House—where checkout time is optional, and some guests have been extending
their stay for centuries.
Scottish history and accumulating many permanent residents along the way. This
ancient fortified manor, once a hunting lodge and defensive tower, now serves
as both a charming hotel and an unintentional retirement home for spirits who
can’t or won’t move on to the next realm.
soldier, two Victorian ladies, one unhappy go-go girl, a Scottish Brewmaster,
and more. Each ghost brings their own quirks, complaints, and centuries-old
drama to daily life at Border House. Whether you’re a living guest checking in
for the weekend or a long-dead resident who’s been here for ages, everyone has
a story to tell.
Ann’s Undoing
Ghosts of Border House Book 4
by Leah Miles
Genre: Paranormal Ghost Romance
Ghost Dogs, a
performing troupe, and a murder to solve.
Ann Darby was a rising movie star but died alone in a river in 1975. It seems
she’s destined to spend eternity alone at Border House in Scotland. Halloween
is the one night she can be visible to the living, but this year she plans to
skip the party. That is, until a giant Highlander steps out of a green van in
front of the house.
Callum McLeod performs in a small troupe for parties and events, waiting for
his big break. Betrayed by the lover he trusted and fired by the employer he
outperformed, he’s at the end of the road—personally, financially, and
emotionally. His paycheck was supposed to cover rent. Now he’ll be evicted the
moment he gets home.
Then a killer strikes in the maze, and Callum never makes it home at all. The
house ghosts must work together to catch a murderer, and Ann has some hard
choices to make if she wants her future to look different from her past.
“Do you want to go
to the orchard? We can sleep out there under the stars.”
“Sleep? Ghosts
sleep?”
“It’s not a true
sleep, but it stills your mind and gives you time to think. Perhaps if you
rest, you’ll remember something about what happened to you.” She held out her
hand, and he took it without hesitation.
Ann Darby was the
only person … ghost … who’d stood with him from the moment he awoke, and she’d
asked him for nothing. Wordlessly, he let her lead him down the stairs and out
into the night. His dogs barked and raced across the grass as they walked around
the house and toward the orchard. The strong breeze carried a sharp, almost
vinegary sweetness of windfall apples beginning to ferment where they’d dropped
in the grass.
“Why are you
helping me?”
She flashed him a
wry smile. “I would say it’s because I’m a good person, but you already know
that isn’t the whole truth. Callum … I’ve been alone a long time. At first I
liked it that way because I was so angry about my death and the unfairness,”
she waved her free hand, “Of all this. You know, I had much the same problem as
you. The hours before I drowned were a complete blank. I was at a party, inside
Border House, and next I knew, Donnal was pulling me out of the river.”
“He was alive
then?”
“No. He wasn’t
pulling my body out. He pulled me out. What I am now out.”
“When was this
again?”
“Donnal died in
1970, and I drowned in 1975.”
He stopped walking
and faced her, still gripping her hand. “Ye’ve been here, at this house for 51
years?”
A single tear
rolled down her cheek, and she nodded.
“When we spoke at
the fountain, you said you were at a party and found out the man was married.
The producer of the play. Is he the one who murdered you?”
“Yes. It took me a
long time to remember, but it was him. He drugged me and tossed me off the
footbridge. I was a fine swimmer, so even impaired I might’ve survived, but, it
was this time of year, and we’d had some rain and flooding.”
Her eyes were huge
in her pale face, and the need to comfort her overwhelmed him. He gently pulled
her against his chest and stroked his hand up and down her back. Her spine
softened under his palm, tension leaving by degrees until she relaxed against
him.
“It was a long
time ago. I thought I’d pass on to whatever came next after I remembered, but
I’m still here.”
He rested his chin
on her hair and squeezed her against him. The moon over them was full, and a
strong breeze rustled the leaves, bringing the sharp scent of fresh apples. The
king aside, this place wasn’t so bad. He had his dogs, and he had Ann. “Perhaps
I’ll stay here then. Even after we solve my murder.”
She sighed against
him before easing back. The smile she gave him didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I
would love to have you here with me, if you want that as well.”
He smoothed back a
stray wisp of hair and cupped her cheek, trying to determine the cause of her
withdrawal. Then tried a different tactic, sliding his fingers into the hair at
her nape, not trapping her, only holding as much as she allowed. His fingers
lingered in her hair, and with his thumb on her chin, he tilted her face up
until his lips met hers. She didn’t speak, but her breath caught as she leaned
into him, meeting his caress with her own. It wasn’t a cinematic kiss of sudden
passion and overwhelming hunger, but a slow search for mutual warmth. She
trembled in his arms, and he let a little hunger seep into his caress, then
left her mouth to trail kisses over her cheek, pulling her tightly to his
chest. “Yer the one bright spot in all this. I’m not sorry I met ye, Ann
Darby.”
Black Cat Devotion
Ghosts of Border House Book 3
by Vanessa Victoria Kilmer
Genre: Paranormal Ghost Romance
Black cats love
sunshine.
Bubbly but lonely Scottish heiress, Morven Blair, connects
with Black Kat, a cranky internet pixie with a secret identity and a reputation
as a myth buster. Morven asks Black Kat to prove the existence of ghosts and
certify Border House, “the most haunted place in the world.” Black Kat intends
to prove it’s all a con. Opposites do attract, but do they really know love at
all?
“I’m an early riser,” Tibby
said, sipping from the only pink mug in the place. Interesting.
“Can
I make you something to eat? Eggs. Toast.”
“No,
I have to have second coffee before I can even think about food in the
morning.”
I
opened the back door for Dam. “Is she okay to wander around outside? We have
wild animals roaming around.”
“She
thinks she’s a lion, so she’ll be just fine.”
“You
said yesterday that Dam is black in the Thai language. Is your heritage Thai?”
I sat with my coffee in my favorite mug, covered in sunflowers. I inhaled the
aroma with a deep breath through my nose. I drink my coffee black. I peeked
into Tibby’s cup. Her cup had lots of milk in it.
She
wrinkled her nose as if she considered not answering.
“You
don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Privacy is a good thing.”
She
stared at me for a long time, deciding.
“It’s
not really that big a deal. I’m just not used to sharing with someone I just
met.” She dipped her pinky into her coffee. “None of us know our birth
families, but we want to know. We took those DNA tests to see if we could find
any relatives. Mine said I’m part Thai and part French.” She got up to pour
more coffee. She held the pot up to me in a silent question.
I
shook my head.
She
went to the fridge to dilute her coffee and cool it off. No wonder she drank it
so fast.
“Have
you taken one of the DNA tests?” She asked as she sat back down at the table.
“God,
no.” I laughed as I pointed at my chest. “Nobility here. There were few
marriages for love in my family’s history. If we took a DNA test, we might find
out we’re related to the stable boy.”
Tibby
blinked at me. I wasn’t sure if I was kidding her.
I
raised an eyebrow. “I’m not joking.”
“Well, alrighty then.”
The Brewmaster’s Kiss
Ghosts of Border House Book 2
by Leah Miles
Genre: Paranormal Ghost Romance
After fifty-five years, Nova Guthrie has returned to
Scotland for the annual Halloween Ball at Border House. Or that is her excuse
to return to the home of her youth and bid farewell to memories of her lost
lover.
What she doesn’t know is that Donnal Stuart still haunts the grand mansion,
along with a few other ghostly characters—one of whom will do everything she
can to keep them apart.
This story is about true love and secret ghost powers bundled up in a haunting
tale of second chances.
“Don’t yell at me. You told me to speak to her,” Ann replied
sulkily. “All I did was say hello.”
Donnal threw up his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think this
through.” He struggled to regain his composure. “If I can’t talk to her, and
hearing yer voice frightens her, what’s the alternative?”
Unaware of their presence, Nova pulled a book from the shelf and
began flipping through it.
“Look there, Donnal. She isn’t frightened. She’s reading a book.”
Ann made a bored sound in her throat. “I’m going to the dining room. King Edgar
might be there. What did he say when you spoke to him? Am I in the clear?”
Donnal shrugged. “Edgar agreed to commute yer sentence, but ye
need to be in the drawing room before dawn tomorrow for the speech. And no
interruptions.”
“Ugh.” She made a face. “Fine. I’m going then. Louisa Stuart said
it was roast beef tonight, and I want to sniff it before it all gets eaten.”
“Ann …”
“What?”
“Thanks for trying.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, pausing a long moment before
resting a hand on his sleeve. “When your lost love returns to America, maybe we
can take that walk in the garden.”
“Sorry, Ann.” Donnal shook his head. “Even if Nova is far away or
long dead, she holds my heart. I just wish there were some way to tell her how
I feel,” he said, sidling closer to read over Nova’s shoulder.
Ann huffed. “Well, if that’s the way of it, I do have one idea.”
Hope speared through him, but he quickly squashed it as he faced
Ann. “We tried, and that’s enough for now. Maybe on Halloween—”
“Use your water power,” interrupted Anne.
His mind went blank. What did she mean? “Water power?”
“Don’t be dense, beer man. I heard you talking to James Graham a
few years ago. You died when your steam device exploded, and the
steam-propelled metal bits stabbed you in the heart. Right?”
He pulled back his shoulders. “Aye …”
“So …” Ann tapped a red-tipped finger against her equally red
lips. “Can you manipulate water? Or is it just steam?”
“Not in great amounts, but I can move water.” He scrubbed a hand
over his thick black curls. “It’s nae impressive.”
Ann gestured toward Nova. “She has a cup of tea right there. You
could slosh it around or something.”
“What purpose would it serve?”
Ann clicked her tongue and crossed to where Nova was flipping
through a second book. She jabbed a finger toward the teacup resting on the
ledge of the bookcase, then whispered in Nova’s ear. “Donnal is here.”
Nova jolted and dropped her book on the polished wood floor. “Donnal?”
she whispered.
He glowered at Ann for forcing this moment and concentrated on the
tea until it churned and sloshed over the rim.
“What the—” Nova snatched up the cup and used her sleeve to wipe
the spilled tea from the shelf before it reached any books. She held the cup
away from her and cast her gaze warily around the room. “I can’t believe I’m
going to say this. Donnal, if you’re here, prove it.”
Ann giggled. “See? I was right! Come on, come on. Spill it again.”
“It’s no small effort to move inert fluid.” Donnal cracked his
knuckles and refocused on the tea. Seconds later, it sloshed over the rim a
second time.
“I know I didn’t do that,” Nova said, her eyes wide.
The library door burst open, and the Earl entered with another
man. “Jack, I need to … hang on. What are you doing in here? Nova Guthrie, isn’t
it?”
“Yes,” she stammered and moved a foot to cover the spilled tea on
the floor. “James.”
“No. It’s John.” His lips curled in irritation. “Dinner will be
served shortly. This is my private library. Not available to the guests.
Valuable things in here, you see.”
“Apologies.” Her gaze darted around the room before she hurried
out.
Excerpt 3 The Mist
She set down the coffee to tug on her gloves, then, picking up the
cup in one hand, she carefully made her way down the stairs to the edge of the
garden where she’d seen Donnal the previous morning. The soft rain created a
haze over everything. Not the same as yesterday’s mist, but thick and white.
Nova shivered and sipped her warm drink. This was ridiculous. She should go
back inside—
“Nova?”
She spun so quickly that she dropped her mug on the flagstones,
where it shattered into pieces.
“Can ye hear me then?” Donnal hovered, a shimmering apparition, a
bare foot away from her.
“Yes, Donnal. If that is you, I hear … I hear you.” Her knees
trembled.
He grinned. “My love. Can ye see me? Or is it only my voice?”
“I see an outline of you,” she said, raising a hand to the
shimmering image. When her fingers passed through his shoulder, she yanked her
hand back.
“Do not be afraid, my darling. Ye have no idea how happy it makes
me to stand in front of you again.”
Tears mixed with the mist on her face. “I have dreamed of you. But
I don’t understand how you are here.”
He shrugged, and the scent of apples and cinnamon flavored the
rain. Donnal hadn’t aged past the thirty years he was at his death. Granted, he
was an outline, a misty, colorless visage, and oh, how she longed to see his
black hair and blue eyes one more time. She didn’t even have a photo to
remember him by. “Most souls cross over to wherever they’re going as soon as
they pass, and others remain near the place of their demise. I’m one of several
ghosts that haunt Border House.”
“Do you want to stay here?”
“My darling Nova, I have only wanted to see ye all these years.
Before the sun rises or this mist subsides, I want to say that I love ye. And I’m
sorry for not being the man I should have been all those years ago. I hurt ye,
and for that I’m truly sorry.” He spoke fast as if afraid he wouldn’t get his
words out.
She shivered and moved nose to nose with Donnal’s apparition. “If
forgiveness is what you need to move on to the next life, then I forgive you.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nothing happened. “Do you feel
different?” she whispered.
“Not particularly,” he said, opening his eyes. “I suppose it wasn’t
only forgiveness I needed.”
She shivered and folded her arms across her chest for warmth.
“Ye are cold. Perhaps if we walk, ye would be warmer, and ye can
tell me of yer life.”
“Ah.” Nova squinted at the path that she could barely make out in
the dark. “I might trip. I took a fall last night in the brewery.”
“I was there. Do ye remember speaking to me?”
Nova’s throat tightened. “That was real?”
He nodded. “The brewery is my favorite place in the house.”
“I can imagine you working there, if you had …”
“If I had lived. Aye.” Donnal’s apparition dissipated and
reformed. “Sorry, I’m upset about something that I have no control over.” He
flicked out his arms, and water splashed on her face.
She used the edge of her sleeve to dab at her cheek and shivered
again. “What sort of thing upset you?”
“The Earl is selling my legacy.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Do ye remember the Scotsman who came into the library with the
Earl?”
She nodded and stamped her feet. “I do.”
“He’s purchasing the brew recipes from Border House. All of them.
Including my special spiced beer.” He plucked his bottle from somewhere at his
waist and took a swig. “They are meeting this morning. If he sells the secret
recipe, the Earl may as well close the brewery down forever.”
“Border House is famous for its special beers. I don’t understand
why he would sell your recipes.”
“Money. The Earl is short of cash.”
She wished she hadn’t dropped her hot coffee. “Do you know what
the Scotsman is paying?”
“It doesn’t matter. There’s no way to stop it—”
The rain ceased, and when it did, his figure evaporated on the
breeze.
“Donnal?”
Nothing.
“Don’t give up,” she whispered before turning back to the stairs.
Love Lost & Found
Ghosts of Border House Book 1
by Vanessa Victoria Kilmer
Genre: Paranormal Ghost Romance
2026 National
Excellence in Romance Fiction Award (NERFA) – Romance Novella category
In 1566, Thomas Kincaid is murdered at Border House by agents of the Scottish
King. Thinking himself betrayed by his soulmate, Sara Mae Stuart, Thomas curses
her to a life of reincarnation with his dying breath.
When Sara Mae dies of a broken heart, she is reborn again and again.
After 450 years of reincarnation, Sara Mae returns to Border House to perform a
séance and break her curse. She discovers a host of unsettled spirits, each
harboring their own hidden agendas, and Thomas, lurking inside her crystal
ball.
Can love survive revenge, guilt, and a quirky spiritual divide?
Amazon * * Bookbub * Goodreads
Confused was too tame a word for
how Thomas felt after last night. Baffled. Befuddled. Bewildered. No, more like
flummoxed or deranged. He huddled in the Haunted Cellar, so named because he
haunted it. The lowest most point of the manor, it served as a cell for
prisoners. No one came here, so he was assured of some peace. The warped
floorboards felt smooth and cool; a breeze from a loose stone in the corner
foundation brought damp, earthy scents up through the gaps between the wooden
planks set a foot above the cellar ground.
He peeked through the gap beneath
him. Fiona had not put the locket back where he had hidden it. Perhaps if he
asked her nicely, she might bring it back to him or give it to Sara Mae. Did he
want her to have it? He lost his resolve last night when he almost followed
through on his revenge. He didn’t think he could try again. He still harbored
anger towards her, and the anger simmered in his heart, but the love was still
there, too. He didn’t think he’d ever see her again, so he hadn’t planned to
face the love that never went away.
That was the real curse they both
lived under, a situation with many names but well known throughout the ages:
Beloved of the Soul, Twin Flames, the Other Half, Soulmate. Whatever one called
it, it was inescapable. He spent so many years dreaming of revenge. Now that he
couldn’t follow through, he was at a loss.
A collective wailing, the spiritual
equivalent of a gasp of shock, whirled through the manor. Thomas followed the
disturbance to the first-floor family rooms. The room at the front of the left
wing housed the sitting room. Three-quarters of the ghost residents milled in
the tight quarters.
Davina Blair, dry, dreaming and
wrapped up in the arms of a new ghost, sat on the couch, smiling. The new ghost
seemed somewhat familiar. Thomas snapped his insubstantial fingers.
“Patrick Buchan.”
The new ghost nodded.
“But how?” Thomas stammered.
“I found my Vina. She waited for
me. And now, no one will ever keep us apart again.”
The room erupted with applause,
some ghosts forming hearts with their wisps of their spiritual selves like
smoke rings.
“Your dilemma inspired us,” Davina
Blair said. “And now that we are reunited, in love and happiness, we want to
find a way to help you and Sara Mae.” She rested her head on Patrick’s chest,
her ear pressed to the spot where his beating heart would be if he were still
alive.
Patrick nodded. “We can help. At
the very least, we can find the locket and get it to Sara Mae. Beyond that,
we’re not sure because you still hold so much fury, which will block any
suitable solution to your predicament.”
Now that the excitement of a new
addition to the household waned, Thomas was left alone with Davina, Patrick and
King Edgar.
“I had my eye on her,” King Edgar
lamented.
“She’s another relative of yours,”
Patrick said.
King Edgar shrugged. “Again, not a
very close one.”
“Go away, Edgar,” Thomas said. “I
need to think.”
“That’s King Edgar to a lowly
servant.” He blew a raspberry and left the room with a pop.
Malcolm Alba entered the room
through the door.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Thomas said.
“Are we never to have any peace?”
Leah Miles grew
up in Atlanta, Georgia, and planned to have a career as either a television
anchor or a successful author. After getting a bachelor’s degree in English and
communications, she worked at CNN for more than a dozen years in technical news
production. Her second career is managing an insurance agency in rural Georgia,
along with six brand-new Airbnb-style rentals, with her husband. When not
writing insurance or cleaning cabins, she cherishes quality time with her hubby
and their cocker spaniel, Hootie. They have three adult kids—a doctor, a
lawyer, and a journalist. Leah is currently writing a series with military
elements involving take-charge heroes and women who stand up for themselves and
the people they love. For updates, visit leahmilesauthor.com.
Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads
Vanessa Victoria
Kilmer told her first story to an angel who visited her when she was locked
in a dark, medieval attic at the age of four.
She grew up surrounded by fortified castles, primal salt
mines, and the drama of ancient places. Her fantasy fiction teems with murder,
magic, and madness. She explores the abuse inflicted by those closest to us and
the various ways people deal with the damage. Between writing novels, she
blogs, paints, and takes pictures with her white camera named Traitor and
embroiders tapestries.
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