Phantom's Dance
by Lesa Howard
Release Date: 03/01/14
Summary:
Christine Dadey’s
family uprooted their lives and moved to Houston for her to attend the
prestigious Rousseau Academy of Dance. Now, two years later, Christine
struggles to compete among the Academy’s finest dancers, her parents are on the
brink of divorce, and she’s told no one about her debilitating performance
anxiety and what she’s willing to do to cope with it.
Erik was a ballet prodigy, a savant, destined to be a star on the world’s stage, but a suspicious fire left Erik’s face horribly disfigured. Now, a lonely phantom forced to keep his scars hidden, he spends his nights haunting the theater halls, mourning all he’s lost. Then, from behind the curtain he sees the lovely Christine. The moldable, malleable Christine.
Drawn in by Erik’s unwavering confidence, Christine allows herself to believe Erik’s declarations that he can transform her into the dancer she longs to be. But Christine’s hope of achieving her dreams may be her undoing when she learns Erik is not everything he claims. And before long, Erik’s shadowy past jeopardizes Christine’s unstable present as his obsession with her becomes hopelessly entangled with his plans for revenge.
Erik was a ballet prodigy, a savant, destined to be a star on the world’s stage, but a suspicious fire left Erik’s face horribly disfigured. Now, a lonely phantom forced to keep his scars hidden, he spends his nights haunting the theater halls, mourning all he’s lost. Then, from behind the curtain he sees the lovely Christine. The moldable, malleable Christine.
Drawn in by Erik’s unwavering confidence, Christine allows herself to believe Erik’s declarations that he can transform her into the dancer she longs to be. But Christine’s hope of achieving her dreams may be her undoing when she learns Erik is not everything he claims. And before long, Erik’s shadowy past jeopardizes Christine’s unstable present as his obsession with her becomes hopelessly entangled with his plans for revenge.
Excerpt :
To
avoid the elevator music, I pulled my iPod from my bag again and thumbed
through the playlist. The doors started to slide into place when suddenly an
arm jabbed through the narrow opening and forced them apart once more. A man in
a business suit stepped inside, followed by a blond-haired guy I recognized
from a few months back when I’d seen him by the rooftop pool. We made eye
contact as he reached for the button panel, and I averted my gaze, at once
aware how small the elevator was.
When
he’d pushed the button for his floor, he waved a hand in the air to get my
attention. Then he pointed to the panel. I’d forgotten to choose my floor.
Embarrassed, heat crept up my neck and I raised my hand, all five fingers
spread apart. He smiled and pushed the fifth-floor button, and my stomach
fluttered as I bit my lip to keep from smiling back at him.
In
a few swaggering strides, the guy was across the elevator and leaning lazily
against the handrail, stacking his suede chukkas one atop the other. After
arranging his plaid over-shirt so that it hung loosely away from his tee, he
clipped his thumbs casually into his jeans pockets.
For
the second time in less than thirty minutes, I felt uncomfortable in my own
skin. I seriously wished I’d changed into street clothes before leaving the
studio. Fighting the desire to adjust the waistband of my sweats, I pretended
to have great interest in my iPod. If only I’d taken my hair down, rather than
leave it in the somber bun I wore for school every day.
The
doors closed and the elevator lifted, gently gliding skyward, and I glanced at
the boy. He was cute, really cute, and my stomach fluttered again when he
caught me looking at him.
When
we stopped at the third floor, the door opened and the man exited. Slowly, the
younger one dragged himself from the handrail, taking a wide step that brought
him close to me. A full head taller than me, he paused long enough to nod
slightly as if telling me goodbye. I sucked in a ragged breath, pulling in the
smell of cologne that no doubt had the word noir in its name. He was so close I
could have touched the cleft in his chin, and my fingers itched to. I’d never
seen such an impressive dimple. And his silver-blue eyes were out of this
world. Images of a lone werewolf popped into my mind. I’d definitely read too
many of the paranormal romances passed around the Academy.
About the Author
I'm not the typical author. I didn't always enjoy reading or writing.
While in school, I found it to be a chore I'd just as soon skip. I would rather
have been daydreaming, my favorite past time. It wasn’t until I grew up and
didn’t have to, that I realized reading was fun. I soon discovered that reading
fueled my daydreaming. So, remembering a short story I'd written in high school,
I began imagining expanding that story into a book. Before long I found I had
loads of ideas for not just the short story but other books and stories as
well. Fast forward a few years, a lot of studying about writing, practicing my
writing, studying some more, taking classes from people who knew what they were
doing, studying and practicing yet more, and ta-dah, author! In the same way I
had learned I loved reading, I learned I loved writing, too. It’s just that
writing is a lot harder than reading.
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