Love In The Wild (Box Set)

By Saloni Quinby

John and Earl Eli can't escape the supernatural -- or their attraction for one another!

Knock on Wood: On a dare, English librarian and resident skeptic John Smith travels to Maine to investigate Bigfoot sightings. Earl Eli plans to trick his pretentious guest with a fake Bigfoot appearance, but in the wilderness, a beast, a violin and two men in a log cabin equal a recipe for action.

On The Prowl: When John contacts his lover regarding sightings of a giant wildcat in a rural village, Earl Eli doesn’t hesitate to hop on a plane to England. Investigating the giant cat is the perfect way to explore their growing romance -- providing they survive an encounter with the mysterious feline.

Ghost of a Chance: John and Earl Eli aren’t afraid of visiting a haunted house on the coast of Maine, but their romantic getaway turns dangerous when they run into armed burglars and uncover a secret romance between a merchant and a pirate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Jan 2, 2021

Book preview

Love in the Wild (Box Set)

Saloni Quinby

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2021 Saloni Quinby

BIN: 009673-03136

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Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

315 N. Centre St.

Martinsburg, WV 25404

www.ChangelingPress.com

Editor: Sherri Ross Fogarty

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Adult Sexual Content

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Table of Contents

Love in the Wild (Box Set)

Knock on Wood (Love in the Wild 1)

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

On The Prowl (Love in the Wild 2)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Ghost of a Chance (Love in the Wild 3)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Epilogue

Saloni Quinby

Love in the Wild (Box Set)

Saloni Quinby

John and Earl Eli can't escape the supernatural -- or their attraction for one another!

Knock on Wood: On a dare, English librarian  and resident skeptic John Smith travels to Maine to investigate Bigfoot sightings. Earl Eli plans to trick his pretentious guest with a fake Bigfoot appearance, but in the wilderness, a beast, a violin and two men in a log cabin equal a recipe for action.

On The Prowl: When John contacts his lover regarding sightings of a giant wildcat in a rural village, Earl Eli doesn’t hesitate to hop on a plane to England. Investigating the giant cat is the perfect way to explore their growing romance -- providing they survive an encounter with the mysterious feline.

Ghost of a Chance: John and Earl Eli aren’t afraid of visiting a haunted house on the coast of Maine, but their romantic getaway turns dangerous when they run into armed burglars and uncover a secret romance between a merchant and a pirate.

Knock on Wood (Love in the Wild 1)

Saloni Quinby

On a dare from a friend, skeptic John Smith travels to the woods of Maine to investigate Bigfoot sightings. The last thing he expects to find besides a legendary creature is a sexy trail guide.

Earl Eli plans to trick his pretentious guest with a fake Bigfoot appearance, but when he and John fall for each other, he calls off the hoax -- or so he thinks.

In the wilderness, a beast, a violin and two men in a log cabin equal a recipe for action.

Prologue

The Challenge

John Smith had worked at the library in London for the past five years. All his life he’d adored books and collecting information. His desire to share that love had led to his career as a librarian. Few things were more satisfying than guiding others in their quest for knowledge.

Working in the library also provided him with the opportunity to pursue his hobby -- folklore. His interest in the subject had led to his friendship with Martin, whom he’d met at university. Though a brilliant student, Martin was eccentric, which explained how on a rainy Thursday evening in late June, a group of Bigfoot believers assembled in the library for their monthly club meeting.

I swear it was the most terrifying experience of my life. I never thought we’d survive the night. Next trip to America, I’m staying out of the woods, Martin said.

Julia, a slim middle-aged woman with a gray bob and glasses, stared at him with wide eyes. What you describe sounds almost exactly like my experience, except I was in Tibet and the creature was white, not brown.

John listened with interest, making an effort to keep from smiling. He asked, Is it possible that you misidentified the creature? It might have been a native predator.

Raising her eyes to heaven, Julia shook her head. She glanced at John, clearly annoyed, and said, No. Do you have any idea how tired I am of people calling me crazy or saying I was mistaken?

I never said you’re crazy.

You’ve insinuated it.

There’s a difference between considering that one’s mind might play tricks on one in an unfamiliar place and being crazy, John replied.

And what would you know about unfamiliar places? Martin asked.

It was John’s turn to raise an eyebrow. I’ve certainly done my share of traveling.

It’s been years since you’ve stuck your nose outside this library.

John bristled -- mostly because Martin had a point. That’s not entirely true.

Come off it, John. You’re obsessed with this place. When was the last time you even took a holiday?

You know I’ve been writing about folklore in my spare time, and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying one’s work.

I’m not trying to belittle your accomplishments or your dedication, but some things aren’t readily explainable, or rather they have yet to be explained. The only way to do that is to go out there and pursue the undiscovered.

Contrary to what you seem to think, Martin, I have an open mind. I believe most folklore has a kernel of truth, but I’ll need much more than a few inconclusive reports from tourists hearing wood knocking or seeing a distant shadow to convince me that an unclassified great ape -- Bigfoot, Sasquatch, Yeti, whatever -- exists. There is simply no concrete evidence. I would think an educated man like yourself would realize that.

The members of the small group muttered and glared at John.

Why you condescending, self-entitled little --

Julia, wait, Martin interrupted the furious woman. In all fairness to John, why should he take our word for the existence of Bigfoot? He’s apparently the sort who needs to experience something for himself before he believes. Unfortunately, given his holiday habits or lack thereof, I doubt he’ll pull himself away from his books long enough to go on a Bigfoot hunt.

He lacks the courage as well, I’m sure, said a burly man toward the back of the room.

It’s all well and good to call us frauds, but quite another to go in search of the creature yourself, Julia added.

John understood that he’d apparently insulted these people, and they were fighting back. He tried not to allow their words to raise his ire, but didn’t entirely succeed. Even if I agree to go on a Bigfoot hunt, I wouldn’t know where to begin, he admitted.

That’s simple enough, Martin told him. I’ve just come back from the States and know a reputable guide in Maine. I’m sure I could arrange for him to take you out, or at least point you in the right direction.

John couldn’t help thinking that it might not be much of a holiday, trekking through the woods, searching for a phantom creature -- yet the area was probably teeming with people well-versed in Bigfoot folklore. He could compile useful information for his book -- perhaps include an entire chapter on the Bigfoot legend. Not to mention, Martin was right. John hadn’t traveled in too long. It wasn’t healthful to limit oneself to armchair adventures. All right. I’ll do it, John said.

Martin looked surprised. You will?

My next holiday is scheduled for the end of July. Do you think you can talk to the guide and have him meet me?

I’ll contact Earl Eli and see if he’s available.

Well, if you go through with this, I’ll be curious to hear about your experience, Julia said.

I’m sure I’ll meet many interesting people and enjoy camping in the woods of Maine, John replied. However, don’t expect any wild tales of meeting Bigfoot.

Chapter One

Strategy at the Thirsty Bobcat

It was a warm afternoon in late July and Earl Eli leaned back in his chair at the Thirsty Bobcat Bar and Grill. His cousin, Hank, owned the place and after a long morning in the saddle, guiding tourists on trail rides, Earl Eli was ready to enjoy his beer and some music before going to his campground to prepare for the weekend.

Tomorrow would be especially fun.

Not.

Tomorrow he’d be leaving his dad responsible for the campground and his trusted employee, Lynn, in charge of the trail rides because Earl had to pack up and head into the woods with another city boy in search of Bigfoot.

Here you go, Hank said, slapping down a bottle of Earl’s favorite brew.

Thanks, coz. Earl raised his brown leather outback hat from his eyes, reached for the bottle and took a long swallow.

At that moment, the door burst open and Bill Erikson stormed in, carrying his hundred-pound bloodhound. The poor dog’s front paw was bloody and mangled. Erikson resembled a hysterical papa.

Damn those fuckers, he said in his slight Swedish accent. Call Dr. Porter and tell him I’m coming. I dropped my damn cell phone.

No problem. Hank picked up the phone behind the bar and dialed.

Earl Eli stood and approached Bill, who had placed the dog on the floor.

Hey, growled a burly, cigar-smoking man who had been playing pool at a table in the corner. What kind of fool brings a dog into a bar? Don’t this place have rules?

Why are you complaining about this place being dog-friendly, Burt? Earl Eli said. I’ve seen you bring your fuck buddies in here lots of times and you had no gripe then.

Burt’s ruddy faced turned even redder. He threw his pool cue aside and strode toward Earl, who had squatted near Bill to tend the wounded dog.

I should beat your ass for that, Earl Eli, but you’d probably like it.

Not as much as you. Hey, Hank! Give us a towel to wrap this boy’s leg, Earl hollered to his cousin who had put down the phone and was watching the spectacle from behind the bar.

I ain’t giving you a bar towel to tend that canine, Hank said. I’ll go in the back and find some rags. And Doc Porter said you can come to the office as soon as you can. He’s waiting.

Ever since the Bigfoot sighting all the crazies are coming here, Bill said. My Kendrick got caught in a trap that I’ve never seen the likes of and I know it’s not from any of the trappers around here. They know the law and they don’t have no crazy-looking trap like this.

I need something to stop the bleeding, Earl repeated.

Here, said a quiet voice from behind Earl. A white cotton shirt appeared in front of him, dangling from a long-fingered hand attached to a sinewy arm with just enough veins to be sexy but not scrawny.

Earl grabbed the shirt, but craned his neck to see its owner. His gaze fell on large, inquisitive blue eyes set in an angular face shadowed by a couple of day’s growth of reddish-brown stubble.

The stranger had literally taken the shirt off his back and stood with his pale, lean but toned torso exposed.

Earl Eli! My dog, Bill said, dragging Earl’s attention back to the problem at hand.

He and Bill quickly wrapped the dog’s leg.

I’m guessing you don’t have a vehicle? Earl Eli asked.

No. We were walking in the woods, Bill replied.

No problem. We’ll take my pickup.

They left the bar and walked to Earl Eli’s black truck that was parked out front.

I’ll ride in the back with Kendrick, Bill said, hopping in beside his canine companion.

Earl Eli jumped into the driver’s seat and headed toward the vet’s office. He knew that Kendrick wasn’t just a dog to Bill. The man’s pups were like his furry kids and Bill had been a good friend to Earl Eli through some pretty tough times.

When they reached Dr. Porter’s, they brought the dog inside where the vet awaited them.

Earl Eli sat with Bill until Dr. Porter emerged from the exam room and said he wanted to keep Kendrick overnight. He’d need surgery in the morning.

Come on, Bill. I’ll drive you home, Earl Eli said.

Thanks. Damn those crazies. Ever since those campers last summer reported seeing Bigfoot, all kinds of nuts keep coming here.

Well, luckily most of them only want a look at the creature. They don’t lay traps like the one that got Kendrick.

I wish they’d all stay away.

Earl Eli partially agreed. He liked it when their small town wasn’t a major tourist attraction. Usually the same families came for the summer and Earl Eli enjoyed leading the trail rides, hiking trips and running his campground.

The Bigfoot sightings had drawn more people, but that also meant additional money that the local business needed. Earl Eli certainly appreciated the extra income.

He decided not to debate the subject with Bill at the moment. The man was understandably upset about his dog.

After dropping Bill at his house, Earl Eli returned to the Thirsty Bobcat. When he stepped in, he was surprised but pleased to see the sexy stranger seated at the bar, sipping a mug of beer. He’d put on another shirt -- a snug blue T-shirt that clung to his appealing bod.

Hey, Earl Eli said, approaching the man. Hope you’re not waiting around for your shirt. It’s a gory mess and I’m pretty sure Doc Porter trashed it.

No. I’m waiting for you, actually, the stranger replied with an English accent. His soft voice was like music to Earl Eli’s ears -- deep enough to be manly but not so much that he sounded like a bear with a chest cold.

He was waiting for Earl Eli? Was this some kind of dream or fantasy?

Yeah? Earl Eli growled, trying to not appear as interested as he felt.

I asked around and you are Earl Eli, the tour guide, are you not?

Yeah.

Excellent. I know I’m early. You weren’t expecting me until tomorrow, but it didn’t take as long to drive here from the airport as I’d assumed and I thought I’d look you up.

Yeah.

The stranger’s brow furrowed. You do speak English?

Earl Eli shot him an annoyed look. Yeah.

Earl Eli’s not much for conversation until he gets to know you, Hank explained. He nodded toward the stranger’s empty mug. Want another, bud?

Please. Do you have something a bit stronger?

Whiskey?

I meant ale. Hard liquor isn’t usually my choice, but I prefer less mild ale.

If our beer ain’t good enough for you, then maybe you ought to try something else.

Relax, Hank. He didn’t mean anything by it, Earl Eli said.

The stranger turned those fathomless eyes in Earl Eli’s direction. So you’re not entirely monosyllabic.

Hank glared. Are you sure he’s not trying to insult us?

Just bring us a couple of whiskeys, coz. Earl Eli glanced at Hank, and then he turned back to the visitor. Let me guess. You’re John Smith from England. Martin’s pal.

Excellent deduction. I hope I’m not intruding on your leisure time, Mr. Rossi.

Nope.

I’m looking forward to the camping trip. I admit it’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this. The last rural area I visited was in South Africa. I went there as a volunteer after university. Of course it wasn’t like this, but it was a fascinating and humbling experience.

Earl Eli raised an eyebrow. This guy sure loved to talk, but he seemed decent enough.

A slight smile tugged at John’s slender lips. Earl Eli couldn’t help wondering if those lips tasted as good as they looked.

Anyway, Martin insisted I come here to look for Bigfoot. John chuckled. Have you actually seen the creature?

Nope.

I thought not. However, I’m impressed by your honesty.

Why? Did you think I’d make up a story just to drum up business?

John’s smile faded. I’m sorry. That must have sounded terribly insulting and that wasn’t my intention.

Don’t worry about it. Just one question. If you don’t believe in Bigfoot, why come here looking for him?

Silly as it sounds, I came here on a dare.

Earl Eli curled his lip and gave a snort of laughter. You came all the way from England because your friend dared you to find Bigfoot?

That’s not the only reason. I have a keen interest in folklore and I’m working on a book about it. Though I’m quite certain we won’t find Bigfoot, I’m sure the people here have some wonderful stories to tell.

Hank placed the whiskey glasses in front of the men. Earl Eli glanced at his cousin, who jerked his head in John’s direction and raised his eyes to heaven before walking away.

Between you and me, the whole Bigfoot thing is a fable, John said. I’m quite sure whatever those people claim to have seen was probably a black bear or maybe even kids playing tricks.

You really think so? Earl Eli asked with feigned innocence. And here I thought there might actually be a family of great apes swinging through the trees on my campground.

I doubt it. John picked up his whiskey and swallowed it in a gulp. He paused a moment and licked his lips. That wasn’t too bad. Pardon! He called to Hank who turned around with a raised eyebrow. One more, please, when you have a chance.

Don’t you think you ought to take it easy? You have to meet me at the campground at five in the morning and you’ve got to be jetlagged from the time difference and all.

I’ll be fine. Truly I’m too excited about being here to get much rest, but I’m sure the morning hike will wear me out enough to relax tomorrow.

If you say so. Earl Eli swallowed his whiskey.

How about you, coz? Want another? Hank asked.

Nope.

I’m sure the sightings have increased business around here, John continued. I saw several of the local businesses have Bigfoot signs and merchandise. I particularly liked that impressive life-size carving in front of the hardware store.

Earl Eli narrowed his eyes. You’re not a reporter, are you?

Of course not. Why do you ask?

"Just seems like