“Hawthorne”…and the Mysterious Disappearance of My Books

On this All Hallow’s Eve … er, Eve, I’d like to offer a glimpse at my ghostly-mystery-romance HAWTHORNE, but before we go there, we have a greater mystery to explore.

My missing books.

New releases, to be more specific. I was supposed to have about four out by now, but alas, not one. What happened, you ask? What could possibly happen to FOUR new releases? Ah, but truth is stranger than fiction.

I have edits for LAST CALL and I’ve decided to rework a couple of sections I’m just not happy with. This will take time, and it’ll be worth it to have something I love, and not something going out for the sake of having a release.
DEAD RISE SHORE was delayed a bit as I fiddled with LAST CALL. I will turn it in to my editor pretty soon and it will probably release before LC. I do have to warn you all – DRS takes a dark, twisted turn and I love it *so* much!
SAYING NO TO A HAMILTON is finished and waiting on someone else. That’s as much as I can say, LOL.
RUBY HILL … oh, RUBY HILL. This one has some very good news attached but I can’t tell you just yet. Muahahahahaaa! An announcement should be coming soon, but don’t look for the book itself until next fall.

Now that you’ve been properly updated, I want to wish all of those in the path of Sandy / Frankenmonster the very best. Stay safe! I’ll leave you with a look at an early scene of HAWTHORNE, which is just perfect for this Halloween Eve. The book is only $1.99 and available from all of your favorite places, including Amazon, B&N, and iTunes.

HAWTHORNE | excerpt

Something brushed the car, rocking it. Swallowing panic, Emma tried to tear her focus from Hawthorne Manor, but fear kept her from looking anywhere else. Time and distance hadn’ʹt done her any favors; she was a fool for coming anywhere near this place, much less with the ragtop down.

The car rocked harder. The something refused to be ignored.

Fighting the grip of panic tightening her throat—fighting the ghosts of her past—Emma forced herself to look away from the house, toward the intrusion over her left shoulder.

The first thing she saw was an aged set of gnarled fingers resting on the door, blue automotive paint showing through an ugly translucence.

The second was the face—withered, centurion, and expressionless. Haunting.

Familiar.

Her.

Emma screamed.

Find it @ GOODREADS | ASTRAEA PRESS | AMAZON KINDLE | B&N NOOK | iTunes