Hellhound Bound
|
|
|
|
Since You've Been Gone
By Lisa Dyer
Genre: Contemporary Romance
118 pages
Together Forever...
until the day Abigail dumped Hal, after he left for university, back in 1983. Hal was so devastated that he went home less and less until, in the end, he didn't go home at all. And he never got over her, even after he married the wealthy Julienne. Their marriage was doomed from the start; it was just a case of who caved in first.
Abigail had a secret; one she had kept from Hal, and it had defined her life for fifteen years. She was glad he never came back to learn it. That was all about to change.
Hal was on his way home. Nothing would ever be the same again...
Goodreads * Amazon
until the day Abigail dumped Hal, after he left for university, back in 1983. Hal was so devastated that he went home less and less until, in the end, he didn't go home at all. And he never got over her, even after he married the wealthy Julienne. Their marriage was doomed from the start; it was just a case of who caved in first.
Abigail had a secret; one she had kept from Hal, and it had defined her life for fifteen years. She was glad he never came back to learn it. That was all about to change.
Hal was on his way home. Nothing would ever be the same again...
Goodreads * Amazon
In the beginning...
…there was Hal and Abigail and they should have lived happily ever after…
everything in their story shouted that to the world.
Hal’s mother knew it. Their friends had no doubt about it. Hal and Abigail were the perfect pair. Having grown up together from infancy, there were no secrets, no hidden agendas; just love. All that was missing were the church bells and the first flat with the second-hand furniture and the gas fire that didn’t work, and even that would be okay because they’d cuddle up in bed to keep warm until summer.
Then Hal blew it all wide open by getting a conditional offer to study at Cambridge – in the Department of Veterinarian Medicine.
To be honest, it was a total shock to everyone, but most of all to Abigail. She had supported his idea to apply, but had secretly thought that he would be out of his depth and have second thoughts. He didn’t.
It was all he thought about and planned for. He locked himself away in his bedroom to study, and suddenly two people, who had been inseparable from the first moment they had met, were wrenched apart. Hal’s mother, Diana clucked about nothing else; anybody would think he was marrying into
royalty. Anyone foolish enough to ask, ‘How’s the family, Di?’ soon found themselves wishing they’d kept their mouths shut.
Hal and Abigail limped through the spring, and dragged themselves into the summer. His hard work paid off and he attained the required grades then received positive confirmation that, come the autumn, he would be going up to Cambridge. There was one last night, camped down at the Bay, Hal on
his guitar and the old crowd avoiding talking about what was happening, as if by doing so it may go away. And that was it. The beginning of the end of Hal Bartlett and Abigail Markham.
Except, for Abigail it was the start of something new, something so big, so life changing – and its
outcome would resonate down the years…
…there was Hal and Abigail and they should have lived happily ever after…
everything in their story shouted that to the world.
Hal’s mother knew it. Their friends had no doubt about it. Hal and Abigail were the perfect pair. Having grown up together from infancy, there were no secrets, no hidden agendas; just love. All that was missing were the church bells and the first flat with the second-hand furniture and the gas fire that didn’t work, and even that would be okay because they’d cuddle up in bed to keep warm until summer.
Then Hal blew it all wide open by getting a conditional offer to study at Cambridge – in the Department of Veterinarian Medicine.
To be honest, it was a total shock to everyone, but most of all to Abigail. She had supported his idea to apply, but had secretly thought that he would be out of his depth and have second thoughts. He didn’t.
It was all he thought about and planned for. He locked himself away in his bedroom to study, and suddenly two people, who had been inseparable from the first moment they had met, were wrenched apart. Hal’s mother, Diana clucked about nothing else; anybody would think he was marrying into
royalty. Anyone foolish enough to ask, ‘How’s the family, Di?’ soon found themselves wishing they’d kept their mouths shut.
Hal and Abigail limped through the spring, and dragged themselves into the summer. His hard work paid off and he attained the required grades then received positive confirmation that, come the autumn, he would be going up to Cambridge. There was one last night, camped down at the Bay, Hal on
his guitar and the old crowd avoiding talking about what was happening, as if by doing so it may go away. And that was it. The beginning of the end of Hal Bartlett and Abigail Markham.
Except, for Abigail it was the start of something new, something so big, so life changing – and its
outcome would resonate down the years…
Born and raised in the town of Dover in Kent, Lisa chose to make the protagonist of her debut novel a fictional contemporary and set Dover as Hal's home town. She weaves into the story of Hal's homecoming her own memories of the town she left in 2000. Since You've Been Gone was adapted from a feature script of the same name which was nominated to go into competition in the 2011 BAFTA/Rocliffe New Writers Forum.
Aside from writing, Lisa enjoys history, museums, historic houses and punk music.
Amazon * Goodreads * Facebook * Twitter
Aside from writing, Lisa enjoys history, museums, historic houses and punk music.
Amazon * Goodreads * Facebook * Twitter
Midnight's Edge Book 1
The Secrets of Sleepy Meadows
By David Chappuis & Michael Klinger
Genre: Horror, Supernatural Suspense
The title, Midnight’s Edge, comes from the time of night where the veil between the living and the dead disappears and, for a brief moment in time, the dead can return to the mortal world and live again. It is a story of a vile, evil man named Jeremy Wickcliff, whose wife, Lucy, arranged his death years ago to save the town from his wrath of destruction. In present time, he has been plotting from the spirit realm, a place of purgatory, to return to the mortal realm to seek revenge on those who wronged him and reclaim the life ripped away from him.
Goodreads
Buy Links:
Publisher * Amazon * B&N * Smashwords
Goodreads
Buy Links:
Publisher * Amazon * B&N * Smashwords
Chapter 1
It would soon be Midnight’s Edge or ME as the witches call it, a time of the night when the veil between the living and dead disappears.
My name’s Shelly Hawkins-Wickcliff, and I live in the Wickcliff mansion, which sits on a hill overlooking the small town of Sleepy Meadows where I’ve lived for all of my 24 years.
I didn’t know much about ME, but Jeremy Wickcliff did. He was dead, but that didn’t stop him from reaching across the realms into the mortal world. You see, although he was gone, he found a way to get inside my head, to manipulate my thoughts and actions, to make my will his own. I’ve been hearing his voice cajoling me and taunting me for years and on this night, approaching ME, his plan to return to the mortal realm was about to become a reality. I didn’t fully understand how ME would factor into it, but to him it didn’t matter. To him, I was a pawn in his sick, twisted game.
On this night, I wandered in a daze through the shadowy hallway of the eerie mansion I inhabited. I had heard Jeremy’s voice in my head all day as usual, and as usual, he was just as cruel and heartless as ever. This night had been different; I had grown tired of the game. I was no longer able to fight him, no longer able to block out his voice. He had been with me every moment of every day for as long as I could remember. I was tired of the fight to banish him from my mind. I was losing the last grip on sanity that I had.
I was blinded by tears as I reached the staircase that led to the attic. As Jeremy’s voice commanded me to ascend the staircase, I wondered why he had wanted me to go there. As I reached the top of the landing to the attic, I heard him call out to me.
“I know you’re in pain, and I know how to make it stop. Just be an obedient girl and do what I tell you.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” I said. “Why are you torturing me? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
He chuckled. “Oh, it’s almost unbelievable how naïve you are. Do you think it was a coincidence that your perfect fairy tale life turned into a living nightmare? Oh no. I was responsible for it all, princess. I’ve used the powers bestowed upon me from the other side to pick your precious life apart piece by piece, taking away everything you loved until you were so broken that you were no longer able to resist my will.”
“Why me? Why did you target me?”
He ignored my question as he so often had. “Open the door and go inside.”
I grasped the knob of the attic door. Unable to stop myself, I opened it. The air was dusty, thick. I could hardly breathe.
He was right. Once beautiful and full of life, I was now meager and weak. I had lost all control of my body and mind, and it was all thanks to him. He’d made my life miserable. He’d convinced me that I was a burden to all that I loved and that my life was meaningless to the point where I started to believe him.
I put my head down recalling the events of the last five years. I thought about everything I had lost because of Jeremy. My husband, my sanity, my life. Even though I tried not to show it, I couldn’t control the flood of tears that blinded me. Jeremy knew that my losses had become too much to bear, and he knew he’d beaten me.
“You got what you wanted,” I said, scanning the room. “I’m broken. Are you happy now? Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
“Destroying your life was just for fun,” Jeremy said. “Watching you squirm, cry, and beg were just things I used to amuse myself until Midnight’s Edge was upon us, and I was finally able to return to life. That time is upon us, my dear, and soon you’ll understand my true motivation. You should be honored, you’re an essential part of my plan.”
“How? Tell me. Enough with the games. What are you going to do to me?”
“I’m going to help you. I told you I could make your pain stop. The pain of a lonely, empty, meaningless existence.”
I felt the warm tears on my cheeks, and my breath grew heavier. “It’s that way because of you and only you. If you can make it stop, then do it.”
“First there’s something you must do for me.”
I felt as if he were suffocating me; as if he were holding a pillow against my face as I slept.
“I’m not going to do a thing for a sick bastard like you. Not anymore. The influence you had over me is broken. Do you hear me?”
He cackled. “I don’t believe that, and neither do you. I wouldn’t waste my last few precious breaths with a lie if I were you.”
I put my hand on my chest. “Last breaths? What do you mean?”
“I’m going to live again. You’re not.”
“You plan to kill me?”
“Not exactly. Think back to what I said to you earlier. Think back to what you said to your daddy dearest when you were in hysterics on the phone with him a while ago. You can remember.”
I tried desperately to block out his voice. “No. I won’t listen to this anymore.”
“You don’t have a choice. You never did. I’ll never stop tormenting you until I get what I want. You have to know that by now. Try to resist me if you want, but I promise you I won’t give you a moment’s peace. Now let’s get started. Look at what you’re holding in your hands.”
I glanced down at my hands realizing that I had been clutching a rope. His goal was finally clear to me. Jeremy hadn’t planned to kill me. He wanted me to kill myself. “I’m not going to die because of you. You may have taken everything else from me, but I won’t give you the satisfaction. I won’t take my life. I’ll never do it you sick son of a bitch. It doesn’t matter what you do to me.”
“You have two choices. You either do what I tell you to, or I’ll drive you even more insane. You won’t even know your name after I’m through with you. What kind of life is that?”
I realized that he was right. I’d known Jeremy was ruthless, but it was clear that his cruelty had no limits. I tried to be strong, to face him head on, but in the face of my death, I’d become just as scared as a little girl.
“I don’t want to die, Jeremy,” I said, wiping the tears from my face. “Please.”
He ignored me and continued to give commands. “Throw the rope over the beam above you.”
“No!”
“You can pretend that you aren’t afraid, but I know you’re weak. You don’t have the will to resist me. If you did, I wouldn’t be inside your head now. Stop prolonging the inevitable and just do it, damn you.”
I clutched onto the rope tighter. “I have a family, a son. I’m not going to leave them.”
“They’re better off without a pathetic loser like you. You can’t even be a mother to your son, always pawning him off on your parents and the help.”
“That’s not true.”
“He’s not here with you now, is he?”
Freddy Wickcliff was my five-year-old son. I’d asked my parents if he could stay with them for a little while. I couldn’t tell them why. I couldn’t tell them that I couldn’t care for my son because a psychopath that was inside my head was driving me slowly insane. I hadn’t wanted Freddy to see me this way. I thanked God he hadn’t.
“That’s your fault, not mine,” I said. “It’s your fault that I’m like this. That I don’t have a normal life anymore.”
“Is that so? You can’t even take responsibility for your problems. You’re a sad, pathetic waste. Everyone’s sick of always having to tiptoe around you, always covering for you.”
I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Shut up!”
“You’d be doing everyone a favor if you put an end to this. If you truly loved them, you’d take the burden off.”
“You can’t control me anymore. I won’t let you.”
“Oh really? Look at what you’ve done.”
I looked around me. Without even realizing it, I’d fashioned a noose from the rope and threw it on the beam above where I stood. I’d also moved a chair underneath and stood on it.
“See?” he said. “You know I’m right. For your sake and for the sake of those you supposedly love, end this now.”
I stood there, finally defeated. Long soaked strands of my dark hair drenched with sweat and tears dangled in my face. I had thought that if my life were over, I’d never have to listen to him again. Maybe he was right; maybe my family was better off without me. Maybe I could find peace if I were dead, and so could they, no longer having to deal with my problems.
With no more will to fight, I slipped my head into the noose and took a deep breath.
“Good girl,” were the final words I heard as I stepped off the chair.
Within a few moments, everything went dark.
The darkness only lasted for an instant. I opened my eyes and couldn’t breathe. The noose around my neck was suffocating me. I clutched at the rope with both hands, frantically trying to break free, fumbling with it fruitlessly.
I realized that I only had a few precious moments before it would be too late, and Jeremy would get what he wanted. I couldn’t let that happen. I thought of my parents, brother, son, and everything I would leave behind if I were to go through with this. I knew I had to keep fighting for them even more than I did for myself.
With one last gasp of air and one last ounce of strength, I undid the knot and slid my head out of the noose.
I fell to the floor without a thump, which I thought odd. I gasped for air and clutched my throat. It took me a moment to get my breath back, but once I did, I felt a sense of relief that I’d never before felt. I was alive and so immensely grateful.
I got up quickly, surprised that I wasn’t hurt in the fall, thankful I hadn’t succeeded. More tears formed in my eyes. They were tears of joy, relief, and frustration for even considering Jeremy’s sick request. I didn’t want to waste time thinking about him. Instead, I wanted to focus on my son, whom I had almost left an orphan. He’d already lost his father, and I knew that I couldn’t allow him to lose me too.
I glanced around the room, chuckling triumphantly. “It didn’t work, Jeremy! Do you hear that? It didn’t work.”
Jeremy. Why hadn’t I heard his voice any longer? He hadn’t given me a moment’s peace before. I stood there wondering why he wasn’t goading me on anymore. Maybe it meant that I’d won. Maybe since my suicide had failed, I’d conquered him.
Maybe it was finally over.
I took in a deep breath, turned around and glanced up at the ceiling. My relief soon turned to horror when I saw that the noose I had fastened wasn’t empty at all.
There, still hanging from the rafters, was my body.
It would soon be Midnight’s Edge or ME as the witches call it, a time of the night when the veil between the living and dead disappears.
My name’s Shelly Hawkins-Wickcliff, and I live in the Wickcliff mansion, which sits on a hill overlooking the small town of Sleepy Meadows where I’ve lived for all of my 24 years.
I didn’t know much about ME, but Jeremy Wickcliff did. He was dead, but that didn’t stop him from reaching across the realms into the mortal world. You see, although he was gone, he found a way to get inside my head, to manipulate my thoughts and actions, to make my will his own. I’ve been hearing his voice cajoling me and taunting me for years and on this night, approaching ME, his plan to return to the mortal realm was about to become a reality. I didn’t fully understand how ME would factor into it, but to him it didn’t matter. To him, I was a pawn in his sick, twisted game.
On this night, I wandered in a daze through the shadowy hallway of the eerie mansion I inhabited. I had heard Jeremy’s voice in my head all day as usual, and as usual, he was just as cruel and heartless as ever. This night had been different; I had grown tired of the game. I was no longer able to fight him, no longer able to block out his voice. He had been with me every moment of every day for as long as I could remember. I was tired of the fight to banish him from my mind. I was losing the last grip on sanity that I had.
I was blinded by tears as I reached the staircase that led to the attic. As Jeremy’s voice commanded me to ascend the staircase, I wondered why he had wanted me to go there. As I reached the top of the landing to the attic, I heard him call out to me.
“I know you’re in pain, and I know how to make it stop. Just be an obedient girl and do what I tell you.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” I said. “Why are you torturing me? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
He chuckled. “Oh, it’s almost unbelievable how naïve you are. Do you think it was a coincidence that your perfect fairy tale life turned into a living nightmare? Oh no. I was responsible for it all, princess. I’ve used the powers bestowed upon me from the other side to pick your precious life apart piece by piece, taking away everything you loved until you were so broken that you were no longer able to resist my will.”
“Why me? Why did you target me?”
He ignored my question as he so often had. “Open the door and go inside.”
I grasped the knob of the attic door. Unable to stop myself, I opened it. The air was dusty, thick. I could hardly breathe.
He was right. Once beautiful and full of life, I was now meager and weak. I had lost all control of my body and mind, and it was all thanks to him. He’d made my life miserable. He’d convinced me that I was a burden to all that I loved and that my life was meaningless to the point where I started to believe him.
I put my head down recalling the events of the last five years. I thought about everything I had lost because of Jeremy. My husband, my sanity, my life. Even though I tried not to show it, I couldn’t control the flood of tears that blinded me. Jeremy knew that my losses had become too much to bear, and he knew he’d beaten me.
“You got what you wanted,” I said, scanning the room. “I’m broken. Are you happy now? Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
“Destroying your life was just for fun,” Jeremy said. “Watching you squirm, cry, and beg were just things I used to amuse myself until Midnight’s Edge was upon us, and I was finally able to return to life. That time is upon us, my dear, and soon you’ll understand my true motivation. You should be honored, you’re an essential part of my plan.”
“How? Tell me. Enough with the games. What are you going to do to me?”
“I’m going to help you. I told you I could make your pain stop. The pain of a lonely, empty, meaningless existence.”
I felt the warm tears on my cheeks, and my breath grew heavier. “It’s that way because of you and only you. If you can make it stop, then do it.”
“First there’s something you must do for me.”
I felt as if he were suffocating me; as if he were holding a pillow against my face as I slept.
“I’m not going to do a thing for a sick bastard like you. Not anymore. The influence you had over me is broken. Do you hear me?”
He cackled. “I don’t believe that, and neither do you. I wouldn’t waste my last few precious breaths with a lie if I were you.”
I put my hand on my chest. “Last breaths? What do you mean?”
“I’m going to live again. You’re not.”
“You plan to kill me?”
“Not exactly. Think back to what I said to you earlier. Think back to what you said to your daddy dearest when you were in hysterics on the phone with him a while ago. You can remember.”
I tried desperately to block out his voice. “No. I won’t listen to this anymore.”
“You don’t have a choice. You never did. I’ll never stop tormenting you until I get what I want. You have to know that by now. Try to resist me if you want, but I promise you I won’t give you a moment’s peace. Now let’s get started. Look at what you’re holding in your hands.”
I glanced down at my hands realizing that I had been clutching a rope. His goal was finally clear to me. Jeremy hadn’t planned to kill me. He wanted me to kill myself. “I’m not going to die because of you. You may have taken everything else from me, but I won’t give you the satisfaction. I won’t take my life. I’ll never do it you sick son of a bitch. It doesn’t matter what you do to me.”
“You have two choices. You either do what I tell you to, or I’ll drive you even more insane. You won’t even know your name after I’m through with you. What kind of life is that?”
I realized that he was right. I’d known Jeremy was ruthless, but it was clear that his cruelty had no limits. I tried to be strong, to face him head on, but in the face of my death, I’d become just as scared as a little girl.
“I don’t want to die, Jeremy,” I said, wiping the tears from my face. “Please.”
He ignored me and continued to give commands. “Throw the rope over the beam above you.”
“No!”
“You can pretend that you aren’t afraid, but I know you’re weak. You don’t have the will to resist me. If you did, I wouldn’t be inside your head now. Stop prolonging the inevitable and just do it, damn you.”
I clutched onto the rope tighter. “I have a family, a son. I’m not going to leave them.”
“They’re better off without a pathetic loser like you. You can’t even be a mother to your son, always pawning him off on your parents and the help.”
“That’s not true.”
“He’s not here with you now, is he?”
Freddy Wickcliff was my five-year-old son. I’d asked my parents if he could stay with them for a little while. I couldn’t tell them why. I couldn’t tell them that I couldn’t care for my son because a psychopath that was inside my head was driving me slowly insane. I hadn’t wanted Freddy to see me this way. I thanked God he hadn’t.
“That’s your fault, not mine,” I said. “It’s your fault that I’m like this. That I don’t have a normal life anymore.”
“Is that so? You can’t even take responsibility for your problems. You’re a sad, pathetic waste. Everyone’s sick of always having to tiptoe around you, always covering for you.”
I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Shut up!”
“You’d be doing everyone a favor if you put an end to this. If you truly loved them, you’d take the burden off.”
“You can’t control me anymore. I won’t let you.”
“Oh really? Look at what you’ve done.”
I looked around me. Without even realizing it, I’d fashioned a noose from the rope and threw it on the beam above where I stood. I’d also moved a chair underneath and stood on it.
“See?” he said. “You know I’m right. For your sake and for the sake of those you supposedly love, end this now.”
I stood there, finally defeated. Long soaked strands of my dark hair drenched with sweat and tears dangled in my face. I had thought that if my life were over, I’d never have to listen to him again. Maybe he was right; maybe my family was better off without me. Maybe I could find peace if I were dead, and so could they, no longer having to deal with my problems.
With no more will to fight, I slipped my head into the noose and took a deep breath.
“Good girl,” were the final words I heard as I stepped off the chair.
Within a few moments, everything went dark.
The darkness only lasted for an instant. I opened my eyes and couldn’t breathe. The noose around my neck was suffocating me. I clutched at the rope with both hands, frantically trying to break free, fumbling with it fruitlessly.
I realized that I only had a few precious moments before it would be too late, and Jeremy would get what he wanted. I couldn’t let that happen. I thought of my parents, brother, son, and everything I would leave behind if I were to go through with this. I knew I had to keep fighting for them even more than I did for myself.
With one last gasp of air and one last ounce of strength, I undid the knot and slid my head out of the noose.
I fell to the floor without a thump, which I thought odd. I gasped for air and clutched my throat. It took me a moment to get my breath back, but once I did, I felt a sense of relief that I’d never before felt. I was alive and so immensely grateful.
I got up quickly, surprised that I wasn’t hurt in the fall, thankful I hadn’t succeeded. More tears formed in my eyes. They were tears of joy, relief, and frustration for even considering Jeremy’s sick request. I didn’t want to waste time thinking about him. Instead, I wanted to focus on my son, whom I had almost left an orphan. He’d already lost his father, and I knew that I couldn’t allow him to lose me too.
I glanced around the room, chuckling triumphantly. “It didn’t work, Jeremy! Do you hear that? It didn’t work.”
Jeremy. Why hadn’t I heard his voice any longer? He hadn’t given me a moment’s peace before. I stood there wondering why he wasn’t goading me on anymore. Maybe it meant that I’d won. Maybe since my suicide had failed, I’d conquered him.
Maybe it was finally over.
I took in a deep breath, turned around and glanced up at the ceiling. My relief soon turned to horror when I saw that the noose I had fastened wasn’t empty at all.
There, still hanging from the rafters, was my body.
Midnight's Edge - Book 2
The Posession
Successful in his plan to return to the mortal realm, Jeremy Wickcliff believes he’s found his son, whose body will allow him to continue to live, and he has brought back his sister, Rachel, as part of his resurgence plan for the Wickcliff family. However, the son that he thinks is his isn’t, and Rachel isn’t exactly his ally. Trapped in the Wickcliff mausoleum in the spirit realm, the Wickcliff ancestors have their own plan to return to life in the mortal realm, with or without Jeremy’s help.
As the witches begin to piece together Jeremy’s plan after a visit from his wife, Lucy, in spirit form, they realize that they must band together in an attempt to stop him from bringing his family back and to banish him back to the ghost realm. With a battle between good and evil takes place on the grounds of the Wickcliff cemetery, the outcome will change the lives of the residents of Sleepy Meadows forever.
Goodreads
Buy Links:
Publisher * Amazon * B&N * Smashwords
As the witches begin to piece together Jeremy’s plan after a visit from his wife, Lucy, in spirit form, they realize that they must band together in an attempt to stop him from bringing his family back and to banish him back to the ghost realm. With a battle between good and evil takes place on the grounds of the Wickcliff cemetery, the outcome will change the lives of the residents of Sleepy Meadows forever.
Goodreads
Buy Links:
Publisher * Amazon * B&N * Smashwords
Chapter One
The concept of time is different in the spirit realm than it is in the mortal one. It’s not measured by hours or even minutes. Although time has gone on, it feels like I’ve been trapped in one long, endless nightmare since my suicide and transition to the spirit realm. I can’t gauge how long it’s been now, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is I’ve found myself trapped in the attic of the Wickcliff mansion, where I ended my life, with no apparent way out.
In an instant, I, Shelly Hawkins-Wickcliff, the younger sister of Ethan Hawkins and daughter to Carol and Jeffrey Hawkins, ceased to exist. I can still connect with my family and friends in my mind. I can see the events of the mortal realm unfolding like a movie. I’ve seen my father murdered by Jeremy Wickcliff, the same evil, vile spirit who’d gotten inside my mind and coerced me into taking my life. He’d returned to the mortal realm using Midnight’s Edge, a time of night where the veil between the living and the dead ceases to exist and inhabited the body of Reed Withers, who soon became trapped in the spirit realm with me after his mind and body were possessed. At the age of twenty-five, the same age as me, it appeared that his life was over just as mine was.
Reed’s a fighter who refuses to accept that his life as he knew it is over. Having him in the spirit realm with me has helped me realize that like him, I can’t sit back and let Jeremy get away with what he’s taken from me. Reed’s determination to reclaim his life has reignited the fighter in me, the person who no longer wishes to be a victim. I’ve become determined to make Jeremy pay for the suffering he’s inflicted on me, my late husband Rory, and the rest of my family, although I’m still figuring out how.
The one connection I still have to the mortal realm is through Kasey Menze, one of my closest friends and my brother’s lover. While no one in the mortal realm knows of my presence there when I go there in my mind, Kasey’s the exception. He has special abilities, psychic abilities. He can hear me when I speak to him. I’ve also been able to give him visions, visions of my death and turmoil that I now face. While he’s doing his best to shut me out, afraid of what I’ve shown him and desperate for a normal life with my brother, I know I’ve got to keep trying to connect with him. He’s the only hope I have of warning my loved ones of the impending danger they face as a result of Jeremy’s presence in their world.
I turned to look out the window, peering out at the town below, before shutting my eyes and attempting to make contact with the mortal realm. I saw Kasey outside his mother Gracey’s house, who’d just encountered Jeremy, who he thought was Reed. He thought the encounter odd, as he couldn’t figure out why Reed was there or why he’d left as suddenly as he’d appeared. He hadn’t known that Jeremy had shown up to coerce Gracey into telling him who his son was, the son he’d blamed her for helping his wife, Lucy, keep from him his son’s entire life. He wouldn’t even have known about his son’s existence if it hadn’t been for his paying off an old gypsy woman that Lucy once knew to tell him the truth.
Kasey hadn't realized the extent of the danger his mother was in as he went up to her kitchen door and entered the house without knocking. She’d told him to come over in a hurry, and while Kasey was only five years older than me, the worry I saw as I studied his face made him appear much older than he was.
“Mom, I got here as quickly as I could. You sounded so strange on the phone. I could tell by the tone in your voice that something’s wrong. What is it?”
Gracey stood up slowly and pointed to Hilda. “Kasey, this is an old friend of mine, Hilda. You remember her.”
Kasey gave Hilda a nod, acknowledging that he did remember her. Hilda was one of Gracey’s dearest friends, but he hadn’t seen her in fifteen years. No one had until recently after she’d taken an extended absence from Sleepy Meadows. Much like his mother, he’d noticed that she hadn’t aged well. Her gray eyes still showed the kindness he’d always remembered she had, but now the shade of her hair, pulled back in a bun, matched. Her skin had withered, and while he hadn’t known what happened in her life while she was away, it was obvious that her experiences had weathered her. She appeared weaker and more frail than he remembered.
“Yes, I do,” Kasey said, smiling. “Mom talks about you all of the time. It’s nice to see you again.”
“I haven’t seen you since you were a teen,” Hilda said, her voice lower and not as feminine as Gracey’s. “I didn’t expect you to remember me at all. Your mother didn’t tell me what a handsome young man you’ve become.”
He blushed. “Thank you.”
“Please sit down,” Gracey said. “I need to talk to you.” He sat. “Would you like something to drink?”
“What I’d like is for you to stop stalling. I know that something’s bothering you, I always know. Just tell me what it is.”
Gracey smiled. “We do have a special connection, don’t we, son?” She lost her smile and winced.
“Are you alright?” Hilda asked.
“My leg’s bothering me,” she said, sitting down. “I’ll be fine.”
Kasey began to stand up. “Where’s your pain medication, Mom?”
Gracey put her hand on his arm, and he sat down again. “Don’t worry about that now. It makes me groggy. I need to talk to you clearly about this. All those years I spent taking care of you as a boy, I never expected that the roles would be reversed. You take such good care of me.”
He patted her on the knee softly. “I figure I owe ya one...or two...or fifty. When Ethan left, and I started drinking more, you were the one that was there for me.”
She rubbed his hand that was still on her knee. “I know what a burden I’ve become.”
He shook his head. “No, you haven’t. I do what I do because I love you.”
“And I love you, son. That’s why I need to tell you the truth now, for your sake.”
He removed his hand. “The truth about what?”
“About your biological parents, and how I became your mother.”
His eyes widened. “I’ve asked about them before, and you never gave me a straight answer. Why do you want to talk about them now?”
She sighed. “I’ve kept the truth from you because it’s what your mother asked me to do. When you were born, she made me promise to take you and keep you safe. However, you’re a man now, Kasey, and you can protect yourself. To do that, you need to know where you come from.”
He turned to Hilda. “Did you know my biological mother too?”
She nodded. “Let your mother finish, Kasey.”
He looked back at Gracey. “What were you keeping me safe from?”
She took his hand. “Not from what. From whom. Your mother was afraid of her husband.”
“Who was she? Why was she so afraid of my father?”
“Your mother’s name was Lucy Sheldon. She married a Wickcliff. He was ruthless.”
“I know the story of Lucy Wickcliff.” He took his hand back, exhaled sharply, and looked away from the women for a moment. He ran his hands through his dark hair, remembering the story he’d heard as a child about how she’d died. “She was married to Jeremy,” he said, meeting eyes with them again. The next thought he had sickened him. “Are you telling me that he’s my father?”
Gracey shook her head. “You aren’t Jeremy’s son. That’s why your mother was afraid for your safety. If Jeremy had discovered that, he would’ve killed you. He would’ve never accepted that his wife had a child with another man.”
He sat back in his chair, relieved. “That’s how I ended up with you?”
She nodded. “Your mother was pregnant with you when she married Jeremy, but he didn’t know that. He went away to Europe for several months and so he never knew about her pregnancy. When she had you, she told no one. I was her midwife, and she asked me to keep you and raise you as my own.”
“Why would you do that for her?”
“I did it for both of you. Lucy, Carol, Hilda and I were sisters in a coven. Lucy was taken in by Jeremy’s charms, but it didn’t take her long to discover what a mistake she’d made in marrying him. She soon realized how despicable he was. Your mother loved you, and she gave you up to save your life.”
“Ethan’s mother was part of your coven?” He looked back and forth between Hilda and Gracey, who gave him another nod. “She’s a witch?”
“You care about Carol’s son a great deal, don’t you?” Hilda said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Never mind that now. I want to hear the rest of the story. Did Lucy die in a car accident as the legend says?”
“Our coven was trying to help rid the town of Jeremy’s evil,” Gracey said. “We were unsuccessful. He tried to eliminate us all, and we fought back. That’s how I hurt my leg. Lucy took it upon herself to end his life, but in the end, she lost hers too. They were both killed when their car went over Lover’s Bluff.”
“If he really loved Lucy, he wouldn’t have hurt me. She would’ve had to know that.”
“Jeremy doesn’t know the true meaning of the word. If he finds out that Lucy’s your mother, the ultimate revenge on her would be to have you killed. I’m sure he blames her for the accident that caused his death.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Wait a minute. You’re talking about him as if he were still alive.”
Gracey’s face fell. “We believe that he’s used Midnight’s Edge to return to the mortal world. You must remember the stories I used to tell you about it.”
“That’s exactly what I thought they were. Stories.”
“You have abilities, Kasey. You inherited Lucy’s gifts. You understand that there’s more to this world than what we can see, that’s beyond all logic.”
“And you believe he’s coming after me? How do you know this?”
“Your mother came to Hilda in a vision with a warning. That’s why Hilda’s here.”
He turned his attention to Hilda. “You’ve seen her?”
“I see many spirits,” she said. “It’s part of my gift.”
He stood up. “If Jeremy’s here, it could explain a lot.”
Gracey’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
He sighed. “I told you about the terrible vision I had in the bar, but that’s not all. After I left you, I had another one about Ethan’s sister, Shelly.”
“What sort of vision?” Hilda asked, intrigued.
“I went up to the Wickcliff’s to check on her after I’d heard that she wasn’t returning any of her family’s calls. I heard her call out to me, and suddenly, I was in a vision. I went up to the attic in the mansion and saw her hanging there. She was dead, and it looked like she’d committed suicide.”
Hilda gasped. “Good heavens. Are you sure?”
He nodded with a grim and remorseful expression on his face.
Gracey turned in her chair to face him. “Oh, darling, how terrible for you. Did you tell anyone else what you saw?”
“I went to Sheriff Withers. I saw his son, Reed, on the Wickcliff grounds with Pit Bowen. They were carrying what looked like a body toward the mausoleum. He said he’d investigate, but I think he thought I was off my rocker, or at the very least drinking again. I don’t blame him.”
“That can’t be. I’ve spoken to Carol since Jeffrey’s wake,” Gracey said. “She mentioned that Shelly showed up and explained her absence.”
He shook his head. “When I touched her, I could feel that she wasn’t the same. I can’t explain it, but she was different. I feel it in my gut. I don’t know who that is, but it isn’t Shelly.”
“That’s quite possible,” Hilda said. “If the real Shelly’s gone, she may have been inhabited by another force, just as Jeremy’s inhabited a mortal.”
“So he’s back, but he couldn’t come back in his own form?” Kasey asked.
“Only his spirit’s remained alive,” Gracey said. “He has no mortal body to come back to, so he had to find a mortal host that he could possess.”
“Reed,” Kasey said in sudden revelation, his eyes shifting away from the ladies.
“I beg your pardon?” Gracey said.
He paused before meeting eyes with her. “Reed’s been acting so strangely. First, I find him creeping around the Wickcliff cemetery in the middle of the night barking orders at Pit Bowen. I thought that strange enough. Then I just ran into him outside right before I came in here. He acted as if he’d never seen me before. What if Reed’s the one that Jeremy’s possessed?”
Hilda turned her attention to Gracey. “If that was Jeremy outside, he may have heard us. He may know that Kasey’s Lucy’s son. I fear that you’re both in more immediate danger than I thought.”
“If Jeremy’s possessed the Withers boy,” Gracey said, “I suppose he was here to seek revenge on me for my part in his destruction. I’m not surprised. I knew it was only a matter of time before he came looking for me. If he heard us, he knows you’re here too, Hilda.”
Kasey rubbed his mother’s arm. “Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t let him get to you as long as I’m still breathing.”
“That’s my greatest fear,” Gracey said, her eyes searching his. “I’m not worried about myself. I’m not without my powers. Even if he did come after me, I’m an old lady, and I’ve had a good life. I wouldn’t hesitate to give up my life if it meant saving yours.”
They hadn’t realized that although Jeremy had overheard their conversation that he’d misunderstood it. He’d assumed he was Kasey’s father because Lucy was his mother. This didn’t keep Kasey out of danger, but Jeremy needed him alive as he needs to inhabit someone of his own bloodline if his spirit’s going to remain in the mortal realm permanently.
“Don’t say that,” Kasey said, holding his hands in front of him as if to stop her. “Don’t even think it. I’ll protect you from him. I promise.” He exhaled. “I’m not even sure that Reed’s the one Jeremy possessed, but it makes the most sense given his behavior. My first instinct is to warn Sheriff Withers about his son, but he’d never believe me, not now that he thinks I was wrong about Shelly’s death. It’s too fantastic of a story.”
“Sit back down,” Gracey said, gesturing to the chair he’d sat in before. “There’s more to the story.”
He sat, and grabbed her hand for emphasis. “Mom, do you know who my father is? Did Lucy tell you?”
She nodded. “Your father was a friend of ours, a mystical teacher named Damon Shields. He was working with us to try to bring down Jeremy as well. Your parents were very much in love.”
I felt that Damon Shields was the same Damon I’d heard my mother talking about. Had Lucy and my mother been in love with the same man? If he’d been in love with Mom, why was he involved with Lucy? I suddenly remembered the bald man in the monk’s habit that Kasey had seen in his vision at The Hook. My instincts told me that the man was Damon reaching out to Kasey. I continued to listen to their conversation, hoping for answers.
“You said he was a friend,” Kasey said. “Does that mean he’s dead?”
“I believe he’s alive,” Gracey said. “But he’s been in seclusion.”
“My father just left me?”
“He doesn’t know about you. He’s a good man. If he’d known about you, things would’ve been different.”
“If he’d known about you,” Hilda said, “he would’ve wanted to be part of your life. He probably still would want to be.”
He stood up, unable to take it all in. He didn’t know if he should be thankful or angry. The woman he’d trusted the most had kept everything about his parents from him. He was silent for a moment before meeting her eyes.
“You should’ve told me who my parents were a long time ago. I had a right to know.”
“As I told you, Lucy asked me to keep your identity secret for your sake. I saw no reason to cause you any more pain by telling you your mother was dead. Things are different now that Jeremy’s back.”
“If this is true, if he’s back, I’ll kill him myself. I swear it.”
“You can’t,” Hilda said. “If you destroy him, whomever he inhabits will parish as well whether it be the Withers boy or another. Our only hope is to exorcise him back to the darkness from where he came.”
“I want you to promise me that you won’t seek him out,” Gracey said. “You don’t know what you’re up against, son. He’s more powerful than you realize.”
He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. “So now what? I can’t stand by and do nothing.”
“You can and you will. I’ve fought him before. I know what to do. You don’t.”
“Mom, you aren’t in any shape to confront him, and you know it.”
“Your mother isn’t alone,” Hilda said. “She has me, and she has Carol. We’re family, and we’ll protect each other just as we always have.”
He bent down so that he was at Gracey’s level and touched her cheek. “You’re the only mother I’ve ever known. If anything were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
She looked into his eyes. “You have to trust me, Kasey.”
He sighed. He was upset with Gracey for keeping the truth from him, but he understood. In his heart, he knew how much she loved him, and he was convinced she’d done what she thought was best.
He didn’t verbalize it, but he made a vow that he’d stop Jeremy before he could do any damage to anyone he cared about. Gracey had protected him his whole life, and now that she was withered and broken, it was his turn to protect her.
I was worried for Kasey’s safety. Gracey was right, he didn’t know anything about Jeremy. He had no idea of the cruelty that Jeremy was capable of.
The concept of time is different in the spirit realm than it is in the mortal one. It’s not measured by hours or even minutes. Although time has gone on, it feels like I’ve been trapped in one long, endless nightmare since my suicide and transition to the spirit realm. I can’t gauge how long it’s been now, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is I’ve found myself trapped in the attic of the Wickcliff mansion, where I ended my life, with no apparent way out.
In an instant, I, Shelly Hawkins-Wickcliff, the younger sister of Ethan Hawkins and daughter to Carol and Jeffrey Hawkins, ceased to exist. I can still connect with my family and friends in my mind. I can see the events of the mortal realm unfolding like a movie. I’ve seen my father murdered by Jeremy Wickcliff, the same evil, vile spirit who’d gotten inside my mind and coerced me into taking my life. He’d returned to the mortal realm using Midnight’s Edge, a time of night where the veil between the living and the dead ceases to exist and inhabited the body of Reed Withers, who soon became trapped in the spirit realm with me after his mind and body were possessed. At the age of twenty-five, the same age as me, it appeared that his life was over just as mine was.
Reed’s a fighter who refuses to accept that his life as he knew it is over. Having him in the spirit realm with me has helped me realize that like him, I can’t sit back and let Jeremy get away with what he’s taken from me. Reed’s determination to reclaim his life has reignited the fighter in me, the person who no longer wishes to be a victim. I’ve become determined to make Jeremy pay for the suffering he’s inflicted on me, my late husband Rory, and the rest of my family, although I’m still figuring out how.
The one connection I still have to the mortal realm is through Kasey Menze, one of my closest friends and my brother’s lover. While no one in the mortal realm knows of my presence there when I go there in my mind, Kasey’s the exception. He has special abilities, psychic abilities. He can hear me when I speak to him. I’ve also been able to give him visions, visions of my death and turmoil that I now face. While he’s doing his best to shut me out, afraid of what I’ve shown him and desperate for a normal life with my brother, I know I’ve got to keep trying to connect with him. He’s the only hope I have of warning my loved ones of the impending danger they face as a result of Jeremy’s presence in their world.
I turned to look out the window, peering out at the town below, before shutting my eyes and attempting to make contact with the mortal realm. I saw Kasey outside his mother Gracey’s house, who’d just encountered Jeremy, who he thought was Reed. He thought the encounter odd, as he couldn’t figure out why Reed was there or why he’d left as suddenly as he’d appeared. He hadn’t known that Jeremy had shown up to coerce Gracey into telling him who his son was, the son he’d blamed her for helping his wife, Lucy, keep from him his son’s entire life. He wouldn’t even have known about his son’s existence if it hadn’t been for his paying off an old gypsy woman that Lucy once knew to tell him the truth.
Kasey hadn't realized the extent of the danger his mother was in as he went up to her kitchen door and entered the house without knocking. She’d told him to come over in a hurry, and while Kasey was only five years older than me, the worry I saw as I studied his face made him appear much older than he was.
“Mom, I got here as quickly as I could. You sounded so strange on the phone. I could tell by the tone in your voice that something’s wrong. What is it?”
Gracey stood up slowly and pointed to Hilda. “Kasey, this is an old friend of mine, Hilda. You remember her.”
Kasey gave Hilda a nod, acknowledging that he did remember her. Hilda was one of Gracey’s dearest friends, but he hadn’t seen her in fifteen years. No one had until recently after she’d taken an extended absence from Sleepy Meadows. Much like his mother, he’d noticed that she hadn’t aged well. Her gray eyes still showed the kindness he’d always remembered she had, but now the shade of her hair, pulled back in a bun, matched. Her skin had withered, and while he hadn’t known what happened in her life while she was away, it was obvious that her experiences had weathered her. She appeared weaker and more frail than he remembered.
“Yes, I do,” Kasey said, smiling. “Mom talks about you all of the time. It’s nice to see you again.”
“I haven’t seen you since you were a teen,” Hilda said, her voice lower and not as feminine as Gracey’s. “I didn’t expect you to remember me at all. Your mother didn’t tell me what a handsome young man you’ve become.”
He blushed. “Thank you.”
“Please sit down,” Gracey said. “I need to talk to you.” He sat. “Would you like something to drink?”
“What I’d like is for you to stop stalling. I know that something’s bothering you, I always know. Just tell me what it is.”
Gracey smiled. “We do have a special connection, don’t we, son?” She lost her smile and winced.
“Are you alright?” Hilda asked.
“My leg’s bothering me,” she said, sitting down. “I’ll be fine.”
Kasey began to stand up. “Where’s your pain medication, Mom?”
Gracey put her hand on his arm, and he sat down again. “Don’t worry about that now. It makes me groggy. I need to talk to you clearly about this. All those years I spent taking care of you as a boy, I never expected that the roles would be reversed. You take such good care of me.”
He patted her on the knee softly. “I figure I owe ya one...or two...or fifty. When Ethan left, and I started drinking more, you were the one that was there for me.”
She rubbed his hand that was still on her knee. “I know what a burden I’ve become.”
He shook his head. “No, you haven’t. I do what I do because I love you.”
“And I love you, son. That’s why I need to tell you the truth now, for your sake.”
He removed his hand. “The truth about what?”
“About your biological parents, and how I became your mother.”
His eyes widened. “I’ve asked about them before, and you never gave me a straight answer. Why do you want to talk about them now?”
She sighed. “I’ve kept the truth from you because it’s what your mother asked me to do. When you were born, she made me promise to take you and keep you safe. However, you’re a man now, Kasey, and you can protect yourself. To do that, you need to know where you come from.”
He turned to Hilda. “Did you know my biological mother too?”
She nodded. “Let your mother finish, Kasey.”
He looked back at Gracey. “What were you keeping me safe from?”
She took his hand. “Not from what. From whom. Your mother was afraid of her husband.”
“Who was she? Why was she so afraid of my father?”
“Your mother’s name was Lucy Sheldon. She married a Wickcliff. He was ruthless.”
“I know the story of Lucy Wickcliff.” He took his hand back, exhaled sharply, and looked away from the women for a moment. He ran his hands through his dark hair, remembering the story he’d heard as a child about how she’d died. “She was married to Jeremy,” he said, meeting eyes with them again. The next thought he had sickened him. “Are you telling me that he’s my father?”
Gracey shook her head. “You aren’t Jeremy’s son. That’s why your mother was afraid for your safety. If Jeremy had discovered that, he would’ve killed you. He would’ve never accepted that his wife had a child with another man.”
He sat back in his chair, relieved. “That’s how I ended up with you?”
She nodded. “Your mother was pregnant with you when she married Jeremy, but he didn’t know that. He went away to Europe for several months and so he never knew about her pregnancy. When she had you, she told no one. I was her midwife, and she asked me to keep you and raise you as my own.”
“Why would you do that for her?”
“I did it for both of you. Lucy, Carol, Hilda and I were sisters in a coven. Lucy was taken in by Jeremy’s charms, but it didn’t take her long to discover what a mistake she’d made in marrying him. She soon realized how despicable he was. Your mother loved you, and she gave you up to save your life.”
“Ethan’s mother was part of your coven?” He looked back and forth between Hilda and Gracey, who gave him another nod. “She’s a witch?”
“You care about Carol’s son a great deal, don’t you?” Hilda said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Never mind that now. I want to hear the rest of the story. Did Lucy die in a car accident as the legend says?”
“Our coven was trying to help rid the town of Jeremy’s evil,” Gracey said. “We were unsuccessful. He tried to eliminate us all, and we fought back. That’s how I hurt my leg. Lucy took it upon herself to end his life, but in the end, she lost hers too. They were both killed when their car went over Lover’s Bluff.”
“If he really loved Lucy, he wouldn’t have hurt me. She would’ve had to know that.”
“Jeremy doesn’t know the true meaning of the word. If he finds out that Lucy’s your mother, the ultimate revenge on her would be to have you killed. I’m sure he blames her for the accident that caused his death.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Wait a minute. You’re talking about him as if he were still alive.”
Gracey’s face fell. “We believe that he’s used Midnight’s Edge to return to the mortal world. You must remember the stories I used to tell you about it.”
“That’s exactly what I thought they were. Stories.”
“You have abilities, Kasey. You inherited Lucy’s gifts. You understand that there’s more to this world than what we can see, that’s beyond all logic.”
“And you believe he’s coming after me? How do you know this?”
“Your mother came to Hilda in a vision with a warning. That’s why Hilda’s here.”
He turned his attention to Hilda. “You’ve seen her?”
“I see many spirits,” she said. “It’s part of my gift.”
He stood up. “If Jeremy’s here, it could explain a lot.”
Gracey’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
He sighed. “I told you about the terrible vision I had in the bar, but that’s not all. After I left you, I had another one about Ethan’s sister, Shelly.”
“What sort of vision?” Hilda asked, intrigued.
“I went up to the Wickcliff’s to check on her after I’d heard that she wasn’t returning any of her family’s calls. I heard her call out to me, and suddenly, I was in a vision. I went up to the attic in the mansion and saw her hanging there. She was dead, and it looked like she’d committed suicide.”
Hilda gasped. “Good heavens. Are you sure?”
He nodded with a grim and remorseful expression on his face.
Gracey turned in her chair to face him. “Oh, darling, how terrible for you. Did you tell anyone else what you saw?”
“I went to Sheriff Withers. I saw his son, Reed, on the Wickcliff grounds with Pit Bowen. They were carrying what looked like a body toward the mausoleum. He said he’d investigate, but I think he thought I was off my rocker, or at the very least drinking again. I don’t blame him.”
“That can’t be. I’ve spoken to Carol since Jeffrey’s wake,” Gracey said. “She mentioned that Shelly showed up and explained her absence.”
He shook his head. “When I touched her, I could feel that she wasn’t the same. I can’t explain it, but she was different. I feel it in my gut. I don’t know who that is, but it isn’t Shelly.”
“That’s quite possible,” Hilda said. “If the real Shelly’s gone, she may have been inhabited by another force, just as Jeremy’s inhabited a mortal.”
“So he’s back, but he couldn’t come back in his own form?” Kasey asked.
“Only his spirit’s remained alive,” Gracey said. “He has no mortal body to come back to, so he had to find a mortal host that he could possess.”
“Reed,” Kasey said in sudden revelation, his eyes shifting away from the ladies.
“I beg your pardon?” Gracey said.
He paused before meeting eyes with her. “Reed’s been acting so strangely. First, I find him creeping around the Wickcliff cemetery in the middle of the night barking orders at Pit Bowen. I thought that strange enough. Then I just ran into him outside right before I came in here. He acted as if he’d never seen me before. What if Reed’s the one that Jeremy’s possessed?”
Hilda turned her attention to Gracey. “If that was Jeremy outside, he may have heard us. He may know that Kasey’s Lucy’s son. I fear that you’re both in more immediate danger than I thought.”
“If Jeremy’s possessed the Withers boy,” Gracey said, “I suppose he was here to seek revenge on me for my part in his destruction. I’m not surprised. I knew it was only a matter of time before he came looking for me. If he heard us, he knows you’re here too, Hilda.”
Kasey rubbed his mother’s arm. “Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t let him get to you as long as I’m still breathing.”
“That’s my greatest fear,” Gracey said, her eyes searching his. “I’m not worried about myself. I’m not without my powers. Even if he did come after me, I’m an old lady, and I’ve had a good life. I wouldn’t hesitate to give up my life if it meant saving yours.”
They hadn’t realized that although Jeremy had overheard their conversation that he’d misunderstood it. He’d assumed he was Kasey’s father because Lucy was his mother. This didn’t keep Kasey out of danger, but Jeremy needed him alive as he needs to inhabit someone of his own bloodline if his spirit’s going to remain in the mortal realm permanently.
“Don’t say that,” Kasey said, holding his hands in front of him as if to stop her. “Don’t even think it. I’ll protect you from him. I promise.” He exhaled. “I’m not even sure that Reed’s the one Jeremy possessed, but it makes the most sense given his behavior. My first instinct is to warn Sheriff Withers about his son, but he’d never believe me, not now that he thinks I was wrong about Shelly’s death. It’s too fantastic of a story.”
“Sit back down,” Gracey said, gesturing to the chair he’d sat in before. “There’s more to the story.”
He sat, and grabbed her hand for emphasis. “Mom, do you know who my father is? Did Lucy tell you?”
She nodded. “Your father was a friend of ours, a mystical teacher named Damon Shields. He was working with us to try to bring down Jeremy as well. Your parents were very much in love.”
I felt that Damon Shields was the same Damon I’d heard my mother talking about. Had Lucy and my mother been in love with the same man? If he’d been in love with Mom, why was he involved with Lucy? I suddenly remembered the bald man in the monk’s habit that Kasey had seen in his vision at The Hook. My instincts told me that the man was Damon reaching out to Kasey. I continued to listen to their conversation, hoping for answers.
“You said he was a friend,” Kasey said. “Does that mean he’s dead?”
“I believe he’s alive,” Gracey said. “But he’s been in seclusion.”
“My father just left me?”
“He doesn’t know about you. He’s a good man. If he’d known about you, things would’ve been different.”
“If he’d known about you,” Hilda said, “he would’ve wanted to be part of your life. He probably still would want to be.”
He stood up, unable to take it all in. He didn’t know if he should be thankful or angry. The woman he’d trusted the most had kept everything about his parents from him. He was silent for a moment before meeting her eyes.
“You should’ve told me who my parents were a long time ago. I had a right to know.”
“As I told you, Lucy asked me to keep your identity secret for your sake. I saw no reason to cause you any more pain by telling you your mother was dead. Things are different now that Jeremy’s back.”
“If this is true, if he’s back, I’ll kill him myself. I swear it.”
“You can’t,” Hilda said. “If you destroy him, whomever he inhabits will parish as well whether it be the Withers boy or another. Our only hope is to exorcise him back to the darkness from where he came.”
“I want you to promise me that you won’t seek him out,” Gracey said. “You don’t know what you’re up against, son. He’s more powerful than you realize.”
He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. “So now what? I can’t stand by and do nothing.”
“You can and you will. I’ve fought him before. I know what to do. You don’t.”
“Mom, you aren’t in any shape to confront him, and you know it.”
“Your mother isn’t alone,” Hilda said. “She has me, and she has Carol. We’re family, and we’ll protect each other just as we always have.”
He bent down so that he was at Gracey’s level and touched her cheek. “You’re the only mother I’ve ever known. If anything were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
She looked into his eyes. “You have to trust me, Kasey.”
He sighed. He was upset with Gracey for keeping the truth from him, but he understood. In his heart, he knew how much she loved him, and he was convinced she’d done what she thought was best.
He didn’t verbalize it, but he made a vow that he’d stop Jeremy before he could do any damage to anyone he cared about. Gracey had protected him his whole life, and now that she was withered and broken, it was his turn to protect her.
I was worried for Kasey’s safety. Gracey was right, he didn’t know anything about Jeremy. He had no idea of the cruelty that Jeremy was capable of.
David Chappuis was born in Waterloo, Iowa, the fifth child of six, and grew up on a farm outside of Madrid, New York. He received a bachelor’s degree in English/Writing and Art/Studio from Potsdam College and later took professional development courses in Interactive Multimedia at George Washington University in Washington, D.C.
He has made a living as a professional web designer, designing Radio Station websites across the U.S. He designs, develops, and hosts his own websites and blogs for his writing endeavors.
As well as web design, he co-writes fan fiction blogs for the defunct daytime serials, Another World and Dark Shadows, and runs Facebook groups for readers to actively participate in the stories. He also interviews the real-life actors from the shows as well as other talented people.
He is the co-author of “Midnight’s Edge: The Secrets of Sleepy Meadows”, a supernatural book series, that will be published by Melange Books, LLC in September 2015. He also pens his self-published mystery series called “Jenny’s Not Dead” which is currently available in all popular ebook formats.
He works from home as a full-time writer and graphic artist in southern Virginia.
He has made a living as a professional web designer, designing Radio Station websites across the U.S. He designs, develops, and hosts his own websites and blogs for his writing endeavors.
As well as web design, he co-writes fan fiction blogs for the defunct daytime serials, Another World and Dark Shadows, and runs Facebook groups for readers to actively participate in the stories. He also interviews the real-life actors from the shows as well as other talented people.
He is the co-author of “Midnight’s Edge: The Secrets of Sleepy Meadows”, a supernatural book series, that will be published by Melange Books, LLC in September 2015. He also pens his self-published mystery series called “Jenny’s Not Dead” which is currently available in all popular ebook formats.
He works from home as a full-time writer and graphic artist in southern Virginia.
Michael Klinger - Co-Author of Midnight's Edge, Jenny's Not Dead
Michael Klinger was born in Niagara Falls, New York. He received an associate’s degree in human services from Niagara County Community College and a bachelor’s degree in human services management from the University of Phoenix. He has made a living as a professional benefits specialist.
He co-writes fan fiction blogs for the defunct daytime serials, Another World and Dark Shadows, and runs Facebook groups for readers to actively participate in the stories.
He is the co-author of “Midnight’s Edge: The Secrets of Sleepy Meadows”, a supernatural book series, that will be published by Melange Books, LLC in September 2015. He also pens his self-published mystery series called “Jenny’s Not Dead” which is currently available in all popular ebook formats.
He currently resides in southern Virginia.
Michael Klinger was born in Niagara Falls, New York. He received an associate’s degree in human services from Niagara County Community College and a bachelor’s degree in human services management from the University of Phoenix. He has made a living as a professional benefits specialist.
He co-writes fan fiction blogs for the defunct daytime serials, Another World and Dark Shadows, and runs Facebook groups for readers to actively participate in the stories.
He is the co-author of “Midnight’s Edge: The Secrets of Sleepy Meadows”, a supernatural book series, that will be published by Melange Books, LLC in September 2015. He also pens his self-published mystery series called “Jenny’s Not Dead” which is currently available in all popular ebook formats.
He currently resides in southern Virginia.
Yesterday's Promise
Wild Geese Series - Book 4
By Cynthia Owens
Genre: Historical Romance
…Like the Wild Geese of Old Ireland, five boys grew to manhood despite hunger, war, and the mean streets of New York…
An army doctor, Declan Morrissey fought for the survival of every wounded soldier, rejoicing when they recovered, mourning bitterly when they died.
Valerie Stanton was his beautiful battlefield nurse, strong, courageous, and dedicated.
He never dreamed she was an heiress, or that she’d break his heart in a desperate gamble to save the life of another man.
Now that they’ve found each other again, can they overcome past deception and claim the happily ever after they dreamed of?
Amazon
An army doctor, Declan Morrissey fought for the survival of every wounded soldier, rejoicing when they recovered, mourning bitterly when they died.
Valerie Stanton was his beautiful battlefield nurse, strong, courageous, and dedicated.
He never dreamed she was an heiress, or that she’d break his heart in a desperate gamble to save the life of another man.
Now that they’ve found each other again, can they overcome past deception and claim the happily ever after they dreamed of?
Amazon
“Val? Where are you?”
The hoarse whisper jerked her from her light slumber. Valerie Stanton brushed the tangle of dark brown hair from her eyes and jumped stiffly from the chair, hurrying to the figure tossing restlessly on the bed.
I must have fallen asleep. Searing guilt swamped her as she reached a hand to smooth Edmund’s tousled hair from his damp forehead. Warm, but not feverish. Oh, thank you, God!
The last thing Edmund needed was a physical illness.
“Valerie?”
“I’m here, love.” Tenderly, she picked up his hand—such a firm, strong hand, the nails clipped short, the back lightly dusted with golden brown hair. The convulsive way that hand gripped her fingers belied that strength and brought a rush of tears to her eyes.
Oh, my darling Edmund, what did they do to you?
“I was afraid.” His broken murmur tore at her heart. “Afraid…you’d gone away too.”
“Never!” She squeezed his hand, brought it to her lips. “I will always be with you, darling.”
He opened his eyes, the blazing indigo blue a mirror of her own, and smiled at her in a moment of pure clarity.
“Would that that were true. I know I only have you for a little while.” His eyes drifted shut.
He heaved a great sigh, and she knew he slept again.
But he didn’t cease his constant tossing.
Valerie sighed. Edmund’s covers had slipped halfway off the bed.
Moving automatically, she righted them, tucking them around his taut shoulders, noting the anxious lines bracketing his eyes and mouth.
What horrors did he relive in his dreams? She never knew, because he never spoke of them.
Refused to speak of them.
How could she help him if he shut himself away from her?
He groaned, jerked to one side and began to mutter frantic syllables she only half understood. “No…please…please don’t…I’m not a spy.” Raw anguish bled through his tone. “I’m only a soldier …a
common soldier…no…don’t—don’t.”
Valerie blinked back tears. Merciful heaven, the pain in his voice! What had those damned Rebs done to him?
“No! No, not Gage…he’s just a boy. Keep your hands off him. No!”
“Edmund!” The helpless whisper tore itself from her throat even as she caught his flailing fist in a vain attempt to calm him. “Oh, Edmund, it’s all right. It’s all right, my dear, you’re safe. You’re home
and safe, I promise you. Don’t be afraid.” The words dissolved into tears, and she swiped impatiently at the moisture on her cheeks.Edmund needed her. She must be strong for him, as he’d always been for her.
The hoarse whisper jerked her from her light slumber. Valerie Stanton brushed the tangle of dark brown hair from her eyes and jumped stiffly from the chair, hurrying to the figure tossing restlessly on the bed.
I must have fallen asleep. Searing guilt swamped her as she reached a hand to smooth Edmund’s tousled hair from his damp forehead. Warm, but not feverish. Oh, thank you, God!
The last thing Edmund needed was a physical illness.
“Valerie?”
“I’m here, love.” Tenderly, she picked up his hand—such a firm, strong hand, the nails clipped short, the back lightly dusted with golden brown hair. The convulsive way that hand gripped her fingers belied that strength and brought a rush of tears to her eyes.
Oh, my darling Edmund, what did they do to you?
“I was afraid.” His broken murmur tore at her heart. “Afraid…you’d gone away too.”
“Never!” She squeezed his hand, brought it to her lips. “I will always be with you, darling.”
He opened his eyes, the blazing indigo blue a mirror of her own, and smiled at her in a moment of pure clarity.
“Would that that were true. I know I only have you for a little while.” His eyes drifted shut.
He heaved a great sigh, and she knew he slept again.
But he didn’t cease his constant tossing.
Valerie sighed. Edmund’s covers had slipped halfway off the bed.
Moving automatically, she righted them, tucking them around his taut shoulders, noting the anxious lines bracketing his eyes and mouth.
What horrors did he relive in his dreams? She never knew, because he never spoke of them.
Refused to speak of them.
How could she help him if he shut himself away from her?
He groaned, jerked to one side and began to mutter frantic syllables she only half understood. “No…please…please don’t…I’m not a spy.” Raw anguish bled through his tone. “I’m only a soldier …a
common soldier…no…don’t—don’t.”
Valerie blinked back tears. Merciful heaven, the pain in his voice! What had those damned Rebs done to him?
“No! No, not Gage…he’s just a boy. Keep your hands off him. No!”
“Edmund!” The helpless whisper tore itself from her throat even as she caught his flailing fist in a vain attempt to calm him. “Oh, Edmund, it’s all right. It’s all right, my dear, you’re safe. You’re home
and safe, I promise you. Don’t be afraid.” The words dissolved into tears, and she swiped impatiently at the moisture on her cheeks.Edmund needed her. She must be strong for him, as he’d always been for her.
I believe I was destined to be interested in history. One of my distant ancestors, Thomas Aubert, reportedly sailed up the St. Lawrence River to discover Canada some 26 years before Jacques Cartier’s 1534 voyage. Another relative was a 17thCentury “King’s Girl,” one of a group of young unmarried girls sent to New France (now the province of Quebec) as brides for the habitants (settlers) there. My passion for reading made me long to write books like the ones I enjoyed, and I tried penning sequels to my favorite Nancy Drew mysteries. Later, fancying myself a female version of Andrew Lloyd Weber, I drafted a musical set in Paris during WWII.
A former journalist and lifelong Celtophile, I enjoyed a previous career as a reporter/editor for a small chain of community newspapers before returning to my first love, romantic fiction. My stories usually include an Irish setting, hero or heroine, and sometimes all three!
I am a member of the Romance Writers of America, Hearts Through History Romance Writers, and Celtic Hearts Romance Writers. A lifelong resident of Montreal, Canada, I still live there with my own Celtic hero and our two teenaged children.
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Google+ * Amazon * Goodreads
A former journalist and lifelong Celtophile, I enjoyed a previous career as a reporter/editor for a small chain of community newspapers before returning to my first love, romantic fiction. My stories usually include an Irish setting, hero or heroine, and sometimes all three!
I am a member of the Romance Writers of America, Hearts Through History Romance Writers, and Celtic Hearts Romance Writers. A lifelong resident of Montreal, Canada, I still live there with my own Celtic hero and our two teenaged children.
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Google+ * Amazon * Goodreads
TEXT
by Bryan W. Alaspa
Genre: Thriller, Suspense
**A TERRIFYING NOVEL OF UNRELENTING SUSPENSE FROM AUTHOR BRYAN ALASPA**
Abe Yates is a successful true crime author. He makes a living writing about the crimes and deaths of others, but that living has allowed him to provide a great house and life for his wife and two kids. His latest novel is about a vicious hit-man and serial killer known as The Saint. It is already destined to become a runaway bestseller with a movie option at the ready. Life is good.
Until the morning he reaches for his cell phone and finds a mysterious video text. A text that shows something horrific. A video that appears to show something that hasn't happened yet.
Now Abe and his family may only have days to figure out who created this video and who wants to do them harm. How far would you go to protect your family? For Abe, he may find that his own desire to protect his life and his home may take him to darker areas in his own heart than he ever thought possible.
A tight-knit supernatural thriller from the author of RIG, Gone, The Man From Taured, Sapphire and the Deklan Falls detective series comes an edge-of-your-seat look into terror and suspense - TEXT.
Goodreads * Amazon
Abe Yates is a successful true crime author. He makes a living writing about the crimes and deaths of others, but that living has allowed him to provide a great house and life for his wife and two kids. His latest novel is about a vicious hit-man and serial killer known as The Saint. It is already destined to become a runaway bestseller with a movie option at the ready. Life is good.
Until the morning he reaches for his cell phone and finds a mysterious video text. A text that shows something horrific. A video that appears to show something that hasn't happened yet.
Now Abe and his family may only have days to figure out who created this video and who wants to do them harm. How far would you go to protect your family? For Abe, he may find that his own desire to protect his life and his home may take him to darker areas in his own heart than he ever thought possible.
A tight-knit supernatural thriller from the author of RIG, Gone, The Man From Taured, Sapphire and the Deklan Falls detective series comes an edge-of-your-seat look into terror and suspense - TEXT.
Goodreads * Amazon
Sure enough, there were some texts from friends and people who knew Spencer and whom Spencer had probably called about the party last night. Most of them Abe knew only tangentially and he could not recall most of their faces and most of them expressed regret at not being able to attend. He mused that they could have shown up or just not shown up and he would never have known the difference. That was the thing that happened when you were a reliable bestseller at the agency and publisher. People felt they had to bow down to you even if you had no idea who they were.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
He came to a final message, near the bottom of the list, from a number that he did not recognize. In fact, it was an impossible number to start with.
0000000000
Abe remembered getting weird phone calls from a number like that years ago when he had first gotten a cell phone. They had finally come down in price and the phone companies were finally offering decent deals on them and he had bought one of those obsolete flip phones.
He would find that he had a voicemail from a number that was all zeroes and when he listened to it, it was just a bunch of weird noises. He hadn't gotten a call like that in ages.
Abe opened up the message and saw that there was a black box in the middle of a white field. There was a white arrow, pointing to the right, in the middle of the black box.
He frowned.
Who the hell would send him a video text? No one he knew was the type to do that.
Abe was not a video taker himself and he rarely even texted over photos. If he had a good photo, he was told that social media was the best place to put that.
It was probably just someone who was at the party last night. Perhaps someone who stayed later and maybe things got crazier after he and Shari had left. Hell, it was probably a video from Sam or Spence trying to show him the fun he missed out on.
Abe hit play.
At first he was not sure at all what he was a looking at.
It was a weird video, shot poorly, that kept pixelating. It was dark and it was shot with some nightvision
setting on the camera or cell phone, so everything had a weird greenish/white glow. The colors were all inverted, too, so the black pants looked white. He saw legs and arms and torsos, but the camera was mostly pointed at the ground.
There was sound, too. Men's voices, from the sound of it, but the sound was tinny and Abe couldn't make out any words. Someone was yelling.
Then there was screaming.
The camera swung up and suddenly Abe was looking into a face that he knew all too well. Whoever was holding the camera was wearing a Henry the CrossEyed Lion mask. One of the cheap plastic ones that came out every year and sold at the large discount store around the corner. The eyes, hidden behind that mask, looked empty and dark. There was just the smiling lion and the areas around the eye holes had been painted to look comically crosseyed.
It was surreal.
Abe sat up straighter on his chair, absently licking his lips. He was distantly aware of the fact that his throat was dry.
The camera swung around and now he could see that they were in someone's house.
He could make out a large staircase and a hardwood floor. It was familiar. He could see at least five other men. They were wearing suits, but all of them were wearing animal masks. Plastic animal masks based on the characters in Shari's books.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
He came to a final message, near the bottom of the list, from a number that he did not recognize. In fact, it was an impossible number to start with.
0000000000
Abe remembered getting weird phone calls from a number like that years ago when he had first gotten a cell phone. They had finally come down in price and the phone companies were finally offering decent deals on them and he had bought one of those obsolete flip phones.
He would find that he had a voicemail from a number that was all zeroes and when he listened to it, it was just a bunch of weird noises. He hadn't gotten a call like that in ages.
Abe opened up the message and saw that there was a black box in the middle of a white field. There was a white arrow, pointing to the right, in the middle of the black box.
He frowned.
Who the hell would send him a video text? No one he knew was the type to do that.
Abe was not a video taker himself and he rarely even texted over photos. If he had a good photo, he was told that social media was the best place to put that.
It was probably just someone who was at the party last night. Perhaps someone who stayed later and maybe things got crazier after he and Shari had left. Hell, it was probably a video from Sam or Spence trying to show him the fun he missed out on.
Abe hit play.
At first he was not sure at all what he was a looking at.
It was a weird video, shot poorly, that kept pixelating. It was dark and it was shot with some nightvision
setting on the camera or cell phone, so everything had a weird greenish/white glow. The colors were all inverted, too, so the black pants looked white. He saw legs and arms and torsos, but the camera was mostly pointed at the ground.
There was sound, too. Men's voices, from the sound of it, but the sound was tinny and Abe couldn't make out any words. Someone was yelling.
Then there was screaming.
The camera swung up and suddenly Abe was looking into a face that he knew all too well. Whoever was holding the camera was wearing a Henry the CrossEyed Lion mask. One of the cheap plastic ones that came out every year and sold at the large discount store around the corner. The eyes, hidden behind that mask, looked empty and dark. There was just the smiling lion and the areas around the eye holes had been painted to look comically crosseyed.
It was surreal.
Abe sat up straighter on his chair, absently licking his lips. He was distantly aware of the fact that his throat was dry.
The camera swung around and now he could see that they were in someone's house.
He could make out a large staircase and a hardwood floor. It was familiar. He could see at least five other men. They were wearing suits, but all of them were wearing animal masks. Plastic animal masks based on the characters in Shari's books.
Bryan W. Alaspa is a Chicago born and bred author of both fiction and non-fiction works. He has been writing since he sat down at his mother's electric typewriter back in the third grade and pounded out his first three-page short story. He spent time studying journalism and other forms of writing. He turned to writing as his full-time career in 2006 when he began writing freelance, online and began writing novels and books.
He is the author of over 30 books of both fiction and non-fiction and numerous short stories and articles.
Mr. Alaspa writes true crime, history, horror, thrillers, mysteries, detective stories and tales about the supernatural.
Goodreads * Amazon * Website * Facebook * Twitter * Google+ *Pinterest
He is the author of over 30 books of both fiction and non-fiction and numerous short stories and articles.
Mr. Alaspa writes true crime, history, horror, thrillers, mysteries, detective stories and tales about the supernatural.
Goodreads * Amazon * Website * Facebook * Twitter * Google+ *Pinterest
No Quarter: Wenches
Volume 1 by
MJL Evans , GM O'Connor
Genre: Adventure, Historical
Volume 1 of 6 begins in 1689 Port Royal, Jamaica, where Atia Crisp is imprisoned, awaiting trial, while refugees from Strangewayes's plantation seek their new home. Guided by Capitaine la Roche, they face pursuit by the pirate hunter Big Dick and the perilous terrain of Bocas del Toro. Their future home of Sérénité hangs in the balance, complicated by the outbreak of war with France.
Series Description:
Ye be warned - this series contains sexual situations, drug usage, foul language, crude humor, and beaky parrots.
In 1689, Atia Crisp finds herself imprisoned in the wickedest city on earth, Port Royal, Jamaica, while the refugees from Strangewayes’s plantation in the Blue Mountains are on the run and seeking a new home, deep in the Caribbean. Captain Jean-Paul la Roche must get them to safety and find a way to liberate the woman he loves while waging a war against the English with the pirate Laurens de Graaf.
While besieged people suffer and starve, a group of women form a secret and illegal society deep from within the bowels of the city called: WENCH. A network that deals with smugglers, merchants, cutthroats and thieves. Dragged into the struggle for supremacy of the Caribbean, the women are divided and find themselves engulfed in bloodshed. The pirates of Port Royal and former enemies may be their only hope of escape.
Hell hath no fury like a cross wench!
Goodreads * Amazon
Series Description:
Ye be warned - this series contains sexual situations, drug usage, foul language, crude humor, and beaky parrots.
In 1689, Atia Crisp finds herself imprisoned in the wickedest city on earth, Port Royal, Jamaica, while the refugees from Strangewayes’s plantation in the Blue Mountains are on the run and seeking a new home, deep in the Caribbean. Captain Jean-Paul la Roche must get them to safety and find a way to liberate the woman he loves while waging a war against the English with the pirate Laurens de Graaf.
While besieged people suffer and starve, a group of women form a secret and illegal society deep from within the bowels of the city called: WENCH. A network that deals with smugglers, merchants, cutthroats and thieves. Dragged into the struggle for supremacy of the Caribbean, the women are divided and find themselves engulfed in bloodshed. The pirates of Port Royal and former enemies may be their only hope of escape.
Hell hath no fury like a cross wench!
Goodreads * Amazon
Don't miss the series that came before Wenches!!
No Quarter: Dominium
Volume 1
by MJL Evans & GM O'Connor
Genre: Adventure, Historical
Ye be warned - this series contains sexual situations, drug usage, foul language, crude humor, and beaky parrots.
Volume 1 of 6 begins in 1689 Port Royal, Jamaica with Atia Crisp and her sister Livia shipwrecked and sold into slavery. They are separated and Atia is used as a pawn in a deadly card game at the Swiftsure Tavern until she is liberated by sugar merchant Capitaine la Roche. Hunted at every turn, they take refuge at Cherry Red's Boutique (brothel) and meet up with allies including the medication loving Dr. Strangewayes.
Series Description:
Against the political stage of 1689 Port Royal, Jamaica, the unswerving Atia Crisp is thrust into the world of bondage, violence, beauty and love. Shipwrecked and sold into slavery with her sister Livia, the pair are soon separated and Atia is used as a pawn in a card game. Captivated by her beauty, Atia is swiftly liberated by sugar merchant, Capitaine la Roche (also known as the pirate, Gator Gar), whose past is stained with blood and grief. La Roche works with a network of friends and allies including local strumpet, Cherry Banks, Theodore Binge the card shark and the kindly, medication loving Dr. Strangewayes. Soon Atia and la Roche are ushered away to safety after a mysterious outbreak of scarlet fever wreaks havoc on the city.
Within the luxuriant tropical confines of Dr. Strangewayes's plantation at the foothills of the Blue Mountains, bonds of friendship are formed and the fierce love between Atia and Capitaine la Roche becomes absolute. Atia is reunited with her sister, piratical father and unexpected old friends. However, nowhere is safe as spies seek out both Atia and la Roche for the bounties on their heads. Neither of them can escape the shadows of their former lives and must rely on each other’s strengths for survival. Their journey leads them to an inevitable conflict that threatens their world, but inches them closer towards freedom.
Goodreads * Amazon
Volume 1 of 6 begins in 1689 Port Royal, Jamaica with Atia Crisp and her sister Livia shipwrecked and sold into slavery. They are separated and Atia is used as a pawn in a deadly card game at the Swiftsure Tavern until she is liberated by sugar merchant Capitaine la Roche. Hunted at every turn, they take refuge at Cherry Red's Boutique (brothel) and meet up with allies including the medication loving Dr. Strangewayes.
Series Description:
Against the political stage of 1689 Port Royal, Jamaica, the unswerving Atia Crisp is thrust into the world of bondage, violence, beauty and love. Shipwrecked and sold into slavery with her sister Livia, the pair are soon separated and Atia is used as a pawn in a card game. Captivated by her beauty, Atia is swiftly liberated by sugar merchant, Capitaine la Roche (also known as the pirate, Gator Gar), whose past is stained with blood and grief. La Roche works with a network of friends and allies including local strumpet, Cherry Banks, Theodore Binge the card shark and the kindly, medication loving Dr. Strangewayes. Soon Atia and la Roche are ushered away to safety after a mysterious outbreak of scarlet fever wreaks havoc on the city.
Within the luxuriant tropical confines of Dr. Strangewayes's plantation at the foothills of the Blue Mountains, bonds of friendship are formed and the fierce love between Atia and Capitaine la Roche becomes absolute. Atia is reunited with her sister, piratical father and unexpected old friends. However, nowhere is safe as spies seek out both Atia and la Roche for the bounties on their heads. Neither of them can escape the shadows of their former lives and must rely on each other’s strengths for survival. Their journey leads them to an inevitable conflict that threatens their world, but inches them closer towards freedom.
Goodreads * Amazon
MJL Evans is an Indie Author/Publisher and co-author of the 6-part series, No Quarter: Dominium. Future endeavours include co-authoring the books No Quarter: WENCH and No Quarter: The Dirge. She also hopes to have her books translated in various languages including French.
MJL Evans is also a writer of romance and relationship articles featured in publications like Monday Magazine in November 2004 and again in February 2006, she writes fiction, historical fiction, erotica and humour. Published in the November 2014 issue of Flash Fiction Magazine, Red Dragon is vibrant piece of micro-fiction that delves into Victoria BC in the 1860s, when it was the opium capital of the New World.
A native of Victoria, British Columbia, MJL Evans studied English at Victoria School of Writing and Camosun College. Not only is she passionate about her written expression, she is enthusiastic about her visual art masterpieces she has created over the past 20 years and has over 60 paintings to her credit. MJL Evans is also a lover of film, independent, foreign, and cult. Her favorites include: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Nymphomaniac, Secret Window, The Brood, Le Pacte des loups, Mesrine: L'Instinct De Mort and many others.
Her visual artist website can be found at: http://art-profiles.com/mjlevans/
Amazon * Website * Goodreads * B&N * Facebook * Twitter
MJL Evans is also a writer of romance and relationship articles featured in publications like Monday Magazine in November 2004 and again in February 2006, she writes fiction, historical fiction, erotica and humour. Published in the November 2014 issue of Flash Fiction Magazine, Red Dragon is vibrant piece of micro-fiction that delves into Victoria BC in the 1860s, when it was the opium capital of the New World.
A native of Victoria, British Columbia, MJL Evans studied English at Victoria School of Writing and Camosun College. Not only is she passionate about her written expression, she is enthusiastic about her visual art masterpieces she has created over the past 20 years and has over 60 paintings to her credit. MJL Evans is also a lover of film, independent, foreign, and cult. Her favorites include: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Nymphomaniac, Secret Window, The Brood, Le Pacte des loups, Mesrine: L'Instinct De Mort and many others.
Her visual artist website can be found at: http://art-profiles.com/mjlevans/
Amazon * Website * Goodreads * B&N * Facebook * Twitter
It's October and time for deliciously spooky events to begin! I love Halloween and all the creepy events surrounding it! Thanks to The Kids Did It & The Mommy Island , we have an awesomely spooktacular giveaway hop to help us celebrate!
For my stop, I'm giving away a $40 Amazon gift card so you can get some gruesome goodies of your choice!
Don't forget to hop around to all the other awesome blogs!
As the sole owner and contributor to my massive website here, I have a lot on my plate! From posting a few dozen tours daily for other companies to organizing, formatting and scouting for new exclusive tours, I have a very busy schedule. I'm not perfect, there's a few times I may miss a post, not have things ready on time or other various debacles. But hey, I'm a mom to two and also have a household to run!
That's why I depend on my fellow bloggers like you to help me out by spreading the word about my tours!
Some of ya'll have been outstanding and have enthusiastically posted almost everything I throw at you! You have my undying gratitude! But, on the other hand, I have a list of over 50 bloggers that signed up to host and most never respond or host anything for me :(
So, I thought I'd appreciate those of ya'll that do spend the time to help me out by having an exclusive giveaway- just for you!
For every tour that you host, come enter the link here for extra entries!
If there's a tour listed you need materials for, please email me at
silver_dagger_scriptorium@outlook.com
If you're not a host, but would like to be, sign up HERE
Thank you so much for helping me out!!!
The Butcher's Daughter:
(A Journey Between Worlds)
by Mr. Mark M. McMillin
Genre: Historical Nautical Fiction (Elizabethan Era, Spanish Armada) , Adventure, Romance, War, New World
In an age ruled by iron men, in a world of new discovery and Spanish gold, a young Irishwoman named Mary rises from the ashes of her broken childhood with ships and men-at-arms under her command. She and her loyal crew prowl the Caribbean and prosper in the New World for a time until the ugly past Mary has fled from in the old one finds her. Across the great ocean to the east, war is coming.
The King of Spain is assembling the most powerful armada the world has ever seen - an enormous beast - to invade England and depose the Protestant "heretic queen." To have any chance against the wealth and might of Spain, England will need every warship, she will need every able captain. To this purpose, Queen Elizabeth spares Mary from the headman's axe for past sins in exchange for her loyalty, her ships and men.
Based on true historical events, this is a tale about war, adventure, love and betrayal. This is a story about vengeance, this is a tale of heartbreak...
This is a prequel to Gather the Shadowmen (the Lords of the Ocean), Prince of the Atlantic and Nampoleon's Gold.
Goodreads * Amazon
The King of Spain is assembling the most powerful armada the world has ever seen - an enormous beast - to invade England and depose the Protestant "heretic queen." To have any chance against the wealth and might of Spain, England will need every warship, she will need every able captain. To this purpose, Queen Elizabeth spares Mary from the headman's axe for past sins in exchange for her loyalty, her ships and men.
Based on true historical events, this is a tale about war, adventure, love and betrayal. This is a story about vengeance, this is a tale of heartbreak...
This is a prequel to Gather the Shadowmen (the Lords of the Ocean), Prince of the Atlantic and Nampoleon's Gold.
Goodreads * Amazon
My lads forced the big man down to his knees before me. They stretched his arms out taut and held him firmly in place for me.
“Why, Captain Dowlin,” I said and laughed, “you’ve gone and pissed yourself I see! You’ve gone and soiled my deck! And my crew scrubbed these planks down with holystones just this morning. They put their backs into it let me tell you. They scrubbed this deck down clean.”
“Please,” Dowlin pleaded, whimpering with spittle and snot running down his long beard. His eyes were nearly swollen shut from the good drubbing my men had given him. “Please, please, please...” he repeated over and over again.
“Please?” I asked. “Is that all you can say? How pathetic. I pray you can beg far better than that, especially when it is your own, pitiful life hanging in the balance. Come now, I know you can do better and I promised my lads a bit of entertainment tonight before supper.”
“Please, my lady, please spare my life. For mercy’s sake. I have gold. I have much gold!”
“For mercy’s sake?” I asked. “No, I think not for mercy’s sake. But for gold you say? Well now, you’ve piqued my curiosity there. And how much glittering gold is your miserable life worth to you, Dowlin?”
“Anything, name your price!”
I looked over at what was left of Dowlin’s bloodied and beaten crew herded around the main mast in a tight circle. They were bound in chains, intently watching my every move, soaking in my every word. After today they would be my men.
My own lads knew the drill. They forced Dowlin down lower, exposing the back of his soft neck to me.
I stood to the side and drew my sword. “The price Dowlin - is your head!”
“Nooooooooooooo…” Dowlin screamed just before I cleaved my way through flesh and bone. With one, clean stroke, his severed head rolled grotesquely across my deck until it came to rest at the feet of his defeated crew.
And then I pointed my sword at them, the bright, steel blade now dripping with Dowlin’s fresh blood. “As my men will vouch,” I told them, “I’m no purveyor of lies and because I do not lie I cannot say to you that killing gives me no pleasure. Your master was a wretched pig and it gave me great pleasure to kill him. Now you know why some call me Bloody Mary. Now you serve me and this ship - or not. You are free to choose.”
The upshot of my touch of drama was grand. The prisoners all at once dropped to their knees and groveled at my feet. They all at once pledged their undying loyalty to me.
“Master Gilley!”
“Aye, Madam?”
“Introduce the new lads to our ways.”
“With pleasure, Mum, with pleasure!”
Thomas Gilley was my rock. He had been with me from the beginning. For nearly two years we had crisscrossed the vast and perilous oceans together. For the past year we had sailed under Dowlin’s cruel shadow.
“And our course, Mum?”
“The new lads will tell you - gladly now I should think - what our new heading is to be.”
And by that of course I meant that Dowlin’s men would tell us where Dowlin’s gold was stashed away, or pay the awful price for their silence.
As my men went about their labors, securing the heavy guns and making repairs to shattered planks, to torn lines and sail, I went below to my great cabin, content with a good day’s work. Dowlin had thoughtlessly, and without good purpose, brutalized any who had crossed his path. Men, women, children, he cared not. Yes, Dowlin was a wretched, stinking pig who often killed for sport. I had done mankind a favor by dispatching him. But in my world, Dowlin had also been a lord and master, a prince. His death I knew could not be cheaply bought.
“An inspiring performance, Mum!” a voice called out, startling me as I stepped into my great cabin. The voice popped out from behind the door, closed it quickly and slid the bolt back inside the socket.
I would not give the intruder the satisfaction of knowing that he had, for once, caught me unawares. “I’m glad you were amused,” I told him flatly.
He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close against him. “Do you,” he asked with a smile, “despise all men?”
“All but one or two,” I replied and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then I reached down between his legs and grabbed him by his privates. He was already stiff and eager. I couldn’t help myself and moaned with anticipation.
“Only one or two?” he inquired. “Dare I ask who?”
“Ah, you are safe for now my dearest,” I answered, batting my eyes flirtatiously. “Well, at least for a night or two. You have skills, remarkable skills worth keeping.”
“Aye, it was a splendid day indeed. I’ve always been exceptionally good at fighting, equally talented with sword, knife, a musket or explosives. I suppose one could say I was born to it.”
“You are a great warrior, James Hunter,” I replied honestly and squeezed him even harder. “But those are not the skills that interest me tonight. I dare say you have other skills that I’ve taken quite a fancy to, skills I wish to test.”
“Ah, now, that is why I’m here my lady,” Hunter replied and flashed his brilliant smile for me. “Not too tired from all that killing?”
“Shut up and take me you fool. Ravish me - I am hot for your wicked touch…”
Hunter obliged me gladly, with all he had to give.
“Why, Captain Dowlin,” I said and laughed, “you’ve gone and pissed yourself I see! You’ve gone and soiled my deck! And my crew scrubbed these planks down with holystones just this morning. They put their backs into it let me tell you. They scrubbed this deck down clean.”
“Please,” Dowlin pleaded, whimpering with spittle and snot running down his long beard. His eyes were nearly swollen shut from the good drubbing my men had given him. “Please, please, please...” he repeated over and over again.
“Please?” I asked. “Is that all you can say? How pathetic. I pray you can beg far better than that, especially when it is your own, pitiful life hanging in the balance. Come now, I know you can do better and I promised my lads a bit of entertainment tonight before supper.”
“Please, my lady, please spare my life. For mercy’s sake. I have gold. I have much gold!”
“For mercy’s sake?” I asked. “No, I think not for mercy’s sake. But for gold you say? Well now, you’ve piqued my curiosity there. And how much glittering gold is your miserable life worth to you, Dowlin?”
“Anything, name your price!”
I looked over at what was left of Dowlin’s bloodied and beaten crew herded around the main mast in a tight circle. They were bound in chains, intently watching my every move, soaking in my every word. After today they would be my men.
My own lads knew the drill. They forced Dowlin down lower, exposing the back of his soft neck to me.
I stood to the side and drew my sword. “The price Dowlin - is your head!”
“Nooooooooooooo…” Dowlin screamed just before I cleaved my way through flesh and bone. With one, clean stroke, his severed head rolled grotesquely across my deck until it came to rest at the feet of his defeated crew.
And then I pointed my sword at them, the bright, steel blade now dripping with Dowlin’s fresh blood. “As my men will vouch,” I told them, “I’m no purveyor of lies and because I do not lie I cannot say to you that killing gives me no pleasure. Your master was a wretched pig and it gave me great pleasure to kill him. Now you know why some call me Bloody Mary. Now you serve me and this ship - or not. You are free to choose.”
The upshot of my touch of drama was grand. The prisoners all at once dropped to their knees and groveled at my feet. They all at once pledged their undying loyalty to me.
“Master Gilley!”
“Aye, Madam?”
“Introduce the new lads to our ways.”
“With pleasure, Mum, with pleasure!”
Thomas Gilley was my rock. He had been with me from the beginning. For nearly two years we had crisscrossed the vast and perilous oceans together. For the past year we had sailed under Dowlin’s cruel shadow.
“And our course, Mum?”
“The new lads will tell you - gladly now I should think - what our new heading is to be.”
And by that of course I meant that Dowlin’s men would tell us where Dowlin’s gold was stashed away, or pay the awful price for their silence.
As my men went about their labors, securing the heavy guns and making repairs to shattered planks, to torn lines and sail, I went below to my great cabin, content with a good day’s work. Dowlin had thoughtlessly, and without good purpose, brutalized any who had crossed his path. Men, women, children, he cared not. Yes, Dowlin was a wretched, stinking pig who often killed for sport. I had done mankind a favor by dispatching him. But in my world, Dowlin had also been a lord and master, a prince. His death I knew could not be cheaply bought.
“An inspiring performance, Mum!” a voice called out, startling me as I stepped into my great cabin. The voice popped out from behind the door, closed it quickly and slid the bolt back inside the socket.
I would not give the intruder the satisfaction of knowing that he had, for once, caught me unawares. “I’m glad you were amused,” I told him flatly.
He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close against him. “Do you,” he asked with a smile, “despise all men?”
“All but one or two,” I replied and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then I reached down between his legs and grabbed him by his privates. He was already stiff and eager. I couldn’t help myself and moaned with anticipation.
“Only one or two?” he inquired. “Dare I ask who?”
“Ah, you are safe for now my dearest,” I answered, batting my eyes flirtatiously. “Well, at least for a night or two. You have skills, remarkable skills worth keeping.”
“Aye, it was a splendid day indeed. I’ve always been exceptionally good at fighting, equally talented with sword, knife, a musket or explosives. I suppose one could say I was born to it.”
“You are a great warrior, James Hunter,” I replied honestly and squeezed him even harder. “But those are not the skills that interest me tonight. I dare say you have other skills that I’ve taken quite a fancy to, skills I wish to test.”
“Ah, now, that is why I’m here my lady,” Hunter replied and flashed his brilliant smile for me. “Not too tired from all that killing?”
“Shut up and take me you fool. Ravish me - I am hot for your wicked touch…”
Hunter obliged me gladly, with all he had to give.
Born in 1954 in Indiana, Mark McMillin has lived in a number of states throughout the U.S. as well as overseas. He attended Canisius College in Buffalo, New York, focusing his studies mostly on military history, and served as a cadet in Canisius's nationally recognized ROTC program. After graduating in 1976, Mark was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the United States Army and was stationed in Bad Kissingen, Germany where he served with the elite 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment.
In 1986, Mark received his J.D. degree from The John Marshall Law School in Chicago, Illinois and began his legal career with a law firm in White Plains, New York focusing his attention on general corporate law. In 1994, Mark moved to Virginia and ventured out into hazardous world of litigation where, in 1999, he won what was reported to be at the time one of the largest and longest federal criminal trials in Virginia's history. Mark thereafter moved to Georgia where he resumed his general corporate practice and served as general counsel for several companies, including a $1B publicly-traded airline.
Mark has been a life-long student of military history. And he has always had a passion for reading and love for writing and wanted to someday write his own book. But write a book about what? Mark had no desire to write about some subject that 100 authors before him had already delved into. And then, almost by accident, this fascinating, little known story of Captain Luke Ryan fell into his lap. It was an opportunity was too good to pass on and so Mark began the long and tedious journey of researching, writing and rewriting. The twelve year project ended in 2011 with Gather the Shadowmen (The Lords of the Ocean), Prince of the Atlantic and Napoleon's Gold.
Mark currently lives in the Southeastern part of the United States.
A few of Mark's favorite books include: Robert Fagel's two brilliant translations of Homer's Odyssey and the Iliad, Tolkien's wonderful Lord of the Rings trilogy, Table in the Wilderness by Norton S. Parker, Irving Stone's The Agony and the Ecstasy, Herman Wouk's The Winds of War, Tom Clancy's The Hunt for the Red October, Vincent Bugliosi's riveting And The Sea Will Tell and Steven Pressfield's beautifully written Gates of Fire.
Please visit Mark's website at wwwPrivateerLukeRyan.com for more information.
Website * Amazon * Goodreads * Facebook
In 1986, Mark received his J.D. degree from The John Marshall Law School in Chicago, Illinois and began his legal career with a law firm in White Plains, New York focusing his attention on general corporate law. In 1994, Mark moved to Virginia and ventured out into hazardous world of litigation where, in 1999, he won what was reported to be at the time one of the largest and longest federal criminal trials in Virginia's history. Mark thereafter moved to Georgia where he resumed his general corporate practice and served as general counsel for several companies, including a $1B publicly-traded airline.
Mark has been a life-long student of military history. And he has always had a passion for reading and love for writing and wanted to someday write his own book. But write a book about what? Mark had no desire to write about some subject that 100 authors before him had already delved into. And then, almost by accident, this fascinating, little known story of Captain Luke Ryan fell into his lap. It was an opportunity was too good to pass on and so Mark began the long and tedious journey of researching, writing and rewriting. The twelve year project ended in 2011 with Gather the Shadowmen (The Lords of the Ocean), Prince of the Atlantic and Napoleon's Gold.
Mark currently lives in the Southeastern part of the United States.
A few of Mark's favorite books include: Robert Fagel's two brilliant translations of Homer's Odyssey and the Iliad, Tolkien's wonderful Lord of the Rings trilogy, Table in the Wilderness by Norton S. Parker, Irving Stone's The Agony and the Ecstasy, Herman Wouk's The Winds of War, Tom Clancy's The Hunt for the Red October, Vincent Bugliosi's riveting And The Sea Will Tell and Steven Pressfield's beautifully written Gates of Fire.
Please visit Mark's website at wwwPrivateerLukeRyan.com for more information.
Website * Amazon * Goodreads * Facebook
Red Lands Outlaw:
The Ballad of Henry Starr
By Phil Truman
Genre: Western, Historical
"Truman’s storytelling shines throughout..." -- Kathleen Rice Adams, Western Fictioneers
“Red Lands Outlaw: The Ballad of Henry Starr is a well-conceived yarn about one of the last of Oklahoma’s horseback-riding outlaws. A good read.” -- Dusty Richards, a Spur and Wrangler Award winning author
“Author Phil Truman captured a slice of Indian Territory history and has woven it into an interesting period novel. Anyone who loves the history of the West will enjoy Red Lands Outlaw: the Ballad of Henry Starr.” -- Tammy Hinton, author and winner of the Will Rogers Medallion Award for Unbridled
In the last years of the tough and woolly land called Indian Territory, and the first of the new state of Oklahoma, the outlaw Henry Starr rides roughshod through the midst of it. A native son of “The Nations” he’s more Scotch-Irish than Cherokee, but is scorned by both. He never really wanted to journey west of the law, yet fate seems to insist. He’s falsely accused and arrested for horse-thieving at age sixteen, then sentenced to hang at nineteen by Judge Isaac Parker for the dubious killing of a deputy U.S. marshal, but he escapes the gallows on a technicality. Given that opportunity, the charming, handsome, mild-mannered Henry Starr spends the rest of his life becoming the most prolific bank robber the West has ever known.
Goodreads * Amazon
“Red Lands Outlaw: The Ballad of Henry Starr is a well-conceived yarn about one of the last of Oklahoma’s horseback-riding outlaws. A good read.” -- Dusty Richards, a Spur and Wrangler Award winning author
“Author Phil Truman captured a slice of Indian Territory history and has woven it into an interesting period novel. Anyone who loves the history of the West will enjoy Red Lands Outlaw: the Ballad of Henry Starr.” -- Tammy Hinton, author and winner of the Will Rogers Medallion Award for Unbridled
In the last years of the tough and woolly land called Indian Territory, and the first of the new state of Oklahoma, the outlaw Henry Starr rides roughshod through the midst of it. A native son of “The Nations” he’s more Scotch-Irish than Cherokee, but is scorned by both. He never really wanted to journey west of the law, yet fate seems to insist. He’s falsely accused and arrested for horse-thieving at age sixteen, then sentenced to hang at nineteen by Judge Isaac Parker for the dubious killing of a deputy U.S. marshal, but he escapes the gallows on a technicality. Given that opportunity, the charming, handsome, mild-mannered Henry Starr spends the rest of his life becoming the most prolific bank robber the West has ever known.
Goodreads * Amazon
Bill Tilghman slowly brushed the whisker tips of his mustache over and over with his left thumb and forefinger, moving each from the middle of his upper lip outward, as he stared down at Henry. In all his law enforcement days, he’d never known so audacious, so brash, so prolific an outlaw as the man lying there in that bed.
Henry floated in and out of a morphine-induced haze while Tilghman stood there looking at him. Lewis Estes, his neck and shoulder and chest wrapped in bandages, in a bed across the room, lay there out cold.
“Henry,” Tilghman said in a firm voice. Getting no response, he called out the bank robber’s name again, this time a little louder.
Henry’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked several times, squinting to get his eyes and mind focused on the form standing beside his bed.
“Well, hello, Bill,” Henry slurred. “What the hell’re you doing here?”
Tilghman stopped stroking his mustache, and hooked both his thumbs in his vest’s watch pockets. “Come to arrest you, Henry.” He jerked his head to his right in a pointing gesture. “You and that other fella over there.”
Henry raised his head a little, and looked over at the bed where his patched up colleague lay. “I believe that there is Lewis Estes,” he said. “Guess he caught a little lead, too.”
Tilghman nodded. “Soon as you boys are able to travel, I’m taking you back to Oklahoma City to await trial. And it’s a good thing I come, too. Folks here in this town are callin’ to lynch you.”
“Why, hell, Bill, I’m crippled,” Henry responded.
“Yeah, you are that,” Tilghman said. “But Doc Hanson said he didn’t think it’d be permanent. Boy named Curry shot you in the butt. Bullet broke up your leg bone there, but the doc set it back as best he could. He thinks it’ll heal awright, but figures you’ll probably have something of a limp from here on out.”
Henry took Tilghman’s prognosis in with a solemn expression. “First time I ever been shot,” he said. “And by a damn kid to boot.”
“He’s used to shooting living things,” said Tilghman. “Butcher’s kid, I hear. Shot your partner over there, too. Some pretty fair shootin’, considerin’ what he had to shoot with.”
Henry considered all this, scrunching his eyebrows in a look of puzzlement. “I thought you’d quit marshalling, Bill. Ain’t you a politician, or something, now?”
“State senator,” Tilghman said. “But I’m also Chief of Police over in Oklahoma City. Town marshal here is an old friend of mine, so he called me. What you and your boys did was a federal crime, so you’ll have to stand trial in a federal court.”
Henry nodded. “Yeah, I reckon so,” he said.
Tilghman snorted and shook his head. “I swear, Henry. You just about beat anything I ever seen in an outlaw.”
“Why, thank ya, Bill.” A pleased smile creased Starr’s face. Coming from as renowned a lawman as Bill Tilghman, Henry considered the man’s comment a supreme compliment.
“I didn’t mean that as a tribute, Henry. I meant you’ve had several chances to straighten yourself out. When I arrested you down in New Mexico back in oh-eight, you promised me you’d never rob another bank. But in the year since you got out of Canon City Prison, there’s been a whole passel here in Oklahoma with your brand on ’em. And now you pull this double dutch.” Tilghman shook his head and laughed quietly. “I hear you were a model prisoner in Canon City. Warden even made you a trustee; sent you out as a walkin’ boss on the road gangs. But you just keep reverting back to your old ways. How many times have you been in prison? Two? Three times? This here’ll make one more.”
Henry stiffened a little. “I reckon I’ve robbed more banks than ever anyone did,” he said with pride.
“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Tilghman said. He pulled a chair out from the wall and sat down on it, crossing his legs. He removed his derby and wiped the sweat from the inside headband. “The question is why? You sure ain’t got nothing to show from it. And look at you now; your future prospects ain’t too bright.”
Henry stared back at Tilghman, but he didn’t have a good response. The lawman had pretty much nailed it. A reason existed as to why Henry kept on committing bank robbery after bank robbery, but he didn’t exactly know what it was, didn’t know how to express it. All he knew, he couldn’t stop doing it. He had quite a few acquaintances and relatives who drank alcohol, and the more they drank, the more they wanted. Finally, they just couldn’t do without it. Henry didn’t drink; didn’t smoke, either, but like the effect of alcohol on some of his red brothers, that’s exactly what bank robbing had done to him.
Henry floated in and out of a morphine-induced haze while Tilghman stood there looking at him. Lewis Estes, his neck and shoulder and chest wrapped in bandages, in a bed across the room, lay there out cold.
“Henry,” Tilghman said in a firm voice. Getting no response, he called out the bank robber’s name again, this time a little louder.
Henry’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked several times, squinting to get his eyes and mind focused on the form standing beside his bed.
“Well, hello, Bill,” Henry slurred. “What the hell’re you doing here?”
Tilghman stopped stroking his mustache, and hooked both his thumbs in his vest’s watch pockets. “Come to arrest you, Henry.” He jerked his head to his right in a pointing gesture. “You and that other fella over there.”
Henry raised his head a little, and looked over at the bed where his patched up colleague lay. “I believe that there is Lewis Estes,” he said. “Guess he caught a little lead, too.”
Tilghman nodded. “Soon as you boys are able to travel, I’m taking you back to Oklahoma City to await trial. And it’s a good thing I come, too. Folks here in this town are callin’ to lynch you.”
“Why, hell, Bill, I’m crippled,” Henry responded.
“Yeah, you are that,” Tilghman said. “But Doc Hanson said he didn’t think it’d be permanent. Boy named Curry shot you in the butt. Bullet broke up your leg bone there, but the doc set it back as best he could. He thinks it’ll heal awright, but figures you’ll probably have something of a limp from here on out.”
Henry took Tilghman’s prognosis in with a solemn expression. “First time I ever been shot,” he said. “And by a damn kid to boot.”
“He’s used to shooting living things,” said Tilghman. “Butcher’s kid, I hear. Shot your partner over there, too. Some pretty fair shootin’, considerin’ what he had to shoot with.”
Henry considered all this, scrunching his eyebrows in a look of puzzlement. “I thought you’d quit marshalling, Bill. Ain’t you a politician, or something, now?”
“State senator,” Tilghman said. “But I’m also Chief of Police over in Oklahoma City. Town marshal here is an old friend of mine, so he called me. What you and your boys did was a federal crime, so you’ll have to stand trial in a federal court.”
Henry nodded. “Yeah, I reckon so,” he said.
Tilghman snorted and shook his head. “I swear, Henry. You just about beat anything I ever seen in an outlaw.”
“Why, thank ya, Bill.” A pleased smile creased Starr’s face. Coming from as renowned a lawman as Bill Tilghman, Henry considered the man’s comment a supreme compliment.
“I didn’t mean that as a tribute, Henry. I meant you’ve had several chances to straighten yourself out. When I arrested you down in New Mexico back in oh-eight, you promised me you’d never rob another bank. But in the year since you got out of Canon City Prison, there’s been a whole passel here in Oklahoma with your brand on ’em. And now you pull this double dutch.” Tilghman shook his head and laughed quietly. “I hear you were a model prisoner in Canon City. Warden even made you a trustee; sent you out as a walkin’ boss on the road gangs. But you just keep reverting back to your old ways. How many times have you been in prison? Two? Three times? This here’ll make one more.”
Henry stiffened a little. “I reckon I’ve robbed more banks than ever anyone did,” he said with pride.
“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Tilghman said. He pulled a chair out from the wall and sat down on it, crossing his legs. He removed his derby and wiped the sweat from the inside headband. “The question is why? You sure ain’t got nothing to show from it. And look at you now; your future prospects ain’t too bright.”
Henry stared back at Tilghman, but he didn’t have a good response. The lawman had pretty much nailed it. A reason existed as to why Henry kept on committing bank robbery after bank robbery, but he didn’t exactly know what it was, didn’t know how to express it. All he knew, he couldn’t stop doing it. He had quite a few acquaintances and relatives who drank alcohol, and the more they drank, the more they wanted. Finally, they just couldn’t do without it. Henry didn’t drink; didn’t smoke, either, but like the effect of alcohol on some of his red brothers, that’s exactly what bank robbing had done to him.
I'm a native Oklahoman, born in the small town of Miami in 1945. I earned my bachelor's degree in English from the University of Tulsa in 1970. As a Vietnam Era veteran, I served with the U.S. Army's 7th Infantry Division near the Korean DMZ from 1967 to 1968. Fresh out of college I worked as a teacher and coach, but transitioned into the business world after a few years where I morphed into an IT geek. My wife and I live in the Tulsa suburban city of Broken Arrow where we've spent the past 30 years raising our family. Now a full-time writer, my books include GAME, a '70's era sports inspiration novel; Legends of Tsalagee, a novel of mystery, romance, and adventure in a small town; and Red Lands Outlaw, the Ballad of Henry Starr, a historical novel set in the turn of the 20th Century Indian Territory.
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads * Amazon
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads * Amazon
West of the Dead Line:
The Complete Series - Episodes 1 – 8
By Phil Truman
Genre: Western, Historical
This collection contains EIGHT episodes of the West of the Dead Line series.
1 – Bringing in Pike Cudgo
2 – Freed Men
3 – Runaway
4 – Redemption along the Red
5 – The Getaway of Cross-eyed Jack Dugan
6 – The Reluctant Posseman
7 – Dupery at Corncob Forks
8 – Last Will for an Outlaw
West of the Dead Line
The Dead Line, as it came to be called, was a railroad, the Missouri, Kansas, and Texas, cutting across the middle of Indian Territory. It ran straight south from Caldwell, Kansas to Fort Reno, I.T., then on down through the Cheyenne and Comanche and Kiowa lands, crossing the Red River into Bowie, Texas. It was a line on the map, a demarcation. West of it there was no law, only outlaws. On trails out there, notes would be put up on trees and posts, sort of reverse wanted posters, letting lawmen know they’d be killed if they continued their pursuits west of the Dead Line.
Throughout the 225 years of the U.S. Marshals Service, over 200 deputies have been killed in the line of duty. Of those, more than 120 lost their lives in the Indian and Oklahoma Territories between 1850 and Oklahoma statehood in 1907.
In the storied history of the American West, no place comes close to matching the dangers and mortality these federal officers faced doing their jobs. Their courage, resolve, and dedication to duty were beyond reproach... for the most part. Those who survived became titans in the legends of the West, particularly one man called Bass Reeves.
These stories are fiction, but the encounters this lawman faced, and The Dead Line, were not.
Goodreads * Amazon
1 – Bringing in Pike Cudgo
2 – Freed Men
3 – Runaway
4 – Redemption along the Red
5 – The Getaway of Cross-eyed Jack Dugan
6 – The Reluctant Posseman
7 – Dupery at Corncob Forks
8 – Last Will for an Outlaw
West of the Dead Line
The Dead Line, as it came to be called, was a railroad, the Missouri, Kansas, and Texas, cutting across the middle of Indian Territory. It ran straight south from Caldwell, Kansas to Fort Reno, I.T., then on down through the Cheyenne and Comanche and Kiowa lands, crossing the Red River into Bowie, Texas. It was a line on the map, a demarcation. West of it there was no law, only outlaws. On trails out there, notes would be put up on trees and posts, sort of reverse wanted posters, letting lawmen know they’d be killed if they continued their pursuits west of the Dead Line.
Throughout the 225 years of the U.S. Marshals Service, over 200 deputies have been killed in the line of duty. Of those, more than 120 lost their lives in the Indian and Oklahoma Territories between 1850 and Oklahoma statehood in 1907.
In the storied history of the American West, no place comes close to matching the dangers and mortality these federal officers faced doing their jobs. Their courage, resolve, and dedication to duty were beyond reproach... for the most part. Those who survived became titans in the legends of the West, particularly one man called Bass Reeves.
These stories are fiction, but the encounters this lawman faced, and The Dead Line, were not.
Goodreads * Amazon
The Yankee watched Bass eat. “What’s your name, boy?” he asked.
“My momma name me Bass after her daddy. Las’ name Reeves, same as my massuh. All us belongs t’him called Reeves.”
The man nodded, still looking at Bass with his coal-black eyes. “You like bein’ a slave, Bass?” he asked.
Bass chewed another bite of jerky and put his hands out toward the fire again, thinking about his answer.
“On’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Alls I ever know. Marse Reeves, he don’t treat me bad. Give me food t’eat, place to sleep. Give me clothes. Ain’t nevuh whip me much. He mistress good to my momma and sistuh, too. They works in the house.”
“That all you ever expect to do? Ain’t you ever wanted to get free; do things you wanted to do yourself, go wherever you want to go without nobody telling you when and where?”
The Yankee waited for a response, but none came. Bass looked into the fire and chewed the jerky.
After a bit, his captor added, “Wouldn’t you like to take a piss without gettin’ another man’s permission?”
Bass looked up at him, jaw muscles moving; he turned his gaze back to the fire.
The Yankee let it go, changed the subject, shifted his weight on his butt. “’Spect there’s gonna be a fight here tomorrow. Mess of Rebs up north. Looks like old Van Dorn’s trying to get ’em around behind us. Them Texas boys of your’n look to be comin’ down the road yonder to meet us.” He gestured with the gun barrel through the dark trees. “We’ll be ready for ’em.”
“Where you from, Yank?” Bass asked.
The man stared at Reeves squarely before looking into the fire. “Kansas, mostly,” he said. “Rode with General Lane’s Jayhawkers. He didn’t much cotton to secessionists… or slave owners. Called himself an ‘abolitionist.’”
“That why you rode with him? You uh…ab-bol-lishnest?”
The Yankee threw back his head and laughed. He stood and walked out to the edge of the firelight to take his own piss, chuckling to himself as he did so.
When he came back to the fire, he sat again opposite Reeves, stirred the coals with a stick, threw on another piece of wood.
“You even know what that means, boy? Abolitionist? “
“Sho’ I does,” Bass answered, a little indignant. “It mean freein’ slaves.”
“Seems to me the only freed men is the dead ones,” his captor said. He paused to stir the fire some more, looked at Bass. “I’ve personally freed a few myself,” he said with a grin and a wink.
“Naw, I rode with Lane because he offered me the job,” he continued. “Pay wasn’t much, but it kept me out of jail. I needed that more than money at the time.
“Still, sayin’ it’s legal to own a man don’t seem right to me. Sure as hell don’t believe I’d put up with anyone claimin’ they owned me.”
Silence fell between the pair again. The haunting sound of a harmonica drifted in with the cold night air. Men’s voices echoed through the black forest; voices in calm conversation and some laughter, distant but clear like coming across a still river at night.
“”Whas yo name, then?” Bass asked. Another long pause followed before the Yankee answered.
“I got several names. Go by Haycock in this here army, William Haycock. Back in Kansas some folks called me ‘Wild Bill.’ Called me that because of the shape of my nose, made fun of how it swoops out sorta like a duck’s bill. I didn’t much like it at first, made a few callin’ me that pay. But now I believe I like it…yes sir, believe I do. You can call me Wild Bill.”
Bass nodded, and grinned back at the man. “Wild Bill,” he repeated.
“You realize I’m only telling you this ’cause you’ll be dead before sundown tomorrow.”
Bass looked cold-eyed at Haycock. “You gone kill me, Wild Bill?” he asked.
Haycock laughed again. “Naw, I ain’t gonna kill you, Bass. I’m gonna let you go. But boys see a nigger runnin’ free through these here woods, I figure one side or t’other’s bound to shoot your ass. Ain’t that what we’re fightin’ for? To set your likes free?” He cocked an eyebrow and grinned at his captive.
Bass stared back at Haycock. After a bit, he said to him, “You frees me, Wild Bill, how you know I ain’t finds myself a gun an’ free yo’ ass?”
“My momma name me Bass after her daddy. Las’ name Reeves, same as my massuh. All us belongs t’him called Reeves.”
The man nodded, still looking at Bass with his coal-black eyes. “You like bein’ a slave, Bass?” he asked.
Bass chewed another bite of jerky and put his hands out toward the fire again, thinking about his answer.
“On’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Alls I ever know. Marse Reeves, he don’t treat me bad. Give me food t’eat, place to sleep. Give me clothes. Ain’t nevuh whip me much. He mistress good to my momma and sistuh, too. They works in the house.”
“That all you ever expect to do? Ain’t you ever wanted to get free; do things you wanted to do yourself, go wherever you want to go without nobody telling you when and where?”
The Yankee waited for a response, but none came. Bass looked into the fire and chewed the jerky.
After a bit, his captor added, “Wouldn’t you like to take a piss without gettin’ another man’s permission?”
Bass looked up at him, jaw muscles moving; he turned his gaze back to the fire.
The Yankee let it go, changed the subject, shifted his weight on his butt. “’Spect there’s gonna be a fight here tomorrow. Mess of Rebs up north. Looks like old Van Dorn’s trying to get ’em around behind us. Them Texas boys of your’n look to be comin’ down the road yonder to meet us.” He gestured with the gun barrel through the dark trees. “We’ll be ready for ’em.”
“Where you from, Yank?” Bass asked.
The man stared at Reeves squarely before looking into the fire. “Kansas, mostly,” he said. “Rode with General Lane’s Jayhawkers. He didn’t much cotton to secessionists… or slave owners. Called himself an ‘abolitionist.’”
“That why you rode with him? You uh…ab-bol-lishnest?”
The Yankee threw back his head and laughed. He stood and walked out to the edge of the firelight to take his own piss, chuckling to himself as he did so.
When he came back to the fire, he sat again opposite Reeves, stirred the coals with a stick, threw on another piece of wood.
“You even know what that means, boy? Abolitionist? “
“Sho’ I does,” Bass answered, a little indignant. “It mean freein’ slaves.”
“Seems to me the only freed men is the dead ones,” his captor said. He paused to stir the fire some more, looked at Bass. “I’ve personally freed a few myself,” he said with a grin and a wink.
“Naw, I rode with Lane because he offered me the job,” he continued. “Pay wasn’t much, but it kept me out of jail. I needed that more than money at the time.
“Still, sayin’ it’s legal to own a man don’t seem right to me. Sure as hell don’t believe I’d put up with anyone claimin’ they owned me.”
Silence fell between the pair again. The haunting sound of a harmonica drifted in with the cold night air. Men’s voices echoed through the black forest; voices in calm conversation and some laughter, distant but clear like coming across a still river at night.
“”Whas yo name, then?” Bass asked. Another long pause followed before the Yankee answered.
“I got several names. Go by Haycock in this here army, William Haycock. Back in Kansas some folks called me ‘Wild Bill.’ Called me that because of the shape of my nose, made fun of how it swoops out sorta like a duck’s bill. I didn’t much like it at first, made a few callin’ me that pay. But now I believe I like it…yes sir, believe I do. You can call me Wild Bill.”
Bass nodded, and grinned back at the man. “Wild Bill,” he repeated.
“You realize I’m only telling you this ’cause you’ll be dead before sundown tomorrow.”
Bass looked cold-eyed at Haycock. “You gone kill me, Wild Bill?” he asked.
Haycock laughed again. “Naw, I ain’t gonna kill you, Bass. I’m gonna let you go. But boys see a nigger runnin’ free through these here woods, I figure one side or t’other’s bound to shoot your ass. Ain’t that what we’re fightin’ for? To set your likes free?” He cocked an eyebrow and grinned at his captive.
Bass stared back at Haycock. After a bit, he said to him, “You frees me, Wild Bill, how you know I ain’t finds myself a gun an’ free yo’ ass?”
I'm a native Oklahoman, born in the small town of Miami in 1945. I earned my bachelor's degree in English from the University of Tulsa in 1970. As a Vietnam Era veteran, I served with the U.S. Army's 7th Infantry Division near the Korean DMZ from 1967 to 1968. Fresh out of college I worked as a teacher and coach, but transitioned into the business world after a few years where I morphed into an IT geek. My wife and I live in the Tulsa suburban city of Broken Arrow where we've spent the past 30 years raising our family. Now a full-time writer, my books include GAME, a '70's era sports inspiration novel; Legends of Tsalagee, a novel of mystery, romance, and adventure in a small town; and Red Lands Outlaw, the Ballad of Henry Starr, a historical novel set in the turn of the 20th Century Indian Territory.
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads * Amazon
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Eyeglasses
Fairy Senses- Book 1
By Emily Martha Sorensen
Genre: Children's, Middle Grade Fantasy
About the Book
When Cassie finds a magic pair of glasses that allow her to see fairies, she has to figure out where they came from . . . and what the fairies want her to do with them.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Senses- Book 1
By Emily Martha Sorensen
Genre: Children's, Middle Grade Fantasy
About the Book
When Cassie finds a magic pair of glasses that allow her to see fairies, she has to figure out where they came from . . . and what the fairies want her to do with them.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Compass
Fairy Senses Book 2
About the book
Daisy wanted to be able to see fairies. But when she comes across an old compass, she gains the ability to sense them magnetically instead.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Senses Book 2
About the book
Daisy wanted to be able to see fairies. But when she comes across an old compass, she gains the ability to sense them magnetically instead.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Earmuffs
Fairy Senses Book 3
About the Book
Amanda doesn't think she's slow, but everyone else seems to. When she finds a pair of magic earmuffs that allow her to hear fairies, everything changes.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Senses Book 3
About the Book
Amanda doesn't think she's slow, but everyone else seems to. When she finds a pair of magic earmuffs that allow her to hear fairies, everything changes.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Barometer
Fairy Senses Book 4
About the Book
When Maricela's grandmother comes to stay, she finds a magic barometer that gives her the sense of fairy pressure. But more might be going on than she realizes.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Senses Book 4
About the Book
When Maricela's grandmother comes to stay, she finds a magic barometer that gives her the sense of fairy pressure. But more might be going on than she realizes.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Pox
Fairy Senses Book 5
About the Book
Bianca thinks she has the worst fairy sense ever. But when she decides to brave her task, she starts to learn the incredible power of itch.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Senses Book 5
About the Book
Bianca thinks she has the worst fairy sense ever. But when she decides to brave her task, she starts to learn the incredible power of itch.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Slippers
Fairy Senses Book 6
About the Book
Sunflower's always been good at everything. But her brand new gymnastics slippers are throwing everything off, because they give her the sense of proprioception.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Senses Book 6
About the Book
Sunflower's always been good at everything. But her brand new gymnastics slippers are throwing everything off, because they give her the sense of proprioception.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Lunchbox
Fairy Senses Book 7
About the Book
When Georgina finds a magical lunchbox, she thinks she's going to get the sense of fairy taste! But instead, she gets hunger.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Fairy Senses Book 7
About the Book
When Georgina finds a magical lunchbox, she thinks she's going to get the sense of fairy taste! But instead, she gets hunger.
A 12,000 word children's fantasy story.
Goodreads * Amazon
Hi! I'm Emily Martha Sorensen!
I'm a huge fan of science fiction and fantasy, and I write clean books that are intelligent, optimistic, and happy. I write for all age levels. Picture books? Got one. Chapter books? Got a series. Middle grade? Sure thing. Young adult? Most definitely. New adult? Working on a series right now. ALL of them, no matter what the age of the main character, are both intelligent and clean. I believe that children deserve smart books, teenagers deserve fun books, and adults deserve imagination, a sense of wonder, and books aimed at them that are G or PG.
I have two comics: A Magical Roommate, which is complete (it's actually G-rated new adult, and was always intended to be that way: I started it when I was eighteen and couldn't find clean stories about people my age), and To Prevent World Peace, which is currently ongoing (think a magical girl series from the point of view of the villains).
I'm a bit of an oddball. I refuse to write what's popular: I write the stories I believe should exist. If those happen to become popular, I would be delighted. I won't change what I write just because the crowd's doing it. I'm pretty flexible about which forms my stories take, though.
My husband is Benjamin A. Sorensen, who writes fantasy. His first book is Prophecy, and it's pretty awesome. He's a wordsmith, and he usually writes standalone epic fantasy.
Goodreads* Amazon * Website * Twitter * Facebook * Newsletter
I'm a huge fan of science fiction and fantasy, and I write clean books that are intelligent, optimistic, and happy. I write for all age levels. Picture books? Got one. Chapter books? Got a series. Middle grade? Sure thing. Young adult? Most definitely. New adult? Working on a series right now. ALL of them, no matter what the age of the main character, are both intelligent and clean. I believe that children deserve smart books, teenagers deserve fun books, and adults deserve imagination, a sense of wonder, and books aimed at them that are G or PG.
I have two comics: A Magical Roommate, which is complete (it's actually G-rated new adult, and was always intended to be that way: I started it when I was eighteen and couldn't find clean stories about people my age), and To Prevent World Peace, which is currently ongoing (think a magical girl series from the point of view of the villains).
I'm a bit of an oddball. I refuse to write what's popular: I write the stories I believe should exist. If those happen to become popular, I would be delighted. I won't change what I write just because the crowd's doing it. I'm pretty flexible about which forms my stories take, though.
My husband is Benjamin A. Sorensen, who writes fantasy. His first book is Prophecy, and it's pretty awesome. He's a wordsmith, and he usually writes standalone epic fantasy.
Goodreads* Amazon * Website * Twitter * Facebook * Newsletter
|
|
|
**Attention!**
The ONLY place you can book a tour with me is on this site at my
“Book a Tour” page. I NEVER outsource to other sites, including Fiverr and other similar sites. If you book a tour there, they are scammers! Only one person, Maia, will be handling business email correspondance with the email
maia@
silverdaggertours.com
– if you are an author, please make sure to always email this address directly about tours!
Categories
All
Action
Adventure
African American
Anthology
Bdsm
Billionaire Romance
Chick Lit
Childrens
Christian
Coloring-book
Comedy
Coming Of Age
Contemporary Fiction
Contemporary Romance
Cookbook
Cozy Mystery
Crime
Cyberpunk
Dark
Dark Romance
Drama
Dystopian
Educational
Erotic Romance
Fairytale
Fantasy
Financial
Giveaway-hop
Gothic
Health-and-wellness
Historical
Historical Romance
Holiday
Horror
Humorous
Inspirational
Lgbtq
Literaryfiction
Mafia Romance
Magic-realism
Mcromance
Mc-romance
Memoir
Menage
Middlegrade
Middle Grade
Military
Mystery
New Adult
Nonfiction
Paranormal
Paranormal Romance
Paranormal-romance
Parenting
Pets
Postapocalyptic
Pulp-fiction
Reverse-harem-romance
Rockstar-romance
Romance
Romantic Comedy
Romanticsuspense
Romantic Suspense
Satirical
Sciencefiction
Science Fiction
Scifi
Scifiromance
Scifi-romance
Selfhelp
Shortstories
Short-stories
Speculativefiction
Speculative-fiction
Sportsromance
Steampunk
Supernatural
Suspense
Thriller
Time Travel
Urban
Urbanfantasy
Urban Fantasy
Western
Womensfiction
Womens Fiction
Ya
Youngadult
Young Adult
Youngadultya
Young-adult-ya
Archives
May 2021
April 2021
March 2021
February 2021
January 2021
December 2020
November 2020
October 2020
September 2020
August 2020
July 2020
June 2020
May 2020
April 2020
March 2020
February 2020
January 2020
December 2019
November 2019
October 2019
September 2019
August 2019
July 2019
June 2019
May 2019
April 2019
March 2019
February 2019
January 2019
December 2018
November 2018
October 2018
September 2018
August 2018
July 2018
June 2018
May 2018
April 2018
March 2018
February 2018
January 2018
December 2017
November 2017
October 2017
September 2017
August 2017
July 2017
June 2017
May 2017
April 2017
March 2017
February 2017
January 2017
December 2016
November 2016
October 2016
September 2016
