Misfits: A Short YA Romantic Suspense

By Leslie Claire Walker

The worst place to get stuck the weekend before Halloween? For Sarah Jane Anders, the answers are:

1) a cemetery

2) with her aunt's friends, prepping the place for a haunted Halloween adventure tour, and especially

3) with Lee Goldman.

She can't stay away from Lee even though he's the most frustrating human being she's ever met. He refuses to allow the world to touch him. She wishes she could be like him, and she needs to know his secret, no matter how dangerous it proves.

Lee always manages to say the wrong thing to Sarah Jane no matter how hard he tries. He needs her to know she's not alone in the world.

In the shadows of the cemetery, he might finally find a way—if he can keep her safe from the ghosts that haunt them both.

A short YA romantic suspense with an HEA.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Secret Fire Press
• Release date: Oct 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393703822

Leslie Claire Walker

Leslie grew up among the lush bayous of southeast Texas and currently lives in the spectacularly green Pacific Northwest with ornery cats, two harps, and too many fantasy novels to count. She takes her inspiration from the dark beauty of the city, the power of myth, and music ranging from Celtic harp to heavy metal. Even in the darkest of her tales, a spark lights the way. Leslie Claire Walker is the author of the young adult contemporary fantasy series The Faery Chronicles, including the novels HUNT, DEMON, and FAERY. Her urban fantasy series, The Soul Forge, launched in in 2016 with NIGHT AWAKENS.

Book preview

Misfits

Misfits

A Short Romantic Suspense

Leslie Claire Walker

Secret Fire Press

Contents

Misfits

Also by Leslie Claire Walker

Reviews

About the Author

Misfits

Sarah Jane Anders caught her balance as her boot slipped from slick mud to puddle. She sucked in a breath of rain-drenched autumn chill as she skidded to an ungraceful stop, waving her arms like a chicken about to take flight.

Her heart kaboomed inside her rib cage for a long minute until her body convinced itself that she’d remain upright. The first thing she stared at? Her once pristine black Doc Martins, each with mud halo thick enough to turn them into something approximating clown shoes.

The second place she looked was up, meeting the dark chocolate gaze of Lee Goldman behind the water-spotted lenses of his black-framed glasses. He had impossibly long, thick lashes, a splash of freckles across his extra pale cheeks, and ruby red lips.

He wore black. All black, from the dyed waves that brushed his shoulders, to the ribbed turtleneck and skinny jeans that hugged his wiry frame, to