Showing posts with label suspense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suspense. Show all posts

Monday, November 12, 2018

"A Light in the Desert" by Anne Montgomery


REVIEW and INTERVIEW
A Light in the Desert
by Anne Montgomery

A Light in the Desert by Anne Montgomery

Author Anne Montgomery stops by for an interview and to share an excerpt from her latest novel, A Light in the Desert. You can also read my review.
For another book by this author, please check out my blog post on The Scent of Rain.

Description
As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots - the Children of Light - who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil as local and state police, FBI investigators, and a horde of reporters arrive on the scene. As the search for the saboteurs heats up and the authorities question members of the cult, they uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born deep in the wilderness.

Excerpt
1
Kelly Garcia sat cross-legged before the dusty grave, a cluster of blood-red bougainvillea in her lap. She finished the last orange wedge and, remembering the compost heap, stuffed the peel inside the front pocket of her faded sundress, the fabric of which strained to cover her bulging belly.
It wasn’t the first time Kelly had visited the graves of the tiny ones. The metal crosses, which had finally replaced the crumbling wooden ones, marked the graves of Maria and Gregorita Amabisca, infants born in the Gila River Valley not long after the turn of the century, neither of whom had survived even one month in the living world. Where were the infants’ little spirits now? Had they gone? Or did they spend their days here, hiding behind the old gravestones and scattered creosote bushes? Were they tiny, elf-like creatures, darting about like butterflies but always just out of sight? Or had they, as the Children explained, been lifted off to Paradise?
She felt the baby move. Would her child live long enough to grow up or would God take the baby to heaven instead? If the child was born with a face like hers, perhaps floating in the clouds with the angels would be better. Angels, she knew, must certainly be kinder than people.
She reached over and touched the polished pink granite stone covering her father’s grave. Money was scarce, but when the uniformed men showed up, they said her father had been a war hero. They handed her mother a folded American flag and made sure Bryan Kelly received a proper burial and a proper grave marker. Now his tarnished Silver Star, attached to its red, white and blue ribbon, rested in a velvet box under her bed.
She traced the letters spelling out her father’s surname. Her last name was no longer Kelly. His quirky sense of humor had rendered her Kelly Kelly, but after he stuck the gun in his mouth, her mother had insisted that Kelly Kelly was not a proper name, blaming the appellation on her father’s Irishness, and demanding she take the name of her stepfather.
A hot breeze from the flat, sparsely cultivated land south of the cemetery lifted dust and grit, blowing Kelly’s ink-black hair away from her damaged face. Her father always smiled when saying her name. Kelly Kelly made a happy sound, he said, like bird song or a cricket’s chirp. All she had left of him now were the medal, the grave, and the odd blue eyes that struggled against her dark features. The long straight hair, which she wore in a thick braid, was a gift from her mother’s Maricopa ancestors. Her face? No one was sure where that had come from.
Kelly looked up. The sun was sinking down behind the mountains, shooting streaks of color across the Sonoran Desert sky and dying the clouds pink and purple like Easter eggs.
Suddenly, she realized she was late for dinner. The Children of the Light did everything on schedule, so she had to hurry. She picked up the bougainvillea branches that would grace the communal dining table and pushed herself off the ground. Momentarily losing her balance, she clutched the branches tightly and felt a thorn prick her finger. She wished the baby would come soon. She was tired of feeling awkward. So as not to stain her dress, she quickly sucked on the blood that oozed from the wound, then turned and walked up the dirt road that wound back to the compound.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“There is a lot going on throughout the book; never a dull moment. As a result, when I picked up this book the pages just flew by and before I knew it, I was turning the last page. The characters in the book present a wide variety to its reader. They are mostly well developed, though I would have liked to see a little more depth to Billy & Kelly.” ~ Bookish Indulgenges with b00k r3vi3ws
“This is a very emotional tale that explores a variety of social issues ranging from mental illness to child abuse. It is very well done, well developed characters and scenery as well as a fast moving plot.” ~ Margaret Millmore
“... each character is well developed and the story eventually will find a point where all the plot lines seem to join and converge on the right track. I have one final note and that is be sure to read the Dedication as the struggles Ramm has may be more real for the reader.” ~ Shawn
A Light in the Desert is a fictional story based on the true event of the derailing of the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a train that travels between New Orleans, Louisiana and Los Angles, California, on October 9, 1995 in Hyder, Arizona. [It is] a character driven novel imbued with social commentary. A Light in the Desert is a great read. If you’re looking for a great story about human nature, pick A Light in the Desert up today.” ~ Rabid Readers Reviews
“Overall I enjoyed the novel and would recommend people interested in emotionally driven tales that doesn't require romantic undertones to read it!” ~ Dylan Hiler

My Review
I received this book in return for an honest review.


By Lynda Dickson
We follow the stories of three people running away from their lives: Kelly suffers from Moebius syndrome, is pregnant with her stepfather’s child, and is taken in by the Children of Light, a cult headed by Elect Sun; Jason is haunted by demons from his past as is fast heading for a breakdown; Billy is running from his abusive father Buck and plans to derail a train to gain notoriety. This action will set in motion a series of events no one could have foreseen. And we will be introduced to two new characters, the sheriff and a reporter, both out to seek the truth.
The book on partially based on real events and is told from the points of view of numerous characters. As all of their stories are slowly revealed, we come to learn more about them and how their lives intertwine. By the end, all of the plotlines are cleverly tied together. The author is adept at bringing the sights, sounds, and smells of the Arizona desert to life with her words. There are a number of religious references in the book. I especially enjoyed the chapter in which an old drifter comes across the Madonna in the desert. This ties in nicely with the title of the book, with Jesus also making an appearance.
An engaging and thought-provoking read.
Warnings: coarse language, sexual references, rape, violence, mental illness.

Interview With the Author
Author Anne Montgomery stops by today to discuss her latest novel, A Light in the Desert.
What inspired you to write a crime novel?
I write about subjects in the news that interest me. (I’m a news junkie.) In the case of A Light in the Desert, the cold-case sabotage of the Amtrak Sunset Limited in the Arizona desert was big news nationwide. But it’s the people impacted by crimes and unusual circumstances that interest me most. For example, Jason Ramm, the protagonist, is suffering from a rare form of mental illness called the Jerusalem Syndrome. The Children of Light live off the land and were waiting for the end times, when the crime occurred in their backyard. In both cases, I read about these subjects in the news and was inspired to tell their stories.
Were any of the characters or events inspired by your own life?
Jason Ramm’s character is modeled on a dear deceased friend of mine who did two tours in Vietnam as a Green Beret. While he was not a sniper, many of Ramm’s memories are taken from stories he told me about his time in the service. Also, my friend struggled mightily with Post Traumatic Stress and guilt from events that occurred during the war. Like Ramm, he desperately searched for peace and forgiveness. The character of Kate Butler is clearly me. I was a TV sports reporter and anchor for five stations at both the local and national levels, until, one day, when I was pushing 40, I suddenly became unemployable in that field. Like Kate, I had a shelf-life stamped on my forehead. I was no longer pretty enough to be in front of a camera. It was a difficult transition.
What would you like readers to take away from reading your book?
While my books are fiction, they are based in fact. I work very hard to make sure I get the factual parts right. For example, my most recent book, The Scent of Rain, details the life of a teenage girl fleeing the horrors of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, a cult of polygamists who believe it’s OK for old men to marry young girls. I interviewed a woman who twice escaped from the FLDS, and a doctor who worked with the cultists, and I went to Colorado City, Arizona to observe them. So, I’d like my readers to know that, even though they are reading a fictional story, they will learn things along the way.
Thanks so much for stopping by today and giving us a further insight into you book.

About the Author
Anne Montgomery
Anne Butler Montgomery has worked as a television sportscaster, newspaper and magazine writer, teacher, amateur baseball umpire, and high school football referee. Her first TV job came at WRBL-TV in Columbus, Georgia, and led to positions at WROC-TV in Rochester, New York, KTSP-TV in Phoenix, Arizona, and ESPN in Bristol, Connecticut, where she anchored the Emmy and ACE award winning SportsCenter. She finished her on camera broadcasting career with a two-year stint as the studio host for the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Montgomery was a freelance and/or staff reporter for six publications, writing sports, features, movie reviews, and archeological pieces. Her novels include: The Scent of Rain, Nothing But Echoes, and A Light in the Desert. Montgomery teaches journalism at South Mountain High School in Phoenix, is a foster mom to three sons, and is an Arizona Interscholastic Association football referee and crew chief. When she can, she indulges in her passions: rock collecting, football officiating, scuba diving, and playing her guitar.

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Monday, October 29, 2018

"Times Up, Afton" by Brent Jones

NEW RELEASE and EXCERPT
Times Up, Afton
(Afton Morrison Book 4)
by Brent Jones

Times Up, Afton (Afton Morrison Book 4)  by Brent Jones

Author Brent Jones stops by today to share an excerpt from his latest book, Time’s Up, Afton. This is the fourth and final book in his Afton Morrison serial thriller. Also available: Go Home, Afton (read my blog post), See You Soon, Afton (read my blog post), Nice Try, Afton (read my blog post), and The Afton Morrison Series (Books 1-4).


For more books by this author, please check out my blog post on The Fifteenth of June and my blog post on Fender.

Description
Some secrets stay buried for a lifetime, but nothing lasts forever.
Connected to a number of high-profile deaths, Afton finds herself not only under scrutiny from the chief of police, but damned in the court of public opinion, as well.
In the aftermath of the fiery assault on Wakefield, a low-level gang has infiltrated the town, flooding its streets with bad drugs, killing several teenagers. As Afton prepares for the final showdown with her tormentor, she marks each gang member as a target for elimination, in a methodical plan to gain the upper hand. What follows is a race against the clock that will keep readers guessing until the very last page, as Afton risks life and limb to fulfill her murderous mission of doing good in the world.
Time’s Up, Afton is the fourth and final part in a new serial thriller by author Brent Jones. Packed with grit and action, the Afton Morrison series delves into a world of moral ambiguity, delivering audiences an unlikely heroine in the form of a disturbed vigilante murderess.

Excerpt
Prologue
Just as I began to cross the room, there was a crackling sound, and it came from the radio Banks had clipped on his shoulder. I stared down at it, not moving an inch, dreading whatever transmission might come. It would be some member of law enforcement, announcing his imminent arrival. Coming up the stairs, perhaps. To my surprise, however, it was him. “You’re unbelievable, do you know that?” After having seen his face, the voice sounded out of place, a total mismatch to his haggard exterior. “I mean, my God, Afton. So much needless killing, and you were supposed to be the good twin. But don’t kid yourself, not even for a moment. This isn’t over. You’ll pay dearly for this. I swear on Clara’s name, I’ll make you pay.”
I thought about grabbing the radio to fire back a response. I wasn’t scared of him. Not anymore. But not now. There was no time.
I crossed the room and tugged down on the cord, drawing the blinds up to the ceiling. I hoisted up the window, the only window in this apartment that had no screen behind it. I couldn’t help but wonder, though, if I’d missed some important detail. I tried to play it out in my head, over and over again. Warwick shot Banks, then after an argument, the unknown man shot Warwick with his own gun, and in the chaos of it all, I managed to get my hands on the service weapon Banks had been carrying. At seeing me armed, the unknown man fled. Clara and the surgeon tried to tackle me, and that’s when I shot them. Both of them, shot fucking dead. No, no, not tackle me. They—I approached the short table of surgical instruments and knocked a pair of scalpels to the floor—tried to stab me, and that’s when I shot them.
Did that version of events make sense? Screeching tires rounded the corner and tore down the street, which jolted me to a simple conclusion: This version had to work. I didn’t have time to invent another story.
I held the gun out into the morning sky and discharged the four shots in Clara’s chest. Pop-pop-pop-pop! And the three shots lodged inside the surgeon. Pop-pop-pop!
There was more to do, yet I hesitated, watching Animus stand over the surgeon’s lifeless body, grinning and humming a dissonant tune to herself. She prodded at the gaping crimson holes in his chest with one hand and beckoned me with the other. “Come . . . play, Afton.”
The smell of all the wet blood transfixed my senses, thick and metallic, fresh and spread across the floor. It was impossible to tell where one rich pool ended and the next began. My hands trembled at the sight of it. My heart hammered and raced and skipped beats. My whole body was moist with perspiration. Think, Afton, think!
I tossed the service weapon to the floor and yanked down the window. I dropped the blinds and raced to the bedroom, where I found an old towel in the closet. I used it to pick up the hatchet and Chris’s handgun, and rolled them together. I had to stash them somewhere, come back for them later, and hope that they wouldn’t be found by investigators in the meantime.
I shot out the door and up the stairwell toward a locked door. It wasn’t accessing the roof I was interested in, however. It was the concrete blocks surrounding the door. More than once, I’d witnessed a teen on the second floor stash his weed and cigarettes behind a loose block, where his father wouldn’t find them. This wouldn’t be a permanent solution, but it would have to do for the time being. I strained to slide the large block from the wall, exposing just enough space to place the towel behind it. 
Heavy footsteps were echoing up the stairwell. I raced back down the stairs and into the apartment. I dove to my knees in a pool of blood, right in front of the pile of bodies, placing both hands on the back of my head, waiting for whatever would come next. 
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“I held off as long as I possibly could before reading this last installment because I just couldn’t accept that it was going to be over … there is no ‘happily ever after’ for everyone in [Time’s Up, Afton]! It is all tied up enough to be immensely satisfying, but left open enough that … I hope to see more from it and from Brent in the future!” ~ Nicole Campbell, book reviewer (thebookwormdrinketh.com)
“5++ fiery stars! I highly, highly recommend this series! …Brent Jones is an amazing writer! His thought process is incredible! [The c]haracters [in Time’s Up, Afton] are so incredibly well-written!” ~ Donna Weiss, book reviewer (bookdragongirl.com)
This has been a great series and I couldn’t wait to read the ending but, at the same time, I didn’t really want to leave Afton’s world. … the ending [of Time’s Up, Afton] is going to blow you out of the water. I was not expecting that.” ~ Jessica Bronder, book reviewer (jbronderbookreviews.com)
“… hardcore, graphically-delivered violence and suspense that raises additional issues each successive page. … [Time’s Up, Afton] is recommended for any who look for a uniquely electrifying departure from your predictable genres.” ~ Stanley Mcshane (Virginia Williams), author of Cocos Island Treasure
“Author Brent Jones keeps us in suspense until the end of [Time’s Up, Afton,] the fourth and final part of The Afton Morrison Series.” ~ David Hartshorne, Amazon & Goodreads reviewer

About the Author
Brent Jones
From bad checks to bathroom graffiti, Brent Jones has always been drawn to writing. He won a national creative writing competition at the age of fourteen, although he can’t recall what the story was about. Seventeen years later, he gave up his career to pursue creative writing full-time.
Jones writes from his home in Fort Erie, Canada. He’s happily married, a bearded cyclist, a mediocre guitarist, and the proud owner of two dogs with a God complex.


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Monday, October 15, 2018

"Malevolent" by S. Peters-Davis

GUEST POST and GIVEAWAY
Malevolent
(A Kendra Spark Novel Book 2)
by S. Peters-Davis

Malevolent (A Kendra Spark Novel Book 2) by S. Peters-Davis

Malevolent is the second Kendra Spark Novel by S. Peters-Davis. Also available: Unorthodox (read my blog post).

Unorthodox by S. Peters-Davis

Malevolent is currently on tour with Bewitching Book Tours. The tour stops here today for a guest post by the author, an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.


Description
Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery writer and communicator with the dead, signs on to the next FBI Special Task Force case, trafficked girls that are marked to lose their souls.
Jenna Powers, ghostified criminal analyst, sticks close to the case as she and Kendra are also marked by the same malevolent supernatural force.
Derek Knight, lead FBI Agent on this case, learns of the malevolent entity and the deeper paranormal realm of danger.
Kendra’s unfiltered feelings for Derek struggle to take a backseat, and as the menacing threat grows more intense, so does her passion for Derek.
Derek faces uncertainties he’s never dealt with in his past, like malicious entities and the loss of his heart to love. How can he protect Kendra against forces he can’t see?
As boundless supernatural danger intertwines with the future reality of the trafficked teens, Kendra and Jenna realize only they can shoulder the rescue by calling in a voodoo priestess …

Excerpt
I expected Derek to grab the suitcase. Instead, his arms wrapped around my waist. His spicy-wood scent filled the air around me as he drew my body into his. I rose on my toes to meet his gaze, and his lips gently touched mine, turning into a crush of passion that sent sparks of pleasure to every part of me. His moan slipped between my lips followed by the tip of his tongue. A tremor quaked downward, to the bottom of my belly, his lips trembled as our breaths meshed.
Vanilla sweetened the air, indicating Jenna was back. “Good grief, Sparky. You’re steaming up the windows.”
I opened my eyes. Jenna stood beside us. With a regretful groan and shaken with emotions, I pressed my palms to Derek’s chest to gain some distance. A distance I should have been compelled to follow for a working relationship. Our kiss hinted at something greater, and I wasn’t ready to dive that deep. At least, not yet. “Jenna thinks we’re steaming up the windows.”
Derek sighed. “Jenna, your timing is impeccable. Or, rather it stinks.” He looked around the room as if attempting to hone in on where she might be standing. Our communication improved ten-fold with Derek’s knowledge and acceptance of Jenna’s spirit still being earthbound.
I pointed. “She’s beside you.”
He shook his head, face flushed, as he took a deep man-breath. “I’ll get this loaded in the car while you finish packing your carry-on.” He lifted the suitcase off the bed and instead of allowing it to roll on its wheels, he carried it outside.
I looked at Jenna. “We’re headed back to D.C. Two dead Hispanic girls were found on a North Carolina beach, one washed up two weeks ago and another this morning. FBI task force called in to investigate. They believe it’s related to the container truck of girls found on Friday…or was that Saturday?” 
“I know Merretti has something to do with this.  Let’s go prove it.” Jenna sashayed to the bedroom window facing the roadside of the house, where Derek loaded the suitcase. “Told you he’d get animated if you kissed him. You two are sexy together, you know that?” Her belly laugh echoed in the room, even after she shimmered out of sight. Hearing her after she’d disappeared was a new ability, something to ask her about.
I shuffled through my carry-on, discarded a few things I didn’t need and added new items I might want. Not knowing the length of time I’d be staying in D.C. made packing a bit difficult, plus the fact I needed to include my laptop and notebooks for novel writing. I committed to a new series of books and the first one was due the end of August, but the publicist wanted the cover and blurb at least a month earlier. Not an easy feat when I hadn’t even started character sketches or plotting.
“Is this it then?” Derek slung the strap of the laptop storage bag over his shoulder, along with my carry-on. “Is Jenna still here?”
“No, she’s gone.” I looked around, thinking of anything I might have missed, but my mind kept skittering between Derek, the new case, Jenna, and my writing commitments.
Derek’s brows drew inward as he eyed my face. “You haven’t caught up on your sleep, have you?” He grabbed my upper arm to lead me along.
“Not really. Have you?” I clicked off lights and locked the lakeside door as we made our way out the driveway entry. His fingers remained around my arm as he guided me to the SUV, reminding me of all the times we were together in D.C. and North Carolina.
He opened the passenger door. “I’ve slept, but probably not enough. Climb in while I set this in the back.”
I settled in the seat and sent a quick text off to Denise and Lexi, telling them I was leaving and not sure when I’d be back. I asked if they would mind doing what they did last week for me. I sent another one off to Sharon, my writing accountability partner. I’d sent her the details of my contract with Knixton, so she had a good idea of how pinched for time I would be if this case took too long.
Derek started the vehicle and headed toward the main road. “We’re booked on a flight to D.C. There may be a few other agents on the plane, not more than ten people, so you should be able to catch a couple hours of sleep.”
Like I would get any sleep with Derek sitting next to me. Being near him seemed more of a challenge, deflecting his magnetic draw. I wondered if being away from him had something to do with it like absence makes the heart grow fonder.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“Love the spunky, psychic novelist! Murder, spiritual intuition, and romance bound this captivating, little tale. This was definitely an interesting case of a soul-stealing, malevolent force trafficking children.” ~ Sandra’s Book Reviews
“S. Peters Davis shows her writing talent by keeping her reader engaged and even though this is the second in the series you could read it first and not feel lost. You will want to follow this author and read everything she has to offer.” ~ Sharon

Guest Post (a Halloween short story by S. Peters-Davis)
All Hallows’ Eve Silent Night
“I gotta make a quick trip to the restroom. Can I use the flashlight?” I asked, glancing at Rory as he tilted his head. “Oops.” We’d made a pact not to talk, experience the night of stargazing with each other in silence.
Rory handed me the flashlight. “Remember, no talking when you come out. Sasha?”
“Got it.” I nodded, grabbed the flashlight, and then rushed into the dimly lit park restroom. Rory and I had come to the Haggerset Lake Park for the last four years to stargaze on Halloween night, ever since we’d graduated high school. We loved our creep-night, the one night we dropped whatever we were doing and wherever we were to come back to each other on this one night.
A rustle outside, like something heavy falling on the ground, startled me. I hurried with my business and ran out to check on Rory. He stood waiting for me. I slid the light beam his way, and he smiled, pointing toward the ground.
I didn’t say a word at the blanket and cooler strewn over the dewy grass, assuming he’d tripped over something. We both picked up the stuff and headed down the hill away from the tree line to the beach by the lake. The perfect place to lay for an open view of the star-ridden sky.
We spread the blanket and sat. I dropped the flashlight on the blanket, and then pulled the wine and glasses from the cooler. Rory grabbed my hand so I looked at him. He shook his head. I set the bottle next to me, thinking we’d open it later.
He stretched out on the blanket and patted the spot next to him. The moon cast enough light to see his shadowed face and body. I bent down, knees on the blanket, and then flipped to my backside, sliding close to him. His hand found mine and our fingers intertwined.
A spike of electricity charged through me, like what always happened when Rory touched me. I missed him during the long months we’d attended separate colleges, and this would be our last semester apart.
His breath sucked in as he pointed upward. A falling star streaked across the sky.
I gasped, but remained silent as per our pact. An owl hooted in a tree on top of the hill. Crickets set a rhythm, adding to the croaking bull frogs all around us. I adored the sounds and smells of the night, just like Rory had admitted the first time we’d done this.
He squeezed my fingers, raised my hand to his warm moist lips, and kissed my palm. His tongue slithered up and down my wrist, making me giggle. Then his lips attached to my skin and he sucked. My whole insides melted and fluttered at the same time. I panted, wanting more.
His body flipped over mine, his moist lips kissing, nipping, and sucking over my neck. Every cell in my body responded, zinging sparks spiked through my veins. His tongue slathered my skin. My eyelids closed on automatic.
“Sasha!” Rory? His voice came from on top of the hill.
I opened my eyes wide and pushed against the body on top of me. He sat on top of me and covered my mouth with his hand, his other hand held both of mine above my head. The skin on his face shimmered and blurred. He leaned over me, close to my face. A thin forked tongue slithered from his mouth, licking my face.
“Sasha, are you there?” Rory shouted again from a distance.
I bucked, but to no avail. The thing’s skin turned to scales, his eyes…glowed amber, their pupils narrowed into slits like a snake. Fins grew along his forearms.
I fought, hard, struggling to free a hand and bucking to throw him off. My hand came free and I reached for the wine bottle.
Footfalls pounded down the hill, the monster glanced up. I wrapped my fingers around the neck of the wine bottle and swung. The monster’s head snapped sideways and his body fell from on top of me.
Rory stood over us. “My gods, what the hell is that thing? It attacked me and I woke up in the middle of the woods, afraid of what that thing had done to you.” He gave me a hand up. 
A rancid odor burst through the air and the creature’s body sizzled, like brats on a grill.
We stepped back as it turned into bright embers and then dust. Rory pulled me into his arms as the night breeze carried the smoky particles over the water.
“That thing looked just like you. It licked me.” I yanked the bottom of my T-shirt up to wipe my face and neck.
“You couldn’t tell that thing wasn’t me?”
“It never kissed me on the lips.” And I couldn’t help but wonder what it had planned on doing with me. “What do you think its end game was with me?”
Rory took a knee and extracted a small box from his shirt pocket. “Not this.” He turned so the moonlight shone on the box and then flipped it open. A diamond sparkled. His gaze melded into mine as he asked, “Sasha, monster-slayer of All Hallow’s Eve, will you marry me?” He grinned, and then added, “Before some scary creature sweeps you off your feet?”

About the Author
S. Peters-Davis
S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RVing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.
She also writes YA paranormal, supernatural novels as DK Davis.





Giveaway
Enter the Bewitching Book Tour’s Haunted Halloween Spooktacular for a chance to win some amazing prizes.


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