Adeline 'Dell' Grimm has been in training to join the Watcher Academy her whole life. A legacy, her grandfather, Edward was one of the Academy's most respected members and Dell is determined to follow in his footsteps.
An impulsive decision could destroy her new life...
Left alone one night, Dell cannot resist a quick look at the recent delivery of artefacts. Artefacts which the Watchers are duty bound to keep hidden away from the world, for they possess supernatural magic, magic that could prove deadly in the wrong hands. Which doesn't bode well for Dell when she accidentally drops one of them.
A Watcher is supposed to keep evil at bay, but what happens when it walks among them?
Soon Dell finds herself missing time and when a fellow Watcher is found murdered, she wonders if she is somehow responsible.
Turning to her fellow Watchers, Spencer and Max, Dell must figure out the truth before someone else dies.
Rose Gibbon’s husband has been missing for two years. Devastated, she sells her home. The next day, local authorities investigate an abandoned car at the intersection of Westland Avenue and Hemenway Street in Boston. All the blood recedes from her face; she knows it’s her husband’s car!
Meanwhile, Medical Examiner Natalie Principal arrives at the crime scene to inspect a charred body behind the wheel. The victim falls apart when she touches it. Since the car doesn’t show traces of fire, Natalie’s afraid the victim was exposed to a deadly dose of radiation. She informs the ATU—Anti Terrorism Unit—about a possible terrorist threat of a dirty bomb. As the investigation continues, digital footprints are erased, and people vanish into thin air . . . a deadly race to save Natalie’s friends is about to begin.
42 Degrees of Truth is a life-changing experience!
Each page of this poetry collection contains plenty of irony, dark humour, and straight-up oddness, all in the name of criticising social issues, cultural dysfunction, broken relationships, and our egoistic views.
Each poem is written with such beauty that you'll find yourself craving to read the next one. Some are extremely heartbreaking, some are bitter and erotic, some teeter on the absurd, violence, and rage...
42 Degrees of Truth is also a powerful window into the mindset of the 21st century - the frustrations of sexism, the burdens of the monotonous family life, and the futility of the new All-What-I-Am culture.
As to be expected from Victoria Ray, the poems are fun, sharp, and eye-opening, with a touch of dark melancholy.
About the Author
Victoria Ray grew up in Orša, one of the oldest towns in Belarus. Although interested in writing fiction from a young age, it wasn't until 2018 that she decided to pursue it as a career. Victoria lives in Sweden with her family and two dogs: Daisy and Sky. She hold Phd/MA in Classic Russian Literature.
Submitted for your approval—Ten Tales of a Dark Tomorrow, a collection of speculative fiction inspired by the original Twilight Zone series. In the spirit of that iconic, timeless show, these mysterious and gripping narratives explore parallel worlds, faraway planets, dystopian societies, and unsettling reality.
•A toddler shifts through parallel worlds, changing into different versions of herself. What would a mother do for her daughter?
•A chef finds an alternate food source on a remote world. When the new chef arrives, will he be forced to reveal a horrific secret?
•A twelve-year-old Earth girl is randomly chosen to rule the galaxy. Why are galactic administrators so desperate to stop her?
•Humanity is on trial, annihilation at stake. Can an underdog alien lawyer save us?
•Time seems to stand still as a young boy bikes with his troubled friend. Is the friend causing this phenomenon—and what if he doesn’t stop it?
Explore space and time—and confront humanity’s deepest fears—with Ten Tales of a Dark Tomorrow.
Pirate’s Curse: Division 1
Don’t breathe, Catheryn thought. If you breathe, you’re dead.
From her place in the closet, she could see the flicker of torchlight as the pirates ran back and forth through the house. The vampire pirates. The most dangerous creatures she knew of. They needed human blood to live. Her blood. The blood of her fellow slaves.
But what were they doing here? In the Hoodoo House? She was supposed to be safe here. The Hoodoo Queen was a powerful woman. Surely she could fight them off. All Catheryn had to do was be quiet. Be still. Don’t breathe.
Catheryn clenched and flexed her fingers. There were no weapons in the closet. If someone found her, she would have no way to defend herself. She looked at her hands and willed them to do…something. Anything.
This closet was her safe place. A small nook under the stairs she often visited when she wanted to be alone, to collect her thoughts. To practice her budding magic. She had already been hiding in the closet before the pirates arrived. Though this time, she hadn’t been planning on coming out.
Because this time, she hadn’t hidden away to work on her magic.
She’d hidden because she’d screwed up.
Riley Teague. Outcast. Criminal. World ender?
Riley spends her days torturing her potential half sister Lauren and trying to get through senior year without going to prison. While breaking into the school one night, Riley sees Kellen Riker, star football player, covered in blood. Not his own.
When bodies start popping up around town, Riley is sure Lauren is involved somehow. As she tries to find the answers, Riley is soon sucked into a world she never knew existed. Monsters exist and they are after her and Lauren.
Both born from a long line of hunters, they are tasked with destroying Halflings - the decendants of pureblood monsters. Riley soon finds herself falling for the enemy and there is the pesky detail of a prophecy hanging over their heads. A prophecy that states one sister may have the power to open the door between worlds and unleash the purebloods.
If the door opens, the world will end and some will stop at nothing to make sure it happens.
18+ Contains mature content. Violence and sexual situations.
Home is where the heart is ... or the hatred. You can feel the love and care someone puts into their home just by walking into it. Equally, you can feel the hatred and malice when you step into a home where dark deeds have been done.
Alex and his team of so-called paranormal investigators are given the opportunity of a lifetime when they are able to film inside one of the most haunted, and cursed, locations in their area.
The Jackson Mansion.
The thing that makes this mansion truly unique is that it is built completely underground. Determined to uncover the dark secrets of the mansion's past, and prove himself a notable investigator, Alex doesn't care what it takes. The mansion, however, has other ideas, as well as some rather restless occupants.
Serenity Lodge is haunted. Don’t ask the residents suffering dementia if that’s true. Ask the nurses.
Amanda Ennis is the new nurse at Serenity Lodge nursing home. It’s a dream job after years of the hectic pace in the emergency room of a large hospital. Better yet, she’s on the short-list for an upcoming Supervisor position!
The only stumbling block to working there is the constant undermining from Linda Harper, a battle-axe nurse. They both want that Supervisor job. Linda believes her decades of experience entitles her to it.
Working with Linda was the only downside until the new resident, Carmel Turner arrived.
Now, shadow people lurk in the hallways. Unseen hands play with the lights turning them on and off. Carmel, a psychic with stage four dementia, claims she’s even being attacked!
Amanda never believed in the supernatural until her own chilling encounters. When mysterious claw marks are slashed on Carmel, she can no longer deny their dire presence. Each new incident escalates the danger. But how can Amanda tell anyone? Ghosts? Spirits? If she so much as mentions this crazy stuff, not only will her promotion vanish, she'd lose her Nursing license!
All hell breaks loose on All Hallow’s Eve--that night when the barrier separating the afterlife is weakest.
No one is left unscathed. Not everyone is getting out of there alive.
Date Published: 09/30/2019
Publisher: WordFire Press
Wes Rockville, a disgraced law-enforcement agent, gets one last chance to prove himself and save his career when he’s reassigned to a 232-year-old secret government organization. The Witches Protection Program. His first assignment: uncover a billion-dollar cosmetics company’s diabolical plan to use witchcraft for global domination, while protecting its heiress Morgan Pendragon from her aunt’s evil deeds. Reluctantly paired with veteran witch protector, Alastair Verne, Wes must learn to believe in witches… and believe in himself. Filled with adventure and suspense, Michael Okon creates a rousing, tongue-in-cheek alternate reality where witches cast spells and wreak havoc in modern-day New York City.
Clearly, Wu had a bit of an attitude this morning. Scarlett wouldn’t let her talk down to her. What would Scarlett do; what would Scarlett do? Morgan racked her brain. Swallowing, she replied, her voice cold as ice, “I’ll get them there when I get them there. Deal with it.”
“You’re such a—”
“A what, Wu?” Morgan taunted. “Don’t forget, I answer directly to Bernadette, and she doesn’t take kindly to disrespect.”
Wu turned to lean on the sink, coming face to face with Morgan. “High and mighty today, aren’t we? You aren’t the only one with influence.” Wu’s eyes narrowed into slits. She had elegant hands that ended with long, graceful nails. She swirled them in the air, creating an eddy of wind that ruffled Morgan’s hair.
Morgan reached out, grabbing Wu’s hand in a viselike grip. “Don’t toy with me, and don’t use magic.” She squeezed hard, feeling one of the nails break. Wu struggled to break free, but Morgan maintained the upper hand. They stood nose to nose, hatred emanating from them both. She heard Wu’s quick intake of breath and let her snatch her hand away.
“I won’t forget this, Red.”
Morgan sniffed. “Don’t call me Red.” She turned to leave the bathroom.
“This isn’t over, Scarlett,” Wu called after her.
Morgan laughed as she exited the bathroom, thinking payback was going to be a bitch for Scarlett.
About the Author
Michael Okon is an award-winning and best-selling author of multiple genres including paranormal, thriller, horror, action/adventure and self-help. He graduated from Long Island University with a degree in English, and then later received his MBA in business and finance. Coming from a family of writers, he has storytelling in his DNA. Michael has been writing from as far back as he can remember, his inspiration being his love for films and their impact on his life. From the time he saw The Goonies, he was hooked on the idea of entertaining people through unforgettable characters.
Michael is a lifelong movie buff, a music playlist aficionado, and a sucker for self-help books. He lives on the North Shore of Long Island with his wife and children.
Genre: Romantic Suspense/ Romantic Thriller
Publisher: Champagne Book Group
Date of Publication: July 29, 2019
Number of pages: 209
Word Count: 79,236
Cover Artist: OliviaProDesign
To save the life of the man she loves, sheâll have to risk her own.
Costume designer, Leslie Carroll has mastered the art of flying under the radar. Sheâs had to, or risk being found by the psychopath who almost killed her.
When she literally falls into Hollywood heartthrob Charlie Ericksonâs dressing room on her first day of employment, their mutual attraction is instant and undeniable. Despite his star status, Charlie is a sweet southern boy at heart, and for the first time in a long time, Leslie begins to think she has a chance at happiness.
When her harrowing past catches up to her and targets Charlie, will she run to save herself, or face her monster to save the man who is her future?
When Leslie emerged, her anger remained, although most of it was aimed at herself. Sheâd let Christineâs words get under her skin. Truth was, she had become mousy. In high school, sheâd been headstrong, bold, and daring. Then in college, thanks to unwise decisions, unspeakable things happened. Because of those things, sheâd become paranoid and cautious. If she was being honest, more than a little mousy.
That was the next item on her bucket list to change.
As she walked back toward the line, the drone of machines had lessened.
Frankâs skinny arms flailed around. He looked like a chicken fighting a snake. He spoke to a man, but because of the crowd gathered, the back of his head was the only visible body part. Angela too, appeared wild-eyed and pointing in her direction. Coffee churned in Leslieâs stomach. The crowd turned to stare as she trotted up.
Mr. Miller stood like ice. His eyes narrowed. A hush came over the crowd of extras. Folding his arms, he glared.
Great. What now?
She swallowed hard. Mr. Miller cleared his throat and grinned like a cat. Slowly, as if he had nowhere to be, he sauntered toward his prey, ready to pounce. âMiss Carroll,â he said, steepling his fingers, âhow pleasant of you to join us. Did you have a relaxing break?â
She opened her mouth to explain. He held one finger in the air to silence her, then circled like a shark claiming its lunch. âDid you get autographs from anyone famous? Is that why youâre here, dearâto attract an actor? I hired you to do a job, not to fraternize with the famed.â
The thirty or so extras gaped with delight as the torture unfolded. Frankâs face was lined with pretend sympathy yet smug, while Angelaâs seemed more humbled. Blood drained slowly from Leslieâs face, and her fists balled. Damn. Her only crime was not finding the bathroom. It wasnât as if she sought out the crazy.
Mr. Miller circled one last time. He strutted a few feet from her, head cocked sideways. A faint smile drifted across his lips. Enjoying his assault, he resumed, âMiss Carroll, please share with the group precisely where you went for an hour and what you were doing?â
She opened her mouth to speak, but everything she wanted to say, sounded crazy. Then it hit her. Leslie cleared her throat and forced a smile. âMr. Miller, Iâd love to tell you where Iâve been, but, you see, I signed a non-disclosure agreement. Iâm sure youâll understand, the actors I ran into would appreciate my discretion.â
He reeled. Anger rolled off his skin like fog. His nostrils flared as he stomped back toward her. His face was inches from hers. âI had such high hopes for you, Miss Carroll. You came with such recommendation. Now I know you are not a team player, but someone who enjoys the spotlight. Iâm afraid, I am going to have to ask youââ
Gasps from the crowd rang out before he finished. She knew. Knew someone walked up and stood behind her. Normal range, but again, too close for her.
âMr. Miller?â Charlieâs familiar voice boomed.
Her back straightened as if someone poked her. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the warmth from his body radiated through the back of her thin shirt. Or she was having a hot flash twenty years too early.
His signature cologne, designed by someone else but stamped with his name, filled the air. A body-awakening musk mixed with a fresh rain. She shuddered. Instinct caused her to whirl around and step to the side, gaining a foot of distance between them. As she did, their eyes locked. Another chill racked her body. If she was lucky, he didnât notice.
One quick look at Charlieâs head cocked to the side and the question in his eyesâheâd noticed.
Mr. Millerâs demeanor and voice changed, as if someone flipped a switch on his back. âMr. Erickson, what a pleasure! To what do we owe this visit? Oh, I remember, you were to be measured today, werenât you? Let me get my top assistant, Dana, and we will get that underway right now.â
He brushed past Leslie, shooting daggers, when Charlie stopped him.
âMr. Miller, Iâve already been fitted by this young lady here.â He moved toward her, holding out an arm like an invitation for a side hug.
Great. He was a hugger. When she mirrored his movement, only backward, she crossed her arms and shot him an apologetic nod. Questions arose again in his eyes. But this time, a sign of understanding accompanied it.
Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets and examined her yet spoke to Mr. Miller. âShe saved me time and embarrassment today.â Charlieâs gaze darted from the gawking crowd to Mr. Millerâs aggressive stance. Then he added, âI hope she was being commended for her efforts, rather than reprimanded.â
Charlie slid a long look at Mr. Miller.
Frank gaped, star struck, while Angelaâs stare switched from the famous actor to Leslie and back.
Charlie turned toward her. âI didnât realizeâwait, did you say today is your first day?â He shook Mr. Millerâs hand. âNice catch. Sheâs an excellent hire.â
Mr. Miller stammered, âWhyâ¦thank you, Mr. Erickson. That is generous of you. So Leslie measured you already?â Confusion laced his voice.
âLeslie,â Charlie repeated her name.
His slow, smooth voice rumbled with a touch of his southern drawl. Nothing could stop the flaming in her cheeks. Heat spread all the way to her ears. She wanted to disappear under the concrete floor. Her mind logged and registered all the exits. An old survival habit she couldnât break.
Fidgeting, she moved a baby-step farther out of his reach. Heâd already made her shudder and his mind-numbing scent mixed with his unwavering stare had her terrified heâd touch her, and yet wanting him to at the same time.
Yes, she was aware a costume professional by design must touch people. But it wasnât her touching others that bothered her. It was not having control of someone else touching her. As long as other people stayed in their bubble, she was fine. But somehow, Charlie seemed unaware of the bubble rule.
âYes, Leslie did an amazing job of putting up with my shenanigans.â He turned toward Mr. Miller. âCould I have a private word?â
Mr. Miller puffed up like a peacock. âMe? Well, of course, you can, Mr. Erickson.â
Chin raised a notch, he walked a few feet away from the crowd for their chat. When he returned, he waved his hand in dismissal of the crowd. Frank shrugged and turned. Angela actually smiled toward Leslie. She beamed back. Theyâd not be getting the better of her today.
Mr. Miller turned. His normal intimidating presence softened. âMiss Carroll, I owe you an apology. It was my understanding youâd gone missing.â He glared over at Frank and exhaled. âI should have considered the source. I had no idea you were recording measurements. Will you please accept my request for forgiveness?â
âOf course, sir.â
She offered her hand. Mr. Miller shook it as if it might bite him. Letting go, he raised one perfect eyebrow and added, âInteresting first day, wouldnât you say?â
âYes, sir.â She exhaled, deeply grateful to still have a job.
Straightening his suit jacket, he reverted to his more formal speech. âMr. Erickson requested a private word with you as well. When you are finished, I would like for you to find Mrs. Godwin again and speak to her about your next assignment. That will be all, Miss Carroll.â
âOf course, sir.â
What does he want now? Leslie made her way from the crowd toward Charlie. He leaned against the edge of a drafting table. Strong arms were folded across his chest, his golden hair still messy, and his legs stretched out. He surveyed her as she came toward him, his eyes questioning, as if figuring out a puzzle. His I-told-you-so smile was enough to make anyone swoon, but she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and pressed her eyebrows together as she neared him.
He chuckled. Then in a low, sexy voice he said, âThere she is. My elusive friend, MousyâI mean Leslie.â
âMr. Erickson.â She nodded.
âCharlie,â he stated, looking her dead in the eyes.
This was a strong-willed chess match she was determined to win. âMr. Ericksonâwas there something you needed from me?â
âNot a fan, I take it?â
âFan of what?â
She shrugged. âI guess so, why?â
He mimicked her shrug. âJust wondering. I know youâre not a fan of being touched.â
Heâd nailed her in five seconds flat. Her hackles rose. âDid you need something?â
âYouâre a mystery, thatâs all. Most people in this town fight to stand next to an actor, name drop, snap pictures, you know the whole not-real fame thing.â He slid her a curious look. âBut not you. Itâs refreshing.â
She nodded, then raised her eyebrows as if to say, your point?
His smile faded, then rebounded as he mouthed the word âlunch.â
Her eyes narrowed. She cocked her head to the side as she placed both hands on her hips. âYou expect me to fetch your lunch?â
He pushed off the table and took a cautious step toward her. Both hands raised in surrender, he looked hurt. âNo, I want to take you to lunch. You know, for being discreet and not telling the world about the arrogant, pompous, windbag actor and his lunatic ex-girlfriend.â
She bit her lip. She wanted to full-out cackle. An unstoppable grin fought its way through. It radiated across her lips, erupting into giggles she had zero hope of controlling. He lowered his arms. His warm eyes danced with laughter along with her.
âI guess I should apologize for the pompous-windbag comment, eh?â
âNo way,â he said. âBesides, it was cute.â
He examined herâtoo closely. The heat in his eyes caused warning bells to clang in her mind. Her laughter faded fast.
Clearing his throat, he continued, âPlease let me take you to lunch. Come on, Slim, you gotta be hungry.â His boyish grin made her smile. âWhat do you say? They make a mean salad at the Canteen downstairs.â
Frank watched them with a mixture of respect and jealousy in his eyes. Perfect. Obviously, he was a fan of Charlieâs. Charlie didnât notice. In fact, he didnât seem to notice anything in the room but her. A few short years ago, she wouldâve jumped at the chance to go to lunch with a famous actor.
Shaking her head, she backed up. âSorry. I just canât. Weâre slammed. Thanks anyway.â She turned on her heels toward the sea of human mannequins.
She turned back as he stepped close.
âIâm sorry you had to listen to all thatâyou know, before with Christine. Sheâs such aâ¦â The struggle between being honest and being kind washed over his face. Charlie tilted his head up as if his answer hung in the rafters. He gave the impression he was searching for the vaguest, yet most correct word in the English language.
âBitch?â Leslie offered, her lips curved upward.
âYeah. Thatâs probably the best one.â
His wholesome laugh softened his jawline and lit up his eyes. She didnât want to look away. He didnât seem so intimidating or so famous anymore.
Charlie bent toward her. âListen, can I buy you coffee and a salad to make it up to you? Please?â
She allowed no one except Nate and her father to touch her or be in her space. Charlie had weaseled his body closer to hers. Back inside her bubble. Breathe. Tiny beads of sweat trickled around her temple. He was only being polite, she reminded her brain.
âNo thanks, Iâm more of a peanut butter and jelly type of girl anyway.â Leslie backed away, winning and grinning. She spotted Dana waving from the other side of the room. âMr. Erickson, I gotta go.â Walking away, she sensed a gaze on her rear. Something about him staring both excited and terrified her.
âLeslie?â he yelled.
She stopped in her tracks and turned, hating how it thrilled her when he called to her. Turning on his Hollywood charm, he declared, âItâs Charlieâand I will see you around.â
Kelley Griffin is an author, mom to five sons, wife to a marine and a teacher. Her romantic suspense debut, Binding Circumstance, is the story of a young Hollywood costume designer on the run from her college captor who literally falls into an A-list actor's dressing room and into his heart. That is, until her harrowing past catches up to her and targets him.
Look for Kelley's Kirin Lane series in the fall of 2019. You can check out her webpage at www.kelleygriffinauthor.com
Leslie is hiding from her past, but when she meets Charlie, a famous actor, her past soon catches up to her. An entertaining story with a good cast of characters. I would recommend it.
About the Author:
S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland.
“Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.”