Behind the Scenes Don't Date the Haunted

SNEAK PEEK of “Don’t Date the Haunted” FINALE!

Sneak Peek of Book 3’s title, cover, and first chapter!

With the publication of “Don’t Marry the Cursed” (book 2), I thought I’d celebrate by sharing a little sneak peek of the final book in the Haunted Romance Trilogy!

In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, you can find books 1 & 2 on Amazon (“Don’t Date the Haunted,” and “Don’t Marry the Cursed“)!

As for book 3, it already has an official title! Are you ready?


Coming to Amazon in early October, 2021, the third book of the trilogy will be called…




“Don’t Dance with Death”

Back when the first book was still terribly titled “Haunted Romance,” and book 2 was titled “Haunted Adventure,” this book was titled “Haunted Return.” So . . . you can speculate what that means. . .

Soon after creating Pansy’s silhouette for “Don’t Date the Haunted,” I created Theo’s silhouette for “Don’t Marry the Cursed,” and ____’s silhouette for “Don’t Dance with Death.” (Read the excerpt below to learn his name!)

Here it is: the silhouette that I created for to create the cover!

Oh, you thought Pansy and Theo were holding hands with no one else?

Nope, there’s a little someone between them.

PS. this trio of pictures works better on tablets or computers.

As I’m still in the editing process of this book, sections and parts of the following are likely to change. However, the main concepts will remain the same.

Chapter One


Always be sure a Haunting’s dead, but never check up close
Kill them until there’s nothing left to kill
Don’t celebrate too early
Behead every Haunting.  Cauterize beheaded hydras
Don’t do anything stupid to bring it back

Oz’s Haunting Survival Book,
with notes by Pansy Fromm


Once upon our happily ever after, I sat in a padded throne and longed for Pansy to sit in the marchioness’s identical seat beside me.  I wondered where she was while I represented my father to the lords’ reports and petitions.

After six years, my wife and flower still grew nervous with each meeting in the presence chamber and preferred other duties if possible.  At least her influence was seen in the ivy that grew up the stone wall.  Pansy suggested it, hoping to “bring some life into the room.”  She also did a number on the security, regularly reviewing the protocols and functionality of systems within Ruezdad Castle and all of Eimad City.  Perhaps she was currently inspecting them, or experimenting with medicines in her drawing room.

I pictured Pansy in my mind with a small smile.  Some things did get better with age.  After six years of marriage, there were a couple of wrinkles around her brown eyes.  She would turn twenty-seven this week, though a few premature greys speckled her black hairline, testifying to the responsibilities of royalty and parenthood.  I had some of my own greys above my ears.  They grew while I tried to simultaneously learn two fields of study that were usually taught from childhood: how to be marquis and how to be a wizard.

Someone coughed, and I blinked myself back to the matters at hand.

A group of children were suspected of stealing items from the giant district.  The giants in Eimad were as civil as they came, though I feared the worst if they captured their sneaky little thieves.  I could not bear the thought of my own child falling to such a fate.

The lords and I formulated plans to address the issue with the parents, advertise appropriate activities for the kids, and add The BFG to the school curriculum.  Hopefully it would be enough, though we scheduled a follow-up meeting next week.

The lords left with plans, assignments, and encouragement.  Another day, another crisis averted.  As long as the people slept peacefully, my family would also.

The last lord held the door wide for a grizzly bear who stood on his hind legs and wore a knight’s armor.

“Master Bahr?” I asked.

The massive warrior bowed.  “The young prince remained attentive during our self-defense practices, and he would like to share his progress with you.”

“Fantastic, send him in,” I said, grinning.  

He stepped back to make room for the one person he was assigned to guard.  A child stepped into the presence chamber.

Aeron Fromm, the Earl of Margen.  My son.

A little man of five years, he was truly a beautiful child, and I cherished that he was half mine.  He had my blue-green eyes with Pansy’s darker skin tones.  His blond hair surprised us both, though it slowly darkened each year.  We figured he would have my dark brown hair by the time he reached adulthood.  He had Pansy’s nimbleness and keen awareness with my eagerness to learn.  Pansy worried that he asked far too many questions for his own safety.


“Yes, Aeron?” I asked.

“I want to show you something…if I may?” he added as a formal afterthought.

I pinched my lips, a little annoyed at my son’s training.  As much as I wanted a casual relationship with my son, the formalities would serve him well as Margen’s future duke.  I smiled and squatted to his eye level.  “Of course.  What is it?”

“Hold this,” he said, handing me an oak board.  I took it with one hand by its center.  “No, you hold it wrong.  Like this, see?”

My son took the board back and held it up by the edges between his palms.  “This is how Master Bahr holds it.  Now you try.”

I suppressed a grin as my child spoke to me the way his personal guard spoke to him.  With the wooden board between my palms, I angled it to the side.  

He threw his fist into the board and shouted, “Pah!”  I winced as the board broke and bits flew towards my face.  My son beamed with accomplishment.

“Look!  Look!  I breaked the—”


“Oh, I broke the board!”

“Yes, you broke the board. Good job!”  I grinned and pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“Can that be my title?  Can Eimad call me Aeron, the Best Puncher in Novel?”

“Your title?”  I leaned back, surprised.  “Are you sure?  What if you find another skill or talent and want a different name?  To receive a title is a great honor given only to royalty and great Heroes.”  Besides, any title would be considered a nickname until it was made official on his twelfth birthday.

“Then I want to be a Hero,” he pouted.

I asked, “Why is that?”

My son fiddled with his leather bracelet.  He liked to wear it all day, though its only magical function was to absorb nightmares.  Some kids carried blankets for security.  Aeron wore his bracelet.

“Cousin Farris say—” I gave him a look “—says they will name me after Mom and call me ‘The Unsettling,’ which means weird.”

I frowned.  “Your mother’s title is ‘The Unsettled,’ which does not mean weird.  It means—” I considered how to simplify her speed ability and paranoia for Hauntings.  “It means she moves a lot.  Besides, you are not unsettling.  Just because Farris says something does not make it true.”  I still made a mental note to talk to King Aenirin and the attitude of his youngest child.

Aeron shook his head.  “He calls me unsettling because I do not have magic or a ability.”

That phrase rang far too many familiar bells.  I, for one, was ten years old before learning that my visions of auras were unique.  If only Lord Freund’s ability to see others’ abilities had not been stolen by my wicked stepmother, Duchess Abadda.

I vaguely remembered her quote of some dark ability born within Pansy’s womb.  Unfortunately, confirming the prophecy with anyone was impossible since the only other witnesses were dead.  Maybe it was better if Aeron’s ability was left unknown.

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