Get ready to curl up in bed and hide under the covers!

Coming next in The Cornelius Saga series…

Get ready to curl up in bed and hide under the covers!

Release date will be announced on March 20th. Click this link to grab the other books in this popular series if you haven’t read them all: mybook.to/corneliuscomplseries

A FAINT WHISPER

💞 WE SEE NO EVIL Now FREE Across All Major eBook Retailers! 💞

Terrifying family secrets that lead to murder!

WE SEE NO EVIL NEW COVER 2018

** An exciting adventure in a best-selling series!

Clyde was now standing a little more than a foot away from him and wondered why the boy didn’t look quite like… the boy.

**Mira and Rosie Cullen can’t help but attract the undead, but in this spooky tale, a mere black-out can mean the difference between life and death. Will the Cullens be doomed or will Mira and Rosie uncover the harrowing mystery just in time?

FREE!

GRAB IT HERE.

Romance Author J.S. Wright’s ‘How To Have A Loving Marriage With An UNLOVABLE Spouse’

I’m pleased to announce that Romance Author J.S. Wright’s ‘How To Have A Loving How To Have A Loving Marriage With An Unlovable Spouse. COVERMarriage With An UNLOVABLE Spouse’ is being released at Amazon on March 20th. You may Pre-order the ebook at $1.99 there before the price goes up. It had an EARLY RELEASE yesterday at Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords and the Apple istore. Available for download now. Links below.

BUY FROM AMAZON

BARNES & NOBLE

KOBO

SMASHWORDS

Feeling Blessed

I had no idea (until today) that I was also featured in another one of the leading local newspapers on February 23rd. Many thanks to The Nassau Guardian, The Tribune and The Punch newspapers. And also to Fay Knowles, a remarkable journalist and friend!
Sincere thanks as well to The University of The Bahamas for inviting me as a speaker at their upcoming Blue Flamingo Literary Festival scheduled for March 23rd. It’s indeed an honour. 🙂
 

Excerpt from The Lost Children of Atlantis

Will be released on Wednesday, February 28th!

Excerpt:

~ Water’s Edge ~

Sunday, July 6th

“Here, kitty kitty!” Brandon Haygood could have kicked himself for losing sight of his precious cat during their forest walk.

Emerging from the shade of a cluster of tall trees, he came upon a body of water he never knew was there – a long stretch of resplendent liquid as far as his eyes could see. Nothing else was noticed other than a few houses farther down and the vast forest behind him. His beloved Pearl was nowhere in sight.

Looking out at the water, Brandon got the sense that it possessed a mystical quality, and stepping a few feet closer to the water’s edge, that feeling of its esoteric attributes intensified. A hundred yards down the sea shore, little Pearl with her brown and white fur was a mere ten yards away from the water. She could hear the soft, gentle voices summoning her to come closer, and for a short while, she stood and listened as her ears perked forward to their constant call. She soon advanced with several short steps and could hear Brandon calling her now too, but the voices from the water were shamelessly more appealing, more calming, and each second that sailed by, nearly irresistible.

“Here, kitty kitty!” Brandon started walking down the stretch. There was no way with his Myopia that he could see Pearl from that distance.

Pearl had finally made it to the water’s edge; the summoning still in full force. The water glistened beneath the rays of the sun and barely moved with the light wind.

“Come in!” Went a loud whisper that the cat seemed to have clearly understood. One paw hit the water and Pearl pulled back. It wasn’t cold; it just didn’t feel…right. Suddenly, there was a slight ripple of the water and from beneath emerged a head of long, black, straggly, shoulder-length hair, a face hidden beneath and a hand that reached out and grabbed Pearl’s little foreleg and pulled her into the water. The cat’s meow was heard by Brandon a good ways off as the animal was yanked beneath the mysterious sea.

“Kitty?” Brandon squinted his eyes attempting to see farther down. “Is that you, kitty?”

He started in the direction of what he thought was a squeal, then halfway there where the ripple had been, he heard a cat’s meow. Excitement filled his veins; he was sure he was getting closer to his beloved Pearl. He turned his head in the direction of the water again. It seemed to be glistening even brighter in the sun. He thought it looked magical.

“Come!” He heard in a whisper! “Come over here!”

Brandon knew he had heard that beautiful, soft voice as clear as day. He was sure that body of water was somehow beckoning him.

“Meow!”

“Kitty! kitty! Where are you?!” He stopped in his tracks, looking more closely at the water as far out as his eyes would permit. He was sure he had heard his cat’s cry from somewhere in the midst of it. Standing there, he felt a strange gravitation and slowly, he advanced to the water’s edge. “I’m coming for you, kitty. Don’t be afraid.”

He stepped in and immediately something grabbed his ankle and he was pulled under. His brown hat alone remained on the seashore.


Shortly after Release, the price will increase from the special Ebook Pre-order price of 0.99c. CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON.

LOST CHILDREN OF ATLANTIS (Cornelius book 6) FINAL LGR FINAL

CARA NOW HAS A NEW LOOK!

Book two in the bestselling Cornelius Saga Series now has a brand new look! I love it and hope you do too :).

Not all children are innocent — at least not in this story!

CARA (Cornelius book 3) NEWEST FRESHEST COVER

Dark, disturbing secrets involving a strange little girl begin to surface. Mira knows that something isn’t quite right.

After being bullied on the first day at her new school, Rosie Cullen has found a new friend in a mysterious loner named Cara. Rosie knows her only by her first name, but feels she has an obligation to be there for her in an otherwise lonely existence. Mira, Rosie’s gifted mother, allows the budding friendship for a time, but soon senses that things are NOT what they appear to be.

The Cullens will eventually discover that what they initially thought was a worthy deed has turned out to be an unforgettable nightmare.

“I took care of things,” Cara replied casually. “I had no choice. Besides, they deserved it.”

CARA at AMAZON

I will be unveiling the cover for Book 6 in The Cornelius Saga Series shortly. 🙂

Still a No. 1 Amazon Hot New Release

Excerpt:10-minutes-before-sleeping-cover-jpg-normal-size

Chapter One

A light drizzle spotted the dusty yard late that July afternoon. The small, blue house with wood siding was one of several on the four-acre land. Holding the tiny package wrapped in an off-white sheet, Marceline surreptitiously mounted the porch. She glanced around before carefully resting its delicate content directly in front of the old screen door whose rusty hinges had left the lower part slightly lopsided. Standing up again, she knocked on the front window as loudly as she could, then glanced around one last time before taking off into the distance. She ran as fast as she could in the rain that had now picked up intensity.

Inside the house remained quiet until the sound of footsteps approached the front room. The package lying at the door made a stir after the knocking, but there was no further activity. Through the screen door, Clea Jean immediately saw the rolled up sheet on the porch, and standing just inches away from the door, she noticed a slight stir coming from it which caused her to jerk. She aimed for a better look, unaware of what the mysterious package could possibly be; a series of unhealthy thoughts crowded her mind.

“Pierre, come here!” she cried, still staring through the screen.

A boy appeared moments later. He was fairly tall for his age and on the slim side. Also, he did not look a day below sixteen, although he had just a week prior seen his twelfth birthday. His eyes caught hold of what had drawn Clea’s attention. “What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Could be some kind of voodoo trap.”

Pierre shook his head, thinking his mother was far too superstitious and also generally bad-minded, always believing the worst.

He saw a stir in the sheet. “It moved!” he exclaimed.

Then they heard a weak cry and Clea quickly opened the door and stooped next to it. She unwrapped the sheet only to find a partially clad infant grimacing, then the crying continued.

“It’s a baby!” Clea blurted, wide-eyed.

Pierre had joined her on the porch, and was gazing at the child. Clea carefully picked it up, and she and her son scanned the large property.

“Whose baby is it?” Pierre asked.

“How would I know? You saw me pick it up. Did you see someone here when I picked it up?”

Pierre didn’t perceive the question worthy of a response. “It’s white,” he said.

“Not white — half white,” Clea corrected him. She was still scanning the vicinity and no one was outside as far as she could see. “Let’s get it in before she catches a cold.”

She gently rested the baby on the couch, then she and Pierre stood staring at it as if in a daze.

“She’s got a dimple, Mommy, and her hair is so pretty.” He reached down to touch the baby.

Clea slapped his hand.

“Ow!”

“Don’t touch it on its head! You just used the bathroom, boy.”

“I washed my hands, Mommy. You don’t think I know I must wash my hands after using the toilet?”

Clea gave him a feisty look as he again reached down to touch the baby’s head.

“You be careful, ya hear? She’s not a rugged boy like you.”

Pierre glanced at his mother, then focused again on the texture of the baby’s jet-black curls. The child’s eyes were darting across the room, but paid much attention to the teenager smiling down at her. Clea observed with an austere look.

She was in her late forties and life had not been easy in the village set on the tropical island of Nervesta. Neither had it been for many of her neighbors – immigrants who shared the common ground upon which their clapboard houses sat. Heavy rains on the low-lying property often posed a colossal nuisance, especially for Clea who generally found less to appreciate and much to complain about. Those closest to her swore she contended with OCD, despite not having a specific name for it. Instead, they referred to her as “picky”; sometimes “particular”; other times just “crazy”. Born and bred in Haiti, she found herself in the village where her husband, Jacques, also a Haitian refugee, resided before they were married. When he upped and left, she remained.

Pierre quickly shut the main door from the sudden downpour of rain.

“When it stops, we have to find out who had the nerve to leave an infant on my porch,” Clea said angrily. “I wonder what they expect me to do with it!”

Pierre looked at her. “Maybe whoever it was doesn’t want it.”

“So they bring it here—to me? What am I to do with it? Feeding and taking care of you is challenging enough. I swear, boy, when you finish school, you better get a good job and pay me back for all the years I had to invest my hard-earned money in you.”

“Mommy, stop talking foolishness! How can you tell your own son to pay you back for doing what you’re supposed to do as a mother? I didn’t ask to be here, remember?”

Clea fixed her gaze on the boy, temporarily forgetting the child that was now quietly sucking its thumb. “You mean to tell me you gonna just grow up and make your living, and think you don’t owe me nothing for as good as I’ve been to you? I raised you by myself. I worked and slaved for everything you have including those clothes on your back. They don’t belong to you; they belong to me! Ungrateful!”

Pierre shook his head. Clea tended to take things so seriously. “You need to lighten up, Mommy.”

“Lighten up? Lighten up? Where you get this talk from? Mixing with those other children at your school, I bet. You are Haitian. You have pride in your heritage, boy!”

Pierre sighed deeply. “You are going from one thing to the next, Mommy. First of all, I never said I wouldn’t help take care of you when I’m older and secondly, I am proud of my heritage. You think just because I don’t speak like you that I am not proud? I was born here, Mommy. You expect me not to speak like the natives?”

Clea cut her eye at him, then reached down and picked up the baby after she noticed it was getting restless.

“Get a clean sheet and fold it in half over my bed. Let’s lay the baby in my room ‘til the rain stops. It must be hungry.”

Pierre quickly heeded her instructions, then sat next to the bed watching the baby while Clea went into the kitchen.

“How will you feed her?” he asked.

“Don’t you worry. I know just how.” She was back a few minutes later with a small baby bottle filled halfway with milk.

“Where did that come from?”

“You,” she replied, sitting on the bed and scooping the little child into her arms.

“Me?” Pierre was baffled.

The baby sucked the old, light brown plastic nipple eagerly. “She’s starving,” Clea noted.

Pierre looked on. “Yeah and you finally referred to her as she.

“This bottle was yours,” Clea finally revealed. “I kept it all these years.”

“Why? You wanted more children?”

“No. No more children. You know I don’t throw away hardly anything. And it’s a good thing too because if I was any different I wouldn’t be sitting here feeding this child right now. Whoever she belongs to owes me for a can of milk.”

Pierre smiled at the comment. He knew her sour attitude and bossiness were the weapons of mass destruction that drove his father away – first to the bottle, then as far away from her as he could get. He was saddened by news that cirrhosis of the liver finally claimed Jacques’ life and never had a bad word to say about the man that walked out on him and his mother when he was just seven years old.

“You are such a smart woman,” Pierre said.

“I know,” Clea replied. “Tell me, who in this village just had a baby? This child must only be between five or six weeks old and two months.”

Pierre thought for a moment, then called a few names.

“Well, that’s four. If the mother of this child is from this village, one of the four is missing a baby. We’ll find out who it is very soon.”

Chapter Two

 Two hours later…
“Michel!” Clea shouted at the door. Pierre was standing behind her.

Within seconds, the front door screeched open and a tall woman with narrow features appeared on the other side. The look on her face was one of shock as she fixed her gaze downward.

“Is that a baby?” Michel Gilbert asked.

“What does it look like?” Clea brushed past her, inviting herself inside the small, cramped living space. Michel followed her over to the couch and Pierre closed the door after stepping inside.

“That… that looks like…”

“Who?” Clea asked Michel.

Michel’s astonishment overpowered her voice.

“We see we arrived at the right door,” Clea said.

“Marceline left Eva with you?” Michel   probed.

“Not exactly. She left the child on my doorstep, just before the rain came pouring down. What type of human being does that?” Clea made no effort to hide her disgust.

Michel found the chair and slowly descended. “She did that?”

“You’re damn right she did! Where the hell is she?”

“She’s not here. She left already.”

“Left? Left to go where? When is she coming back?” Clea demanded.

Michel shook her head. “She’s not coming back.”

You can get your copy here: Amazon

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