I’m back. No, really, I’m back!
A year or so later…
Hello! It’s been a minute, yeah? Depression and a global pandemic stopped this girl from writing romance. Instead, I was working on my passion project – a book about my brother Scott. More on that in another post, but if you want the skinny head over to my other website where I share all the details (and more!).
I’m back to writing. My first anthology in a long time doesn’t have a romance in it from me – instead it’s a dark paranormal story called The Witches’ Revenge.
Preorder now!
The Soul Retrieval anthology is available for preorder – check it out! It’s available wherever you get your digital reading material. 11 authors exploring all your darkest paranormal dreams and showing you theirs. Join them on their journeys to the other side of reality.
Here’s a little bit of the story…a “sneak peak” if you will…
Present Day – The Storyteller
The college kids settled around the last bonfire on the beach before the new school year started, waiting for her to begin. The sun wasn’t quite down yet, and the sand still held the heat of the day. The waves added music to the evening.
Amarie smiled. They were all so young. Hopefully they’d learn something tonight that could save them in the future.
“Does everyone have snacks and beverages? Has everyone made a restroom stop? Because once this story starts, no one will want to leave before it ends.”
Brand grinned and lifted his beer. “We’re all good, Amarie.”
“You all know who I am,” she began.
“The Ageless Witch of the Beach!” someone yelled, laughing, and others hushed them.
“Ah, yes. The Witch of the Beach. I’m also your unofficial counselor. Your tarot card reader. Your truthteller.” Amarie settled more definitely on her pillows, crossed her legs, and set her hands on her knees. “I’m the one you come to when you know your friends are unable to help you, you don’t dare call the police, and you can’t bear to talk to your parents.”
At those words, a chill shivered through the crowd. Brand fed another log on the fire, and anticipation rose.
“Tonight, I am going to tell you the story of the Man of Three Faces.” She looked around. “You might have heard of him by another name, but we shall call him Trey, for he was the third of his name, and was very proud of being third but at the same time, chafed at what he perceived as neglect by his wealthy parents. So much so that he moved away right out of high school, refusing all help, and eventually lost touch with them. When our story starts, he no longer knew where they lived or what their phone numbers might be. All he was certain of was the amount deposited in his account each month from his trust fund.”
A girl’s voice piped up. “Isn’t he the one who…”
“Hush, Penny.”
Amarie smiled. “Many of you know only part of the story. Some of you know absolutely nothing of the story. I am one of the few who know the whole story, and I’m about to spill all the secrets this summer night. I’m going to have to condense it some, as it spans years. Are you ready?”
At the murmured assent, she took a breath.
“Once upon a time, there was a woman. There was Trey. And there was a chain of events that put these two together. There was another man, as well, who comes into play in our story, but this story is not a romance.
“The woman was called Grace Thompson. She worked from home in data processing, data analysis, and transcription for authors. She had very little interaction with the public, but she was well paid and enjoyed her work.
“Which was perfectly fine, you see, because she did not trust people. She did not trust her own intuition either, so she was working on honing that part of herself. In fact, she was training herself in works of magic and divination, spell casting and tarot reading, for the sole purpose of feeling more comfortable within herself and while dealing with other people. She wasn’t a joiner, but she did join a small coven in order to learn from a person, rather than books.”
“Then one day,” Amarie continued, her voice deepening, “she received an email containing an audio file to transcribe that both disturbed and called to her, in a quite specific way. This is what happened.”