Roses For Chloe

Long ago, in the deep South, Chloe Bienville stood watching at the window of her plantation ballroom for her fiancé’s return from the War. Zach Brandon never came back. But Chloe is still waiting...Years later, Tyce Brandon, a talented architect--Southern to the core--devotes all his time to restoring the dilapidated plantation known as Caroline. The once-glorious mansion, the center of a decades-old feud with the proud Bienville family, has obsessed the Brandon men for generations. And now, a non-nonsense New Yorker named Delaney, the last of Bienvilles, is flying to Louisiana to end the feud once and for all--by destroying the plantation to make way for a shopping mall.Neither Tyce nor Delaney expected to meet the resident ghost of Caroline. A troubled spirit, Chloe Bienville has been waiting for a chance to be reunited with her long-lost love. Now, with the return of the last Brandon and the last Bienville, she intends to unite the two families and end the curse that torments her. But Tyce and Delaney prove to be most uncooperative and refuse to fall in love on command. Then they discover Chloe’s secret diary and discover her mischievous side and the lifelong battles of wits she played with her overbearing father and brothers. As they come to understand the legacy Chloe has left for them, they surrender to a passion that will shake the very foundation of Caroline Plantation.

From the Back Cover

A long time ago, in the deep South, Chloe Bienville stood at the window of her plantation ballroom, waiting for her lover to return from the War. Zach Brandon never came back. But Chloe is still waiting... Years later, a talented Architect--and Southern to the core--Tyce Brandon devotes all his time to restoring the dilapidated plantation known as Caroline. The once-glorious mansion has obsesses the Brandons for generations, fueling a decades-old feud with the proud Bienville family. And now, the last Bienville--a no-nonsense New Yorker named Delaney--is flying to Louisiana to destroy the plantation and end the feud once and for all. But neither Tyce nor Delaney expected to meet Chloe Bienville. A spirit who died brokenhearted and alone, Chloe has been waiting for a chance to be reunited with her long-lost love. Now, with the return of the last Brandon and the last Bienville, she hopes to bring the two families together and end her curse. But Tyce and Delaney find it hard to believe in ghosts--and even harder to fall in love. Until they discover Chloe's secret diary...unveil her hidden desires...and surrender to a passion that will shake the foundations of heaven and earth.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Caroline PlantationNew Bienville, Louisiana "Traitor!" Tyce Brandon raised his beer bottle to the empty ballroom before downing the last bitter swallow. "Here's to you, Miss Donet!" Miss Donet Bienville had desperately wanted this magnificent room restored before she died, and it had been done to perfection, thanks to him. Now, months of backbreaking labor were going to be wasted. Tyce sat with his back propped against one of four massive columns that split the white ballroom at Caroline plantation into two symmetrical areas. Everything was white, from the twin marble mantles, hand carved in Italy, to the gleaming wooden floor, lacquered as slick as a mirror according to Miss Donet's wishes--to reflect the colors of the ladies' brilliant ballgowns, she told Tyce. Today, alone in the silent mansion, he had no trouble imagining the splendor of the balls held more than a century ago when the plantation was in its prime: the myriad swirls of dazzling color reflecting off the floor in the pale light of the candles and blazing fires in the fireplaces; the rustle of silks and satins punctuated by the staccato tapping of the dancers' heels on wood; a painting brought to life by music and gaiety. For the occasion of the room's unveiling Donet had worn an ankle-length dress of creamy lace, high-collared and long-sleeved in the Victorian style of her youth, with a ruby necklace at her throat. The rubies were fake, of course; not the fabulous jewels supposedly hidden someplace at Caroline years ago by Chloe Bienville to spite her overbearing father. She had looked longingly around the room and Tyce suspected she was hearing the music of a time long past and imagining herself gliding across the floor in the arms of the love she had not been allowed to keep. So, he gave her his most gallant bow and held out his hand. "Would you share a dance with me, Miss Donet?" The pleasure that lighted her face made her young again. She laid her hand gently upon his arm. In the waning twilight they waltzed around the room, the lovely old lady in lace and the young man in jeans and tee shirt. Three months later she was dead. Tyce was glad he had finished the room in time. But now it might all be for nothing.... God, he loved this place! Its history and lore. Caroline had been a part of him from his earliest memories from tales learned at his father's and grandfather's knees--stories that had instilled in him a passion to reclaim the now-dilapidated mansion and restore it to its original grandeur. A month ago, Tyce had held her within his hands, this forbidden love of his, had almost had her for his own. Then Miss Donet had double-crossed him and died, after she had teased him with that new will she wrote, but obviously never sent to her lawyer. But he would never give up--not until Caroline was his. Tyce shuddered as a frigid draft riffled the lace curtains even though the windows were boarded up on the outside. The cloying scent of roses filled the air. He glanced around in surprise, then pushed himself quickly to his feet. A tall, slender woman stood in the doorway, with her hands planted squarely on her hips, and although there was something oddly familiar about her face, Tyce was certain he had never seen her before. He was rarely at a loss for words in any situation, but there was something disconcerting about the sudden appearance of this stranger. "Can I help you?" Tyce asked when he gained command of his voice again. "Are you lost? Who are you?" "No, I'm certainly not lost. And, you of all people ought to know who I am." The woman's voice was clear and lyrical in its tone and timbre. Her words seemed to float in the air for a brief second, then dissipate. "Well, I don't. And I might point out that if you're not lost, then you're trespassing." At that, the woman threw back her head and laughed, the sound tinkling around the room like the faraway notes of a song. Tyce racked his brain to figure out who this intruder might be. For a moment he considered the possibility that the woman might be the new owner, for she was expected from New York any day. However, this was no New York City girl unless she was playing a bad joke. He shook his head to clear it of the beer and to make his eyes stop playing tricks. This woman had a face like none he had ever seen before, with milky, almost translucent skin. Timeless, ageless eyes gave off a luminous glow that seemed to emanate from within her. She wore a gown of scarlet satin, in the full hoop-skirted style of the Civil War Era, cinching the tiny waist and displaying a generous curve of bosom, sensuous even for modern times. "Trespassing? Of all the nonsense, Sir," she declared, gliding gracefully across the floor. Around her slender throat was a necklace, thickly encrusted with rubies and glittering diamonds. Her ears sparkled with matching ruby earrings. Tyce frowned with sudden possessiveness. Those were Miss Donet's pieces of jewelry, the ones she had worn that night in the ballroom when they waltzed. "If you will give the matter proper thought, Sir, you will realize that I belong here, just as you do." She turned to face him. "Where did you get that jewelry?" Tyce took a step toward her. She seemed to drift away for a second, then held her ground. "This?" She toyed with the necklace. Tyce blinked his eyes in disbelief. Did he actually see the curtains move behind her--through her! "Jesus, I've had too much to drink," he muttered. The problem was that he wasn't drunk, he only wished he were.

About the Author

Often happier in her imaginary realms than the real world, Elaine always wanted to write books and illustrate them. Her first short story was published when Elaine was eight in her small town weekly newspaper. Elaine's first novel ROSES FOR CHLOE was a RITA Finalist, a Holt Medallion Finalist, and NONA Finalist. MAKE BELIEVE MOM, her first Harlequin Superromance, was a RITA Finalist and a Waldenbooks Bestseller. After living over thirty-five years in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, Elaine moved to the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia where she has mountain views all around, but doesn't have to worry about getting up and down them in the winter! She is a member of Romance Writers of America; Novelists, Inc; International Thriller Writers; Sisters In Crime; Virginia Romance Writers; Heart of Louisiana.

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