Oh Hey! Books.: Thriller

Genre: YA Mystery & Suspense | Release Date: October 1st 2018 by Entangled Teen
Lydia’s life felt like it ended when Tristan died. Sure, they had their problems and he could be a little…intense at times. But he’d promised to love her forever… When her parents propose a summer across the country with a music teacher who runs an inn, Lydia agrees. But it’s different from what she expected. There’s a presence there she can’t quite reconcile—and it feels like it’s hunting her. It seems Tristan’s promise followed her…and may have graver consequences than she could have known. Then there’s Michael Malone, the one light spot in an otherwise dark existence. Lydia can’t help but be drawn to him, and as they try to uncover the evil plaguing the inn, they grow closer. But guilt over Tristan’s death still consumes her. Can she and Michael uncover what evil lurks in the inn before it takes another victim?

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Excerpt

He listened, sitting on the top of the step ladder like a lifeguard at a crowded beach. One in faded jeans with a tool belt hanging low on his lean hips. His tan and his sun-streaked hair made it easy to imagine him shirtless and vigilant and flocked by bathing-suited admirers who wouldn’t be caught dead in walking shorts. While I talked, he flipped the ever-present multi-tool into different configurations in his right hand. I thought maybe he was looking for the right configuration to x this strange, broken girl he’d found. When I finished, he climbed down. He closed the tool and slipped it away in his back pocket. I didn’t expect him to do anything after that except fold up his ladder and walk away. Instead, he knelt beside me. He brushed aside the tendrils of hair that almost covered the tiny butter y. I held my breath. Unlike the whisper of the phantom touch, his warm, calloused finger as it traced my tattoo was intimate and real. I’d seen myself in all the mirrors even when I’d tried not to look. I was too pale and too thin and the shadows under my eyes were way worse than the khaki uniform.

But I swear Michael’s touch seemed to negate all of that. I wasn’t the kind of girl who would attract a muscled future engineer with warm eyes and crinkles already starting to form at the edges of his frequent smile. And, yet, somehow, I was. His touch wasn’t a come-on, but in spite of his intentions, the second the calloused pads of his fingers brushed against my skin I was more awake than I’d ever been. I’d been right. Numb wasn’t possible with Michael.

Barbara J. Hancock lives in a cabin in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains with her many rescued pets and the guy who lured her into the wilderness with promises of lots of peace and quiet for writing. To this day, the Appalachian wildwood is the best gift she’s ever been given. Her favorite pastime (besides animal rescue) is bringing darkly romantic stories to life by firefly light.

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The Man on the Train

Over the course of her lifelong search for the perfect man, Devon had learned two things: 1) There were perfect men in the world, and 2) they were not interested in her.

Those men usually went for her best friend, or they already had a girlfriend, or she just wasn’t their type. “You’re too nice,” a “perfect” guy had told her once. “I need someone who’s a little less … nice.” He wanted the bad girl. Devon had tried to be the bad girl, but it hadn’t worked out so well. Leather made her hot and itchy, and she’d nearly thrown up while sitting in a chair waiting to get a tattoo. In the end, she’d fled the scene, inkless.

She assumed this meant she was destined to be alone like her Aunt Mary, who she was on her way to visit by train this very evening.

The man sitting across from her on the train was perfect. She could tell. Maybe it was just that he looked perfect, but that was enough for the moment. He stared out the window, his hand fisted and pressing against his chin and mouth. His brows sank low over his eyes, and his dark, curly hair hung just over the collar of his long, gray trench coat.

Devon wondered if he was traveling to Scotland, as she was. Or would he disembark at Darlington or Durham? It hardly mattered. She would never know him. She’d only have the luxury of staring at him for the few remaining hours that the train was in motion, and then they would part ways, and she’d never see him again. Wasn’t that the way it always was?

When she’d boarded the train at King’s Cross Station that evening, the train had been standing room only. Now, two hours later, the train had cleared out, and she’d taken a seat next to this heartbreakingly attractive man.

But it was Halloween, and she was on an adventure. If she’d been at home, she’d have been sitting with her flatmate in their tiny flat, eating popcorn, and watching horror films.

The train’s brakes squealed as it began to slow, and her purse fell from beside her and onto the floor. Her cell phone shot from the opening and under the seat of the gorgeous man sitting across from her.

He had not quit staring out the window, even as the train howled to a halt and stopped altogether.

Devon shifted forward. “Excuse me.”

The man turned. His dark eyes touched hers, and something in her belly flipped. Yes. Definitely perfect.

“I-I’m sorry, but my phone slid under your seat.”

Without dropping his gaze, he reached under his seat and retrieved the lost phone. He handed it to her.

“Thank you.”

He smiled a little. “We’ve stopped.”

Devon nodded, glanced out the window into the darkness. “We’re somewhere near Darlington, I think.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the muffled announcement reverberated through the carriage. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, we will be stopping here momentarily. Please do not leave your seats. If you are in the food car, please remain there until we give you further instructions. As soon as the situation is resolved, we hope to be on our way again shortly. Alternatively, we will move you to another train if the need arises.”

“Must be mechanical problems,” Devon said.

The stranger nodded slowly, his eyes fastened to hers. “Must be.”

Moments ticked by. The couple in the seat behind her grumbled about the delay. Everyone was in such a hurry. But she wasn’t. No, once the train was on its way again, the beautiful stranger would be that much closer to parting ways with her.

“Are you going to Edinburgh?” Devon asked.

“Not quite that far. Just to Newcastle.”

He had a low, melodious voice that rippled through her. She swallowed. The man’s dark stare was so intense. “Family there?”

“No.”

She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. Okay. Obviously, he wasn’t going to reveal much about himself.

“I’m headed to Edinburgh,” she offered. “Visiting my aunt.”

He nodded, his gaze remained fixed on her.

She looked away. Her body heated as weird, wild snippets of fantasy ran through her mind. The lights going out in the train, two strangers grappling in the dark, kissing, unclothing one another, silent writhing in the darkness. She shook her head. Where had that come from? When she glanced up again, he was still staring.

“Do you ever wonder about the safety of public transportation?” he asked. “I mean before you get on a train or a plane or a bus, do you ever stop and think—this could be the last time I do this? There could be a terrible accident. I might not make it off of this.”

“Not really.” Strange line of conversation, but she was willing to go for it. Anything to keep talking with this guy.

“Is that because you’re young?” He continued, arching a dark eyebrow. “You assume you’ll live because you’re too young to die.”

Devon shrugged, and a strange, prickly sensation prodded at her skin. “I don’t know. Maybe. How old are you?” She would have guessed he was mid-twenties. Thirty at the most.

“Older than I look.”

“Okay.” She’d never been good at determining ages anyway. It really didn’t matter how old he was. He was perfect. Whether he was twenty or forty, he still made her heart flutter.

The train began to move again, but slowly.

“We’re moving again,” Devon said, slightly disappointed. She turned back to the man, determined to maximize whatever time they had. “What do you do … for work, I mean.”

His mouth twitched into a smile. “I’m a vampire.”

Oh, ha-ha. Right. It was Halloween. Even so … wow. This guy really didn’t want her to know anything about him.

The train inched into the station, and as Devon glanced out the window, she glimpsed the sign for Darlington.

Another garbled announcement vibrated the walls of the carriage. “Passengers for Darlington, please disembark at the station. Passengers traveling on to Edinburgh, please disembark and transfer to the train on the opposite platform.”

Devon locked eyes with the vampire sitting across from her. “I guess that means we’re switching trains.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

He stood, and so did she. The back of his tall, lean body was in full view as he turned and filed down the aisle. Devon quickly followed, but when she reached the luggage receptacle, her bag jammed against another’s, and it took her a few minutes to pull it from the tight space. In the meantime, the perfect vampire had left the carriage and disappeared into the mix of people milling around the station.

She suppressed the disappointment. Now she’d have to look for him in the next train. Otherwise, so much for her shot at the perfect man.

A crowd had gathered just in front of the train, and Devon stared down the length of the platform, where police darted in and out of the last carriage, calling out orders for everyone to keep moving, stay away from the carriage car. Emergency technicians quickly followed them, and all around, the air echoed with sounds of concern.

Devon turned to a middle-aged woman standing next to her. “What happened?”

The woman stared at her. “Did you just get off that train, love?” She pointed at the door from which Devon had just exited.

Devon nodded. “Yeah.”

The woman patted her arm. “You’re that lucky.

Devon glanced again at the last carriage as two emergency techs carried two stretchers out … and were those … bodies that they were transporting, covered with sheets? “What happened?” she asked again.

The woman’s brows knitted. “I overheard one of the police say that there were four dead people on that carriage. Killed. A Halloween murder spree.” She shook her head.

Devon felt a chill run through her. A murder spree. How was that possible? On the very train she’d been sitting on moments before… talking to the perfect man.

The woman continued. “All of the bodies drained of blood.”

Devon’s breath caught in her throat. “What?” At that moment, she looked up at the train on the opposite platform. In the window of the first carriage sat her perfect man, his dark eyes staring out at her, a slight smile gracing his lips.

She found she couldn’t move until the man in the window had passed by her, and she’d missed her train.

The Meadows
Legacy of Darkness
Book One
London Clarke

Genre: Gothic suspense; supernatural thriller

Publisher: Carfax Abbey Publishing

Date of Publication: October 2018

ISBN: 9781386765233

Cover Artist: Stephen Lee Designs

Tagline: Bed, breakfast, and blood.

Book Description: A decades-old murder. A strange, blood-thirsty cult. And a house full of spirits.

It was supposed to be a new beginning, a fresh start in the Shenandoah Valley, where Scarlett’s memories weren’t riddled with drug addiction and rehab. But after purchasing an abandoned house with a checkered past in the hopes of transforming it into a luxury bed and breakfast, strange things start to happen. Disturbing voices and noises interrupt her new life. Strangers appear to her, bearing cryptic warnings. A tunnel is discovered underneath the house—one historically used for a local cult’s rituals. After several of Scarlett’s guests are hospitalized after visiting the underground, she finds herself targeted by violent spirits.

Driven to the edge of despair, Scarlett vows to fight back—but she has no idea what she’s really battling. And her nightmare is just beginning…

The Meadows is a gripping supernatural thriller in which the monsters may be vampires, demons, or flesh and blood. It is a nightmare that will make you believe it could easily happen to you.

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About the Author:

Obsessed with vampires and haunted houses from a young age, London grew up reading gothic tales featuring romantic and tragic heroes. Wuthering Heights and Dracula are her favorite novels, and although now happily married, she readily confesses that she is a recovering runaway, who once moved to England in search of a man who was the perfect amalgamation of Dracula, Hamlet, Heathcliff, and Mr. Rochester. London holds a B.A. in Music and M.F.A in Creative Writing. She’s had an eclectic array of jobs including receptionist, legal secretary, literary assistant, high school English teacher, and freelance editor.

London lives in a Washington, DC suburb with her husband and three greyhounds. She’s happiest when she’s writing novels, reading books, or binge watching her favorite programs like The Vampire Diaries or Being Human.

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White Raven

By S. Peters-Davis

We met when I was thirteen. The cool morning mist lifted off the water, my parents had already launched to fish, and I was left tending the campsite. My book lay open on the picnic table and I was totally absorbed in the paranormal romance of shifters when a white bird the size of an eagle landed on the table in front of me.

It studied me, cocking its head side to side, stepping to the right then the left of me.

Watching it watch me might have been unsettling to someone else, but I found comfort with its interest in me. I studied it right back; a Raven, only white and a huge size, with deep purple eyes and dark lashes. So, it wasn’t an albino.

“Where did you come from? You’re amazing.” My words must have startled it because it stumbled off the table, hitting the ground with a loud thud. I shot to the other side where it lay unconscious. “You can’t die. I’m sure you’re one of a kind.” I touched its soft feathered head. A tingle vibrated through my fingers and up my arm. The bird shivered and its eyes opened. “Oh, my gosh, you’re alive.”

“And you, Lacey, are nothing like I was told you’d be,” a masculine voice spoke inside my head.

I jumped back landing on my backside. My heart beat erratic as I gasped for air. We stared at each other. “You just spoke inside my head. You know my name.” I croaked the words, still working to breathe. “What are you?”

* * *

Blaze glared at me in the moonlight, his purple eyes glowed. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be practicing.” His straight white hair fluttered around his broad shoulders, his lips pinched together. “You’re eighteen and should have full access to your powers. Now is when you need to be trained.”

We stood on the edge of a Picture Rock cliff, he expected me to jump, gain my wings and fly. Only I’d never flown on my own, even though I could make feathers appear randomly on my body, it wasn’t like launching myself into the abyss of Lake Superior just to prove I can’t fly. He swore the full moon would give me insight on what would happen if I jumped off the cliff, but I definitely wasn’t feeling it.

“Come on, Lacey. Your parents were strong flyers, both of them. You’ve spent too much time with the human family and lost your instinct to the Avian way.” He stepped closer, his palm rubbed across my shoulder blade, warming my insides and making me feel safe. “It takes a nice dose of adrenaline to get those natural abilities firing through your system.” He shoved me and I tripped off the ledge.

The moonlit water was not my friend. I closed my eyes. The rocks below would kiss me dead.

My body jolted as his talons slipped around my upper arms. I opened my eyes, his strong wings worked to save us from the crashing waves and rocks.

He sighed. “Enough for tonight, we’ll try something else tomorrow.” He flew toward the forest.

Blaze had introduced me to the Avian race of people on my sixteenth birthday. They told me that I looked like my mother, who I’d never met. They also spoke of my parents as royalty, which made me giggle. My parents had left me, a newborn, at the campsite of a human couple. Perhaps to save me from the hunter that had killed them. My human parents never shared I wasn’t biologically theirs.

My ventures with Blaze and our people were in secret. The more I learned about our kind, the more difficult it became to live in the human world. Especially knowing my aging process had slowed, upon turning eighteen I aged one year for every one hundred human years.

But perhaps part of my draw to the changeling world was Blaze. He knew me like no other.

Blaze flew us deep into the forest, where our people lived in a small village settlement far off the beaten path, a place no human would ever consider living. He set me on my feet outside his home then he changed into human form. He’d insisted as my mentor and protector that I stayed with him.

“Maybe you should change out of that tiny bathing suit.” His gaze wove a web of sparking prickles from my chest to my toes and back again and then our gazes connected. Those sparks on the outside of my skin scurried into my veins like a hyper-wave of lava. He stepped closer, his head tilted toward me, breath brushing my lips.

I lifted my face toward him, my heart spiraling, eyes closing.

He kissed my forehead. “Go, change, sleep. We’ll start again tomorrow.”

My spiraling heart dropped as if knocked-out with a punch. I opened my eyes and watched him walk into the house, no need for lights with our excellent night vision.

My human mother came to mind. She had worried about my deep teal colored eyes and the distance I could see…miles away. I learned at ten years old to keep certain things to myself after running through a ton of tests. Thankfully she kept me from becoming a lab rat. I never shared my ultra-fine hearing or my ability to feel the minutest vibrations of insects and small creatures.

Like now. Vibrations and sound, snapping branches and twigs, I scanned into the forest at my left.

A gun fired. I saw the flame, fumes ripened the air. I sensed the vibration of the bullet as it passed my shoulder and slammed into the side of Blaze’s home.

“Umph.” His groan echoed in my head, then a thud loud enough to be his body.

My heart hummed, blood pumping through my veins with force. I stretched tall, my body automated. My bones and muscles snapped into a new place. I stared downward at talons instead of toes.

Another shot fired, again just missing me. My wingspan freaked me out momentarily, wider than Blaze’s, and brindle in colored. I lifted effortlessly into the air, soaring around tree branches, ascending then diving, hearing the ragged breath of the hunter. He was reloading his firearm.

His look of surprise told me he’d never heard my approach. I knocked him down, used my talons to grab his gun and snap the night vision goggles from his face. The Avians swarmed overhead, all sizes, ascending and lifting the unconscious hunter. With flying stealth, they carried him away.

I flew back to Blaze’s home; the door was open. My body morphed into human form as soon as I landed. Arianna, the Avian medic, was already leaning over his prone body, her glowing hands spread across his abdomen.

“How is he?” I ran to his side. His eyes were closed. “Is he unconscious?”

She stared at me with a look of awe. “You are the one.”

Not the response I expected, nor a clue on what it meant.

Blaze shuddered, his eyes opened. “Lacey?”

“I’m here. It was a hunter. He’s been removed from the area. How are you feeling?” I brushed a tendril of hair from his eyes. My fingers vibrated at the touch of his skin.

Arianna slid her hands away and inspected the area. A bullet clinked on the wooden floor. “Looks like you’re going to make it, my King.”

My King? I’d never heard anyone call Blaze that before.

“A little rest ought to finish the tissue healing.” Arianna rose from the floor, pocketing the bullet, and reached out a hand. I did the same and we both helped Blaze to his feet.

“What happened?” His eyes narrowed, brows drawing inward.

“Your owling came into her own. She protected first and foremost, like a true leader, my King.” Arianna bowed her head toward Blaze, then to me, and said, “We’re honored by your presence.”

I shook my head in disbelief, not quite sure what she was talking about. Nor why she was calling Blaze “my King.”

Blaze’s wide smile took my breath away, and as his gaze connected with mine my brain stopped considering anything else.

“You morphed?” He pulled me in, wrapping his arms around me. I nodded. “You morphed,” he whispered.

Arianna clicked the door shut on her quick exit.

Blaze tilted my chin up. “You have no idea how long we’ve waited; I’ve waited. Your timing is perfect, my Queen.” He closed the gap between our lips, crushing mine to his in a smolder of passion.

I held his face between my palms, our chests pressed together and our heart rhythms matched as one.

Malevolent
A Kendra Spark Novel
Book Two
S. Peters-Davis

Genre: Supernatural, Suspense-thriller, Romance

Publisher: BWL Publisher

Date of Publication: August 10, 2018

ASIN: B07G36D3JC

Number of pages: E-book length: 150

Number of pages: Print length: 195

Word Count: 57,500

Cover Artist: Michelle Lee

Tagline: Trafficked girls marked to lose their souls by a malevolent supernatural entity require someone with explicit abilities for their rescue. Will Kendra be able to save them?

Book Description:

Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery writer and communicator with the dead, signs on to the next FBI Special Task Force case, trafficked girls that are marked to lose their souls.

Jenna Powers, ghostified criminal analyst, sticks close to the case as she and Kendra are also marked by the same malevolent supernatural force.

Derek Knight, lead FBI Agent on this case, learns of the malevolent entity and the deeper paranormal realm of danger.

Kendra’s unfiltered feelings for Derek struggle to take a backseat, and as the menacing threat grows more intense, so does her passion for Derek.

Derek faces uncertainties he’s never dealt with in his past, like malicious entities and the loss of his heart to love. How can he protect Kendra against forces he can’t see?

As boundless supernatural danger intertwines with the future reality of the trafficked teens, Kendra and Jenna realize only they can shoulder the rescue by calling in a voodoo priestess…

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About the Author:

S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories, but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.

She also writes YA paranormal, supernatural novels as DK Davis.

Website: http://suda788.wixsite.com/spetersdavis1

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