of coffee she held suspended in midair, a curl of steam wavering in the sudden chill. Goosebumps prickled her skin as she stared at the yellow ceramic bowl, zigzagging its way toward her via some unseen force. It jittered to a halt directly in front of her, and her taut muscles went limp. Her coffee mug slammed down against the dark stone countertop, sending scalding liquid sloshing over her hand. She cried out, more from fright than pain, and stumbled back, nearly tripping as her foot slid out of its slipper. The near fall sent another bolt of panic through her. At 73, she was still quite active, but a broken bone would put an end to that.

She steadied herself. Careful. Blowing out a breath, she glanced at the reddening skin of her hand before quickly returning her gaze to the wayward bowl. Had it really just moved on its own? Despite the fear coursing through her veins, a wave of relief washed over her.

            Maybe she wasn’t losing her mind. Maybe all her recent worries about dementia, fueled by things like finding objects someplace other than where she’d left them, or discovering kitchen drawers open when she was sure she’d closed them, were unfounded. Could some kind of…supernatural phenomenon be responsible? A shiver crawled up her spine. That alternative wasn’t a particularly comforting thought. And her practical New England roots didn’t exactly lend themselves to that line of reasoning.

She cradled her throbbing hand against her chest, studying the sugar bowl for more movement. But it seemed to have completed its journey and had now reverted to an inanimate object, ready and waiting to sweeten her coffee.

With cautious steps, she backed away from the counter, crossing the kitchen toward the sink. Flipping on the faucet, she held her injured hand under the stream of cold water.

Was she really considering the presence of a ghost? It would help to explain all the strange occurrences she’d noticed since she’d returned from her trip. Without Henry. A deep ache flared in her chest as her gaze cut over to the chair he used to settle in at the big farmhouse table, empty now. With a heavy sigh, she glanced back at the stationary bowl as she dried her hand with a checkered dish towel.

It had moved. She was certain. Retrieving her mug, she nodded forcefully, trying to push away the pinpricks of doubt threatening to erode her conviction. Either a spirit had manipulated the sugar bowl, or she was truly cracking up. The latter theory felt like the more terrifying one. She didn’t even want to contemplate the possibility that her ties to sanity, already frayed by grief, had finally snapped, and hallucinations were her new reality.

Maybe it was time to talk to Luke, to see if he’d noticed anything unusual since he’d been living with her at Hillwood. It was just that he was already so worried about her. As much as she loved him, she didn’t need a babysitter; nor did she want her 27-year-old grandson to have to take on that role. So far, their cohabitation was working out, but once he got a load of her sugar bowl story, that might change quickly.

Another pocket of frigid air swirled around her, and she spun around. Her gaze searched the empty kitchen and the back hallway. No one was there. She turned back slowly, her heart thumping in her ears. From her position behind the long counter separating the kitchen from the dining room, she could see the foyer. The front door remained shut. The windows were still closed against last night’s rain. Besides that, it was 65 degrees outside, according to the thermometer in the window above the sink. A cold front inside the house made little sense, unless…

“Henry?” Her voice wavered in the silence.

The sugar bowl shivered slightly, as if a small earthquake had opened up beneath it. An extremely localized earthquake that had no effect on anything else nearby. Her trembling hands flew to her mouth as a potent mix of fear and longing swept through her. She slid her damp palms downward, over the hammering in her chest. “Is that you?” she added, the words barely emerging from her dusty throat.

The lights flickered. She glanced up, her breath catching. A soft moan rippled through the air, raising in pitch until it became a distant wail. She clutched the folds of her robe, every muscle in her body vibrating with tension. A sudden movement caught her eye, and she snapped her head back toward the sugar bowl as it careened off the counter, shattering in an explosion of ceramic shards and white powder.



Who is haunting Hillwood Farm?


32 titles featured in the event...4 copies each as giveaways! 
So many different genres, and lots of chances to win!







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