05/ Salt & Whispers
£2.99 (free in KU) / £6.99 GBP
$2.99 (free in KU) / $8.99 USD
A researcher who touches stone and wakes the past.
A member of the old families who guards secrets that should stay buried.
Together, they might save his village—or shatter it completely.
Welcome to Saltmere, where nothing stays buried — least of all desire.
Salt & Whisper – Book Five of the Saltmere Chronicles
Available in: ebook & paperback worldwide
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This was a beast to write, and the mystery nearly did me in, but I’m proud I got this book finished! Hopefully you’ll like it!
This story is written in British English, with UK settings and folklore. Spelling, phrasing, and cultural details reflect the Cornish village it’s set in.
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Print Length: 144 pages
ASIN: B0FMKS3YBK
Language: British English -
Print Length: 144 pages
ISBN:
Dimensions: 5” x 8”
Language: British English
“Salt & Bone pulled me in from the very first chapter with its storm-lashed Cornish setting. The writing is so atmospheric that I could almost feel the salt spray on my skin and hear the seals calling across the harbour.”
✨ Psychic touch • Fated bond • Ancient magic • Steam sealed in Cornish granite
For readers who love steamy British paranormal romance, psychic heroines, and small-town magic that won't stay hidden, available in Kindle Unlimited.
She touches stone and wakes the past.
He guards secrets that should stay buried.
Together, they might save his village—or shatter it completely.
Mara Llewellyn came to Saltmere for a summer research project, not to trigger wild magic with every stone she touches. Her psychometric abilities have always shown her history—but here they're waking something dangerous, building toward a crisis she doesn't understand.
And the guarded local who keeps steering her away from the most interesting sites? He knows exactly why.
Jamie Penrose spent a year fixing the magical disaster he caused, maintaining wards his family has kept for generations. The last thing Saltmere needs is a curious Welsh researcher whose abilities amplify the chaos. He should keep his distance.
He definitely shouldn't be imagining what happens when their magic—and everything else—collides.
But when her touch sends chapel bells ringing and ancient energy crackling through the old mines, distance becomes impossible. The boundaries are failing, the wild magic is rising, and the only solution might bind them together permanently.
Some bonds are written in stone. Others are forged in desperation, sealed with magic, and strong enough to last geological time.
Salt & Whispers is book 5 in The Saltmere Chronicles, a steamy British paranormal romance series filled with selkie legends, storm-soaked passion, and small-village secrets that won’t stay buried.
read an excerpt …
The white Transit van with Cardiff University's logo appeared on the high street three days later, parked outside the old market cross with the confidence of people who'd received official permission to be a nuisance.
Jamie spotted it on his way to open The Tide's Turn for the lunch shift and felt his shoulders tense before he'd consciously registered what the van meant. Researchers. Academic types with theories and equipment and the sort of cheerful obliviousness that came from not knowing there were things in this world that couldn't be measured with their instruments.
He caught himself wondering what kind of person left Wales to study old buildings in Cornwall. Saltmere's "unique architectural heritage" attracted a steady stream of historians and preservation students, most of whom wandered about with clipboards and measuring tapes before returning to their universities to write papers nobody read. Harmless, mostly. Irritating when they blocked pavements or asked locals to repeat themselves because they couldn’t understand the local accent.
But that was before. Before the ghosts, and before his monumentally stupid attempt at protective magic, before the residual energy from both events, that should have dissipated months ago, strengthened instead. Now the idea of academics poking around Saltmere's historically significant sites made his stomach twist with something approaching dread.
A woman emerged from the driver's side—mid twenties, dark hair caught back in a practical plait, wearing the sort of clothes that suggested she'd read the forecast and dressed accordingly. She moved with purpose, already scanning the market cross with an intensity that went beyond measuring Victorian stonework. Something about the set of her shoulders—the way she held herself like someone expecting to be dismissed—made Jamie's chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with territorial anxiety about researchers.
He looked away deliberately. The last thing he needed was to be distracted by a woman who was about to start poking around the village's most sensitive sites with academic enthusiasm and God knew what kind of equipment.
Behind her came Dr Ashworth, recognisable from his occasional appearances in Saltmere. Tall, impeccably dressed, with the particular brand of academic arrogance that came from knowing rather too much about rather too many subjects. Jamie had seen him exactly twice—once at the community talk where he accused Dr Tremaine of making the seals behave strangely, and once having what looked like an intense conversation with Rosamunde outside the library. Both times, he'd projected the sort of confidence that made you want to trust him or punch him, depending on your temperament.
"Jamie! You're blocking the pavement, mate."
Dave Tremayne squeezed past with a toolbox, heading towards Mrs Henderson’s shop where the door had been sticking again. "Standing about like you've never seen a van before,” he added, jerking his head towards the research team’s vehicle.
Right. Moving.
Jamie forced himself to continue towards the pub, though every instinct screamed at him to stay and watch where these people went, what they touched, whether they noticed anything beyond the obvious. The Tide's Turn needed opening. Tamsin would be in the cellar checking stock, expecting Jamie to handle the morning prep without supervision. Normal responsibilities. Normal day.
Except he could see, from the corner of his eye, the woman with the plait pulling equipment cases from the van while Dr Ashworth consulted what looked like a survey map. And unless Jamie was very much mistaken, that map had several of Saltmere's boundary stones marked with neat red circles.
The woman moved with economical precision—someone who'd loaded and unloaded equipment often enough that it had become automatic. Even from this distance, Jamie could see the deliberate care she took with each case, the way she checked labels twice before stacking. Thorough. Methodical.
Attractive, his brain supplied unhelpfully.
Which was completely irrelevant given she was about to start poking around the village's most sensitive sites with academic enthusiasm and God knew what kind of detection equipment.
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