Haunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet Book 1) by H. D. Carlton
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Haunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet Book 1)

by

H. D. Carlton

(Author)

4.4

-

117,693 ratings


AN AMAZON TOP 5 BESTSELLER!

The Manipulator

I can manipulate the emotions of anyone who lets me.

I will make you hurt, make you cry, make you laugh and sigh.

But my words don't affect him. Especially not when I plead for him to leave.

He's always there, watching and waiting.

And I can never look away.

Not when I want him to come closer.

The Shadow

I didn't mean to fall in love.

But now that I have, I can't stay away.

I'm mesmerized by her smile, by her eyes, and the way she moves.

The way she undresses...

I'll keep watching and waiting. Until I can make her mine.

And once she is, I'll never let her go.

Not even when she begs me to.

While not required, it is highly suggested to read the novella, Satan's Affair, first.

Author's Note: This book ends on a cliffhanger. For CWs, please check the author's website.

Recommended Reading Order for the C&M Universe:

  • Satan's Affair
  • Haunting Adeline
  • Hunting Adeline
  • Where's Molly

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ISBN-10

B09CGGV8DX

ISBN-13

979-8454848842

Print length

607 pages

Language

English

Publisher

Independently published

Publication date

August 11, 2021

Dimensions

5.5 x 1.37 x 8.5 inches

Item weight

1 pounds



Popular highlights in this book

  • “One day, you will realize that you are not trapped in a prison,” he murmurs roughly. “You are in my church where I am your God, and you are my equal. I’m not a jail, little mouse, I am your sanctuary.”

    Highlighted by 42,029 Kindle readers

  • Sneaking off with random men, little mouse? If I catch his hands anywhere near you, they’ll end up in your mailbox by morning.

    Highlighted by 37,084 Kindle readers


Product details

ASIN :

B09CLVJJ77

File size :

27750 KB

Text-to-speech :

Enabled

Screen reader :

Supported

Enhanced typesetting :

Enabled

X-Ray :

Enabled

Word wise :

Enabled


Editorial reviews

The dark and sensual allure of becoming the target of one man's dangerous obsession is on graphically raw display in this compelling read. - Zoe Blake, USAT Bestselling Author in Dark Romance.

This book honestly has everything, characters that draw you in from the beginning, suspense, creepy/thriller aspects, a murder mystery, all consuming obsessive love and passion, and the spice, holy lord don't even get me started on the spice. -Tasha, Goodreads Reviewer

Haunting Adeline is a dark, riveting tale, that creeps into your mind and stays with you for days after. If you're a fan of ANYTHING dark then this book is a MUST read!! H.D brings the grit, the steam, and did I mention STEAM?! I need my own personal Zade!! -Josi Beck, USA Today Bestselling Author

Haunting Adeline grabs you from the beginning with a beautiful mix of thrill, humor, steam and ZADE! I loved every word and couldn't get enough of this heart-pounding and epic story! -May, Goodreads Reviewer

This book was everything I have ever wanted in a stalker romance. The suspense, the mystery, the multitude of emotions. It pulled me in a million different directions, each one even better than the last. -Marie Ann, Author


Sample

CHAPTER 1

The Manipulator

Sometimes I have very dark thoughts about my mother—thoughts no sane daughter should ever have.

Sometimes, I’m not always sane.

“Addie, you’re being ridiculous,” Mom says through the speaker on my phone. I glare at it in response, refusing to argue with her. When I have nothing to say, she sighs loudly. I wrinkle my nose. It blows my mind that this woman always called Nana dramatic yet can’t see her own flair for the dramatics.

“Just because your grandparents gave you the house doesn’t mean you have to actually live in it. It’s old and would be doing everyone in that city a favor if it were torn down.”

I thump my head against the headrest, rolling my eyes upward and trying to find patience weaved into the stained roof of my car.

How did I manage to get ketchup up there?

“And just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean I can’t live in it,” I retort dryly.

My mother is a bitch. Plain and simple. She’s always had a chip on her shoulder, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.

“You’ll be living an hour from us! That will be incredibly inconvenient for you to come visit us, won’t it?”

Oh, how will I ever survive?

Pretty sure my gynecologist is an hour away, too, but I still make an effort to see her once a year. And those visits are far more painful.

“Nope,” I reply, popping the P. I’m over this conversation. My patience only lasts an entire sixty seconds talking to my mother. After that, I’m running on fumes and have no desire to put in any more effort to keep the conversation moving along.

If it’s not one thing, it’s the other. She always manages to find something to complain about. This time, it’s my choice to live in the house my grandparents gave to me. I grew up in Parsons Manor, running alongside the ghosts in the halls and baking cookies with Nana. I have fond memories here—memories I refuse to let go of just because Mom didn’t get along with Nana.

I never understood the tension between them, but as I got older and started to comprehend Mom’s snarkiness and underhanded insults for what they were, it made sense.

Nana always had a positive, sunny outlook on life, viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. She was always smiling and humming, while Mom is cursed with a perpetual scowl on her face and looking at life like her glasses got smashed when she was plunged out of Nana’s vagina. I don’t know why her personality never developed past that of a porcupine—she was never raised to be a prickly bitch.

Growing up, my mom and dad had a house only a mile away from Parsons Manor. She could barely tolerate me, so I spent most of my childhood in this house. It wasn’t until I left for college that Mom moved out of town an hour away. When I quit college, I moved in with her until I got back on my feet and my writing career took off.

And when it did, I decided to travel around the country, never really settling in one place.

Nana died about a year ago, gifting me the house in her will, but my grief hindered me from moving into Parsons Manor. Until now.

Mom sighs again through the phone. “I just wish you had more ambition in life, instead of staying in the town you grew up in, sweetie. Do something more with your life than waste away in that house like your grandmother did. I don’t want you to become worthless like her.”

A snarl overtakes my face, fury tearing throughout my chest. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Fuck off.”

I hang up the phone, angrily smashing my finger into the screen until I hear the telltale chime that the call has ended.

How dare she speak of her own mother that way when she was nothing but loved and cherished? Nana certainly didn’t treat her the way she treats me, that’s for damn sure.

I rip a page from Mom’s book and let loose a melodramatic sigh, turning to look out my side window. Said house stands tall, the tip of the black roof spearing through the gloomy clouds and looming over the vastly wooded area as if to say you shall fear me. Peering over my shoulder, the dense thicket of trees are no more inviting—their shadows crawling from the overgrowth with outstretched claws.

I shiver, delighting in the ominous feeling radiating from this small portion of the cliff. It looks exactly as it did from my childhood, and it gives me no less of a thrill to peer into the infinite blackness.

Parsons Manor is stationed on a cliffside overlooking the Bay with a mile long driveway stretching through a heavily wooded area. The congregation of trees separates this house from the rest of the world, making you feel like you’re well and truly alone.

Sometimes, it feels like you’re on an entirely different planet, ostracized from civilization. The whole area has a menacing, sorrowful aura.

And I fucking love it.

The house has begun to decay, but it can be fixed up to look like new again with a bit of TLC. Hundreds of vines crawl up all sides of the structure, climbing towards the gargoyles stationed on the roof on either side of the manor. The black siding is fading to a gray and starting to peel away, and the black paint around the windows is chipping like cheap nail polish. I’ll have to hire someone to give the large front porch a facelift since it’s starting to sag on one side.

The lawn is long overdue for a haircut, the blades of grass nearly as tall as me, and the three acres of clearing bursting with weeds. I bet plenty of snakes have settled in nicely since it’s last been mowed.

Nana used to offset the manor’s dark shade with blooms of colorful flowers during the spring season. Hyacinths, primroses, violas, and rhododendron.

And in autumn, sunflowers would be crawling up the sides of the house, the bright yellows and oranges in the petals a beautiful contrast against the black siding.

I can plant a garden around the front of the house again when the season calls for it. This time, I’ll plant strawberries, lettuce, and herbs as well.

I’m deep in my musings when my eyes snag on movement from above. Curtains flutter in the lone window at the very top of the house.

The attic.

Last time I checked, there’s no central air up there. Nothing should be able to move those curtains, but yet I don’t doubt what I saw. Coupled with the looming storm in the background, Parsons Manor looks like a scene out of a horror film. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, unable to stop the smile from forming on my face.

I love that.

I can’t explain why, but I do.

Fuck what my mother says. I’m living here. I’m a successful writer and have the freedom to live anywhere. So, what if I decide to live in a place that means a lot to me? That doesn’t make me a lowlife for staying in my hometown. I travel enough with book tours and conferences; settling down in a house won’t change that. I know what the fuck I want, and I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about it.

Especially mommy dearest.

The clouds yawn, and rain spills from their mouths. I grab my purse and step out of my car, inhaling the scent of fresh rain. It turns from a light sprinkle to a torrential downpour in a matter of seconds. I bolt up the front porch steps, flinging drops of water off my arms and shaking my body out like a wet dog.

I love storms—I just don’t like to be in them. I’d prefer to cuddle up under the blankets with a mug of tea and a book while listening to the rain fall.

I slide the key into the lock and turn it. But it’s stuck, refusing to give me even a millimeter. I jimmy the key, wrestling with it until the mechanism finally turns and I’m able to unlock the door.

Guess I’m gonna have to fix that soon, too.

A chilling draft welcomes me as I open the door. I shiver from the mixture of freezing rain still wet on my skin and the cold, stale air. The interior of the house is cast in shadows. Dim light shines through the windows, gradually fading as the sun disappears behind gray storm clouds.

I feel as if I should start my story with “it was a dark stormy night...”

I look up and smile when I see the black ribbed ceiling, made up of hundreds of thin, long pieces of wood. A grand chandelier is hanging over my head, golden steel warped in an intricate design with crystals dangling from the tips. It’s always been Nana’s most prized possession.

The black and white checkered floors lead directly to the black grand staircase—large enough to fit a piano through sideways—and flow off into the living room. My boots squeak against the tiles as I venture further inside.

This floor is primarily an open concept, making it feel like the monstrosity of the home could swallow you whole.

The living area is to the left of the staircase. I purse my lips and look around, nostalgia hitting me straight in the gut. Dust coats every surface, and the smell of mothballs is overpowering, but it looks exactly how I last saw it, right before Nana died last year.

A large black stone fireplace is in the center of the living room on the far left wall, with red velvet couches squared around it. An ornate wooden coffee table sits in the middle, an empty vase atop the dark wood. Nana used to fill it with lilies, but now it only collects dust and bug carcasses.

The walls are covered in black paisley wallpaper, offset by heavy golden curtains.

One of my favorite parts is the large bay window at the front of the house, providing a beautiful view of the forest beyond Parsons Manor. Placed right in front of it is a red velvet rocking chair with a matching stool. Nana used to sit there and watch the rain, and she said her mother would always do the same.

The checkered tiling extends into the kitchen with beautiful black stained cabinets and marble countertops. A massive island sits in the middle with black barstools lining one side. Grandpa and I used to sit there and watch Nana cook, enjoying her humming to herself as she whipped up delicious meals.

Shaking away the memories, I rush over to a tall lamp by the rocking chair and flick on the light. I release a sigh of relief when a buttery soft glow emits from the bulb. A few days ago, I had called to get the utilities turned on in my name, but you can never be too sure when dealing with an old house.

Then I walk over to the thermostat, the number causing another shiver to wrack my body.

Sixty-two goddamn degrees.

I press my thumb into the up arrow and don’t stop until the temperature is set to seventy-four. I don’t mind cooler temperatures, but I’d prefer it if my nipples didn’t cut through all of my clothing.

I turn back around and face a home that’s both old and new—a home that’s housed my heart since I could remember, even if my body left for a little while.

And then I smile, basking in the gothic glory of Parsons Manor. It’s how my great-grandparents decorated the house, and the taste has passed down through the generations. Nana used to say that she liked it best when she was the brightest thing in the room. Despite that, she still had old people’s taste.

I mean, really, why do those white throw pillows have a border of lace around them and a weird, embroidered bouquet of flowers in the middle? That’s not cute. That’s ugly.

I sigh.

“Well, Nana, I came back. Just like you wanted,” I whisper to the dead air.

A red rose on a white background Description automatically generated with medium confidence

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About the authors

H. D. Carlton

H. D. Carlton

H. D. Carlton is an International and USA Today Bestselling author. She lives in Oregon with her husband, Bigfoot, two dogs, and cat. When she’s not bathing in the tears of her readers, she’s watching paranormal shows and wishing she was a mermaid. Her favorite characters are of the morally gray variety and believes that everyone should check their sanity at the door before diving into her stories.

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Reviews

Customer reviews

4.4 out of 5

117,693 global ratings

Jennifer

Jennifer

5

Best Dark Romance Book I have ever read

Reviewed in the United States on April 5, 2024

Verified Purchase

I’ve heard so much about this book from TikTok and how everyone is wishing for their own Zade. After reading the book I completely understand why I didn’t expect to love the book as much as I do. It has many spicy parts that will have your jaw dropping the mirror part as well as the car part (and I can’t forget the infamous gun part). The author did such amazing job with this book that I can’t get enough no matter how many times I reread this book. The story does have some graphic parts that may be difficult for some people to read. So it is important to READ THE TRIGGER WARNING. It does consist of sexual assault so if that’s something you struggle with reading this book may not be for you. The second book will definitely not be for many people since it’s way more graphic than the first book this series is not for the faint of heart. Some people will say that Zade rape Adeline I however say it’s consensual non-consensual sex (my point of view from understanding the fantasy). Zade does not go about his love in the correct way so the readers will assume he’s a bad guy for stalking and killing for Adeline but then you find out just how great of a guy he is. So it’s very much mixed feelings. Without going into too much spoilers the story consists of Adeline trying to solve a murder while Zade is trying to take down sex traffickers. Buy the book off audible while you’re reading it on kindle at the same time. I fall in love with this book not just because the storyline but because of how amazing both Teddy Hamilton and Michelle Sparks were in narrating the story.

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7 people found this helpful

Amazon Customer

Amazon Customer

5

best book ever

Reviewed in the United States on July 7, 2024

Verified Purchase

Everyone tells me how good this book is. They weren’t joking whatsoever. This book is one of the best books I’ve ever read so many heart rushing chapters and gasps through out this book. The ending is amazing and makes my heart stop🤭. I recommend this book so much if you love adrenaline, hard core smut, and cute boys!

Amanda Larsen

Amanda Larsen

5

So good!!

Reviewed in the United States on May 15, 2024

Verified Purchase

Wow, this book is amazing! You definitely should read and pay attention to the trigger warnings before diving into the series. There were a few moments in the story that were definitely difficult to read however, the story is so well written! I cannot wait to read the next book because this one ends in a major cliffhanger. Normally I don't like to read books with Cliffhangers however, I knew that's what it was going to be when I started the book and I'm still glad that I listened to it. The narrators did a phenomenal job with the characters and I will be starting the next book immediately! I cannot wait to see what happens next. This is not my normal genre however, this book is so well written that I have been hooked and want to know what happens next and how the book will end. Excellent excellent writing and narrators! I highly recommend this series!!

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