Chosen

Marissa Dow is recovering from the death of her mother and a recent divorce. When she travels to the farm where she grew up, something extraordinary happens. It's an event so bizarre that she questions her sanity and confides in her best friend, Becka, who is skeptical about Marissa's wild tale. When proof presents itself, the two women vow to carry Marissa's secret to their graves.Even when Marissa remarries, she doesn't reveal the secret to her new husband. Marissa and Brycen share a life together, and they welcome the arrival of a baby girl, whom they name Tara. But when Tara begins to have nightmares that tie back to Marissa's time at the farm six years ago, the family struggles to understand what is happening to Tara.As good versus evil battle for space in Tara's world, can Marissa and Becka help her navigate? Will Tara live out her destiny--or will her life be altered by something beyond her control?

From the Inside Flap

READ THE FIRST CHAPTER:Armed with a flashlight, Marissa Dow questioned her sanity as she huddled behind stacked bales of hay in the far corner of the barn. It was almost dark, but she resisted the urge to go back to the house. Her eyes scanned the barn looking for a weapon of some sort, wishing she'd planned better. She was uncomfortable about this stakeout, but she'd seen a glowing light coming from within the dilapidated structure. It wasn't luminous like a flashlight, but more of a flickering, similar to fire. No one should be lighting matches in the barn. The dry bales of hay and splintered building would go up quickly, and it wouldn't take long for a fire to reach the farmhouse. Marissa had looked for used matches but never found any. She had also yelled from the front porch, but hollering had sent the man running into the woods that bordered the property. Even in the shadowy darkness, Marissa could tell he was young based on his athletic build and the way his wavy dark hair tapered almost to his shoulders. Each morning, after such an occurrence, she went to the barn and inspected the area. There wasn't anything worth stealing unless you were in need of old farming tools. But it was odd that the stranger left a fresh bunch of bluebonnets in an old tin coffee can. The previous flowers were removed and tossed haphazardly aside. This time of year, bluebonnets filled the farm acreage, along with most of South Central Texas since it was the state flower. In some places, Indian paintbrushes were in the mix, along with buttercups and other wildflowers. At the farm, it was only bluebonnets. Marissa recalled how the last two weeks of March and early April had been her mother's favorite time of year, when the bluebonnets were plentiful, filling the fields with a blanket of color, welcoming spring. Marissa had been yelling from the front porch since her arrival three days ago. Whoever he was, her intruder was consistent. She noticed the glowing light about eight o'clock every night, and the next morning, more flowers. The farm would be sold soon, and the last thing Marissa needed was for it to burn to the ground. Picturing the farm going up in flames fueled her courage.She took a deep breath as she stayed crouched behind a bale of hay with the flashlight as her only protection. Her muscles were limber since she did pilates most mornings, but she was shaking from head to toe. Dim moonlight shone through the open window of the barn, and she could see a faint outline of the contents that surrounded her. A shovel, an old tire from her father's tractor, and the workbench where her dad had built furniture for years before he died. If the man is on schedule, he should be here soon. She began to itch from the hay as she wondered what might be crawling on or around her. Maybe she should have just called the sheriff. Something other than this. Too late. She might as well catch the perp in action. Her mind raced as she reached up and brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen forward. If this turned out to be more than she could handle, maybe she would just stay hidden and quiet as a church mouse, at least for tonight.Her mother was gone and listing the farm for sale was something she hadn't been able to face until now. It had been three months since the funeral, and Marissa needed to get things handled. Selling the farm was part of that process. Her brother, Paul, was overseas on business and wouldn't be back for several months, so they had decided before he left that Marissa would put the farm on the market. Paul's family lived too far to utilize the farm as a vacation spot, and Marissa, recently divorced and without children, was pouring herself into her job. Therapeutic, she assumed. Marissa's mother had loved the farm. Even after Marissa's father died, Loraine Dow said the only way she would leave the family homestead was feet first. Paul and Marissa had tried to get their mother to move to Houston so she'd be closer to Marissa, but she wouldn't hear of it. Small town life was all their mother knew.There were eighty-five acres of peacefulness that consisted of the two-story farmhouse, the barn, an old storage shack, a good-sized pond, and the original outhouse that still stood out back. The house was a hundred and twenty years old and totally renovated. Every knickknack and keepsake was an expression of her mother's personality, along with a keen eye for decorating. The home was cozy, warm, and never saw a stranger. It was beautiful, but never enough for Marissa. Having been raised on the farm, she longed for the excitement and fast life the big city had to offer.Now, back home for a week or so, her tomboy days had gone by the wayside. She shuddered from the corner of a place that cattle and rats knew as their home. Cringing, she slapped at her ankle when something crawled on her.If her personal assistant, Sheila, could see her now. The thought brought forth a smile. Marissa always maintained the executive image her advertising job required. Her faded blue jeans, scuffed up running shoes, and ragged T-shirt would look somewhat out of character. But she was home. These were her roots, and she could still collect eggs, ride horses, and milk cows if she had to. She'd just never wanted to make a career out of it. She glanced down at her cell phone and double checked that the sound was muted. She expected her guest any minute since it was almost eight. She clawed at her itchy legs and waited.A few seconds later, her heart raced when the barn door slowly creaked open. She could barely see over the hay bale as her heart pounded against her chest, but she took a deep breath and waited for the man to show himself. A glimmer of light spilled into the barn, cast from the propane lamp in the yard. A tall silhouette with broad shoulders and muscular arms came into view. He was wearing blue-jean overalls with no shirt underneath. Marissa swallowed hard as she eyed his ample forearms and the way he moved with easy grace. As he drew closer, Marissa's eyes homed in on the clear-cut lines of his profile, a face glowing with passionate beauty that ignited her senses, but also caused her to shiver with fear. He didn't appear as young as she'd presumed. Close up, he looked ten years Marissa's junior, possibly in his early twenties. Her heart raced so loud she felt sure he could hear it. He carried a bouquet of bluebonnets in his left hand. The handsome stranger carefully removed the wilted blooms in the tin can and replaced them with the flowers he was holding. Marissa couldn't move, her breath was caught in her throat, and her mind was a whirlwind of emotions she didn't understand. The manlooked to Marissa's right, his dark eyes piercing the distance between him and a bale of hay. She didn't take her eyes off him as he stared intensely at the spot, unblinking, and with a sense of purpose that caused Marissa to tremble. She fought to control her shaking hands and erratic pulse. The hay bale began to glow, slowly at first, becoming brighter until it gleamed with phosphorescence. Marissa let out a gasp, then stood up and stumbled, clutching her phone and flashlight to her chest. Her eyes ping-ponged from the stranger to the exit, unsure how to get around him and out of the barn. Her chest tightened as she pondered what to do. But before she could make a move, the man did an about-face and ran out the door. Marissa, still pressing her phone and flashlight against her chest, leaned against the wall of the barn, struggling to slow her breathing. After a few seconds, she looked back at the hay bale that had glowed so brilliantly only moments before. The stranger was gone. And so was the radiant light.

About the Author

Marla Meyers sleeps with the light on nestled between a black cat named Whiskers and an aging yellow Labrador named Cecil. Oh, and her husband, Jack. Following too many bumps in the night, Marla abandoned her career as a journalist and began to write paranormal stories. Thus, Twisted was born, followed by Snatched--book #2 in the Lights Out series. Marla's first stand-alone novel--Chosen--has had reviewers clamoring for a copy. Bestselling author Kelly Long (Kensington Publishers) said, "Marla captured my attention from page one, and this haunting tale only got better and better. A must read for fans of women's fiction who enjoy a dash of paranormal."~Marla, Jack, and their fur babies make their home in Indiana, in a house near the banks of the White River that is said to be haunted. When Marla is asked if her house is really haunted, she says, "Ask the ghosts."

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