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    Dexter’s Haunting
    Dexter’s Haunting
    Dexter’s Haunting
    Ebook82 pages57 minutes

    Dexter’s Haunting

    By Shawn Lane

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    About this ebook

    Julian Ridgley is buying a house, known as Dexter’s Manor, on a hill in a seaside community. The original owner, Dexter Larabee, is widely rumored to haunt it, but Julian dismisses such fanciful rumors.

    His plan is to renovate the old mansion so he and his lover can live there, with the goal of creating their own seaside shop. After moving in, Julian experiences strange happenings, including the appearance of the gorgeous Dexter himself. Dexter calls Julian another name, Owen, and insists that Julian is his reincarnated love.

    Seduced by Dexter, Julian has a passionate affair with the spirit, prompting him to end things with his boyfriend. When Julian realizes Dex is trapped, waiting endlessly for Owen, he knows the right thing to do is to set Dex free. But he’s fallen in love with Dexter. How will he ever be able to let go?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJMS Books LLC
    Release dateOct 27, 2018
    ISBN9781634867306
    Dexter’s Haunting
    Author

    Shawn Lane

    Shawn Lane is a multi-published author of gay romance. She lives and works in Southern California. She has been published by Loose Id, Amber Quill Press, Evernight Publishing, MLR Press, JMS Books, and Ellora’s Cave. For more information, visit smlgr8.blogspot.com.

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      Book preview

      Dexter’s Haunting - Shawn Lane

      9

      Chapter 1

      It was a dark and stormy night—

      Okay, well, it wasn’t that dark, but it was stormy. Surprisingly so. We didn’t get a lot of rain most years, which was why the state was in drought one thousand or something, but lately it had been raining cats and dogs. For a number of days in a row.

      In the background, I could hear the television news people on Storm Watch. Earlier, I had seen reports of mud slides on some of the nearby hillsides.

      I set my paperback on the table and got up from the bed on which I’d been lounging to look out the window.

      The hotel parking lot had filled up with puddles and most of the parking spaces were full. Who’d want to go out in this? I only hoped it would be better in the morning.

      I glanced at the television plastered to the wall of my room. They were still going over traffic and all the numerous accidents on the freeways.

      The room was chilly, too. I walked to the heating controls on the wall and flipped up the switch. It was only about five in the afternoon, but I was already hungry.

      I’d arrived at the hotel just after three and had checked in immediately. Originally I’d planned on doing some traipsing around the little seaside town—well, almost a village, really—but the rain had convinced me to forgo that.

      I noticed the room service menu on the small desk, so I thumbed through it. I’d narrowed down my selection to between only three entrees when my cell phone buzzed. I’d been expecting the call from my boyfriend.

      Hey!

      You made it, I take it? Mace’s deep voice rumbled.

      Yep, all cozy in the hotel room. Just turned up the heat so hopefully warm soon, too.

      Did you eat, Jules?

      I rolled my eyes at the nickname, though of course he couldn’t see. My name was Julian, but I didn’t know if Mace had ever called me that. Well, maybe when we’d first met as kids. No, but I was perusing the room service menu when you called. They have a restaurant downstairs but I’m kind of comfortable in here and didn’t want to make that much of a fuss.

      Don’t blame you. You’ve got the brochures and the specs?

      All set for my appointment with the real estate agent in the morning.

      Mace exhaled. So, we’re really going to do this?

      Provided everything checks out, yeah. On paper and in pictures, this house is perfect for us.

      Almost too good to be true.

      Now that’s the cop talking.

      I am a cop, Mace grumbled. One who needs to get back to this case. I’ll call you later before you go to sleep. Stay in, okay? Don’t want you getting caught in any of this weather mess.

      I’m not going anywhere. You be careful, too. Love you. Bye.

      I put my cell phone on the desk and returned to the menu. After making up my mind, I called to order chicken strips, fries, a pot of coffee, and a slice of chocolate cake. It was ridiculously expensive, of course, but I did it anyway.

      Having settled that, I returned to looking out the window. I couldn’t see much. Being September, it was already getting darker than even a month ago and the cloud coverage didn’t help.

      Up a steep hill overlooking this part of the village stood the home I would be looking at tomorrow, if all went well, anyway. I’d talked to the Realtor only over email and once on the phone to set up the appointment.

      From the looks of the maps, the house Mace and I were considering stood alone on the right side of the hill. If you kept going left, several newer homes could be found, but we’d liked the look of this old house. A manor, they’d called it.

      It had been built in the 1920s by an eccentric young man who’d done a handful of silent Hollywood films. Dexter Larabee had been his name, and from the look of the photographs I’d seen of him, he’d been ridiculously good-looking. Yet he’d never really made it once talking films came into the norm.

      The story was, Larabee had come from a family with money, lots of it. But also mental illness. Larabee had been bipolar, as they would have called it now, and had acted out too much on set. It had gotten to a point that no one would hire him because of his behavior, and he became a recluse in the very house I’d be viewing in the morning.

      There’d also been rumors he’d been homosexual, and had many affairs with fellow actors, directors, and producers, although, of course, that hadn’t been the accepted thing then.

      He’d died in his forties in the house, under mysterious circumstances, and the house had passed on to others. First, his brother, Basil, then ultimately Basil’s children, then grandchildren. It had still been called Dexter Manor, even by Basil’s family.

      From the history I’d seen of it, Dexter Manor had not been lived in for the previous five years or so; the last person living there had been a friend of one of Basil’s grandchildren. It was the grandchildren who had apparently finally decided to sell the manor. It would need a bit of work, but I was up for the challenge.

      And that, of course, was the plan. I would work on getting the house ready for us to live there, and Mace would continue residing in

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