All material on this website not otherwise copyrighted is Copyright (c) 2008-2014 Gracie Stanners
Megan Alistair had two things beaten into her early—her psychic gift was valuable, and she was worth nothing. Now she hides both her gift and her heart, and plays a dangerous double game with the art underworld. Her quest? To find the painting whose whispers and shadows have haunted her since childhood.
Rumor tells multi-millionaire Dominic Stone that Megan Alistair is an immoral, money-focused schemer. So when he goes to her with a business proposition to find a missing family heirloom he expects her to bump up the price and then jump at it—and probably jump him as well. He doesn’t expect her categorical refusal. He certainly doesn’t expect to find her attractive. Or courageous. Or vulnerable. Or humorous. And he sure as hell doesn’t expect her to become as important to him as the mystery he needs her help to solve.
Suddenly, for both Megan and Dominic there is more at stake than lost heirlooms. If they don’t trust each other—and dare to love—their past could ruin them and their present could kill them.
Touching Shadows is a full length (90,000 word) Contemporary Romantic Thriller with paranormal elements.
Romance Writers of New Zealand Clendon Readers' Choice Award
Winner - Mainstream with Romantic Elements Category NTRW Great Expectations Competition
Undercover field intelligence operative Emma Brown is at the top of her game, using her psychic gifts to great effect in a job she loves. But it's not enough. She dreams of surrounding herself with family; lots of kids, close, supportive—the kind of family she never had growing up. When a sadistic killer’s torture ends any hope that she will bear a child, the loss shatters her. Mutates her abilities. Sends her spiraling towards psychic meltdown and vengeance.
Then her estranged sister dies and leaves behind an enigmatic message, and everything she thought she understood about herself, her family, and her background is overturned.
Now Emma must capture the man who destroyed her future, discover the truth about her past, and deal with two very present complications; Marcus, a toddler whose abilities put hers in the shade, and Brandt Alistair, the infuriating fellow-psychic whose unconventional methods push her to the edge.
Finalist - Romance Writers of New Zealand Clendon Award
Finalist - Mainstream with Romantic Elements Category NTRW Great Expectations Competition
As soon as I saw Dominic Stone walk through the front door, I knew someone somewhere had made a catastrophic mistake and I was screwed.
It didn’t matter he wouldn’t recognize me. It was enough I recognized him. How could I not? Our last meeting hadn’t been the kind you forget, on my part. Or forgive. On his. It had been sheer luck the bullet had missed. No one, I assured myself, no one could be that lucky twice.
Drawing back into the shadows of the mezzanine, I watched in reluctant admiration as he finessed his way past Security. Nothing had changed there either. He was still arrogant. Still remote.
I could almost see those winter-gray eyes narrow in evaluation as their gaze moved around the foyer. Feel the chill rolling from him like fog off dry ice.
And he was heading my way...
Which left me either the back stairs or the freight elevator to the basement. I tossed a mental coin. Freight elevator.
“Megan,” a voice behind me said. “Good. You’re still here.”
I swung away from the mezzanine balustrade, schooling my face into a neutral mask as
During my decade as a field intelligence operative for Advanced Global Protection’s Psychic Section, I’d been involved in a lot of shit. Seen stuff that would haunt me forever. But before Friedrich Weber elbowed his way onto my team I’d never hated my job, and until Operation Star, I’d never wanted to kill a colleague.
What kind of human being leaves a little girl whose leg is blown off to bleed out on the street simply to satisfy his personal desire for power? What kind of man tasers the person applying the tourniquet because she tells him to screw himself, his report to Head Office, and his fucking ego sideways?
And what kind of idiot actually expects no retaliation? Let me think . . . That would be Weber. Which meant he wasn’t only a gutless control freak, but he also hadn’t learned a thing about me during our previous three missions.
It wasn’t enough for him to direct his security guys to haul me into AGP’s Berlin office through the underground entrance while he swaggered through the front doors. He wanted to watch and snigger as his goons dragged me out of the van—my eyes running, my face covered in snot and drool—and dumped me onto the concrete floor. He didn’t even have the sense not to gloat within arm’s reach as they hauled me to my feet and sliced through the plastic ties cuffing my hands.
I couldn’t have resisted the temptation, not even to save my job, which was now well and