Have you ever wished you could read someone else's mind? It might come in handy when your significant other is clearly peeved but won't share why, or when you've just met your blind date and wonder what that person thinks of you. For most of us, this wish is just that—a wish, destined to never come true. But in paranormal romance, such wishes can and do become reality.
So what happens when a woman can read her lover's mind? In the world of my Psychic Crossroads series, she would turn into a frothing-at-the-mouth lunatic. Don't try that at home! But the heroine of the first two books, Grace, still has an advantage most women don't. She and her true love, David, share a bond deeper than love or passion. She can feel him, no matter how far away he travels. She can track him down and, without leaving home, appear wherever he is to check on him. This powerful link drives their relationship forward even as it pushes them apart, but the connection goes both ways—and though it can bring great pleasure, it also exposes each to the other's emotional and physical agony.
Maybe it's best we can't read each other's minds, or even sense each other in the way Grace and David do. Variety is not the spice of life. Mystery is. Grace can't predict David's reactions, despite their psychic bond, which leads to plenty of surprising, steamy moments. If we could tap into each other's minds, things would get awfully boring. Not knowing makes real life interesting—almost has interesting as a paranormal romance.
Anna Durand is an award-winning writer, a freelance librarian, and an audiobook addict. She specializes in sexy romances, both paranormal and contemporary, featuring spunky heroines and hunky heroes. As a member of Romance Writers of America, she volunteers for two of its chapters—as membership chair for Hearts Through History and social media chair for Outreach International. In her previous life as a librarian, she haunted the stacks of public libraries but never met any hot vampires hunting for magical books.
Intuition (Psychic Crossroads, Book 2)
Torn apart by their haunted pasts, Grace Powell and her fiancé David Ransom are struggling to reclaim their passionate bond and build a normal life — one without danger and paranormal powers. But David can't renounce his obsession with hunting down Karl Tesler, who abducts and tortures psychics. David endured Tesler's tactics himself, but despite what Grace believes, he's not out for revenge.
Tesler covets her unprecedented abilities and her mysterious connection to a source of limitless psychic power. David will do anything — even abandon and lie to her — to protect Grace from Tesler.
With a psychic stalker on her trail, Grace charges into a desperate mission to uncover the truth about David's obsession. But Tesler's agents are closing in on her, and a terrifying new enemy is rising…
As events drive Grace and David toward a battle of epic proportions, they must risk everything — their relationship, their lives, and even their souls — to defeat an enemy who wields unspeakable psychic power.
"Anna Durand has created a new approach to psychic abilities and it is refreshing and intriguing all wrapped up in a twisting and turning plot that keeps a reader on the edge of their seat. Intuition is a page-turner and up-late reader!"—InD'Tale Magazine
"I loved seeing how David's and Grace's relationship continues to change during the book. If there is a book three I would pick it up in a heartbeat."—Fanatical Paranormal Romantical
Grace rolled onto her side. Her nose bumped into David's pillow. She drew in a long breath. The spiciness of his aftershave flooded her senses, along with another scent—a subtle, masculine smell unique to David. Indescribable. Delicious. Warmth suffused her, seeping into her heart and mind, smoldering in parts of her that ached for him. She inhaled another draft of his scent, her body responding as if he were there, caressing her. He may drive her nuts at times, but…
Oh, the way he kissed. Her lips tingled from the memory of it.
A chill whispered over her skin. Every hair on her body stiffened. Her sixth sense burst out of its slumber, clanging alarm bells in her psyche. Someone is here.
She bolted upright and whipped her head left and right. Nobody there. She swung her legs off the bed and pushed up onto her feet, nabbing her .357 Magnum revolver from the bedside table. A chill trickled down her spine. Eyes watched. Invisible, ethereal, but real. She turned toward the doorway. Nothing lurked there.
Why couldn't she pin down the source of the sensation? Her paranormal radar was blanked out, as if overwhelmed by input.
Psychic energy crackled through her. Behind you. She whirled around, thrusting the gun up, clamped in both hands, and confronted—
Hell. She'd let her unease blossom into paranoia. Nobody hunted her anymore. Probably. Tesler wouldn't find her here.
Her cell phone buzzed. A text message had arrived.
David. She snatched up the phone, tapping the screen until the message popped up. As she scanned the words, a shiver rattled through her.
"Come to me," it said, "I can help you. 1325 Meroz Road."
She didn't recognize the phone number the message came from, and no name was given. Oh sure, she'd rush right out to the address texted to her by an anonymous whackjob.
The phone buzzed again. Another text message: "Your lip is bleeding."
Her lip? She dabbed a finger on her mouth. It came away wet. Blood stained her skin. How did the texter know she bit her lip? Her heart pounded. Without moving, she searched the shadows for a figure, a camera, something to explain this, though she knew she'd find nothing. A thick curtain shielded the window. The person sending the messages could either see through solid objects or had another means of viewing her. Extrasensory means.
The phone tumbled from her hand, clattering on the floor.
No, she was jumping to conclusions. An intruder must've stolen into the house. With the revolver in hand, she sprinted out of the bedroom, down the hallway, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Vacant. All vacant. She rushed back to the bedroom and dug through the closet, scoured the dresser, even dropped onto her belly to investigate the space under the bed. No cameras. No stealthy intruders. Not a damn thing. Which left her with one unthinkable possibility.
Maybe she should call the police.
What for? They couldn't help her with this kind of problem.
"You belong with me."
She jumped. Her head smacked into the bed frame. She clutched the gun tighter. Where had the voice come from?
No, no, no, not again. Nausea swelled in her stomach, bile rising high in her throat. The voice did not originate in this room, or from outside. The source was much, much closer. Someone rammed the words into her mind.
A psychic intruder just hacked her brain.
Thanks Anna for sharing,