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Struck By Conscience
by CK Green




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I, Charisma Mansfield, do solemnly swear that... I never asked to be popular. I never asked to be voted Prom Queen. I definitely never asked to have an invisible pixie perched on my shoulder whispering her opinions into my ear 24/7. But of all the things I never asked for, this is the worst one yet—when brooding but gorgeous Heath Ruvelas (my next door neighbor and the guy I used to be best friends with before jr. high) rescued me from drowning in the school pool. My already bizarre life would never be the same.

EXCERPT:

My head had been in a fog since the near drowning episode. It now hit me how very quiet it was—in my head that is. It was never quiet there. Dahlia constantly lambasted me with her fairy-like speech. Oh dear God! Had she drowned in the pool? I couldn’t feel her anymore. She wasn’t perched on my shoulder like usual. She was gone!

₪₪₪

My mom came to get me a half an hour later. She’d brought me some dry clothes and sported an
overanxious expression. “Charisma, oh good Lord, are you okay?”

Yes, my mother had named me Charisma. Charisma Elaine Mansfield. Was it any wonder that I’d been included as one of the popular trend-setters at school? It’s like I didn’t even have a choice with a name like that. But really, Charisma? Other than the actress who’d starred on that TV show, Angel, have you ever heard of anyone with this unfortunate designation? Perhaps an exotic dancer?

The nurse calmed down my mother and then released me into her care. Ironic, right? I convinced Mom to walk down to the pool with me, having made the excuse that I’d left something behind. It was true. I had lost something: Dahlia. She could be a great nuisance at times, but she’d been with me as far back as I could remember.

Dahlia is what my mother called my conscience when I was little. At seven years old, I tried to convince her that Dahlia really existed. She didn’t believe me, and I’d never mentioned her since. Over time, I’ve discovered that she’s more of a pixie than a conscience. I’ve never seen her only felt her and heard her. She’s invisible and not able to show herself to mere mortals.

The thing about having a pixie with me 24/7 is that I’ve never been able to verbalize all the things I’m thinking and feeling even when I’m alone because, of course, Dahlia will hear. Even then she always seems to know what I’m thinking and at times her thoughts come out of my mouth as if I had no control. After nearly eighteen years, I wish I could get rid of her. But not like this. Not drowned because of my stupidity.

We made it to the gate of the pool, and I cautiously walked beside my mother toward the water, my legs still feeling a bit shaky. It’s not like I wanted to land in the drink again. “Over beside that bench, Mom. That’s where I left my book.”

It was a lie. I hadn’t left a book. It was Dahlia. I had to find her. Please, please, I prayed silently. Please let her be okay.

“Dahlia,” I whispered close to the water. “Please, don’t be dead. I’d give anything if…”

“If what?”

For a split second, I felt that odd but familiar sensation near my shoulder. She wasn’t dead!

“Dahlia, you’re okay.”

“Of course, I am. You didn’t think a little water could take me out, did you?”

“No, well, yes, I did. I was worried.”

“I told you to stay away from the pool, but you didn’t listen.”

“I know. You were right…again.”

“Yes, but at least Heath came to your rescue. I should have known that gimlet of a boyfriend of yours would be useless in an emergency situation.”

“Dahlia…”

“Shh! Here comes your mother.”

When we couldn’t find my fictitious book, Mom took me to the car and drove me home. On the ride, I wondered what had happened to Brett. Okay, if the truth be told, it was more than likely Dahlia who had whispered the idea into my ear.

I didn’t respond to her because Mom would find it entirely suspect if I started talking to myself. I gave that up in second grade. Still, the thought remained. What had happened to Brett? He hadn’t followed me to the nurse’s office as far as I knew. Did he care that I’d nearly died? I did! I nearly died and I would have if it hadn’t been for Heath.

New Release: Paladin

Serendipity Book 4: Paladin
By Brieanna Robertson




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What could be weirder than a tattoo artist who spends his summers pretending to be a medieval knight? How about a tattoo artist who spends his summers pretending to be a medieval knight handing out ultimatums in a bathroom stall? That’s the situation Cadence finds herself in after fleeing from her overprotective brother in an attempt to make him see that she is an adult and capable of living her own life. Too bad he tracked her down like a stalker… And too bad she’d laughed at sexy Talis when he told her what he did for a living… And too bad she’d run into the men’s room to hide when she’d seen her brother coming after her.

Now, in order to stay hidden, she has to agree to travel with a roguish band of bizarre men as Talis’s squire for the summer. Not only does she think it’s absolutely ridiculous, but the way her blood burns around Talis sends off all of her warning signals. What is it about the calm, composed, devilish man that makes her want to tame her reckless existence and find out what stability is like? More importantly, can Cadence stop her pattern of self destruction, or will she miss out on the chance to win the heart of her very own paladin knight?

EXCERPT:

She turned to seek refuge in the women‘s room, but Lance would probably just send Rochelle in to look for her. She was pretty sure that the only reason Lance was searching for her in this area anyway was because Rochelle hadn’t been able to keep the secret from him. She didn’t blame her. Rochelle was Lance’s wife. Her first loyalty was to him.

As the Hummer neared and she ran out of options, she flung open the door to the men’s room and ran for the nearest stall, which happened to be the large, handicapped one. It wouldn’t be as easy to find her in there. She didn’t think Lance was bold enough to go peeking under stalls.

She yanked the stall door open and closed it quickly behind her, peering out of the crack to watch the door.

“May I help you?” a deep voice drawled.

Cadence screamed. She spun and found herself staring straight at the tattooed chest of that man she had been watching all day. She blinked in bewilderment. Not only was he tattooed, but he was…well, ripped was a good word. She forced her eyes away from his six pack and all of his ink and looked up at his face. “Silly medieval tattoo artist?” she questioned, recognizing him from the Bleeding Passion concert.

The man winced and rubbed at his ear as if her shrill scream had pierced his brain. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the rude roadie,” he grumbled. “What a pleasant surprise.” His blue-eyed gaze raked over her body for a second before returning to her face.

Cadence crossed her arms over the green top of her two-piece swimsuit and scowled. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was going to the bathroom,” he replied. “That’s generally what one tends to do when they’re in a stall. Guess I’m just lucky to get the stall with the busted lock.” He folded his arms, mirroring her posture, and gave her a questioning look. “So, do you make it a practice to just chill in the men’s room, or—”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to peer out the crack in the door. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not chilling. I’m hiding.”

“Oh, so you make it a practice to hide in the men’s room?” He snickered. “At least I was fortunate enough to have zipped my pants up before you came barreling in.”

“Would you shut up?” she spat over her shoulder. “I’m trying to pay attention.”

“Who are we hiding from?” he whispered against her ear.

“My brother.” She tried to ignore the involuntary shiver that went through her as his breath tickled her neck.

“Ah…okay. And why are we hiding from your brother?”

“Because he’s looking for me and I don’t want him to know where I am. That good enough for you?” She shot him an irritated scowl. “And how dare you call me rude. I wasn’t rude to you.”

He snorted. “So, laughing in my face doesn’t count as being rude?”

“When did I laugh in your face?”

He turned away from her to lean nonchalantly back against the wall of the stall. “Well, you asked me about renaissance faires, and when I told you about what I did in them, you laughed at me. Not to mention you just called me the ‘silly medieval tattoo artist.’”

She waved it away. “Oh, come on. It’s not every day I meet someone who says they pretend to be a knight for a living. It was funny.”

“Yeah, well, I think it would be pretty funny if I hauled you out of this stall right now and threw you outside.” He stood up straight and grasped her arm.

She gasped. “No, don’t!” She looked up into his eyes. “Please! I’m sorry I laughed at you, okay?”

He studied her for a second with a frown. “Why are you so afraid of your brother?” he questioned.

“I’m not afraid of him. I just don’t want him to find me. He treats me like I’m a little kid and tries to run my life.”

“Why?”

She sighed in exasperation. “Because I was arrested last year.”

“For what?”

“I beat up a security guard.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You what?”

“It was self defense! He was sexually harassing me. I was let off, but Lance freaked out. Of course it was him who I called to bail me out of jail. I don’t know why. He’s been attached like a barnacle to me ever since.”

He looked as if he was considering something for a moment. “Wait, what? Lance? Who’s Lance?”

“Lance Lawson. My brother.”

“Lance Lawson!” His eyes bulged. “Lance Lawson is your brother?”

“Yes, and the fact that he’s a mega star doesn’t change the fact that he’s an overprotective pain so just be quiet and let me hide, okay?”

* * * *

Talis looked down at her and contemplated his choices. She was rude, had mocked him, and didn’t seem necessarily sorry about it. It would be what she deserved to have him turn her over to her brother. On the other hand, it wasn’t his place to interfere. He didn’t know the situation and it would be wrong of him to just stick his nose in and act like he knew what was best. Or… He grinned devilishly and let his eyes study the beautiful tattoo across her shoulders while she continued to peer through the stall door like a spy.It was a dragon. An amazing green and yellow dragon breathing fire. So, she must have some appreciation for medieval mythology. “Why should I hide you?” he asked her. “You were rude to me. Give
me one good reason why I shouldn’t squeal on you.”

She turned and looked at him again, as if she couldn‘t believe he was actually thinking about giving her away. She rolled her eyes. “Man, I am never going to laugh at anyone ever again,” she grumbled. She heaved a defeated sigh. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It wasn’t right for me to laugh at you. I’m an idiot sometimes. I don’t think before I speak.”

His lips quirked at the corners in amusement. She seemed sincere, but he was going to milk this for all it was worth. “Apology accepted, but not good enough.”

She gave him a genuinely pained expression. “What is your name?”

“Talis.”

“Please, Talis, you don’t even understand. He’s driving me crazy. I can’t do anything without him asking me about it. He keeps tabs on me all the time like I’m his kid. I can’t keep living my life like this. I’ll go insane.”

An idea was whirling around inside of Talis’ mind. An absolutely absurd and reckless idea. He grinned. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll keep you hidden, but you have to be my squire for the rest of the summer.”

She frowned. “Your squire? Isn’t that like a servant?”

“Assistant. At the renaissance faires.”

She raised both of her eyebrows and laughed. “Oh, that’s funny.”

He shrugged. “You would travel with me, go to the faires as my squire. I’d pay your way, your food, your lodging. Think about it. Your brother would never think to look for you there.”

She met his eyes, which he knew twinkled with devilish mirth. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to just go off with a stranger and play warrior like some kind of—” She paled as she heard the door open, and she whirled to look out the crack of the stall again.

“Cadence!” Lance’s voice shouted. “Are you in here?”

Brieanna Robertson Interviews Traevyn Whitelaw of Dark Masterpiece

Getting Traveyn Whitelaw to agree to do an interview with me was only slightly easier than getting Jaide to agree. Next to Jaide, Traevyn is probably the most private man I have written, and he dislikes giving interviews or releasing personal information. However, because of the fact that he is a famous artist and takes care of his own PR, and because his disposition is less caustic than Jaide’s, I didn’t have to guilt trip him. But even so, his agreement to do this was not without its fair share of grumbling.

When I sit down with Traveyn, he is looking elegant and old-world, as always. He carries himself with an air of aristocratic grace that I rarely see in the modern world. He wears a gray button-down shirt and black slacks, and his long, shining ebony hair is free-flowing around his broad shoulders. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as Traveyn, and I take a moment to admire him, as I always have.

After a silent several seconds, he looks up at me expectantly. I smile and get down to the business at hand.

B: Hello, Traevyn. It’s good to see you again.

T: (He gives me a polite smile, but it reaches his eyes and warms up his fierce features.) Likewise.

B: It has been awhile since I’ve spoken with you. How are things with you and your family?

T: Things are well. Evie and I are busy with Julia and Brandon (his daughter and son) and Julia has discovered a love for painting, much like her parents, so we really spend most of our time cleaning up messes. (This brings a grin to his lips) Seth is living in San Francisco now with my brother’s friend, but he visits often.

B: For those who do not know of how you met your wife, give us a brief recap.

T: She was a Junior art student sent to be my apprentice for the summer. I was an ogre and she was a firecracker determined to whip me into shape. That about covers it.

B: (It is impossible for me to stifle my chuckle) I know you had been through some personal hardship in your life before meeting Evie. What was it about her that got past your defenses?

T: Her acceptance and understanding about my past and myself. Her compassion, empathy and nurturing personality. That and her spunk. That was so very sexy. (He grins) Still is.

B: I know you are a very private person. And at the time Evie came to stay with you, you were, more or less, a recluse. What made you decide to take on an apprentice?

T: I went to college at SOU and my Art professor guilted me into it, basically. I never would have agreed to it otherwise.

B: Was it strange having someone who admired you so much live in your home?”

T: Of course. It was completely awkward at first. I didn’t want anyone intruding on my solitude and Evie had this eye for symbolism. She could see straight through my art and straight through me. It was extremely disconcerting.

B: What was it like having a seventeen-year-old boy thrown in the mix?

T: (He chuckles) Annoying. But Seth grew on me. I love him like my own brother.

B: I know you designed the home you live in now. What made you design it the way you did? And why did you choose the location you did?

T: I have always been a fan of Gothic literature and art. I incorporated that in the décor and style of my home. As for the ocean, I have always felt like it’s the best representation of me. Unpredictable, strong, turbulent, boundless, dangerous, but beautiful and peaceful as well. It gives me more serenity than anything else. I create better with the waves crashing in the distance, and my soul feels at ease.

B: When did you first realize you had feelings for Evie?

T: The pine-needle boarding episode and having my brother’s roommate chase after her was what finally made me get a clue. That and Seth, who could see we cared for one another romantically before either one of us actually knew it. But falling in love with Evie was a gradual process. The more she showed me of herself, and the more she dug into my soul, the more lost I became.

B: Ok, finally, are there any other dreams you have left to accomplish in your life?

T: (The smile that graces his features is soft) I have already been granted my two greatest dreams. I make a living off of my greatest passion, and I have a family. A woman who understands every aspect of me, and two beautiful children. I would be selfish to ask for more. Anything else that comes my way is a gift.

I thank Traevyn for his time, and we spend a few moments catching up. When he leaves, he hugs me. No hand-shaking for us. He wishes me the best. I do the same. Then, I watch his tall, lean, magnificent figure stride out the door.

Wanna know more about a dark artist in a Gothic mansion?

Read all about him in Dark Masterpiece.



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Art student Evie Austin has spent the last several years idolizing the famous and elusive painter, Traevyn Whitelaw. After an agonizing final report on the man, who also happens to be the most private and secretive person Evie has ever tried to do research on, her professor picks her for the once in a lifetime opportunity to be Traevyn Whitelaw's apprentice for the summer.

Ecstatic, Evie knows that her summer is going to be amazing, filled with lengthy discussions on art and beautiful things with the man she admires above all others. What she doesn't expect is to get stuck taking her sullen, sarcastic, seventeen-year-old brother with her at the last minute, and she definitely doesn't expect Traevyn Whitelaw to live in an isolated Gothic mansion by the ocean. What's worse is that the man she imagined to be so cultured and refined is no more than a sinister, snarling ogre who acts like having Evie and her brother in his home is the worst intrusion imaginable... He's also the most gorgeous man Evie has ever laid eyes on.

There is more than meets the eye to the dark, brooding artist with the painful past, and spunky, outspoken Evie plans on finding out just exactly what the man is made of…if she can only figure out how.

EXCERPT


The road took her down toward the cliffs overlooking the ocean, and the trees began to get denser and more foreboding-looking, their thick branches jutting out in awkward positions
that looked like gnarled fingers. Wisps of fog slithered through the branches like serpents and Evie suddenly felt like she had ventured into a horror movie. She continued to
drive, the fog getting thicker as she went along.

“Dude, Evie, this is kind of creeping me out,” Seth muttered.

Evie rolled her eyes. “It’s just fog.” But she did have to admit, everything felt dark and foreboding, and that was an ominous feeling.

Without warning the road widened out and an enormous, Gothic-looking house came into view. Evie gasped in surprise and slowed the car to a stop as she stared at the structure. It
was dark, nestled in a grove of eucalyptus trees, sitting like a lonely sentinel. The architecture much resembled that of a sixteenth-century manor and she briefly felt like she’d traveled
through time.

“Holy crap,” Seth said. “What kind of guy is this? A friggin’ warlock or something?”

Evie shook her head to regain her senses and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Come on, he’s an artist. It makes sense that his home would be artistic.” But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something horribly lonely and tormented emanating from the dark edifice.

She got out of the car and started toward the front door, shivering as the eerie ocean breeze blew gently across her skin. She heard the forlorn cry of a seagull as she approached
and, behind it, the rhythmic pounding of the ocean waves. The breeze rustled through the leaves of the eucalyptus grove. Evie had to take a deep breath to calm her nerves
before she knocked on the heavy, oak door.

“Seriously, Evie, let me go home,” Seth whispered, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “I can hitchhike, or take a bus, or something. If you want to stay here in Edgar Alan Poe land, that’s cool, but I’d rather not if you don’t mind.”

Evie scowled and shushed him just as the door swung open. She raised herself taller and prepared a smile, but it promptly faded upon seeing the man in front of her. He was very tall and had thick, black hair that fell in shining strands all the way past his waist. His hair alone made her stop and marvel. She had never seen such long hair on a man. At least not on a man who wasn’t a sleazy, old biker, or a Native American. Then again, maybe he was Native American… She wouldn’t know… And his hair wasn’t frizzy and scary like those eighties rockers. It was shining ebony that looked like it would feel like silk.

“Can I help you?” he queried.

Evie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. He was absolutely, breathtakingly…beautiful. Beautiful like art, like the covers of fantasy books with the rugged, manly, yet gorgeous hero. His features were harsh, all hard lines and sharp angles, undeniably masculine, but there was a strange, elegant beauty around his sensual lips and light green eyes that made Evie feel like she was looking at a living masterpiece.

Seth cleared his throat discreetly, which brought Evie out of her stupor, and she gave a nervous cough. “Excuse me, I am looking for Traevyn Whitelaw,” she murmured.

His facial expression remained impassive, and he merely shifted his weight in a lazy manner. It was a languid movement, like a jungle cat stretching. He sighed. “And you are?”

“Um…I—I’m Evelina Austin,” she stammered. “I’m—uh— supposed to be studying with Mr. Whitelaw for the summer… As his apprentice.”

His pale eyes seemed to look her over for a moment before they fixed on her own. “I am Traevyn Whitelaw,” he stated.

She swallowed.

“Who is your companion?”

“Oh, this is my brother, Seth.” She flashed a nervous smile. “My parents dumped him on me last minute. There was no one else to watch him all summer. I called Professor Roth and he told me it should be okay if I brought him with me.”

His dark eyebrows drew together in a frown and he stood up straight. “Oh he did, did he?”

It was almost a snarl. Evie retreated a step as his presence seemed to suddenly fill the entire world.

“It is most certainly not okay,” he spat, his voice a menacing growl. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you, Miss Austin. This apprenticeship program was not my idea, or my doing. Professor Roth approached me with it, and it was out of respect and gratitude for him that I reluctantly accepted. If not for him I would never have made it to where I am now. So, yes, you will be my apprentice. I will teach; you will learn what you will. What you do with that knowledge is entirely up to you. It is not any fault of mine if you fall flat on your face in your desired career. Professor Roth recommended you, so you must have some talent, but I want to
get one thing straight, Miss Austin. I have better things to do than entertain a starry-eyed college student and her delinquent brother.”

Seth frowned. “Hey,” he protested.

“I am doing this out of obligation,” Traevyn finished, “not by choice.”

Evie stared at him, dumbfounded. He moved quickly, making her jump, and motioned her inside. She hurried to obey, grasping Seth’s wrist and hauling him in after her.

“Follow,” Traevyn commanded, shutting the door.

Sharon Donovan: Music Sets the Scene for the Unworldy

Good Evening!

Those chilling words still send shivers racing down my spine from the old television show.

ALFRED HITCHCOCK PRESENTS

Nothing could come close to the images the master story teller conjured in my mind. Just the sound of those words in barely more than a whisper made my skin crawl. The anticipation of the story he was about to tell sent chills racing down my spine. I remember glancing around the room to make sure all the curtains were drawn, all the doors locked. My family and I would gather around the television on a Friday evening, lights out with a big bowl of buttered popcorn. And the second the master of suspense’s face would appear on screen, my brother, sister and I would scream loud enough to wake the dead.

Alfred Hitchcock packed it all in his books and movies—chance meetings on a train, murder and mayhem, voyeurism, ice-blondes, debonair actors with a touch of quirky humor and rakish charm, espionage, romance and lost love. And who better befitting to portray the femme fatale of that era than Grace Kelly, Ingrid Bergman, Kim Novak and Janet Leigh? They were a perfect fit with Hollywood legends as Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart, two of Hitchcock’s favorites.

Thinking of some of these old plots that linger in my mind, I write stories of romance and suspense to hopefully give readers just a hint of that old Hitchcock magic. Second to imagery, the first thing I focus on is music. Think about a scary movie. Right before a murder or something dangerous, the chilling music clues us in and has our hearts racing. This being said, with a fetish for peeking on guests as they shower, Janet Leigh is about to find out just how twisted Norman Bates is. Voyeurism at its peak. Just the sound of that screeching violin gets my blood pumping!

In my latest suspense Her Biggest Fan, I chose Moonlight Sonata to haunt the reader. As you read, you’ll swear you can hear the eerie spiking of piano keys because I have planted them in your head. Recalling the old thriller The Wax Museum, I used wax gargoyles with wings as props in the ballroom. To please my many muses, I combined my love of a psychological thriller with Classic Gothic and old Hollywood glamour.

In Mask of the Betrayer, the childhood nursery song Heigh Ho the Dairy-o sets the scene. I promise, these chilling lyrics will haunt your nightmares, the lyrics that have been programmed in Michael DeVeccio’s head, prompting him to kill.

"a hunting we will go, a hunting we will go. Heigh ho the dairy-o, a hunting we will go. We’ll catch a fox and put him in a box. Heigh ho the dairy-o, a hunting we will go."

You can hear the chilling music here

MASK OF THE BETRAYER VIDEO TRIAD PRODUCTIONS

Second place winner YOU GOTTA READ CONTEST IN JUNE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6KzpiRni7R0

And find Mask of the Betrayer at Whimsical Publications

Get Your Blood Pumping With Mask Of The Betrayer

Haven't checked it out yet? You won't want to miss this highly praised piece of literature!



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When the whispers in the night, the whispers of her lover, are the whispers of a killer, will Margot escape before she becomes the next victim?

Deep in the foothills of Red Rock Canyon, a serial killer stalks. He leaves his signature—a skull mask on the corpse. But when the homicide cop realizes the crimes are the reenactment of a case never solved ten years ago--all fingers point to Michael DeVeccio. And when Margot realizes she is married to the killer, her life becomes a living nightmare.

EXCERPT:

Suspecting her affair with Carlos, he had surveillance equipment installed all over the mansion. Once he showed her the very graphic video of her and his uncle going at it in the satin-lined coffin, he'd used it to his advantage.

Michael suspected his uncle knew more about his parents' accident than he'd let on, but couldn't prove a thing. Desperate to uncover the truth, Michael blackmailed Candace into getting Carlos to confess on tape. If she failed, she'd be killed. Stuck between a rock and a hard spot, Candace had done things to the old coot that disgusted even her. But those things had made the old man sing like a canary and the taped confession had saved her life. After her mission was a done deal, Michael kicked her out of Vegas and told her if she ever returned, he would rip her lungs out.

Reaching Carlos DeVeccio's bedroom, she got a little thrill as old memories surfaced. Just a few more seconds and she'd fall into the arms of her lover. She smiled to herself. She had returned to Vegas for a reason. She was flat broke. But after tonight, Michael would be her ticket back into the world of luxury. Then she'd be mistress of the manor once more. And more to the point, she'd have access to his billion dollar bank roll.

With a devious smile, she pushed her way through the heavy mahogany door. Crossing the threshold, she entered the house of horrors. Carlos DeVeccio had been a real nut, one straight out of the books. But with her fetish for face masks, she loved his collection and had often come into his wing just to admire them. What a thrill it had been to have sex in the coffin, howling along with the werewolf. Some might think it a bit kinky, but they didn't know what they were missing. Calling out to her lover, her pulse quickened a beat. "Michael? Are you here yet, darling?"

That's when she heard it, manic laughter from the final circle of hell. A slither of fear trickled down her spine, releasing a wild rush of adrenaline. Carlos?

She thought about the death of Lacy Diamond. Two Ninja assassinations were no coincidence.
Sensing danger, she felt for her sword. It was gone. Panic soared through her. Where the hell was it?

The laughter got louder and louder, moving in closer and closer. It seemed to be bouncing off the walls. She couldn't tell from which direction it was coming. Just then, the bell in the tower gonged, thundering off the walls like canon balls. Instinctively, she covered her ears with her hands. Where the hell was Michael?

Evil eyes from the face masks followed her every move. She had to escape this hell before it was too late. She couldn't think over the gonging of the bell. Every few seconds, the werewolf howled at the moon. She screamed, even though she knew no one would ever hear her. Floundering in wild disarray, disoriented by the darkness and relentless gonging, she searched in vain for the door. Her arms swam in mid-air, like a person drowning, desperate for an anchor, something to hold onto. She reached out and grabbed at nothing. She had to find a way out of this mausoleum of the living dead before it was too late. Where the hell was Michael?

The laughter got closer. Perspiration drenched her skin. The chilling laughter echoed in her ears, louder and louder, closer and closer. The bell in the bell tower broke through the thin filament of sanity she had left. The werewolf open his mouth and howled at the moon. Where was Michael? He'd know what to do. He was a master swordsman. His fencing skills were extraordinary. He could wield a Ninja star with his eyes closed and hit the mark. Where was he?

Blood thundered in her ears, but not loud enough to block out the manic laughter. It was close but she couldn't see a thing. She wished she had her sword. She turned to run; it was too late. She heard a distinct click. The killer had just depressed the button on her Zorro sword, releasing the thirty-seven inch blade. His psychotic laughter reached an ear-splitting crescendo just as the bell in the tower gonged out its last chime. From the dark shadows, Valentino pounced, her Zorro sword gleaming in the moonlight.

"Surprise!" he thrust the sword into her heart. "I promised to make you scream, darling Candace. Let me hear you scream."

Have You Checked Out Altered Beginnings?

"The book keep me wanting to come back for more. It was very hard to put down.Very exciting and excellent to read. The author is great." -Barnes and Noble Reader



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The headline in the small town newspaper read Girl Missing, Presumed Dead or Worse.

Leigh Lawson returned to Nags Head, North Carolina after four years with a huge shock. That big and bold headline was about her! Everyone thought she was dead!

The truth was that she was doing well. While gone, she had gotten clean from drugs and worked hard to get her bachelor’s degree in engineering. With her life back on track, she returns home in hope that she will receive a warm welcome. Instead, she gets the townsfolks' disdain.

Everyone hates her, everyone except Jason Altarez, an ambitious and resilient reporter with his sights locked on Leigh. He chases her with oozing charm and romance, but does he really want her or is he after his next story?

Leigh’s life soon spirals out of control when the police recruit her for an undercover assignment. They want her to go back to the life of her troubled teenage years, back into the drugs, and help them to bring the local drug supplier to conviction. It may be Leigh’s only chance to redeem herself with her family and friends. If she can complete this one assignment, the town will forgive her. The only problem is that she needs to figure out how to stay alive in the process…

Jason is her continuous partner through it all, proving his dedication to her as he struggles to keep her safe. Leigh wants to believe he is a man of his word. She wants to believe that her heart isn’t completely foolish for falling for him, especially when she discovers evidence that Jason may be working for the very drug dealer that Leigh is trying to have arrested. Will he betray her in the end or will he demonstrate the most romantic notion of all – that love at first sight truly exists?

EXCERPT:

“I’ve got to find her. She could be in danger,” Emma mumbled and turned to leave.

“No, Emma, listen to me. You have to stay out of the middle of this!”

She glared at him. “She doesn’t have anyone, Shawn.”

He groaned loudly, and cursed again. Emma needed to stay away! Why was he always unable to say no to this woman?

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”

He had to convince her to try Jason’s house before going after Freddie Garrett like the crazy woman had a mind to do. He thought she was unreasonable and overemotional and impossible to please, but he also knew he was madly in love with her. “I’m pretty sure she’s with Ice. She took off the earrings earlier, but the team said they were sure she was with a guy.”

It didn’t take them long to make the trip. A Lexus pulled up behind them in the driveway. It was Jason. “What are you guys doing here? What’s wrong?”

Emma answered. “We’re looking for Leigh.”

Jason swallowed back the panic that those words immediately caused. Leigh was probably just inside. Why the hell hadn’t he come straight home like he’d wanted to? Because Nate said he needed your help and you couldn’t say no, and you convinced yourself that she was smart enough to wait for you. “I just got home. Let’s see if she’s here,” he said calmly.

No one expected to see the house in shambles or Leigh on her knees in Jason’s living room when they walked in. Slick stood in front of her where it looked as if he’d just pushed her there. The air of the house grew thick with expectation as Slick pointed a gun at the three in the doorway. “Come in and shut the door,” he said.

They did as they were told. Instinct directed everyone’s hands up in the air. Leigh was staring at the floor, her face hidden behind her thick, black hair.

Shawn took a step closer, but made no move to draw his own weapon. No one spoke at first, afraid to disrupt the scene or upset the man with the gun.

Slick directed his attention to Jason. “I did a little redecorating. Hope you don’t mind, Ice.” Then, he looked to Shawn. “Just the man I’m looking for. My boss would like to see you, Shawn.”

Emma gasped. Jason’s eyes remained glued to Leigh. Shawn said, “Let my sister go.”

The look in Slick’s eyes never wavered. He continued to look Shawn in the eye when he suddenly backhanded Leigh across the face so hard that a noise echoed in the room as if he’d hit a wall.

Leigh moaned softly. She still did not look at anyone, eyes shut and head bent to the floor.

Jason reacted without thinking when he charged Slick. He was brought up short when the gun redirected to point between his eyes. “Don’t be a hero,” Slick’s velvety voice murmured.

The emotion could be seen surging through Jason as veins popped from his neck. “Stop this!” he roared.

Slick kicked Leigh in the side and repeated, “My boss would like to offer you a job, Shawn.”

Emma began to cry.

Shawn only stared.

Leigh took another kick that made her scream in pain.

Shawn broke his silence. “What do you want from me?”

“You’re a pretty smart guy. I’m sure you can figure out what it means to be on Freddie’s payroll.”

Slick jerked Leigh back to her knees and punched her. “I need an answer, Shawn.”

Emma cried out, “Please, stop this!”

Shawn stepped forward. Tears glistened in his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it.”

Slick withdrew a wad of cash from his right pocket and threw it on the floor. “That will get you started. Freddie will expect to see you at the club to confirm that answer. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I’ll be back to finish this if you don’t cooperate, and I mean soon.”

As soon as the man was gone, Jason was by Leigh’s side. “Leigh, talk to me, sweetheart.”

She was unconscious.

“Call 9-1-1!”