Dana is a 21st Century woman who doesn't think in terms of carriages, chaperons, or calling cards. Then, one night during an electrical storm, she tumbles into her favorite historical romance novel. When she awakens, she finds a world full of images that are not real, a foreboding old mansion filled with magic tricks, and a dark, tortured paper hero who lives alone. Is he real, or is he a ghost?<br><br>He comes to her as a spirit, his voice whispering soft, enticing accents in her ear. His presence is a seductive wind,-a mist that fondles her. He wants to capture her, hold her close,-have her always to love. But how can he when he is no more than a figment of someone's imagination?<br><br>Is there no way out for Dana? Will these lovers be imprisoned forever between the pages of this book, or will the closing of the last page rip them apart?

The Erotic Ghost

She read the book every chance she got, hating each and every time she was pulled away from her erotic suspense. Just a few days before she’d managed to get a few days off, and was just settling down with her book, a Coke, and a big bag of potato chips when her boss called to inform her he was just about to leave for California on a multi-million dollar deal, and since she was familiar with the product, he didn’t want anyone else but her to take care of the office.


Too bad she would probably miss her plane and be fired, but—well, that’s the way things had gone today, so she stuffed the book deep into her bag where she saw her dead, useless cell phone taking up valuable space.


God, how she wished she had taken the time to recharge the batteries before making this long trip. Anyone else would have taken care of it immediately. Your fucking signal gets low, you recharge. Oh no, not her. That would be way too organized, and no one could ever accuse her of anything so sensible.


Chapter 3