Wandering Soul

CChandlerWanderingSoul400The Summer Park Psychics, Book 1

A woman with a secret…
Elsa Sinclair is known for the realism in her historical novels. What people don’t know is that she travels back in time to research them. When she stumbles across the man behind the legend of the Phantom of the Opera, she finds she can’t leave him to his fate.

 

A man out of time…
Dante Lucerne is shocked to find himself pulled from certain death and carried to another time and continent. The new world is full of wonders, not the least of which is the woman who saved him.

A darkness threatens…
As their love blossoms, specters from the past arise to keep them apart. And if Dante can’t help Elsa let go of her secrets, more than their love may be lost.

This is the second edition of the same novel originally released in July of 2015.

Available on Amazon (and in Kindle Unlimited!)


Wandering Soul Reviews:

Long and Short Reviews

Fresh Fiction

Night Owl Reviews: Wandering Soul is a Top Pick!

Notice a different look for the covers on some of these pages? That’s because Wandering Soul was originally released through my dear first traditional publisher, Samhain Publishing, Ltd.  I believe you can still find print versions of the Samhain editions in the wild. The story itself is the same in both versions ❤


Wandering Soul Bonus Content:

Short Fiction:  Winston

Short Fiction: Heinrich

The idea behind Elsa’s powers

The inspiration for Dante Lucerne


Excerpt:

WANDERING SOUL

(THE SUMMER PARK PSYCHICS, Book One)

Copyright © 2015 Cassandra Chandler

All rights reserved

 

“You are the second person to speak of this apparition. However, I am at a loss.” Dante had not questioned Garrett on the matter, hoping to avoid a topic that seemed quite uncomfortable for him.

“You’ve never heard of the Phantom of the Opera?” Rachel smiled and lifted one slender shoulder toward her head, inclining it as she gazed at him. “I get it. You’re a method actor. Since you’re supposed to be the Phantom, you wouldn’t know about the character.”

“I am afraid I do not follow your meaning.”

“Sure.” Rachel nodded in an exaggerated manner. “Is Dante your real name or a stage name?”

“It is the name my mother gave me.”

The way the woman gawked at him and her coquettish gestures reminded Dante of the actresses in Heinrich’s theatre. He would not serve himself up for her amusement.

“It’s a great name.” Rachel turned to Elsa. “You should totally use that in your book.”

“You are a writer, then?” Dante angled his face so that only his mask was toward Elsa, hoping to hide his expression until he had gained better mastery over his emotions. Rachel was Elsa’s friend, and Dante did not want Elsa to think him impolite.

“I was going to tell you,” she said.

Rachel interjected once more. “I can’t wait to read that book! Especially with you going all out and hiring someone to play the part of the Phantom in your house!”

Playing a part. Was this why Elsa had chosen him to be her companion? Was she truly writing a book about him? His life did not seem interesting enough to warrant such attention. Dread mingled with curiosity within him.

“Perhaps you could assist me with my role.”

“Sure!” Rachel said.

He sat next to Elsa. “Tell me of this Phantom, as if I knew nothing at all.”

“Oh how fun!” Rachel clapped her hands together. “Well, the original story was written like over a hundred years ago, but a ton of other versions have come out since then. Basically, the Phantom is this mad genius who runs around in catacombs or something under an opera house in Paris. He only surfaces to create his music, but he mostly winds up killing people.”

“I beg your pardon?” Dante was uncertain if he had heard her correctly. Aside from his living in the basement of Heinrich’s theatre, there was nothing in what she said that bore the slightest resemblance to Dante’s life, for which he was extremely grateful.

“He’s really good at inventions,” she said. “He makes all kinds of traps and stuff and uses them to kill anyone who gets in his way.”

Dante’s heart sank as Rachel’s story took on a familiar note. Giselle had seemed to delight in spinning tales about him. She painted him as a deformed monster that lurked in the basement of the theatre, coveting her and using the mechanisms he designed for the theatre’s productions to ill effect.

“So,” Dante said. “He is a villain.”

 

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