Allie Harrison

allie

ALLIE HARRISON AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

Allie lives in Southern Illinois, right in the middle of Smalltown, USA. When she isn’t enjoying fun family time, making wine, crafts, baking, music, and reading, she’d busy creating new worlds and unforgettable characters who will always get a happily ever after ending.

GENRE(S)

Romantic Suspense, Paranormal, Erotic

PROFESSIONAL ORGANIZATIONS, AWARDS/ACHIEVEMENTS (AMAZON BEST SELLER, ETC.)

RWA     Kiss of Death – RWA   Missouri RWA

Placed 1st in the Colorado RWA Award of Excellence,   Placed 3rd in the Beacon Award

ALLIE HARRISON SOCIAL SKILLS

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Amazon Author page

ALLIE HARRISON BOOKS

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CAMDEN PLACE

THE HAUNTED BOOK THREE

Excerpt:

Clare turned, fully facing the piano. It no longer whispered to her, it called to her seductively.
She hadn’t touched any ivory keys in… It felt like forever. But for the first time since her world fell apart  a year ago she felt no pain, no anguish—mental or physical—at the thought of her lost career. Of the music she’d no longer make.
There was only her unending headache.
She hoped here, miles away from the terror of her memories, she could get back a little of what had been snatched away from her in one horrid night. Perhaps she could even rebuild her career, write again. Her hands twitched, suddenly eager to move along the smooth ivory on the piano, silent but begging to be played. A shiver of anticipation passed through her, setting her on edge.
She didn’t bother searching for a light switch. Instead, she moved around the room and used her lighter to light several candles that were set about. In the soft candle light, the music room was even more inviting than the dining room had been.
Idly, she ran her fingers over the keyboard, lightly pressing each key. The sound was beautiful. The keys were cool beneath her fingertips. Surprisingly, like the dining room table, the piano was free of dust despite the fact the house had been empty for weeks.
My fingers feel at home… Can I play again, after so long?
Heart racing, she closed her eyes and played a rolling C chord, feeling the sound as it vibrated through her. She let out a slow breath. The rush of panic didn’t come. Her eyes still closed, she played five notes with one finger. Then ten, and waited, her finger still on the keys. The heartache that usually choked her didn’t come.
Despite the echoing of a room empty of people, the piano was in tune and sounded perfect. There wasn’t even the tin, hollow sound that often came with age or neglect. She opened her eyes and drew in a deep breath. A sense of calm filled her. Her music had always had that effect on her.
Without thought, she sat down on the bench. It creaked beneath her weight and made her smile. Piano benches always creak. She placed her fingers on the keys again. They seemed to know just where to go. She supposed this was like riding a bicycle. No matter what happened to her, her fingers still knew what to do.
Amazing.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and played a song she’d written, something she called, “The Road to Anywhere.” The notes came to her as if they were merely an extension of her fingers. She played with hardly a mistake, even though she hadn’t played this piece, or any piece, in over a year.
For a long moment, she relished in the sound she created. The excitement, the rush of her music filled her, flowing into the hollow spaces. She’d been so empty for so long.
In a single instant, for the first time in months, she felt…
Able.
Alive.
Not perfect, not near ready to perform before an audience again, which was a good thing since she was completely alone in the house except for the ghostly figure she’d seen a short time before. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to write a single note. Not ready to face all the demons still lingering in her nightmares.
But better. And, except for the headache, pain free.
She smiled and took a deep breath. The scent of apples and cinnamon filled her lungs. It was mingled with the heady aroma of furniture wax and candle wax.
Her fingers, still lingering on the keys, thrummed with an energy she’d never experienced before.
The sounds of dishes rattling and the echo of laughter drew her attention. She jumped from the bench as if someone dumped a cup of ice down her back.
What the hell? Another ghost? The misty figure of the man with the knife back to listen to her impromptu concert before slashing her throat? All joking aside, there was no one else in the house besides her, and she wasn’t rattling dishes. A chill skittered over her, sliding a cold hand around her neck, her shoulder, down into her chest. She shuddered. Had she left the door open? She raced toward the dining room, only to stop in her tracks.
This is way too real…
Before she could gasp, hands—warm and strong—grabbed her. Her screams died in her throat.
 170 Years Ago

Seated at the head of his dining room table as he entertained his dinner guests, Liam Camden paused, fork in hand, to listen.
“Does anyone hear the piano? Who’s playing the piano?”

 

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allieharrison1

MONTGOMERY MANOR

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HARGROVE HOUSE

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ELLIOT ROAD

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THE SECRET SOCIETY

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NO FEAR

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HIDE & SEEK

Supernatural Suspense

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INVISIBLE

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DREAM A DEADLY DREAM

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CRIME OF THE HEART

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DEAD RECKONING

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A TWIST OF BETRAYAL

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OUT OF THE STORM

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BLOOD IN THE MOONLIGHT

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