By Cait London
Claire, Tempest, and Leona: triplets blessedвЂ”or cursedвЂ”each with a different additional experience that they might deny, given the opportunity . . .
Claire, the youngest, reveals solitude and break out in rural Montana. The descendant of an historical Celtic seer, she struggles to hide her unsettling strength to experience what others feelвЂ”the sturdy and the evil, the discomfort and the enjoyment.
while her peace is shattered via her new neighbor, Neil Olafson, Claire's shielded feelings begin simmering. he is the other of every little thing she's ever sought after, a guy who ignites her latent sensuality. And whereas her eerie powers have worried others away, Neil is not working. And whilst Claire comes face-to-face with hazard, he turns into her protectorвЂ”as good as her lover.
Now, Claire and Neil needs to confront the earlier and retailer the lifetime of a tender blameless. yet there's a killer lurking within the history who wishes them either useless prior to they could get to the bottom of his soiled secrets and techniques. And he is been very busy . . .
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Additional info for At the Edge
As she looked toward her new neighbor’s place, Claire finished eating her apple. She shook her head as she walked to her workroom. ” At seven o’clock in the morning, the sound of a chain saw ripped through Montana’s rural countryside and into Claire’s quiet home. Outside her workroom, the morning was gray and cold; a few snowflakes swirled around her window. A recent warm wind, a “chinook,” had melted late April’s layer of snow, leaving only pale patches amid the small valley’s brown weeds. Box elder trees and a big oak separated Claire’s AT THE EDGE | 23 home from the neighboring small white house, but the trees and the brush did not buffer the chain saw’s annoying sound.
Her threads— metallic, polyester, rayon, embroidery—waited for her to choose them, almost like eager children, waiting to play. Near her rack of threads, a tray of beads caught the dim light from the window, and, drawn to the glittering colors, Claire picked up a handful. Resting in the palm of her hand, the beads caught her, and she studied them, an idea for a new handbag brewing in her mind. But the ruby beads trickled through her fi ngers back into the tray. Claire frowned slightly because the beads reminded her of drops of blood.
I thought you might like my aunt’s china tea set . . she liked having tea with you. ” He was still surprised, and grateful for the small tribute Claire had paid at Christmastime when others couldn’t be bothered to attend Eunice’s funeral. For all his aunt’s donations to charities, the times she had helped her church, few had attended the ceremony, and that nettled Neil. But then, his own brother hadn’t attended either. “I’d love to have your aunt’s tea set, something to remember her by. Thank you.