The Legend of the Inn at Maiden Fallsâ¦
There are lots of rumors, but no one is exactly sure why even the crankiest twosomes get so very coosome when they spend time at the historic Inn at Maiden Falls, nestled in the Colorado Rockies. Maybe itâs the beautiful vista of all that rushing water (the falls) outside the windows. Maybe itâs the clean, invigorating mountain air stirring up their blood. Or maybe (as the whispers say) there really are lusty ghosts of shady ladies past floating around the rafters. Old-timers say the inn was a famous brothel more than a hundred years ago; all the âsoiled dovesâ may have mysteriously passed away, but their spirits remain to help young lovers discover the joy of sensual pleasure. Or so the story goesâ¦.
Dear Reader,
Ghost hookers who haunt a honeymoon hotel where they spice up couplesâ sex lives? Thatâs the idea Julie Kistler, Heather MacAllister and I brainstormed in July 2002 at the national Romance Writers of America conference in Denver, Colorado. And now, June 2004, our stories have come to life as my book, Sweet Talkinâ Guy, kicks off our THE SPIRITS ARE WILLING Harlequin Temptation series!
In Sweet Talkinâ Guy, heiress and runaway-almost-bride Daphne Remington crosses paths with Andy Branigan, a cynical reporter. He smells a hot story, she needs a place to hide out and they end up sharing one of the bridal suites while pretending to be newlyweds. What they donât know is their room is haunted by the once-notorious cardsharp and sharpshooter Belle Bulette, who thinks Andy and Daphne are hardly strangers but soul mates, and uses her ghostly wiles to prove as much.
To read about my upcoming books, check out my Web site at http://www.colleencollins.net.
Happy reading!
Colleen Collins
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
867âJOYRIDE
899âTONGUE-TIED
913âLIGHTNING STRIKES
939âTOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT
HARLEQUIN DUETS
10âMARRIED AFTER BREAKFAST
22âROUGH AND RUGGED
30âIN BED WITH THE PIRATE
39âSHEâS GOT MAIL!
107âLET IT BREE CANâT BUY ME LOUIE
To Julie and Heather, with whom I had a ball brainstorming our ghostly world filled with divine hookers.
And to my editor, Wanda Ottewell, for her encouragement and insights, and for keeping me on course.
The Golden Rules for Miss Arlottaâs Girls
We know rules are not your favorite things, but some things need to be written down. So hereâs your Golden Rules, girls. Abide by âem and weâll all do just fine. We werenât exactly angels when we were here the first time around, but weâve got another chance. So we want to do what we can to keep the idea of holy matrimony satisfying soâs nobodyâs man will be tempted to go lookinâ elsewhere for a good time. It may not seem fair, but themâs the rules. We helped âem stray. Now weâre helping âem stay.
Rule #1: You will never, ever do anything that might come between the bride and groom.
Rule #2: No visibility. You canât be scarinâ the livinâ daylights out of folks by fading in and out or showing up in bits and pieces at the wrong time.
Rule #3: Never, ever make love with a guest yourself. No exceptions.
Rule #4: No emotional attachments to anyone. You canât follow them when they leave, so you might as well not get attached.
Rule #5: When you have successfully put a troubled couple on the road to bedroom bliss, you earn a Notch in Miss Arlottaâs Bedpost Book.
Rule #6: Especially good or bad activities may earn you Gold Stars or Black Marks.
Rule #7: Itâs gonna take ten Notches before you can advance. All Advancements shall be determined by Miss Arlotta and the Council, who will consider how difficult your couples were, how much work you had to do, your level of creativity, whether your heart was in the right place and those Gold Stars or Black Marks.
Rule #8: Any girl who disobeys these rules shall be punished.
Rule #9: Any and all rules may be changed by Miss Arlotta as she sees fit.
Thatâs it. Push those couples into as much wedded bliss as they can handle, and weâll all do fine. Youâre all creative ladies when it comes to what happens between the sheets. So letâs get to work and show âem what kinds of sparks can fly when the spirits are willing!
BEING DEAD isnât all itâs cranked up to be. Good thing I died with my cigarillo clinging to my lip, a flask of whiskey in one hand and my trusty .44 in the other. Otherwise Iâd be plumb out of luck for entertainment.
Belle Bulette pointed her Colt .44 at the godawfulest, ugliest ceiling light sheâd seen in at least a hundred years and cocked the hammer.
Across the parlor, the same room where over a century ago she and the girls had greeted their customers, Rosebud flashed a disapproving look through her wire-frame glasses before returning to her book, Lady Chatterleyâs Lover. The rest of the ghostly strumpets either made a great show of ignoring Belle or voiced their opinions of her.