Christmas… Ghosts… Mystery… Romance… Something evil lurks in the charming town of Jenkins Cove. When Sophie Caldwell devotes a room in her B&B to communicate with spirits, dangerous secrets rise to the surface, and the lives of three couples will never be the same. Michael Bryant hates people who claim a fake connection with the supernatural because his mom spent all their money on fake mediums in a vain attempt to contact his dead father. And as far as he’s concerned, that includes 99 percent of psychics. When he reads about Chelsea Caldwell’s supposed ghost sightings in the charming tourist town of Jenkins Cove, he books a room in her aunt’s B&B so he can debunk her fantastical story. But Chelsea’s not telling lies. A ghost really is trying to contact her—to get justice for hundreds of area murder victims. Against his will, Michael is drawn to Chelsea. Soon they are attacked by a mysterious watcher determined to stop their investigations. And because he’s fallen for Chelsea, Michael wrestles with the lies he’s told about his motives for coming to town. Worse, when Chelsea’s life is in danger, Michael discovers the only way to save her is to trust the words of a ghost. Christmas Spirit …Christmas Awakening …Christmas Delivery Each of these stories is a complete novel, but only the full series will get to the bottom of all the ghostly happenings in Jenkins Cove. Be sure to read them all! Excerpt from Christmas Spirit Michael and Chelsea investigate an old warehouse: As Michael reached the center of the room, a white and gray cloud of whirring, flapping ghosts came rushing toward them. Chelsea gasped. Michael caught her in his arms, covering her head with one of his hands as a flock of seabirds flapped around the interior before finding their way out through the holes in the roof. The large room was suddenly silent again. But everything had changed in the space of a heartbeat. Once again, he was holding Chelsea in his arms. And once again, he marveled at how good that felt. He murmured her name, and she raised her head. Their eyes met, and he silently asked her the question. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t kiss me.” He ached to cover her mouth with his, but he wouldn’t go against her wishes. Still, he kept his arms around her. “Why not?” Male arrogance had him adding, “We both want to.” “Yes,” she acknowledged. “But not here. They’re watching.” He looked around. “There’s nobody here.” “Can’t you sense it?” she asked in a hushed voice. He stood very still, feeling the beating of his own heart and imagining he could feel hers, too. Above that rhythm of life, he detected something else. The air in this place was thick. Not with dust or any kind of man-made particles. It was thick with a kind of energy that seemed to swirl around him and press in against him, making it hard to breathe. Like the night he’d walked along Center Street, he felt a coldness in the air. He could explain that part, though. In here, the roof of the building was keeping out the sun, so naturally it was colder. “The air,” Chelsea whispered. “It’s cold and thick. And there are voices.” “Voices?” “Don’t you hear them?” He went very still, listening. He thought he heard the whispering of the wind, but that was all. “What are they saying?” he asked. “I don’t know. Not for sure. But it’s important.” The sounds around him had taken on an urgency. Then, once again, he tried to put down the uneasy feelings to his overactive imagination.