Lightning Game (A GhostWalker Novel) Mass Market Paperback – September 28, 2021 by Christine Feehan

Description

Author: Feehan Christine

Color: Multicolor

Package Dimensions: 28x172x222

Number Of Pages: 432

Release Date: 28-09-2021

Details: Product Description

Danger and passion fuse in this electrifying GhostWalker novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan.

GhostWalker Rubin Campo’s rough upbringing made him into the man he is today: strong, steadfast and wary of outsiders. When he and his brother return to their family’s homestead in the Appalachian Mountains, he can immediately sense that a stranger has taken up residence in their cabin—a woman who just happens to be a GhostWalker too.

Jonquille looks deceptively delicate but is clearly a fighter. She also doesn’t seem to care that Rubin could kill her where she stands. She sought him out, wanting to connect on their shared interest in electrical charges. As one of the first failed GhostWalker experiments, Jonquille can produce lightning with her body—but she can’t control it.

Their connection is magnetic, their abilities in sync. Rubin knows she’s his match, the answer to a lifetime of pain and intense loneliness. But Jonquille came to him with hidden intentions, ones that threaten to destroy their bond before it can truly begin.…

Review

“If you’re a fan of the series or just want to read a good book that’ll captivate you, you need to grab this one.
Lightning Game is an emotional rollercoaster you won’t want to get off.”—Fresh Fiction

“Christine Feehan takes a unique look at a natural phenomenon… another must-read by this wonderfully unique and creative author Christine Feehan.”—Fresh Fiction

About the Author

Christine Feehan is the #1
New York Times bestselling author of the Carpathian series, the GhostWalker series, the Leopard series, the Shadow Riders series, and the Sea Haven novels, including the Drake Sisters series and the Sisters of the Heart series.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1

Rubin Campo stood in front of the small cabin made of mostly broken lumber his brothers and father had dragged or cut from the trees in the forest and pieced together. No one had lived there in years, but he and Diego came back every year and fixed the place up. He had no idea why. Some compulsion buried deep in them that pulled them back, he supposed.

They’d been born there. The cabin hadn’t been so large then. At the time it had been one room. His two older brothers and father had begun expanding it as the family grew in size. Eventually, there were nine children. Had their father not died when his horse stepped in a hole and fell, rolling on him, breaking his father’s neck, there most likely would have been more children.

They had lived off the land and were distrustful of outsiders. He’d learned hunting, fishing and trapping at a very early age. By the time he was three, he had learned to shoot. Every bullet counted. None could be wasted. It mattered little what age he was- if he pulled a trigger, he was expected to bring home something to put in the cooking pot.

“Someone’s been moving around the property,” Diego said, coming up behind him. “Tracks everywhere. Been coming here for a while.”

“Stripping the place,” Rubin guessed. He’d noticed the tracks as well.

The community was a very closed one. They didn’t let outsiders in, and everyone within several miles of their land knew the brothers returned to their property. They were doctors, and they came back and treated the sick. The people were so distrustful of government and everyone else, they refused to go to the nearest towns for medical aid, relying on homeopathic treatments. Rubin and Diego returning, two of their own, were welcome. No one would steal from them. Whoever was taking things from their cabin had to be an outsider, yet the tracks indicated that the person was coming and going on a regular basis.

“Maybe,” Diego mused.

Rubin didn’t know why it bothered him that someone would take anything from the old cabin. It wasn’t like they lived there or needed the things they’d left. People were poor. He remembered being hungry all the time. Real hunger, not knowing when his next m