by Dayana Morency
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance
Release Date: March 8th 2016
Summary from Goodreads:
This will be the summer of love . . . and death.
When seventeen-year-old Rosalynn Young pictured her summer vacation, she didn't think she would be spending it working as a maid at the Millennium Hotel. She imagined painting and gardening. But soon, in spite of her disappointment, she meets Victor Gregoire. Wayward and enigmatic, he sends a chill up her spine. Everything about him feels foreign--unearthly.
Dangerously drawn to Victor, Rosalynn willfully ignores his volatile mood swings. When she impulsively enters Victor's room, she finds a journal dating back to the 19th Century and a photograph of him from August 14, 1874.
He's hiding something sinister and she's desperate to find out what, even if it means risking everything. But Rosalynn fails to realize that her attraction to Victor comes at a price and she soon learns some secrets are better kept hidden.
She's in for the summer job of a lifetime.
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- THE JOURNAL
There were gaps in my memory of the night before.
My hair was tousled and I was still dressed in my angel outfit. I sat up in my bed, trying to collect my scattered thoughts. My mouth was dry and my head throbbed painfully. I checked the time—I had slept in later than I’d planned, and now I was in a rush. In the shower, I scrubbed my skin a little rougher than usual, hoping it’d wash away the memory of Justin’s mouth on my neck.
I made it to work with only five minutes before the start of my shift and rushed over to Suite 23, knocking lightly on the door, hoping that I wasn’t waking him up from his sleep.
“Hey, it’s me.” I knocked again, this time clasping the doorknob.
The door was unlocked so I opened it, ignoring the voice in my head that told me not to.
I entered the room cautiously. “Hello?”
The room was empty and spotless. There were no takeout containers or empty bottles on the desk, no traces of crumbs anywhere on the floor. I walked further inside, and hesitantly wandered off to his bedroom. I examined the spotless room, confused. The bed was made, with no creases or wrinkles, appearing as if it hasn’t been slept on.
His black coat was on the back of the chair and an old leather book on the desk caught my attention. I reached for the rustic style leather journal and saw the initials V.G. engraved on the front. Nibbling on my lower lip, I contemplated whether I should unfasten the strap. I impulsively untied it, my hands moving before my mind could agree, and I flipped to the first page:
3 MAY 1874
Will I ever understand her, the wonderful mystery that she is? Her soft eyes, delicate voice, and ethereal beauty enchants me, but dare I admit that to adorn her would be wasteful, as she’s already unblemished and without flaw.
14 AUGUST 1874
As I felt her trembling body underneath me, I was overcome with a sudden urge to protect her, to pull her into my arms. I must protect her at all cost.
2 MARCH 1876
I reintroduced myself to a bottle of moonshine, hoping that it will numb the swirling tornado of anguish in my chest. The throbbing sensation has turned to a sharp stabbing pain and my inside burns as if it is on fire.
10 JUNE 1950
I wrote a poem earlier today expressing my regret, saying sorry to those I’ve hurt. I don’t have the poem anymore because I burned the paper. I learned long ago that it’s beyond my ability to take back my actions caused by my volatile mood swings. I could apologize and beg for forgiveness, but what good would that do, after all I’ve done? I deserve no one’s forgiveness, and forgiving me is worth nothing.
“Find anything interesting?” someone hissed, giving my heart a great leap.
I whirled to face him. I couldn’t utter a response, far too embarrassed and intimated by his chillingly cold eyes. I overstepped a line I shouldn’t have crossed, and the worst part, I was caught in the act. Squirming, I tried to come up with words to explain why I was in his room. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he raised a finger to silence me and snatched the journal from my hand.
“I-I wanted to thank you for last night,” I stammered.
His eyes swept over me, and I felt uncomfortable under his scrutinizing glare. He stared at me for a moment, narrowing his eyes. He walked to the door, holding it open for me. I met his gaze briefly as I hurried past him, and he slammed the door behind me before I could apologize.
My face flushed. I couldn’t believe I’d invaded someone’s privacy and got caught…
About the Author
Dayana Morency discovered her passion for writing at the age of ten. Drawn to magic, mythology and legends, she began writing short stories in the fifth grade. FALLING LIGHT is her debut novel and she is an author of paranormal romance books for teens. Aside from writing, she's an occasional blogger with a passion for traveling, double fudge brownies, and all things literary. She currently resides in Miami, Florida. For more information visit: http://dayanamorencywrites.com/
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