Gentlemen Prefer Mermaids: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Midlife Mermaid Book 2) by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory

Author:J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory [Rain, J.R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Rain Press
Published: 2021-08-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

A dull thudding wakes me from sleep, and for a brief moment all I can do is stare up at the ceiling with bleary eyes. I no longer hear anything. Was I just dreaming? Thinking the sound was just part of my imagination, I hear the faint thump of someone knocking on the oak door downstairs.

With a groan, I force myself out of bed, throwing the blankets aside. The knocking continues as I pull on a pair of jeans. I’m tempted to ignore the knocking because I’m in no mood for visitors today, but whoever is out there is insistent, so I figure I should find out what they want.

Downstairs, the knocking grows louder still. “I’m coming!” I call. What time is it, anyway? From the dull sky peeking through the hallway window, it can’t be any later than seven o’clock in the morning. Nose crinkling in annoyance, I open the door.

Wendy stands on my front steps, arms folded stiffly across her chest. She’s clutching something in one hand, although I can’t see what.

“You and I need to talk,” she says firmly, gesturing to the inside of the house.

I stand there in the doorway, pale hair a mess about my head, eyes lidded with sleep.

“What’s wrong?”

“I knew you weren’t telling me everything, Eva. At the very least, you’re always so evasive when I ask you questions, telling me you’re from a place that doesn’t even exist.” Wendy quirks a brow as if daring me to contradict her. I don’t. “Well, now I know why you’ve been acting so odd.” She shoves something into my hands. It crinkles as I look down to see a piece of paper, but it’s fairly large and the paper is thick.

“What’s this?” I ask, even as I recognize it. It’s the same poster I saw with Marshall—the one with my picture. After seeing the poster, I tore it down and immediately crumpled it, throwing it into the nearest wastebin. But, clearly, there are many more of them.

“It’s a poster I saw in town,” Wendy says.

“Where in town?”

“By the drug store.”

From where I destroyed the other poster, the drug store is clear across Shell Harbor. That means these posters are probably posted all over. The sinking feeling in my gut returns with a vengeance.

Wendy storms past me without another word, into the hall and then the living room. She comes to stop by the fireplace and turns to me with an expression of curiosity and slight suspicion as I walk into the room, and find myself unable to hold her gaze. Instead, I look down at the poster.

Even though I’ve seen it before, it still gives me an awful jolt, especially when I see my name staring right back at me in big, blocky letters. Beneath that are a few paragraphs I’m too afraid to read.

Worst of all, it isn’t just a poster—it’s a copy of an article from something called the Corsica News. The whole thing is completely ridiculous since merfolk don’t have newspapers underwater, but no one in Shell Harbor knows that.

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