Lydia Larue's Blog, page 8

Book Review : Macabre Stories Vol 1

Title:


Macabre Stories Vol 1








Author:



Leandro Coria






Genre:


Fiction





Publisher:


Self





Release Date:


1.23.17





Format:


Kindle





Pages:


31





Source:


Kindle Unlimited

A wonderful collection of short stories with a twist. Ghost, evil doctors, witches, nightmares, crimes, and murder mysteries. If you are a fan of Tv shows like The Twilight Zone and a fan of books like Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark, you will definitely enjoy this book. Follow each short story as they all connect into one.

Macabre Stories Vol 1 is a collection of short stories that are tied together by a twist. Each held a spooky vibe, and I found myself unable to put this collection down once I started to read it. Some of the stories reminded me of elements of Stephen King’s stories; others, the Twilight Zone and X-files.

The first thing that made me decide to start reading Macabre Stories Vol 1 was the cover. I like how minimalist the design is. The skull intrigued me.

I found the stories to be well-written, and the language and style made the stories easy to follow, but as I delved further into the collection, there were mistakes. I would have liked more variety and complexity in the language. The dialog also flowed well, yet there were times that it and parts felt repetitive.

My favorite story was The Robbers. Although I had guessed the ending in the middle of reading it, I enjoyed reading their actions, and the reveal at the end and the character’s reaction to it. My second favorite would be Who Killed Jacob.

I liked that each story was held together by the twist. It felt that having the stories tied together gave meaning to them.

Each character is penned with such precision that I enjoyed all of their traits. I wanted to know more. Some of them I felt sad at the end of their story; others, I felt that they got what they deserved.

I would recommend this to anyone who likes a quick read and enjoys surreal and horror tales. In fact, I think that this collection would be a great read if you are home alone on a stormy night.

Lukas Foynelio

[image error] Lukas Foynelio is a playboy, one who has to be in control all the time. He appears young and is business-savvy and charming. Most find that they can’t tell him no.

Undercover Desire – Chapter 3

Return to Undercover Desire
Related:

Chapter One
Chapter Two

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The Desire Series

CHAPTER THREE

Kelly looked at the scrap of paper that she had written the address on again as she sat in her vehicle. The cold air conditioner blew on her face, causing her hair to stream around the headrest.

1542 Rosemont. This was the place, but the building looked abandoned. Dirt—several inches thick in some places—clung to the bricks. Glass in the windows of the dilapidated building were smashed, shards laying below the panes. The unbroken windows were so caked with years of dust that they were completely opaque.

The houses—run down, falling apart buildings with rickety, cracked roofs—around the building weren’t in any better condition. This part of town housed the impoverished, the detritus of society; it was a blotch that the mayor wanted to hide, to pretend that it didn’t exist.

If it weren’t for the few vehicles parked outside, she would have determined that her lead was nothing but a wild goose case. It wouldn’t be the first time in history that a false tip was called into the station, and, if it were fake, it wouldn’t be the last time.

When she had just begun to cover her first story—a rash of bicycles being stolen in her hometown—she had people coming in to tell her that they knew where the bikes were held, but, in truth, they were only interested in the quaint reward being offered for their information. Kelly had thought the story was beneath her, and she would take any lead that came her way, but it would often lead her down the wrong path. She had inadvertently thought that an innocent person was stealing the bicycles because of false information.

While that was a harmless piece, this one was not. These men were not the type that liked people prodding into their business. If they made a senator look like he had overdosed, a low level, female journalist wouldn’t make them bat their eyes.

For a moment, she sat in the SUV and watched several men enter and exit the building. They were large men. Several had their stomachs hanging far below their belts. Sweat stains—and other blotches which Kelly didn’t want to know the constituents—blemished their gray shirts.

She pushed a button on the leather center console, pulled up the top, and retrieved her sunglasses from inside.

When she had just begun to cover her first story—a rash of bicycles being stolen in her hometown—she had people coming in to tell her that they knew where the bikes were held, but, in truth, they were only interested in the quaint reward being offered for their information. Kelly had thought the story was beneath her, and she would take any lead that came her way, but it would often lead her down the wrong path. She had inadvertently thought that an innocent person was stealing the bicycles because of false information.

While that was a harmless piece, this one was not. These men were not the type that liked people prodding into their business. If they made a senator look like he had overdosed, a low level, female journalist wouldn’t make them bat their eyes.

For a moment, she sat in the SUV and watched several men enter and exit the building. They were large men. Several had their stomachs hanging far below their belts. Sweat stains—and other blotches which Kelly didn’t want to know the constituents—blemished their gray shirts.

She pushed a button on the leather center console, pulled up the top, and retrieved her sunglasses from inside.

As she placed the glasses on top of her head, she continued to watch the men congregate at the side of the building. Her contact’s vague orders said that he would meet her in the parking lot, but she didn’t see anyone that showed interest in her.

Occasionally, they would look her way, talk amongst themselves, and turn their backs to her. She wondered what they said about her or the suspicious SUV that was parked there. Rosemont was not a good part of town, and this was close enough to the river that she had concerns about her safety.

Kelly rubbed her clammy hand down the soft, dark material of her skirt, the chiffon sliding beneath her fingertips.

Gooseflesh raised on her forearms, and her hackles raised nervously. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had become dry.

If I sit here too afraid to go after leads, I’ll never make anchor. She would agree with the decision too. An anchorwoman should be fearless when it came to pursuing stories. If she wasn’t, then the position should go to Cayce. She was sure her rival wouldn’t hesitate in chasing down this particular lead. Whether she was right or wrong, it didn’t matter. It was her perception that drove her.

She wrapped her hands around the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles whitening.

Kelly decided that if he wouldn’t come to her that she would just have to go to him. The problem with that was that she had no idea who it was that she was looking for, and she was sure that Paul wouldn’t approve of her decision. In the back of her mind, Kelly knew that it was dangerous to approach these people, but did Gloria Steinem—a journalist that Kelly idolized—get where she was by being a coward?

No, she did not.

Once more, she thought how this story would make her career. Not only would it secure her position as an anchorwoman, but she also reminded herself that Swinson would become a household name. The viewers would include her in their conversations as they did Cronkite, Couric, and Rivera. Everyone in her life would be proud of what she accomplished. She might even win an award.

Looking up into the rear view mirror, she plastered a smile on her countenance, but her dark eyes didn’t share that expression. She forced herself to be still, to not think about what could result if she went into the building, and repeat the affirmation that her yoga instructor taught her.

I always see opportunities, and I go after them.

The affirmation had given her the determination to land the job that she currently had. She placed a lot of faith in the saying, but she also knew that that alone would not be enough to secure her future.

Belief, a strong work ethic, and visualizing what you are after are what drives success, she thought.

Still, she couldn’t lose the emptiness that she felt in the pit of her stomach. She tried to remind herself that it would be okay and that a person couldn’t show fear before these types of people.

Nothing will happen, she told herself.

Kelly took a deep breath, removed her hands from the steering wheel, and left her SUV, garnering the attention of the men who were hanging around the entrance and the side of the building.

“I think it’s too late for that, Pedro,” another man growled from behind her. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

She struggled against his grip, but it tightened as she wriggled.

His breath smelled like cheap, Mexican beer, and her stomach turned over itself. “I think this little puta wants some fun.”

Kelly gagged, swallowing the fear rising in her throat, and tried to break away once more. Debilitating chills darted up her body, and she could not see a way to escape.

“You want some fun, puta?” His other hand brushed against her forearm, and she recoiled from his touch.

I’m going to die, she panicked. Her eyes widened as she knew what was going to happen to her.

“Cut it out, José,” a stern voice ordered.

Kelly’s eyes darted immediately to the source of the voice, and she had to do a double-take. Surely, the owner of the voice wasn’t standing there. This had to be brought on by her fear.

Standing in front of her, staring down her would-be assailant with intense dark eyes, was Anthony Velasquez.

She had gone to high school with Tony, even dated him. When she was the only Italian descendant in a school full of Latinos, Tony had shown interest in her early. He made her feel accepted, and, in return, she fell hard for him.

How did he become involved with these people? She narrowed her eyes in confusion, and his jawline hardened in response. The look that he gave her told her not to say anything about her familiarity.

“Let her go, José,” he said threateningly, the words hissing out between his clenched teeth. Strands of his short dark hair brushed against his forehead as he narrowed his gaze at Jose. Thick stubble blanketed his strong jawline.

As she stared into his dark eyes, she ignored the familiar tingle that his presence inspired. Iciness plunged deep into her core, freezing her thoughts as the shock reflected in her eyes.

“We don’t need the kind of heat this’ll bring,” he reasoned.

José released his grip, turning around like a whipped dog, and went back to his drink. “Pssh! Fine! Stupid puta wouldn’t be able to handle me anyway.”

Tony’s lips flattened, pushing tightly together. The corners of his mouth—the lips that she used to feel drawn to—wrinkled. “You should leave.”

Her breath hitched, and she found herself unable to move. What could she say to him? Her stomach felt heavy as her gaze locked with his.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest and continued to frown at her, “I don’t know who sent you here, but this is not a place for you.”

“Did you—”

“You should leave,” he insisted again. “Get in your car, and get out of here. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from this place and these people.”

The way he spoke scared her, and she again had visions of her own corpse washing up on the shore of the Rio Grande. It seemed more likely now than ever. Tony knew her, and, although he protected her now, she didn’t know his motives. She knew nothing about him or the people he worked for.

Kelly regretted going to that bar. She wished she hadn’t been so insistent on taking that story. Something safer may not have garnered the ratings, but she wouldn’t be so vulnerable, and she wouldn’t have known that Tony—the man that she compared all others to—was mixed up with the Cartel.

“I’ll leave.” Quickly making her way back toward the door, she glanced at the men that parted to allow her through.

What was she going to tell Paul? Kelly had spent too much time developing this story, and he would be both angry and disappointed. She was never going to make anchor now.

How has Tony gotten involved with these people, she thought again. As far as she knew, he was never into drugs in high school. In fact, he was the poster child for a student that wasn’t into drugs.

Tony was straight- laced, a star running back for the varsity team and the eldest son of eight siblings. His family was the most important thing to him, and it showed in the way that he treated his lovers. Even then, he showed her more respect than many boys their age.

After she had received her acceptance to Emerson, he had gotten a scholarship to the University of Nebraska.

I was stupid when it came to him. Kelly had thought that they were going to be able to survive the separation. Like every girl she knew, she followed his college football career—often coming to his games—but, after a lapse of his judgment, it didn’t last.

Before she slipped out of the door, she looked back at him once more, unable to mask the disappointment spreading across her face.

I always thought he would make something of himself. Disillusionment enveloping her, she stepped back out into the humid morning air, walking back to her SUV in stunned silence.

Undercover Desire – Chapter 2

Return to Undercover Desire
Related:

Chapter One
Chapter Three

[image error]

The Desire Series

CHAPTER TWO

Kelly arrived at the newsroom before everyone but Paul, a usual occurrence. Her job was her life, and she wanted to get the most out of it. The thoughts of the anchor position danced within her mind, tantalizing her the proposition of Swinson being a household name.

“Swinson!” Paul bellowed as she passed his office.

Her stomach dropped. He would want an update to her story, as he viewed it as a waste of time. The senator’s death was enough to make it tantalizing to the public, but Paul wasn’t sure that there was anything substantial to it.

His nonchalant attitude made her nervous. Although she had proved herself on many other stories, she couldn’t help but think that he didn’t think she would be good enough to promote her to anchor. Sure, he thought that she had a pretty face—like most of the female journalists working for Channel 5—but that didn’t mean that he thought that her reporting skills were enough for the promotion.

He must think that Cayce is right for Anchor. Cayce Shaffer—known to the news team as simply Case—had been at the station longer than Kelly. Unlike Kelly, Case had it all: blond hair, blue eyes, and long, slim legs. She was sure that Cacye, among other coworkers, was sleeping with Paul, but she would never mention it to anyone.

She bit at her mouth, pulling her plump bottom lip between her teeth. As she withstood the desire to run a hand through her hair, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Get in here!” Paul continued to shout.

She hesitantly obeyed. Just because she was willing to endure his stares didn’t mean she liked it or wanted to seek out his attention. He made her skin crawl, and she hated to be alone with him.

However, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it. Paul had been at the station for years, and he was the News Director. Complaining would only have hurt her career.

“What do you got on this drug story?” he demanded, looking her over intently, his eyes lingering a little to long on her breasts. He leaned against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. A gray sports coat covered his slim frame, rubbing against his dark jeans.

As he looked at her, the hackles on the back of her neck rose. She ignored the chill crawling up her spine and focused upon what he wanted: an update on Rapture and the overdoses connected to it.

“Not a whole lot,” she responded meekly as she fiddled with the watch clasped around her wrist. “A lot of people are unwilling to talk, scared of the cartel.”

While the police would not comment on the cartel presence in Laredo, most knew that they were there. The Diablo de la Mue Cartel was the dirty secret that officials kept to themselves, only bringing it up when it was election season.

Then, there would be a flurry of arrests, but little would be done to stem the flow of narcotics crossing the border between Mexico and the United States. Kelly thought that most officials—lawyers, police, and politicians—were in bed with the cartel. That was why most of the offenses would go away shortly after they were brought to trial or the officers would look the other way to the cartel’s dealings.

I hope that the news of the overdoses and Rapture will shine a spotlight on these crimes. No more could people pretend that there wasn’t a problem, and maybe there would be something done about it.

Paul’s flaxen-colored hair glistened in the sunlight streaming through the window, the ivory Stetson adorning his head gleaming, as he waited for her to continue.

She didn’t want to tell him about the text she had gotten before she knew more of it. It could be a wild goose chase. It seemed like the entire story was just that, but she knew that she could figure it out if she were given the time, yet he wasn’t known to give his journalists much. He would say he gave them just enough rope to hang themselves.

From time to time, she overheard him. His bosses would pressure him. They would want a bigger story—a larger headline—to beat their competition. When the ratings were lower than expected, Paul took the heat. In return, he would light a fire beneath his news team: that usually meant screaming coming from his office as he met with certain reporters.

She had not been on the receiving end of his tirades, but she couldn’t blame him for the reaction. When she first developed an interest for journalism, she knew that it was a high-pressure profession.

However, to be under his judgmental gaze was unsettling. She resisted the urge to display her uneasiness. If she did, she was sure that he would prey upon that weakness, using it as a means to exploit her feelings.

Kelly was sure that he wasn’t the type of man that would use her thoughts to sleep with her, and she tried to remind herself that, to take comfort in that thought.

Apparently, running out of patience, he shook his head, the locks of his hair brushing the crook of his tanned neck. “I need a story, Kelly.”

Again, she twisted her watch. Although the air condition was running and blowing strands of her dark hair across the bridge of her nose, she felt hot standing in the office beneath his keen eyes. She was exposed to him, and she nervously bit the inside of her cheek.

“You’ll get a story,” she promised, her voice hiding the apprehension wailing within her. “A big one.”

“Get me one, soon. Three days, Kelly.”

I’m not sure if I can have it done in three days. She thought of the lead that she had received on her cell phone earlier that morning, and she knew that tracking down the information that the lead might potentially give her would take more than the allotted time.

If she wanted to work as a journalist and possibly as an anchor, she couldn’t crack beneath the strain of her job. She would succeed with this story, she promised herself, and she would be promoted before Cayce Shaffer.

“If I don’t have it by Friday, I want you on something else. Got it?”

“Yes, Mister Whitaker.” She bowed her head, the bangs of her hair hiding her dark eyes.

“We’re getting beat by those hacks over at Channel Eight. Channel Eight! Get me a story!” His face was beat red by the time he had finished talking, but his gaze still touched her in a way that made her stomach churn.

As he screeched at her, she could feel each of his words reverberating inside of her body. She stared at the small pimple in the middle of his forehead.

“Go on!”

She backed out of Paul’s office, going to her desk. Her heart raced as she glanced at him and watched him sit down at his own desk, pick up his cell phone, punch numbers into it, and frown. The corners of his thin mouth pulled downward into a snarl.

She dropped into her chair, taking a moment to look at the anonymous text message again.

I can tell you all about Rapture, it read, intriguing her like many leads hadn’t.

Kelly thought about all that she knew about the synthetic heroin. It was just like the regular drug, except that it was laced with Fentanyl, a drug that was used during anesthesia. The Fentanyl increased the potency of heroin once it had been diluted, making it fifty percent more efficient, but the drug also had a dark side.

After she had navigated to a website that allowed her to look up phone numbers, she tried to find the number—956-555-0111—that was associated with the text.

It’s a throwaway phone. That made tracking the registered users almost impossible. Contrary to her Internet search, she didn’t think that finding the sender of the text message would be that easy, and she felt warier of the person.

For what seemed like hours, she stared at the phone on her desk, trying to work up the nerve to pick up the receiver and dial that unknown number. Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of who sent it until her thoughts landed on a type of person that made the most sense.

An inside source? The anonymity of the text screamed it. They didn’t want to leave their name, just the vague message about Rapture and the overdoses.

Inhaling, she tried to stop her thoughts racing through the confines of her mind. This was going to be the break that she needed; she was sure of it, or, at least, that was what she told herself. Still, it was too good to be true.

Nothing ventured, she thought, nothing gained, remembering what her father would always tell her. He raised her to take chances, to reach for the stars.

Kelly knew that she wasn’t going to get a story by staring at the phone as if doing so would prompt the person would call her at the office. While her business card did list her extension, he or she had left a message on her cell phone.

She snatched the receiver and punched in the numbers quickly before she lost her nerve. With each ring, her heart sprinted faster. Concentrating intently on the other end of the phone, she tried to envision the type of person who would answer.

After two rings, someone picked up, but there was just silence. She could hear breathing on the end of the line, but no-one greeted her.

“Hello?” Kelly peeped. She tried to control the quaking that passed through her at the strange silence. “Is someone there?”

This was a mistake. Visions of her death at the hands of the Cartel slammed into her mind. If they killed a senator—like she surmised—they wouldn’t have any qualms about ending the life of a lowly reporter.

At least, she thought, she was in the office. If they came to the office, she was sure that Paul would call the police. They wouldn’t be able to end her life in the News Station.

After a few more moments of silence, a masculine voice answered in a gruff tone, “Who is this?”

“My name is Kelly Swinson. I’m an investigative reporter for WTUW-TV Laredo.”

He went quiet again and was likely judging if she was truly who she said that she was. It was not the first time that an informant was hesitant to talk to her, and she mused that it wouldn’t be the last.

“You texted me last night about Rapture,” she insisted. “I would very much like to speak with you about the things that you mentioned in your text.”

He sighed. “Not over the phone. The parking lot at 1542 Rosemont Avenue. No cameras. Come alone.”

She grabbed a small, square notebook and jotted the address down on the corner of the top page.

Before she could object or even make sure that she had gotten the address right, she heard the click of him hanging up, followed by dial-tone screaming in her ear.

She sighed, hung up the phone and slouched back in her chair, taking a long moment to mull over the short, terse conversation.

It is a stupid idea to even consider doing what he said. If she went to the address he gave her, she might very well be walking into her own murder, but what other choice did she have?

“Dammit, Kelly,” she muttered to herself. “What have you gotten yourself into.”

Of course, I have to go. Without the lead, there was no story. Without the story, there would be no promotion, and Cayce would, most likely, be promoted to anchor. She would probably be out of a job without a story. Without the job, she might as well be dead, at least in her mind.

She ripped the sheet of paper from the notepad, folded it in half, and placed it and her smartphone into her purse.

As she crossed the newsroom, she poked her head into Paul’s office.

He looked up from his laptop, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

“Got a lead,” she said. “Be back later.” She retreated quickly before he could press her for more information, but she could hear him call out something before she left the office.

He bellowed, “I want an update when you get back, Swinson!”

If I get back, she thought, unable to shake the dismal feeling of dread that clawed at her psyche. Others were filing into the newsroom as she was leaving.

“How’s the story coming, Kelly?” the blond—Cayce Shaffer—asked, snidely. Her ivory dress shimmered like her hair in the filtering light from the large windows.

Kelly dismissed Cayce with her hand. She hoped her fear wasn’t written on her face, but it was likely masked by the excitement of finally having a lead.

Once she was back in her black SUV, she sat in silence for awhile. Opening up her large purse, she pulled out the folded scrap of paper and studied the address she had written down.

1542 Rosemont. It wasn’t the best part of the city. In fact, it was a downright terrible part of town that far up Rosemont. The area was a haven for Mexican gangs.

As frightening as that thought was, it did lend credence to the tip. Where there were Mexican gangs, there would be the Cartel, and where there was the Cartel, there were drugs and other illicit activities.

She started the car. It was too late to turn back now.

 

Undercover Desire – Chapter 1

Return to Undercover Desire
Related:

Chapter Two
Chapter Three

[image error]

The Desire Series

CHAPTER ONE

Coffee!

The thought burst forth in her mind before she had even shut off the alarm.

She swung one of her arms and, hoping to hit the snooze button, slapped the small, black alarm. As she rolled back over, she brought one of the smooth pillows over her head, covering her ear, and again closed her eyes.

Kelly Swinson was never much of a morning person, which made working nine to five that much more difficult for her. She’d lost count of the times that she was late for not hearing her alarm or standing beneath a lukewarm shower trying to wake up, yet she would be lost without coffee.

Stretching her legs, she let the soft blanket slide along her flesh.

She wanted to stay in bed, to feel the cool, silk sheets caressing her naked skin just a little longer.

If not for the incessant, electric screaming coming from her cell phone that was on the dresser across the darkened room, she could have lain there forever.

Turning to the alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed, she sighed.

It’s quarter past six, she thought.

As her cell phone screamed at her to wake up before shutting itself off for five minutes, she sat up in bed, the blanket and sheets pooling around her waist, and stretched once more.

Finally, she pulled herself from her silken cocoon. She trudged across her studio apartment, eying the coffee machine the entire way. The silver handle sparkled as the early morning light streamed through the large window, yet the blue light that was normally on remained dark.

The start of a wonderful day, Kelly grumbled to herself. She could tell from a distance that she had forgotten to set it the night before, a common occurrence when she was tired after a long day of working.

Kelly was an investigative reporter for the Channel 5 News—WTUW-TV—in the beautiful city of Laredo, Texas, a position she had only achieved a few months prior. She was ambitious, and Paul, the News Director, liked her. Either that was because of her hard work, or Paul simply had a thing for black-haired women.

While she would never date her boss, she was not above using every asset that God gave her. If he promoted her on her looks, it didn’t matter too much to her. She liked her career, but she would much prefer to be an Anchor.

Growing up in a poor home and not knowing when her next meal would come, she had to admit that she liked the stability that her job gave her.

Not to mention the coffee. She chuckled and set the coffee pot before shambling off to the bathroom. Her footsteps echoed on the wood flooring as she plodded to the doorway, reached inside, and flicked on the light. The naked fluorescent glow illuminated everything: the white tile wall and matching floor, and the walk-in shower.

She winced, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she passed it.

Good thing Paul doesn’t see me like this, she mused, looking at her wild, slept-in hair. Strands of raven hair stuck up and out of every place that it could. Locks brushed her shoulders and the middle of her back.

She turned on the shower, waited for it to get hot, and jumped inside. As the hot water flowed down her body, over her breasts and stomach, down her legs and into the drain, she thought of the story she was working on.

A new drug had come into the city, and, as often happened with unknown drugs, it was causing all sorts of overdoses. It wasn’t only typical drug addicts dying from this new designer high, but there were also more prominent people dying: police officers, city officials, and the like.

It seemed to be affecting people that didn’t usually use, and Kelly wanted to know why. What was it about this strain of heroin that was different from the rest? What would cause a senator to stroll down into the dilapidated slums to buy it when they could afford some of the harder narcotics from higher scale dealers?

A juicy story like this is just what I need to get Anchor. The main female anchor had recently given noticed that she was going to move to another station in Dallas, Texas, and this story would ensure that she would beat out her rivals for the position. Even if he just desired her, Paul wouldn’t be able to deny her investigative prowess. She was sure of it.

The thought of a promotion put her in a good mood, and she smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she went back to the kitchen for her coffee. In her mind, she could see the billboards around town with her face on them, and she could also envision the glowing, proud faces of her parents. She would be in everyone’s living room every evening. It was what she always wanted, and she was close to it now.

She retrieved her cup of coffee, looking at the motivational word written on the outside of the mug.

Believe. It was one word, written in a black, sloping font, but it had begun to represent everything that Kelly thought to herself. Her mother had gifted her the mug when she had graduated Emerson College all those years ago, and, like a ritual, she drank from it every day.

The black liquid swirled inside the cup as she walked to the table. She placed the mug down, retrieved her cell phone from the next room, pulled out the chair, and sat down. Picking up the mug, she took a sip of her amaretto mocha.

There was her fix. She could feel herself awakening. Some weekends, she could just curl up on the couch with a coffee and binge watch television all day. Coffee was her lifeblood. Without it, she didn’t think that she could get through the day.

As she took another drink from the mug, she noticed the bar at the bottom of her phone blink. She checked her messages from the night before, absentmindedly swiping through the texts. None of the first few really stood out to her.

Her friend, Krystal, begged to go out on Saturday, but Kelly knew that wouldn’t work for her. She was planning on working late at the office that night. Although she would be disappointed, Krystal would have to understand.

She swiped right and read the beginning of the next message. Her mouth curled downward, and she shook her head.

Angel-Eyes, how can I-–

It was from her ex, Scott, which she deleted without reading the rest. They had broken up two months prior, and she hadn’t dated anyone since, but she would be damned if she was going to go back to him. He had all the chances he was going to get; she didn’t date cheaters, especially cheaters who tried to sleep with Krystal. She was ready to move on with her life.

Again, she sipped on her coffee and noticed that she had a voice mail.

“Kelly, it’s mom.”

Her stomach dropped as she heard the desperation in her mother’s voice. She loved her mother, but she couldn’t stand talking to the woman. Her mother had no more stories, so she retold the ones Kelly had heard a million times over, and Kelly didn’t have anything to talk about with her. Her mother didn’t understand anything about her career.

“I just wanted to catch up with you. You haven’t called in awhile. Are you too busy to call your mother?”

There was a time that she thought that her mother was a master at making her feel guilty, and, as time stretched between her childhood and adulthood years, she didn’t have a change of heart.

“Are you going to make it up here for your dad’s birthday? You only turn fifty once. Call me, dear. I love you.”

She’d call her before her father’s birthday. That was still a few weeks away, but she didn’t think that she would be able to make it to Dallas in time for the party. Perhaps, she’d send some money and a lovely card. Her father would appreciate that, at least. He would understand that she needed to devote most of her time on this case if she were to going to obtain that promotion. After all, she took after him.

There was also a text from a number that Kelly didn’t recognize. She stared at the area code—956—for a moment, noting that it was within Laredo, Texas: the same area code that her number was registered in.

This that reporter lady that’s been asking questions about Rapture? I got a business card with this number on it.

As she reread the first part of the text, she smiled. Her heart raced in her chest. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm.

I can tell you all about Rapture, and I can tell you all about the deaths too. They ain’t simple ODs.

She had never really thought that the deaths were overdoses. Sure, there was one or two that could have been, yet there were too many washing up on the banks of the Rio Grande to have all have died from Rapture, but she couldn’t convince Paul of that.

Her boss had told her that she needed proof, so she hit the streets in hopes that she could drum up some leads that would bring her to the truth of the drug and the deaths surrounding it. Could this be the lead that she was looking for?

Call me.

She stared at the number, memorizing the eight digits, and tried to catch her breath.

Kelly stopped herself from calling right there. She wanted to wait until she was in the office. After all, she didn’t know what type of person had sent the texts.

If, she thought, the deaths were not overdoses, then they were murdered. Perhaps, it wasn’t a good idea to give her cell phone number out, but it was too late for regret, however.

She would feel better using a phone from the office rather than her own, even if the person who sent the text knew her number. She was a little frightened to do it at home, alone.

Kelly finished her coffee, brushed her teeth, threw her clothes on in a hurry and rushed out the door, nearly forgetting her briefcase. She wouldn’t get much done if she’d forgotten her laptop. The excitement of a new lead—any lead—had her moving quickly, and it made her scatterbrained.

Jumping in her car, she was flooded by thoughts of her inevitable promotion. This was going to be the story of her career and WTUW-TV’s. She knew it.

Book Review : French Restoration

Book: French Restoration by Sara Claridge

Genre: Romance

Published: December 7th, 2015

Pages: 152

Summary: Recovering a memory breaks more than a heart.

Chantal Chevalier is determined to win the interior design contract for Chateau Vauquelin, if only to stop wealthy hotelier Alex Kirkwood from destroying its magical splendour and turning the place into a bland playground for the rich and famous.



Alessandro ‘Alex’ Kirkwood has put all he has into the chance to turn the rundown chateau into a luxurious getaway just outside Paris. Son and heir to the Kirkwood Hotel Group, all eyes are on him – to either sink or swim.

When Chantal crosses his path instinct tells him not to get involved. Get rid of her, and focus on the end game. But something in the vivacious French interior designer calls to him.

As strange incidents at the chateau bring back memories Chantal has hidden away since she was a girl, Alessandro can’t help but be drawn into discovering the truth behind them.

Book Review:  French Restoration is a romance novel that is told in the third person. The chapters flew by. When I began reading it, I couldn’t put it down.

I found French Restoration to be well-written, detailed, but it is not too complex. The novel itself was easy to follow. The dialog also flowed well.

I liked the pacing of the first chapter, and as I continued reading, I was pleasantly surprised that the pacing was consistent throughout the novel.

I liked how Alessandro and Chantel interacted. Their relationship flowed naturally, and I am sure that housewives could picture themselves as Chantel. She is relatable.

On some of the french, I did have to open my translator program. I would have liked some kind of legend for the foreign language. However, it didn’t detract from the story.

I would recommend French Restoration to anyone who likes suspense. This is a good way to spend a rainy day.

Each category below can earn a maximum of five stars. At the beginning of the review, every novel starts with 1 ★ (star). The novel can earn a total of 5 stars.

DISCLAIMER AND DISCLOSURE: A Kindle Gift OF THIS BOOK WAS PROVIDED BY THE AUTHOR AND |OR PUBLISHER.

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New Upcoming Novel – A Clash of Celtic and Norse Mythology

As the months continue to pass since the release of Undercover Desire, I have been hard at work on the first book in an epic–12 novels–based upon Celtic and Norse Mythologies.

I will release more information, in addition to quotes, giveaways on the book via Smashwords, and revealing the cover for those who are following my books as the date gets closer. Well, the cover will be revealed today.

The novel, itself, is a clash of Celtic and Norse mythologies as I said above. However, the series is a SciFi Fantasy with romantic nuances.

This epic has been in the back of my mind as I write the epic fantasy novels that I hope to have traditionally published. I was going to wait until after I completed the fantasy series.

Now, for the reason that I wrote this blog post: the cover. The cover features the protagonist and the deuteragonist.

As I said above, there will be more material coming in regards to Midgard, as well as giveaways.

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Book Review : Stolen Dreams

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Book: Stolen Dreams:

Genre: Romance

Published: September 27th, 2016

Series: Stolen Dreams Fortis Security Series

Summary: Nate Jones is unlucky in love. He’s watched his parents love story play out his entire life and wants that for himself. His whole world was rocked when he walks into a hospital room and falls head over heels in love with Skye and Noah.

Skye Mitchell is a single mother to an exceptional young boy. Noah has a unique and terrifying gift, which in the hands of the wrong people, could risk his life. A life that is already under the shadow of a terrible disease. All she has ever wanted was her child healthy and to feel cherished by the man she loves. Skye and Nate are ready to take a chance on a once in a lifetime love but The Divine Watchers have other plans.

With bullets flying and people dying, the race is on to find Noah before any harm can come to him. Will Nate and his team find Noah in time, or will his love for Skye get in the way? Can Nate and Skye use their intense attraction to get them through the most horrific time of their lives?

Book Review: Stolen Dreams is set in the town of Hereford in the United Kingdom. According to Wade’s Note from the Author, Hereford is home to 60,000 people. It borders a town in Wales.

Stolen Dreams also features a Glossary in the front of the book. This helped me keep things straight as I progressed further into the novel. If I am honest, I always love a glossary either at the beginning or end of a novel that uses terminology that a reader will not be familiar with.

I found Stolen Dreams well-written, not too complex, and easy to follow along. I would recommend this to anyone who has just finished high school as the language did not seem too complex, either. Sometimes, this can be a good thing, and that is a boon with Stolen Dreams. As this does have some sexual scenes in it, I can’t recommend it to anyone younger than that.

In the prologue, I instantly liked Nate. He reminded me of my husband, and I am sure that he will remind others of their significant other as the novel progresses. I also felt bad for Nate when he stumbled into what he did.

I think that Skye reacted as best as anyone could in her situation. I myself couldn’t relate to being a single parent. However, there are plenty of single mothers who yearn for love, and I can see how they might relate to Skye in that sense.

I would recommend Stolen Dreams for anyone who would like a nice thrilling read on a rainy day.

Each category below can earn a maximum of five stars. At the beginning of the review, every novel starts with 1 ★ (star). The novel can earn a total of 5 stars.

DISCLAIMER AND DISCLOSURE: A REVIEW COPY OF THIS BOOK WAS PROVIDED BY THE AUTHOR AND |OR PUBLISHER.

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Book Review : Water Lily

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Book: Water Lily by Crystal Packard

Genre: Young Adult Romance

Published:  May 13, 2016

Pages: 287

Summary: A fantasy adventure filled with magic, true love, and fate…

Seventeen-year-old Lily Harris is pretty sure she’s going crazy. Weird things are happening.Scary things. A demented owl taunts her daylight hours, and her nights are filled with frightening dreams. On top of that, the two people Lily can count on in this world are gone.

Her best friend is dead, and now Lily’s grandmother, Meme is missing.

Lily retreats to her grandmother’s home, hoping to find clues to her disappearance. Lily discovers more than she bargained for. Meme has been keeping secrets, lots of secrets–the biggest one being the painted mural on her bedroom wall. It’s of a beautiful lake, nestled deep in a night forest. When Lily touches the painting, she is transported into another world. She’s in Westmoorland. And she’s not alone. The man that haunts Lily’s dreams is there, warm and real . . . and familiar.

Lily’s journey through Westmoorland brings her closer to finding Meme, but also to lasting friendships, to true love, and to powers within herself she never knew existed.

The truth of Meme’s past and the secrets she’s been hiding could destroy everything in Lily’s future, including the greatest love she has ever known…

Book Review: Water Lily is told in the First Person Narrative, allowing the reader to become attached to the main character.

As this is aimed at young adults, I found the language and style easy to follow, as well as the plot, and I think that it would be perfect for that audience. This was well-written. The dialog flowed well, also.

I found the main character, Lily, was relatable and her actions believable in the wake of her friend’s death. I have personally found that when someone we considered a friend passes on, a sense of uncomfortableness is left in their wake. Lily was likable in that aspect. The descriptions and dialog made me want to root for her.

I would recommend this novel to anyone who likes young adult romance novels.

Each category below can earn a maximum of five stars. At the beginning of the review, every novel starts with 1 ★ (star). The novel can earn a total of 5 stars.

DISCLAIMER AND DISCLOSURE: A REVIEW COPY OF THIS BOOK WAS PROVIDED BY THE AUTHOR AND |OR PUBLISHER.

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Book Review : Becka’s Awakening

Book: Becka’s Awakening by Rowena Dawn

Genre: Romance

Published: September 29th, 2016

Pages: 144

Summary: A curse and trust dispositions drive Becka crazy and she tries to rebel against her fate but she doesn’t know how. When she suddenly spills her coffee on a stranger, she finds out that there’s more to life than what she thought.

Book Review: Becka’s Awakening is a romance told in Third Person. Dawn created a wonderful pace throughout the entire novel. The chapters seemed to fly by, and it left me wanting to continue to read more.

Becka’s Awakening was written well, and it had me flipping through the pages. All the dialog from every character flowed well.

The first chapter opens up, and we meet a slew of characters. We are also introduced to Becka this chapter. Judging by an argument in the opening chapter, she seems to be a supportive person, if not slightly fiery. From her first introduction, I looked forward to seeing her and the main love interest’s interaction and how they will meet.

However, as wonderful as an introduction to Becka as it was, there may have been too many characters introduced in Chapter 1. I found myself thinking, “oh, there’s a different character,” after a certain point and I hoped that I would be able to keep them straight in later chapters.

As the book went on, Dawn handled the relationship between the love interest(the stranger) and Becka well. With the exception of one thing, this was a couple that anyone could root for: the type of guy who the stranger was and the type of woman that Becka was. This was a down-to-earth tale in that regard where some women could relate to her.

I tended to dislike Becka’s character in the middle of the book, and being around the love interest’s age now, I look back at myself at Becka’s age and found that I was annoying like that as well. Because of how the stranger acts, these characters are believable.

I would recommend Becka’s Awakening to anyone who enjoys a quick, well-written romance with highly believable characters.

 

Each category below can earn a maximum of five stars. At the beginning of the review, every novel starts with 1 ★ (star). The novel can earn a total of 5 stars.

DISCLAIMER AND DISCLOSURE: A REVIEW COPY OF THIS BOOK WAS PROVIDED BY THE AUTHOR AND |OR PUBLISHER.

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