Doc Blalock is here to tell us about A Damned Dirty Thing, The Jake Bishop Files, noir, paranormal sleuth, suspense.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Some cases require a gun.
Others need magic.
This one
demands both.
A Damned Dirty Thing:
The Jake Bishop Files
by Doc Blalock
Genre: Noir Paranormal Sleuth Suspense
The explosion should have killed him . . .
Jake Bishop is back on the streets of Solomon City, ten
months after a mob bombing destroyed his office and murdered his partner and
secretary. But Bishop isn’t just any private detective—he’s a “ditch wizard”
able to step through shadow and bend reality to his will.
When the beautiful and mysterious Portia Vance answers his
ad for a new secretary, Bishop thinks his luck might finally be changing.
Together, they begin hunting Vito Morelli, the mob boss who ordered the hit
that nearly ended Bishop’s life.
Their investigation leads them through the city’s darkest
corners—from strip clubs to shadow banking operations, from corrupt cops to
magical wards. But in a world where bullets and spells are equally deadly, and
where everyone has secrets worth killing for, Bishop discovers that the line
between hunter and hunted is thinner than he thought.
Some cases require a gun. Others need magic. This one
demands both.
In the shadows of Solomon City, justice comes with a
price—and revenge wears a beautiful face.
A gritty noir fantasy that proves sometimes the most
dangerous magic is the human heart.
Christopher “Doc” Blalock is a US Navy veteran Corpsman and retired
counselor. He is a prolific fine artist, illustrator, musician, sculptor and
writer, cursed with the itch to create. He draws inspiration from sources
ranging from JRR Tolkien to Tom Clancy. He additionally draws from his love of
classic black-and-white noir films, infusing their moody aesthetic and
storytelling into his writing. A helpless coffee addict, he lives in the
Atlanta suburbs with his childhood sweetheart and a dog of dubious moral
character.
J.J. Hebert is here to tell us about The Breaking of Time, Chronicles of the Arvynth #1, urban fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Breaking of Time J.J. Hebert (Chronicles of the Arvynth, #1) Publication date: November 25th 2025 Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
USA Today bestselling author J. J. Hebert’s brand-new urban fantasy series Chronicles of the Arvynth begins with The Breaking of Time, a novel about a devoted father whose desperate act to save his son fractures reality itself, awakening ancient magic and drawing him back into the path of an immortal order he once betrayed, where love, time, and silence collide in a race against eternity.
Mariel Hemingway’s Book Club Selection (Best Urban Fantasy):
“This novel is heartfelt, gripping, and memorable in all the best ways.” —Mariel Hemingway, Bestselling Author & Oscar-Nominated Actress ★★★★★
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ONE FATHER’S DESPERATE CHOICE FRACTURES TIME AND REALITY ITSELF.
To everyone around him, Daniel Ward is a mild-mannered accountant, devoted husband and father in a quiet New England suburb. But when his ten-year-old son chases a runaway soccer ball into the street, straight into the path of a speeding truck, Daniel does the impossible. He freezes time.
That single act of defiance exposes the secret he’s buried for decades. His magic awakens the ancient order he once betrayed, the Arvynth, a brotherhood of immortal sorcerers devoted to stillness and death, determined to silence the world.
As his carefully constructed life unravels, Daniel must protect his family while evading the brotherhood that hunts him. Every second he steals from time feeds the void that seeks to consume it, threatening not only the people he loves but reality itself.
Forced to choose between sacrifice and survival, Daniel discovers the truth: sometimes the loudest act of love is defiance.
The Breaking of Time is a race against eternity, a supernatural thriller that fuses urban fantasy and family drama in a story about the noise of life, the cost of power, and one father’s desperate fight to keep the world from falling silent.
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PRAISE FOR THE AWARD-WINNING URBAN FANTASY NOVEL THE BREAKING OF TIME:
“This work will grab readers’ attention early as Hebert combines a diverse array of genres—fantasy, thriller, family road novel, and others—into a fast-paced, character-driven adventure… An exciting, tightly written tale of magic… Our verdict: Get it.” —Kirkus Reviews
“The Breaking of Time is meticulously crafted to explore themes of love, loss, redemption, and the struggle to balance personal desires with greater responsibilities.” —BookLife/Publishers Weekly (EDITOR’S PICK)
“The Breaking of Time: Chronicles of the Arvynth delivers cinematic urban fantasy that bridges generations, echoing the mythic gravity and moral weight of J.R.R. Tolkien while unfolding within a sleek, contemporary world… This is prestige fantasy…” —Jesse Metcalfe, Award-Winning Actor ★★★★★
“An immersive paranormal thriller that balances the rich worldbuilding and in-depth lore characteristic of fantasy fiction with the all-too-human dramas of identity, family, and the consequences of secrecy.” —Independent Book Review (STARRED review)
“If you like magic that feels tactile and real, or if you enjoy emotional stakes wrapped inside supernatural danger, this book will hit the spot.” —Literary Titan★★★★★ (Gold Winner, Literary Titan Book Award: Fiction 2026)
“A smartly plotted supernatural thriller with a strong, charismatic protagonist to root for. A Wishing Shelf Recommended Read!” —The Wishing Shelf★★★★★
“A winning blend of the supernatural and family adventure that crackles with heart and imagination.” —BestThrillers ★★★★★
“A wonderfully complex dive into the world of fantasy… fast-paced, magical…” —Readers’ Favorite ★★★★★
I’ve spent years pretending to be someone I’m not.
The thought surfaces every morning when I shave, watching the face in the mirror—a face that should be ancient, centuries-old, but instead shows only the faint creases of a man in his early forties. A single gray hair at my temple that Elena keeps threatening to pluck. The kind of weathering that comes from the lost sleep of parenthood and mortgage payments, not from outliving empires.
To everyone else, I’m Daniel Ward—husband, father, the sort of man who mows the lawn on Saturdays and forgets garbage day at least twice a month. My neighbors wave when I’m pulling out the recycling bins, their smiles automatic and easy. Mrs. Dante from next door brings over her extra zucchini in late summer, always too much, always apologizing for the abundance. My coworkers at the accounting firm think I’m polite but quiet, the guy who keeps his head down and never complains about the coffee. My wife calls me dependable, though sometimes I catch a question in her eyes, a flicker of something she can’t quite name.
They all believe they know me.
They don’t.
The other man—the one buried under the flannel shirts and PTA meetings—still lurks somewhere beneath the surface. He’s the one who used to speak to the unseen currents of the world, who could twist wind and time if he chose, who once stood in a circle of elders and made the sky itself hold its breath. But I buried him twenty years ago, the day I first saw Elena across a crowded bookstore, her laugh carrying over the ambient music like a bell I didn’t know I’d been waiting to hear. I traded his power for peace, his truth for love, his ancient purpose for the warm weight of a child falling asleep on my chest. I told myself I could be normal, that five hundred and forty-three years of magic could be folded up and tucked away like old photographs in a drawer.
I even started to believe it.
Today was supposed to be an ordinary day. Another quiet Saturday, nothing more. But when does anything ever go as planned?
It was one of those deceptive autumn afternoons where New England shows off—sun bright and warm on the skin, gilding everything gold. The kind of day that makes you forget winter is coming. Trees along Brookfield Lane shed their red and gold. They carpeted the sidewalks in layers of crimson and amber, crunching underfoot like breaking glass. The whole world felt fragile, caught between seasons, holding its breath before the fall.
I stood at the end of our driveway, sipping coffee that had long gone lukewarm. The mug—a Father’s Day gift from three years ago with “World’s Coolest Dad” printed in fading letters—hung heavy in my hand, forgotten. I was watching the Hendersons’ cat stalk something invisible through their garden, its tail twitching with predatory focus, when Eli kicked his soccer ball a little too hard.
The sound was sharp—that hollow thwack of synthetic leather against a ten-year-old’s foot, released with more enthusiasm than aim. The ball bounced once, twice, then caught the curb at an angle and rolled into the street, picking up speed as it curved toward the stop sign at the corner.
Eli chased it before I could even form the word wait.
He wore his blue hoodie—the one with the frayed cuffs he refused to let Elena fix, the white stripes on the sleeves already graying from too many washes, and one drawstring longer than the other because he’d chewed on it during homework the night before. His sneakers were grass-stained, laces trailing, his gangly ten-year-old body a blur of elbows and knees as he ran with a reckless abandon only children possess. The kind of innocence that comes from not yet understanding that the world has teeth.
The ball slipped into the road, rolling lazily toward the middle of the lane. Eli followed without looking, without thinking, his whole world narrowed to that sphere of black and white pentagons.
And then I heard it.
An approaching car. Not the gentle whisper of someone cruising through the neighborhood, but the aggressive growl of speed—too much speed for a residential street. A truck came around the bend far too fast. The driver probably wasn’t paying attention, likely glancing at his phone or reaching for something on the passenger seat, thinking about anything but the quiet street where children played.
I felt my stomach drop, that vertiginous lurch that comes not from falling but from watching someone you love step off the edge.
The coffee mug slipped from my fingers, hitting the driveway with a dull crack. Coffee spread across the concrete in a dark stain that looked too much like blood.
“Eli!” I shouted. “Look out!”
He didn’t hear. The wind was wrong, carrying sound away from him, and he was bent over the ball now, just a few feet from the centerline, small hands reaching down to scoop it up. His hood had fallen back, revealing the stubborn cowlick at his crown that Elena had tried to smooth down this morning—the same stubborn swirl of hair I’d seen on Jonas five hundred years ago.
The driver saw him at the last minute—I could see the panic flash across his face through the windshield, his mouth opening in what might have been a shout or a curse. He tried to brake—the nose of the truck dipped as he slammed his foot down—but there wasn’t enough distance, not enough time.
The laws of physics are beautiful and merciless. Mass times velocity. Momentum conserved. A two-ton truck traveling at forty miles per hour needs approximately ninety feet to stop.
My son was thirty feet away.
The math was simple. The outcome inevitable.
Everything inside me fractured.
The years I’d spent pretending to be ordinary—gone, shattered like ice on pavement. The quiet life, the safe life, the carefully constructed fiction of Daniel Ward, the accountant—gone. Twenty years of restraint, of biting my tongue when the old words tried to surface, of letting the magic sleep dormant in my bones—all of it evaporated in the space between heartbeats.
My son was about to die, and the man I’d been pretending to be had no way to stop it.
The other man—the buried one—could.
It began as a vibration in my chest, not painful but insistent, like thunder humming before a storm breaks or the first tremor before an earthquake tears the world open. The sensation spread through my ribcage, resonating in the hollow spaces between bone, traveling down into my gut. My hands began to tingle, then burn, the old pathways of power waking, remembering their purpose.
The world thinned around me, like reality itself was just a membrane stretched too tight, waiting for permission to stop turning.
My vision sharpened with supernatural clarity—I could see each particle of dust hanging in the light, suspended like tiny stars. I could see the individual vibrations in the air, the way sound moves in waves, the molecular dance of oxygen and nitrogen. I could see the truck’s trajectory mapped out in lines of probability, see the exact angle at which metal would meet flesh, see the moment my son would stop being my son and become a memory, a ghost, another name added to the long list of those I’d failed to save.
The spell came unbidden to my lips, rising from a place deeper than thought, older than intention.
The syllables were hot and metallic on my tongue, tasting of copper and electricity, of blood and starlight. They weren’t English—weren’t any language spoken in many, many years.
They were Arvynth.
The old words.
The ones I’d sworn I’d never speak again.
“Fractura Tempora.”
The sound tore through the air like a blade through fabric, like lightning splitting the sky, like the world itself being unzipped at the seams.
And reality obeyed.
Author Bio:
J. J. Hebert is the #1 Amazon, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of eight books, including his acclaimed debut Unconventional and The Backwards K, which, according to Newsweek, is currently in development for film adaptation. His latest #1 bestsellers, both published in 2025, are The Breaking of Time: Chronicles of the Arvynth and The Hands-On Author: Taking Control of Your Book Marketing Journey. A lifelong New England resident, Hebert frequently weaves the region’s landscapes and atmosphere into his storytelling. He is also the award-winning CEO and Founder of MindStir Media, a leading hybrid book publisher. Join his community of over 2 million followers across Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X (formerly Twitter) @authorjjhebert.
Kevin G. Chapman is here to tell us about his mystery-thriller police procedural Treacherous Jack, a Mike Stoneman mystery #7.
There's also a great giveaway.
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One hacked file.
Three bodies.
Zero time.
Treacherous Hack
A Mike Stoneman Mystery #7
by Kevin G. Chapman
Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Police Procedural
From the
award-winning Mike Stoneman Thriller series comes Book #7 — a
gripping crime thriller set in the heart of a frozen New York City.
When electronics store owner Lou Palazzo is gunned down at a snowy Manhattan
intersection, NYPD homicide detectives Mike Stoneman and Jason Dickson catch a
case that’s anything but ordinary. Back at Lou’s shop, two Chinese nationals
linked to a powerful Shanghai cybercrime ring are dead. The only clue? A
missing laptop computer, possibly containing something Lou was willing to die
to protect.
Meanwhile, NYU student Ryan Gelb is panicking. His hacked laptop held the
stolen university data — data he quietly gave to his Uncle Lou. Now Lou is
dead, and whoever killed him is coming for the file. . . and for Ryan.
Caught between international cybercriminals, New York mobsters, and the police,
Ryan is desperate to recover the file and avoid being expelled — or worse,
executed.
As Mike and Jason untangle a web of secrets, lies, and digital deception,
they're met with stonewalling from all sides: NYU won’t talk, witnesses are
hiding the truth, and even their closest allies are keeping dangerous secrets.
With the body count rising and a deadly showdown looming, the race is on to
solve the mystery, recover the missing file, and avoid turning Lower Manhattan
into a bloodbath.
Perfect for fans of Michael Connelly,
John Sandford, and David Baldacci, this high-stakes police procedural mixes
hard-boiled action, cybercrime intrigue, and unforgettable characters in a
page-turning thriller you won’t be able to put down.
What readers are
saying:
“A page-turner of a police
procedural, with multiple cryptological clues and misdirections. The convoluted
plot is enough to keep readers on the edge of their seats throughout. While the
action is nearly nonstop, it is inevitable that readers along the way will get
invested in relationships such as that between Ryan and Star. All the main
characters and many of the minor ones keep dangerous secrets, demonstrating
once again the fallibility of human nature.”
~ S. W. Lawrence, MD, author of climate fiction including Climate
Dragon and Cloud Dragon.
“Chapman delivers another pulse-pounding thriller that seamlessly
weaves cybercrime, organized crime, and family loyalties into one explosive
narrative of how far people will go to protect their secrets. This high-stakes
thriller has non-stop action and suspense that culminates in a riveting
page-turner until the end.”
~ LoLo Paige, award-winning author of Alaska Firestorm and Alaska
Inferno.
“Treacherous Hack grabs you
from the first chapter and doesn’t let go! An exciting police procedural that
makes you feel like you’re on a ride-a-long with the detectives, conspiring
with the bad guys, and hanging out in a dorm room with the young guys caught in
the middle of it all.”
~ Laurel Heidtman, author of The Eden Mysteries.
“A pulse-pounding thriller that seamlessly weaves cybercrime, organized
crime, and family loyalties into one explosive narrative of how far people will
go to protect their secrets.”
~ LoLo Paige, award-winning author of Alaska Firestorm and Alaska
Inferno.
DETECTIVE MIKE STONEMAN CALLED OUT to
his partner as soon as Jason ducked under the crime scene tape stretched across
the sidewalk.
“Jason! Over here.” Mike waved his arm, beckoning Jason
toward the center of the intersection. Since Mike lived in Manhattan, he had
arrived fifteen minutes before his partner. A clot of officers and emergency
services personnel milled about without much urgency.
“Nice night,” Jason said sarcastically.
Mike, dressed in a down parka and a blue-and-orange knit hat
pulled down over his ears, grunted his agreement. Mike was a full five inches
shorter than Jason and twenty years older. Even in their winter clothes,
Jason’s style showed through, with his tailored wool overcoat, gloves, scarf,
and LL Bean duck boots. Mike had long since stopped worrying about the fact
that his partner was taller, better looking, in better shape, and a better
dresser. Mike possessed wisdom that came from experience, which was the one
thing Jason could not have. At least not until he had twenty-five years on the
force like Mike. They had been partners for five years.
A uniformed officer with a plastic cover over his hat
approached Mike as Jason arrived. “Detective Stoneman, the medical examiner is
finished. Can we remove the body now?”
“Not yet,” Mike responded. “I want Detective Dickson to get
a look at the scene first.”
The officer left to give his fellow officers the bad news –
they all had to stay outside their warm squad cars.
As they walked around the intersection, Mike gave Jason the
rundown. “The stiff’s name is Lou Palazzo. His wallet was in his pants pocket
with a driver’s license, so the ID was pretty easy. He’s got a record from
years back. Did three years in Sing Sing in the twenty-teens for conspiracy to
commit murder. He was connected to the Gallata family. Since he got out, he’s
had no arrests. He ran an electronics store and pawn shop over on the corner of
Avenue B, a block away.” Mike pointed to the far end of the block. “He had a
little cash and some credit cards in his wallet.”
Jason looked down at the remainder of the dead man’s head.
“So, not a robbery, then?”
Mike didn’t laugh. “The snow and slush on the street mangled
any physical evidence here, but there is blood in the snow outside his shop. It
looks like he was shot inside the shop in the shoulder, tried to escape in this
direction, then got caught here in the intersection and plugged once in the
head. No cell phone on him. He wasn’t wearing a coat, so he left in a hurry.
When we finish here, there are two more stiffs in the shop.”
“So, there’s more to see?” Jason asked.
“Oh, yeah. Plenty. We’ll get over there in a minute. The
officer in the first squad car saw two figures in the middle of the street from
a few blocks away and hit his lights. By the time he got here, Lou was dead on
the ground and the other person had fled the scene on foot.”
Jason squatted to get a look at the body without dipping his
knees into the slush. The kill shot entered the man’s head above his left ear
and exited through his neck – a clean kill, likely fired by a person standing
over the victim.
“Seen enough?” Mike asked.
“Sure. Thanks for doing the reconnaissance.”
“Let’s go see the shop. That’s where the action was.” Mike
turned to the west. “Oh, and by the way, was that Rachel I saw over there with
a cameraman?”
“Yeah,” Jason said without stopping. “She got a call from
her network to come work this scene. She’s been bugging them for weeks about
getting a chance to cover breaking news instead of the fluffy studio stuff. You
know, the healthcare pieces and emergency services and such. She’s been on the
on-call list every weekend since Halloween, hoping to get a call.
Unfortunately, tonight was the night.”
“You need to be careful, Jason. You can’t spill any
information to her. I know we talked about this possibly happening someday.
Well, shit just got real. Sully will have your hide if he thinks you’re feeding
her inside dirt on the investigation.”
“I know. I’m not telling her anything. But I can’t stop her
from working. This is a big deal for her.”
“Sure. I get it,” Mike said. “But be careful.”
“You don’t need to tell me.”
Don’t miss the
rest of the Mike Stoneman Mysteries!
Kevin G. Chapman is an attorney
specializing in labor and employment law. Kevin has now completed seven books
in the Mike Stoneman Thriller series: Righteous
Assassin (Kindle Book Award semi-finalist), Deadly Enterprise
(Kindle Book Award semi-finalist), Lethal Voyage, (Winner of the 2021 Kindle Book Award, CLUE finalist, RONE
finalist), Fatal Infraction (Best
Police Procedural of the year – CLUE Award),Perilous Gambit, Double
Takedown, and now, Treacherous Hack. In late 2022, Kevin published a
stand-alone mystery/thriller titled Dead Winner (CLUE Award - Best Suspense/Thriller of the year). Then, in 2024
came The Other Murder, winner of the CLUE Award Grand Prize (best suspense/thriller of the year) and
finalist for the National Indie Excellence Award. Kevin is a resident of
Central New Jersey and is a graduate of Columbia College and Boston University
School of Law. Readers can contact Kevin via his website at www.KevinGChapman.com.
Mary Karlik is here to tell us about Had Me At Howdy, a Hillside* Spring Creek Novel, romantic comedy, contemporary romance, young adult.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Had Me At Howdy
Mary Karlik
(A Hillside * Spring Creek Novel)
Publication date: November 22nd 2025
Genres: Comedy, Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult
Platinum credit card? Deactivated. New car? Sold. Best life ever? Canceled.
Thanks to my dad losing his job, we’ve ditched Chicago for Fumbuck, Texas—population: redneck. Now I’m living on a rundown farm, scrubbing dishes, and driving a rusty pickup. Worst of all? I’m stuck working alongside a cowboy.
But this Cinderella isn’t giving up. I’ll claw my way back to the luxe life I left behind—and no one, not even infuriatingly chill, stupidly handsome Austin McCoy is going to stop me. Even if he does make feeding the chickens weirdly… enjoyable.
She thinks she’s just passing through. I’m hoping she stays.
I kind of feel for the Quinn sisters. City girls don’t belong in Spring Creek—but Kelsey? There’s more to her than designer labels and eye rolls. When she forgets to be angry, I see it—like the way her eyes light up when she feeds the chickens.
Now all I have to do is convince her the guy she really wants is me, not some rich dude taking her to a ball in Chicago.
Content Warning: This work contains a subplot involving death, grief, and an off-page instance of date rape. While these events are not depicted directly, they are referenced and may be distressing to some readers.
The universe had completely crapped on Kelsey Quinn’s life.
She dabbed at her eyes, blew her nose, and wadded up the tissue before dropping it to the pile on the seat next to her. Pressing her forehead against the car window, she watched the scenery fly by at seventy miles per hour. They passed Bob’s Stay and Go combination gas station—fast food restaurant—hotel, followed by some weird concrete starship-shaped pizza parlor. Next, three-foot fluorescent letters screamed about redemption across a junkyard fence surrounding rusted pieces of mangled metal. The few words of scripture painted there weren’t going change her fate. Her dad was in the driver’s seat and they were heading straight for the armpit of Texas.
With a sigh she slumped against the seat and tried not to think about the boyfriend who’d been ripped from her life, or the best friend she’d been forced to leave behind. But it wasn’t just her forced exile from Drew and Zoe. She’d lost her identity. At St. Monica’s, she knew who she was and where she fit in. It was her senior year, the year she’d looked forward to for as long as she was in school. They had taken it away with less thought than the car they’d sold one afternoon while she and Zoe were shopping. None of it was her fault. She was a victim of her dad’s incompetence on one hand and her sister’s immorality on the other.
Her dad exited onto a two-lane highway where they were greeted by a faded, Welcome to Hillside Texas, Population 5000, sign. They slowed to a crawl as they entered the town. At a four-way stop her mom screeched, “Oh my God Tom, look at the cute little diner. We’re all starving, let’s stop before we go to the house.”
“Sounds good to me. Jack’s not expecting us for another couple of hours anyway.” Dad angled the Infinity between two pickup trucks and turned off the engine.
Her younger sister, Ryan, looked all wide-eyed and curious. And worse, she actually looked excited to investigate this hick little town. Why not? It was her fault they were in this mess in the first place. Her parents would have been justified to ship Ryan off to some kind of school for troubled kids. But no—Quinns don’t give up on their own. Everybody had to suffer because Ryan couldn’t say no to drugs or boys.
Mackenzie, Kelsey’s youngest sister, flipped her compact gymnast’s body from the third seat to the back seat nailing Ryan in the shoulder with her foot.
“Watch it!” Ryan drew her fist back, but before she could get the hit off Mackenzie flashed a cherub smile and released a powder sugar apology. Yeah. That wasn’t an accident. Kelsey almost smiled when she saw foot impact with shoulder. Mackenzie had been fairly silent about the ruin Ryan’s exploits had done to her life. Apparently, she had her limits too.
Mary Karlik (also writing as Mary J. Wilson) combines her Texas roots with her Scottish heritage to write happily-ever-afters from Texas to Scotland.
Mary has five indie-published contemporary young adult romance novels and two fantasy novels.
Mary earned her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, has a B.S. degree from Texas A&M University, and is currently studying Scottish Gaelic at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig in Skye, Scotland. She is also a certified, professional ski instructor and a Registered Nurse.
Mary is an active member of Contemporary Romance Writers, Romance Writers of America, and Dallas Area Romance Authors. Married to a Scott, Mary lives in both and Scotland and Texas.
Megan Slayer is here to tell us about Taken by the Lady of the Lake, paranormal romance, capture fantasy.
Read on for details...
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Paranormal Romance, Capture Fantasy
Date Published: January 23, 2026
She’s an urban legend. He’s adrift. With a little magic, they’ll discover their fates are entwined.
Amanda Fortune never expected to be left in the lake, but after her murder and subsequent dumping, that’s exactly where she is. She’s become an urban legend, her ghost seen only by a very few. She longs to have a second chance at life, but that’s not possible when you’re dead. Is it?
With the right circumstances, anything is possible.
Sawyer Gibson doesn’t know what he’s meant to do in life. He has abilities to read the Fates, but his talents aren’t needed in the town of Eerie. Everyone here has magic. He’s nothing special. But Aunt Chloe is dying, and she knows more than Sawyer ever thought possible. Amanda is -- was -- her best friend. So Aunt Chloe sends Sawyer on a chase to find Amanda’s killer.
But Amanda’s a myth. A ghost. And ghosts can’t be seen, right?
The moment Sawyer lays eyes on Amanda, he’s smitten. There’s the tiny problem of her being a ghost… but that detail won’t stop Sawyer, even if someone else thinks it will.
EXCERPT
Amanda wandered the woods along the north end of the lake. She didn’t have much else to do. Campers were around, scattered about the grassy area, and even a few picnickers, but none of them could see her. She hated this existence. She had no one to talk to, no one to spend time with. She missed the simple interaction of being with other people.
But those were the things Claude had taken from her. He’d ruined her life, but he’d also robbed her of her future. She should hate him. Should be burning with the hottest, nuclear anger toward him.
She could be, but why? Would it bring her life back?
No.
She might as well focus on anything else but the past.
Something rustled in the woods and for a moment, she ignored the sound. Everything in the woods made noise. Animals, the wind, water… it all created disturbance. But this one was different. A shiver ran the length of her spine. She hadn’t felt this way since that night.
She ducked behind a tree, knowing she’d never be seen, but wanting a private vantage point to locate the noise.
A hooded figure strode through the trees to the edge of the water.
The shiver increased when the figure leaned over and touched the rippled surface of the lake. She knew that hand and recognized the shark tattoo. Didn’t have to see the rest of the person to know who stood there -- Claude.
She froze, not wanting him to know she could see him. Could he see her? He hadn’t for the last fifty years, but that didn’t matter. He churned her stomach. She clutched the tree bark. The sooner he left, the better.
“She’s dying,” Claude said. “The last one to know what happened is dying. I can’t steal her magic, too, but I can rejoice in her going. My secret went with you to the grave, but she figured some of it out. No one else did. I’d silence her, but I can’t do that. Can’t kill anyone.”
He couldn’t kill this person, but he’d murdered her! What a jerk. Amanda trembled, despite her best efforts to stay still.
“Won’t be long now. She’ll be gone and any last chance of anyone knowing will be gone. The cops didn’t catch me. No one believed I could do it,” Claude said. “They wouldn’t have understood. I needed your magic. I needed to own you. You’d never have used that magic properly, but I could. We were expected to be together because you had to give yourself to me. It always had to end with your magic being mine.”
She wanted to scream. He’d never loved her. Couldn’t. Not when he wanted to destroy her.
“But now it’ll be our secret. You gave me what I needed and you’re where you were always meant to be.” He patted the water. “Always.”
He stood, then adjusted the sweatshirt, keeping his face hidden. He turned away from her vantage point and shuffled back through the woods.
Every cell in her existence screamed to keep away from him, but she followed. What else could he do to her? Kill her a second time? Was that even possible?
She navigated through the trees to the edge of the woods. She hadn’t gone this far in so long. There hadn’t been much reason. Now there was. She had to see where he was going and what in the name of Hera he was doing now that he’d come to haunt her.
Claude stopped at the larger picnic area in the park. A man sat alone at one of the tables and flipped through a book while holding a tablet. The guy seemed completely lost in thought.
Claude, now well over seventy years old but still the bully, shoved the book off the table and laughed. “Stop looking for the Lady of the Lake. She doesn’t exist,” he snapped and barely broke stride.
Amanda stopped short. The Lady of the Lake? There was someone else here? A kindred spirit? She had to find this lady and meet her. Maybe this other woman would know how to get away from the damn water.
“Thanks, ass,” the man said and picked up his book. “Dick.”
She wanted to find the Lady but was also intrigued by this man. She inched closer.
A child, running with a plastic disc turned just as she passed Amanda and her eyes widened. “Momma!”
Amanda paused. She wondered what had spooked the child. She ducked behind a tree and listened for the little girl and parent.
“Momma, I saw the Lady,” the girl said. “Right there.”
She peeked out from her hiding spot long enough to look for the Lady. She didn’t see anyone.
“You’re imagining things,” the mother said. “The Lady of the Lake is a story made up to scare kids.”
Amanda bit back a groan. That was a downer. A fib for kids…
The man looked up from his book. “It’s not a story,” he replied. He closed the book and picked up the tablet. “Actually, it’s considered an urban legend, but there’s fact behind the legend.”
The mother rolled her eyes. “Don’t butt in and scare my kid. She’ll have nightmares because of you.”
“But Mom, I saw her,” the little girl said. “She had dark hair, blue skin and was pretty.”
Amanda ducked back behind the tree. She really had to find this woman. Any company would be better than none.
The woman and her child left the picnic area and when Amanda emerged from her spot, she stepped right into the man’s path. If she’d had breath, it would’ve stopped or clogged in her throat.
He was a beautiful man. Young -- compared to her -- and handsome. With dark hair, dark eyes and a studious look to him. The long-sleeved shirt accentuated his thin frame and the glasses gave him an air of sophistication. He didn’t walk with a swagger, but instead a quiet confidence.
“Oh, my,” she gasped. “Wow.”
“Excuse me?” He met her gaze. “What did you say?”
She froze. He’d heard her? “I’m sorry?”
He cocked his head. “Where are you?”
So he couldn’t see her? Good. She faded into the woods, rushing to the north end, to her safe haven. No one had seen her there in years -- if ever -- and no one would see her now.
“I know I heard you.” The man drifted through the woods. “Please, don’t hide from me.”
She had no choice. No one else had believed she was there and this guy might be looking for the Lady of the Lake. She wasn’t that Lady. She was nobody.
She glanced back and noticed the man. He’d bent over and rested his hands on his knees. He puffed as if he were trying to keep up with her. His bag slid forward and dangled along his side.
“I’ve done the research. I know the story. You’re here. I can feel you.” He stood upright but kept puffing. “She wouldn’t lie to me. She led me here. Told me where I should find you. Told me to find you. I need to do this for her.”
She balled her hands. “Who?” She snapped her mouth shut. She’d wanted to stay hidden, but her curiosity would get her into trouble again.
He sank onto one of the rocks at the edge of the water. “I hear you. Where are you?”
“I can’t show you.”
“Please?”
“No.” If she could have this conversation with him, then something was different about him.
“Why?”
“I don’t know you. Can’t trust you.” It was the truth. Others claimed to be looking for her, but they hadn’t found her. Not the detectives, the amateur sleuths, or anyone else.
“You can,” he said. He scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, then sighed. “When I was a little boy, my aunt told me about her friend, Amanda. She said her friend was a lovely person and so sweet, but she disappeared. For the rest of her life, my Aunt Chloe wanted to know what happened to her friend.”
“Chloe?” She didn’t venture closer, but the mere mention of the name pricked her curiosity again.
“My mother’s sister. Do you know Chloe? Or Marie, my mother?” he asked. “My mother died five years ago, but Chloe held on. Her magic is fading.”
“No,” she whispered. Chloe had the strongest magic. She should be just fine.
“She told me you liked being here. She said this was your favorite place and you’d spend hours among the trees and around the water, existing in nature. She said you might have even been part woodland nymph because you were here so much. She loved the nights you’d go dancing together, and the days spent talking and mixing spells,” he said. “She said she was never the same after you disappeared.”
“No?” She couldn’t be excited. Not yet. She needed some detail only the true Chloe would know. Something only she could tell this man. “I can’t trust you.”
“I know you can’t.” He sighed again. “Why would you?”
The last man she’d thought she could trust had murdered her.
“She knew about the abuse and that you wanted to get away. She was trying to figure out a plan to get you out of that house without him knowing. To this day, she deals with the guilt of not working fast enough. You deserved better.”
She emerged from behind the tree. “What did he steal from me?” If he knew this, then he’d spoken to Chloe. Only her best friend would remember she never let go of her locket.
“Besides your magic? He stole your necklace,” the man said. “It was your favorite piece of jewelry.”
“Why?” She held onto the tree for stability, even if her legs weren’t holding her up.
“Because it came from your mother and was one of the few things you had to remember her by.”
If she’d been standing on her feet, she would’ve collapsed. “Who are you?”
“Sawyer Gibson.” He stood and held out his hand. “I don’t know where you are, but I hear you and I want to see you. I want to help you.”
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.
