Exclusive excerpt: 'Grave Phantoms' by Jenn Bennett

Jenn Bennett joins HEA to share an excerpt from her upcoming Grave Phantoms, book three in her Roaring Twenties series, arriving in May 2015.

Jenn: Hi! I'm Jenn Bennett, the author of the paranormal Roaring Twenties series from Berkley/Penguin, and I'm on cloud nine to be able to give HEA blog readers an early peek at book three, Grave Phantoms, hitting the shelves in May of 2015. The first book in the series, Bitter Spirits — recently nominated for a Reviewer's Choice Award from RT Book Reviews and named one of Publishers Weekly's Best Books of 2014 — introduced readers to spirit medium Aida Palmer and her hero, Winter Magnusson: head of the wealthy Magnusson family and known throughout 1920s San Francisco as "the Viking Bootlegger." In this third installment, Winter's younger sister Astrid pursues a forbidden friends-to-lovers romance with her bootlegging brother's second-in-command, Bo Yeung. Readers have been treated to small tastes of this couple pining away for each other in the last two books, but today you can preview an exclusive excerpt of Bo and Astrid's eagerly awaited story. The gin is cold, the magic is dark and the secret password to get into the speakeasy is: ROMANCE!

Here's the blurb about Grave Phantoms:

Feisty flapper Astrid Magnusson is home from college and yearning for the one thing that's always been off limits: Bo Yeung, her notorious bootlegging brother's second-in-command. Unfortunately her dream of an easy reunion proves difficult after a violent storm sends a mysterious yacht crashing into the Magnussons' docks. What's worse, the boat disappeared a year ago, and the survivors are acting strangely…

Bo has worked with the Magnusson family for years, doing whatever is needed, including keeping his boss's younger sister out of trouble—and his hands to himself. Of course, that isn't so easy after Astrid has a haunting vision about the yacht's disappearance, plunging them into an underground world of old money and dark magic. Danger will drive them closer together, but surviving their own forbidden feelings could be the bigger risk.

Here's the excerpt …

Chinatown was dark and quiet when they left the doctor's apartment; the rain had slowed to misting drizzle. Bo kept his hand on his gun as he hurried Astrid into the nook between the buildings where his Buick was parked. Nothing stirred. No one jumped out at them, wielding weapons. The only potentially dangerous thing they encountered was Bo's irritation when he inspected his dented bumper.

"I truly am sorry," Astrid said, wincing as she peered into the dark space between the car and the fence she'd rammed earlier. "Lucky for you, my family's loaded. Your car will be repaired, good as new."

Bo grunted. "Lucky for you, that morphine pill the doc gave me hasn't worn off, because I don't much care at the moment."

She laughed nervously. "I'll try not to do any more damage on the way home. Let's get you inside the car." She only wanted an excuse to touch him again, but when she opened the door, he tossed his bloodied coat into the back and climbed into the passenger seat without her help.

Mildly disappointed, she shuffled to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel.

His hand reached out before she could start the engine. "Sorry this was a terrible date," he said, curling his hand around hers. His fingers were cool and strong, and she relaxed in his grip, letting him pull her around to face him.

"It wasn't a date," she insisted. "Dates don't include stabbings. Of that, I'm almost certain."

One corner of his mouth tipped up. "Makes things more exciting, though. Don't you think?"

"No, I do not! It was very upsetting. Are you sure you're all right?"

"It's not the first time I've had stitches and won't be the last." His palm glided over the sleeve of her coat and rubbed her upper arm, up and down, while he studied her face. She had trouble looking at him when he was this close. She worried he'd be able to read her thoughts, and right now those thoughts were dangerously jumbled. "If this really was our second date, do you think you'd ever want to see me after this? Would you be sorry you saw me in the speakeasy that night and wishing for a man who was less trouble?"

Were they pretending to be strangers again? Just the thought of it made her pulse gallop.

His hand molded the curve of her shoulder and stole beneath the fur collar of her coat. Currents of energy zipped over her skin as he stroked the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck.

"There's one thing you should understand about me, Mr. Yeung. I am a Magnusson," she said, trying not to wilt into his touch. "We are not easily frightened. In fact, we're rather stupidly brave."

"Now that you mention it, I think I've heard that about your family." His words were low and rough. Wonderfully intimate. "I'm a bootlegger, too, you know."

"Is that so?"

His hand ghosted down her back and urged her closer. "Damn, you smell nice," he murmured, breaking out of character. "I used to think it was that fancy French soap you use, but I now I'm convinced it's just the scent of your skin. It's intoxicating."

"How do you know what soap I use? I only met you last week, remember?"

"Oh, that's right," he said, eyes twinkling. "I haven't been shopping with you a thousand times, and I don't remember every brand you like. So I'll just assume it's some bewitching perfume. Let's pretend you're wearing some."

Let's pretend.

Permission.

Her heart exploded like a spinning Catherine wheel, shooting off sparks.

"All right," she whispered. She wanted to touch him. Badly. His shirt collar, too thick for the iron to dry, was still damp. It lay open and partially unbuttoned to expose the cords of his neck, and she could see that he hadn't put his undershirt back on after the doctor had stitched his wound. He looked wild and unkempt. A dangerous temptation. She couldn't stop herself from tracing the dip in the center of his clavicle with one thumb.

He leaned closer and bowed his head next to hers. Warm breath tickled her cheek. "Has anyone ever kissed you here?" he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Where did he mean? Before she could ask, his lips parted over her ear. He began kissing her there—soft, lingering kisses. Kisses so intense, her shoulder automatically rose to either push him away or trap him inside the crook of her neck. Undeterred, he sucked her earlobe into his mouth and did something wildly immoral with his tongue.

Stars! Where had he learned to do that? She'd never felt anything so pleasurable. She sucked in sharp breath and pressed her thighs together in an attempt to staunch her body's overexcited response. Terrible idea. That only made things worse.

"Should I try the other side?" he asked in a teasing voice. He didn't wait for an answer, just trailed his open mouth along her jaw, down the front of her throat where Max had nicked her with the knife hours before, and around to the other ear. She shamelessly bared her neck to give him better access, and he repeated the same slow, erotic maneuver, ending with a leisurely lick around the outer shell of her ear.

"Good…God," she said between breaths. Was she panting? That might be the cause of her sudden lightheadedness. She was only vaguely aware she had balled up the front of his shirt in her fist and couldn't quite make her fingers release it. One more kiss and she'd slide off the seat, right into the floorboard.

"Astrid," he said on a long exhale against her hair. "I've wanted to do that for a long, long time. Would you like to know what else I've wanted to do?"

At that point, she lost her mind a little.

Find out more about Jenn and her books at www.jennbennett.net.