Posts Tagged ‘paranormal’

Top Customer Reviews

on May 25, 2017
Format: Kindle Edition
I enjoyed the storyline. I loves the characters. That kind of love, passion and connection is something most people dream of.

Twisted Fate

Posted: April 7, 2017 in Novels
Tags: , , , , ,

FINAL TW.F.My new book will be available on Amazon tomorrow. Not part of Silver Series, this story holds its own, but takes place in the same world but different city. A love conquers all… story. Really enjoyed writing this one. No therapy or hard lessons depicted in the first novel. Just Love and respect. and perhaps a happily ever after ending. —–> What is love at first sight? Racing hearts? Bated breath? The beginning of happily ever after?
Not for these two women.
Sage wants the raw messy connection of true love so she ignores a reoccurring dream that depicts her certain death by an unknown vampire, and escapes the comfortable quaint town she lives in, to move to the impulsiveness of a noisy, vampire speckled city.
Dr. Melissa Craft, a two hundred and fifty-year old vampire, exists to help others navigate the treacherous paths of other people’s lives and nothing else. She loved once, but that ended after she was turned into a monster and her lover was murdered. Since then, she’s dug her heels in and avoided a romantic relationship at all costs.
When Sage and Melissa meet for the first time, it’s love at first sight.
A heart looking for love, races and a heart, long dead, feels again.
Until…
Reality gets in their way.

Luigina Silver’s obsession to eradicate vampires turned her long troubled soul, dark and unforgiving. Michelle, her best friend and lover, knows the good heart beneath the hate and refuses to abandon her the way everyone else Lu ever loved, had.
A simple execution leaves Lu turned into one of the vile creatures she’d been hunting. Unable to come to terms with what she’s become, Lu attempts suicide, only to be stopped by Michelle. To keep Lu in the world of the living, Michelle secretly makes a deal with the agency that employs them both. For Michelle’s plan to succeed, Lu must survive that betrayal, let go of her destructive past and worse, face a reality where vampires are not inherently evil.
As if the odds weren’t already stacked against her, Alexander, a powerful vampire and influential member of the agency, covertly plots Lu’s permanent demise. Will Michelle get the happy ending she’s been fighting for or, in the end will hate defeat Lu, as it has done so many times before?

Kyra jumped out of the car and grabbed Maggie’s arm. “Tom is not dead.”

Maggie jerked out of Kyra’s grip and spun around. “Don’t touch me,” she shouted holding her head, breathing hard. “What is wrong with you?”

“He’s not dead.” Kyra’s hands went up in truce. “Trust me. Please,” she begged. She never begged for anything before. Not even when she kneeled before Her and waited for the divine gavel to come down and crack open her head.

“You have no idea what you’re asking.” Red faced, she jabbed a finger at the warehouse door. “I’m going in there and doing my job.”  

“You’re going in there to punish them, but you don’t need to kill them. Your life’s not over.”

“My brother’s dead and my only job now his to avenge his death. That’s it.” She stormed away.

Kyra risked losing a limb by moving into the path of the raging woman, but she couldn’t let Maggie ruin her life over three stupid thugs that were obviously pawns. “You know I’m telling you the truth. You’re fighting me because you want to hurt someone. Make them hurt as much as you hurt right now.”

The sparking glow changed, lessening the heat burning in Maggie’s eyes.

“How the hell do you know?”

“Call the hospital,” Kyra said.

Maggie stared at her. Skepticism smoothing the frown lines of anger and challenging the predator inside. She grabbed the phone from her pocket and punched in the number for the hospital. “This is detective Styles. I want to know the status of my brother Thomas Styles.” She waited staring daggers into Kyra’s eyes and then within a blink her posture changed. Disbelief spread across her features. “Thank you,” she whispered and put the phone back in her pocket.

“How the—”

“Someone wants to discredit you. Has to be someone who knows that your brother’s death will destroy you. You have to be careful. You can’t trust anyone close to you.”

Maggie walked away and toward the warehouse door. “Whoever did this will pay.” She disappeared inside.

“I don’t doubt it,” Kyra said to no one and then followed her in.

 

The three men were each seated on chairs with no arms, their wrists bound behind them. Two of them were fully conscious, the third’s head lolled to the side as he tried to wake up. Maggie walked over to him and slapped him hard in the face.

“Wake up, ass-wipe,” she shouted. The dominant roar in her tone reverberated around the room.

 The thug groaned, his eyelids fluttering open then closing almost immediately after. The other two men watched Maggie, the larger thug visibly shaking as his eyes followed her pacing back and forth in front of them.

Maggie remained silent allowing her body language to speak for her. Kyra watched in anticipation. Maggie’s power shimmered along her skin and for once Kyra was glad she wasn’t human. Though some humans could see auras, Kyra saw more, a whole lot more. A good soul when unmotivated became the color of smoldering ash as its fleshy vessel neared the end of its lifetime only to return in a different body to face the challenges ignored previously. A soul that accepted each challenge, victorious or not, glowed, shimmered and sparkled because failing or not it succeeded.

A soul brought down by corruption bled the color of rust and was met with more difficult challenges in its next life. A soul reborn into this realm was at its most brilliant in ever changing colors.  At death Kyra new what type of life the human had lived just by its hue. Maggie’s aura glowed with the color of rage and heat. Flames licked the air around her. Every decision she contemplated adding or depleting its intensity.

Maggie shot a glare at Kyra and clenched her teeth before striding up to the large thug quaking in his boots, grabbing his hair, wrenching his neck back and pressing the nozzle of her revolver under his jaw.

“Talk.”

“W-what do you want me to say?” he stammered, sweat dripping off his brow.

“You assaulted a man three days ago. I want to know why,” she sneered, her finger playing over the trigger.

The thin conscious man bound to his left shouted. “We were paid to do it.”

Maggie looked calm. Too calm. Kyra stepped closer to the thug that spoke. “By whom,” she asked.

“T-The owner of the club. Got paid a grand each. That’s all we know. I swear.”

Maggie back-handed him so fast in his face, blood spattered on the wall to his left.

Spittle dripped from the corner of the large thug’s mouth. “We liked Tommy. We didn’t hurt him that bad. We even told him about it. Gave him a percentage for a gift for his girl.”

Maggie stepped back.

“Why’d you jump me?” Kyra asked.

“We were just supposed to scare you, make you stop asking questions.” He lowered his brown eyes to the floor when Kyra came around to gaze into them.

“Who told you to scare me?”

“Mr. Pete. He owns the joint. He doesn’t like people coming around that he doesn’t know. Or…have people related to cops working for him. He said that one corrupt pig as enough for him.

Kyra and Maggie simultaneously looked at one another. “Finally, the first piece of the puzzle is revealed,” Maggie said.

Real BOOOOOOOOOs

Posted: October 15, 2013 in Uncategorized
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Like most people, I lived in a crazy house. Dysfunction ran rampant. Psychotic conflicts and events were flashing to and fro, but beneath it all, hiding in the shadows stalking me, my sister and brothers entities not belonging in our world.

Encounter one… of many.

One storming night, yes I said storming, because it was, my sister and eye witnessed an entity that was just as afraid of the weather as my brother. I’ll explain that. On nights such as those where wind whipped branches into siding and scraped windows and rain beat down so hard on the roof, that it sounded like thousands of angry fists, one brother would run into our room and sleep on the floor between our beds.

The unexplainable happened on such a night.

The harsh weather had me curled up in bed, covers snug around my neck my face burrowed into my pillow. My sister sleeping across the way offered some comfort.

I snuggled facing the wall when my sister shouted, “George get out of my bed.”

Rolling over, I saw “George” roll off her bed and continue under mine. I jumped out of bed, quite annoyed that he rolled under my bed scaring me half witless and ran over to the light switch turning it on, ready to yell at my brother.

I looked under my bed and no one was there. My sister and I stared at each other trying to make sense of what had just happened. I turned off the light, jumped back into bed and covered my head with my blankets.

Encounter two … of more.

I had a friend over, which in my house was a novelty. My mom didn’t like people in the house. I understand that now having the same sense of paranoia she did, but I digress.

Andrea and I were watching TV. I don’t remember what we were watching, maybe she does. I’ll have to ask her. Anyway we were sitting on the left side of the living-room where we could see the steps going up into the second floor where we, the children slept. Something caught the edge of my eye. I looked up the steps. Someone foggy, but definitely defined as a person’s outline, walked slowly up the steps. I looked at Andrea. She stared where I had and turned to me and said, “You didn’t just see that.” I don’t remember what happened next. I’ll have to ask her that.

Encounter three ….

Both me and my youngest brother John, while looking out our bedroom windows, on separate occasions, witnessed a man digging by the cherry tree in our backyard.

I’ve seen, from the front lines, the horrible battle being fought to stay alive while every cell in a loved one’s body is destroyed by medicine and illness. We, my sister and brothers, watched everyday for a year while my mother, a strong, independent woman, faded into a strong and independent woman stuck in a thin, withering, ravaged body.  We took the fight to the doctors treating her because we couldn’t stand against the truth.  In one year she died.

     Seven years later, at age thirty five, it was my turn. Only I didn’t know it. I felt fine. Normal. I had the energy to take care of my three little ones, ages three and a half years, six years and eight years old.  Busy is an understatement. But I still felt the tug, to poke the need to talk to my mother. Not like the usual urges caused by extreme feeling of loss. This was different. I’m going to try to describe it the best as i can.

      Not often and usually during a lull in the craziness, I heard my name  as if whispered from far away. I became more anxious each time I heard it. Felt it. I’d always dreamed of my mother but even they were different. Over a period of months the pokes, taps and whispers grew more urgent. I believed in mediums, people who could speak to those in the other realm, but never went to one. Ever. Never had the compulsion.  I called my sister and got the number to Jeffery Wands a well-known Medium on Long Island.

    I didn’t know what to expect.

      His office was small but comfortable and he was waiting for me when I showed up. I went right in. He looked at me with no expression on his face. The first thing he said is “The ring.” Caught me completely off guard. My first thought ran immediately to The Lord of the Rings. Then he said, “It’s been sitting there too long. And it hit me. (Informational tangent) After my mother passed, I took some of her jewelry to get fixed and gave them to my family. I kept a small simple gold band ring with a tiny stone. I wore it for a long time. It broke two times. The third time it broke, I left it on my nightstand planning on getting it fixed again. When I went to Jeffery Wands, the ring had been sitting on my nightstand for over a year.

     I cried. My mother had showed up. Immediately after that, he said, “Your mother wants you to go to the doctor and get checked out. Something about female issues.” He motioned with his hands, in circles over his chest and abdomen. She said I should do it as soon as possible. The first twinge of fear needled its way into my stomach. Jeffery Wands continued with, “No matter what you will go through, you will be okay. Just do what you are told to do. You will raise your kids.”

     I wasn’t soothed. He then went on about how mother was astonished about my lack of organization skills. The session ended and as soon as I got home, I called my doctor and he gave me a referral for my very first mammogram. I failed epically. I wasn’t allowed to leave the radiologist before being informed that I needed to see a specialist. I made the appointment that day.

     The breast surgeon examined me and was astonished that I had no symptoms, no lumps nothing to indicate I had breast cancer. But the x-ray on the wall spoke volumes against what he could see and feel. Next step was a fine needle aspiration biopsy which the doctor ordered for the very next morning.

       To say it was painful would be a gross understatement. I lay face down on a table, with my breasts in holes, while a machine shot needles into my right breast ripping tiny pieces of flesh from inside. The pain was so great, they had to stop the test early, but there was more than enough evidence that my life was indeed in danger.  

        I hated my body. It had betrayed me. My mind ceased to function. The world whipped around me, twisting my perception so tight that I didn’t know anything. And the news just kept getting worse. My right breast was fully invaded by cancer. I had tumors and it worked its way into my chest muscle and lymph nodes. By the time the doctor finished telling me my diagnosis I felt like I had gone one round with a boxer the size of a truck and I wished she’d finished the job.

I cried with my sister, tried to stay strong for my brothers and began planning my counter attack. I have a big family and some cousins are as close as siblings. The first part of my strategy was to remove the offending flesh and the other just for insurance. Once I recovered from that seven hour surgery, I prepared for phase two. One cousin helped me prepare for chemotherapy by shaving my head and my search for a wig (I barely wore it. I found bandanas to be more comfortable).My sister dragged me out of bed and out for walks recommitting my soul for life. For the next four months, every two weeks I was hooked up to a machine that poisoned every cell in my body, murdering all quickly dividing cells both healthy and malignant. The last phase: Radiation. Twenty eight days in a row. To say the least, hell hath rolled over me and I got up and dusted the ashes off.

Ten years later, I’m writing these memories with a flicker of re-living.

Thank you mommy for my life. For the gift to raise my children. I love you and miss you! Until we meet again.