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Haunting Harlow (1*+)

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Blurb

Twenty-six-year-old Erica Harlow's new home was everything an artist could wish for but her tranquil, lakeside view offered more than idyllic painting scenes. It offered Caleb.

Nothing could have prepared Harlow for the emotional rollercoaster that was coming her way, thanks to Caleb. He was hot. He was sexy. He was totally perfect, but there was a problem.

He was six feet under and haunting her house.

Harlow, wanting to help Caleb move on and rest in peace, suddenly finds herself playing a twisted version of her favorite childhood game, Clue. Only this time, the game is real and she could be the killer's next victim.

*Warning* Contains scenes of a graphic s****l nature, from the onset.

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Grasmere, at last
“Thank you, Sam,” Erica Harlow told the cab driver as she paid her fare. “You’re welcome, Harlow. It was a pleasure to meet you. If you ever need a cab, just give me a call.” Erica took the business card Sam offered her and returned his wave, as he went on his way. She hated travelling and the five-hour train ride from London to Windermere had been awful. The packed carriages filled with screaming toddlers, complaining parents, and rowdy drunks, reminded her of why she always walked, rather than taking the tube. By the time the train had pulled into Windermere station, her legs were stiff and she had been extremely relieved to find Sam and his cab, waiting for new fares. Her backside had felt like she’d been sitting on rocks for hours on end and Sam had roared with laughter when Erica sat on the backseat of his cab and said: “Oh my word, this feels lush.” She hadn’t been lying. Compared to the train seats, it really had felt wonderfully comfortable and Erica had told him so, too. They had chatted all the way through the forty-five-minute journey from the station to Grasmere, with Sam explaining that usually it only took him around half an hour to get to Grasmere but with the local sports event being held that coming weekend, traffic was heavier than usual. “Bet you ‘ave no idea what the sports are, eh, Erica?” “Nope. Not a clue and please, call me Harlow. I much prefer it.” “Aye, Harlow it is then. Well, here we are. Loweston Lodge, in all its glory. Beautiful place it is. Take no heed to anything that folk will tell you about this place. Lovely views, it has. Lots of history too.” Standing outside her gorgeous new home, looking out at the breath-taking sight of rolling hills and the shimmering blue lake, Harlow couldn’t believe her luck. An impulse purchase at a property auction that she wasn’t even supposed to be at, and here she was, in this beautiful place with a stunning new home. She wanted to scream in delight and maybe even run through the luscious green hills naked, she was that excited but she settled for a little bum wiggle and a dance before walking into her new garden. “Whoa! Check you out, ” she told the garden, as she took in the tall conifer hedge, lawn and crazy paved path. “Okay, you need a bit of a tidy up but bloody hell you’re huge. Perfect for a little lawn, vegetable patch and an outdoor dining area, with plenty of space left over for flower beds,” It was a lot bigger than she had expected and the artist in her could already see the sculptures and water features that she could make to have it looking amazing. Unlocking the front door to her new home, Harlow was greeted by a wave of dust mites. The air was filled with a musty smell that tickled the back of her nose, and a sudden unexpected sneeze, sent a fresh wave of dust, floating through the already stifling hallway. “Whew, that is bloody awful. Guess I’m leaving the door open for a while, then? It must have been months since this place was cleaned.” The hallway was long and narrow with an unattractive carpet runner, filled with beige and brown tulips, covering the centre of the dark oak, polished floorboards. Seventies floral wallpaper covered the left-hand wall and continued up the right-hand side of the stairs which ran up the left side of the hallway, creating a dark and busy feature. A conveniently placed, pine bench with red cushion, sat proudly against the dark brown, yellow and green flowers of the wallpaper, as though trying to blend in with the awful decoration. There were a few scattered biker and tattoo magazines on the bench, along with a flat, silver dish, which held a single key on a guitar-shaped fob. The living room was just as badly decorated as the hallway, with its white walls and fireplace feature wallpaper that had an array of vertical wavy lines in aubergine, against a lime green background. The room was filled with a mixture of furniture that dated an entire generation, all covered in dust and looking extremely forlorn. I’m going to enjoy fixing you up. Coat of paint, definitely some colour on the walls. Get this old furniture out and stored somewhere until I can figure out where to send it too or who to donate it too. The old chesterfield sofa and armchair, I might keep those if nobody wants them and I could do a spot of upcycling on the wooden pieces, but the rest can go into storage, I think. After examining the drawing-room, study, utility room, and finding them all screaming of badly decorated, seventies throwback, she made her way into the kitchen. With a sudden intake of breath, Harlow scanned the kitchen. The gloss white units and doors, with red marble worktops, were a stark contrast to the retro decoration throughout the rest of the downstairs. Harlow walked across the dark, parquet floor, her finger gliding along the cold polished marble, like a feather on steel as she imagined a mash of multicoloured stripes, and polka dot, with solid colour utensils standing out against the shiny white gloss. “Downstairs definitely pulled the short straw in the decorating department. Wonder what up here holds,” Harlow said as she walked up the stairway. The two rear bedrooms were basic and plain, like the other rooms but the bathroom was incredible. A large, round, sunken bathtub sat in the cream tiled floor, with four steps that led into it, for walking in and out. A large walk-in shower sat in the far corner and the wall opposite the bathtub had a huge mirror above two matching basins set in a granite work surface with two oak cabinets underneath. The main bedroom had a luxurious light oak, four-poster bed, with carved posts, which stood in the centre of the room. The back wall had a small alcove which led into a small space that was filled with pigeon hole storage compartments, which Harlow thought would be perfect for her craft supplies. A large dresser stood on the left-hand wall, along with a double wardrobe, both designed to match the bed and on the outer wall, the bay window overlooked Lake Grasmere. Harlow instantly decided that she was going to paint that view as soon as her art supplies and the rest of her belongings arrived. She had been right about the Lake District offering some fantastic views and plenty of inspiration for her artwork. The moving guys would be there the next day and Harlow had a lot of work ahead of her if she was going to clear enough space for her furniture. She had noticed a large summer house in the rear garden and had made the decision to use that as a temporary storage area for the previous owner’s belongings. She couldn’t imagine why someone would leave an entire house worth of things behind, but that’s what they had done. The auction guide had said a low starting price had been set for a quick sale but hadn’t mentioned the amount of furniture that was in the property. Harlow was sure that any other person would have everything thrown out or collected up by a local charity but she felt that the least she could do, was to try and find the previous owner or their family and see if anything was wanted. Harlow made her way back to the living room, opened a window, and poured herself a coffee from the flask in her shoulder bag. “Right then, let’s get to work and get some of these bits in order,” she told the room, grabbing a pile of magazines from under the coffee table. She began making small piles of things to store and after shifting the ugly tile topped coffee table to the ‘unwanted’ side of the room, she placed her three piles of junk, paperwork, and magazines on top of it. Turning to the large dresser style unit in the alcove at the side of the fireplace, she dusted her hands on her jeans and set to work, rummaging through the two bottom cupboards. Sitting on the floor, Harlow unzipped the black portfolio case that she had found at the back of one of the cupboards and gasped at the beautiful pieces of still life drawings and sketches. One caught her attention more than the others. It was of a young man, early thirties, Harlow guessed. He had short, dark hair and dark eyes. His chiselled jawline was edged with a neatly kept, short beard, and a slender neck led to broad, muscular shoulders. The unknown figurative model was gorgeous and Harlow couldn’t help but take in every detail from his underwear model pecs to his well endowed, neatly kept manhood. “Well, I wouldn’t be kicking you out of bed. That’s for sure. Is it wrong to keep this one back for me? For artistic viewing,” she laughed, without taking her eyes off her newfound favourite piece of artwork. Definitely, for the keep pile, you are matey. Also need to find out who the hell you are and if you’re single because if you are, you won’t be for long she promised, before moving on to another cupboard

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