Kelly Moran is a bestselling author of enchanting ever-afters. She gets her ideas from everyone and everything around her and there's always a book playing out in her head. No one who knows her bats an eyelash when she talks to herself.

Kelly is a RITA® Finalist, RONE Award-Winner, Catherine Award-Winner, Readers Choice Finalist, Holt Medallion Finalist, and landed on the "Must Read" & "10 Best Reads" lists at USA TODAY's Lifestyle blog. She is a proud Romance Writers of America® member, where she was an Award of Excellence Finalist. Her books have foreign translation rights in Germany, the Czech Republic, and the Netherlands.

Kelly's interests include: sappy movies, MLB, NFL, driving others insane, and sleeping when she can. She is a closet coffee junkie and chocoholic, but don't tell anyone. She's originally from Wisconsin, but she resides in South Carolina with her three sons, her two dogs, and a cat. She loves hearing from her readers. 
www.AuthorKellyMoran.com

Trisha Eaton has been plagued by mysterious nightmares ever since her parents adopted her as a young girl. She chalked them up to childish nuisances until they return-- with a vengeance. Something about the Drake house next door to her family’s apple orchard haunts her. Now, her night terrors and sleepwalking seem to be luring her to something dark. When a series of strange events crops up, Trisha turns to Nick Mackey. 

As the new deputy in town, Nick just wants to put his traumatic past behind him. An undeniable attraction for Trisha has piqued interest and has him wondering if a shot at a normal life was possible. But Trisha has somehow struck a nerve, and a long-buried secret. A secret that someone they know will kill to keep veiled. Uncovered answers only seem to lead to more questions in a case where nothing makes sense. 

One chilling fact remains... some nightmares are all too real.


The Drake House

She was frozen. An unforgiving Wisconsin had dropped the temperature to twenty degrees after receiving two more inches of snow. Her black heels were not made for this kind of walk. Her sleeveless dress offered no warmth. Her hands, already sensitive from frostbite years ago, were screaming in agony. Violent convulsions wracked her body to the point she could barely put one foot in front of the other.


Steve's hand gripped her arm tighter, pressing the gun deeper into her side as they trekked through the orchard.


Trisha didn't bother asking him why he was doing this, why he'd killed her friends. She didn't dare speak at all. When he'd caught her just outside her back door while taking the garbage out, his face had said everything. 


Chapter 65