Tag Archives: #shortstory

May 18, 2022 · 8:00 am

The Hotel California by Callie Hutton ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Callie Hutton with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  The Hotel California...

Fun Fact:

Of course, the book is based on the Eagles song, Hotel California. I just started to imagine what it would be like to be stuck in a place where you can never leave and what would happen while you were there.

 

It had been planned perfectly. Then it all went to hell…

Lauren Adams hadn’t intended to kill her ex-boss. She only wanted his money. Now, with a suitcase full of bills, she’s on the run. But very strange things are happening at the hotel she stopped at along the highway.

 

Excerpt:

She tossed the suitcase on the front seat of the shiny ‘previously owned’ Toyota 4Runner she’d bought that afternoon. The sleazy salesman was so anxious to sell her a car that he let her take it without checking her application or depositing the five thousand dollar check she gave him for the down payment.

On a bank account she closed two days before.

She climbed behind the wheel, her heart pounding. By the time the cops were notified when the men returned Monday morning, she would be far, far away. With a new identity. A quick look in her mirror reflected a woman with glasses, short curly black hair and brown eyes.

So different from Lauren Adams, the long straight blond hair, blue-eyed former clerk at Murphy’s Trucking Company. Plus it had been two weeks since she’d been fired. The truckers probably wouldn’t even remember her, since there was most likely another poor girl fielding their gropes and lewd comments.

But covering all her bases, she carried the driver’s license of Darlene Marshall with Lauren’s new persona on it. Despite having to kill Mr. Murphy, she had no regrets. She’d hated the stupid job, hated her boss, hated the truckers with their constant gross remarks and gestures, and even hated her small, dull, apartment. She was meant for better things. And now she would have them.

Three hours later, her head snapped up when she found herself nodding off as she zipped down the deserted highway. Her headlights reflected the sign coming up. Winslow, 53 miles.

It had been her plan to stop in Winslow for the night before continuing on to California, but she would never make another fifty-three miles. It had taken her longer to kill Murphy and clean out the safe than she’d expected. Who knew the old man would even be there? His threats that the money wasn’t all his confirmed what she’d suspected. He was doing something illegal.

Within minutes a building seemed to rise from the desert on the north side of the highway. Hopefully it would be a hotel or motel so she could spend the night in comfort. The thought of sleeping in her car, no matter how comfortable it was, held no appeal.

She swung her vehicle into the parking lot and parked in front of the building. She grabbed her backpack and suitcase with the money in it, and slid out of the car, grinning as she looked up at the name of the hotel.

About the Author…

USA Today bestselling author, Callie Hutton, is the author of more than forty-five historical romance books and historical cozy mysteries. She writes humorous and spicy Regency and Victorian with “historic elements and sensory details” (The Romance Reviews). With a million novels sold and translated into several languages, she continues to entrance readers with her heartfelt stories.

callie@calliehutton.com

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5349775.Callie_Hutton

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/callie-hutton

https://www.amazon.com/Callie-Hutton/e/B006O2IF2I%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share

www.calliehutton.com

https://www.facebook.com/calliehuttonsbooks

 

7 Comments

Filed under New Release

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

May 17, 2022 · 5:34 am

Thirteen Past Midnight by Stephen B. King ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Stephen B. King with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  Thirteen Past Midnight…

 

Can dreams foretell the future? Every night Jonathon returns to the same nightmare…where a cat that seems spawned from hell is always waiting for him. The dreams began at the stroke of midnight, but the following dreams happen one minute later than the night before.

A sense of dread looms over him as the clock ticks ever closer to 13 past midnight. Will he realize they’re nothing more than frightening dreams…or will he die in his sleep?

Fun Fact:

I have always been fascinated by dreams, and in my much younger, impressionable days made a bit of a study of all things occult. It started with watching a movie, called, The Devil Rides Out, which I loved and wanted to learn more. I discovered it was based on a book by Dennis Wheatley, so I read it and while by today’s standards it is tame, to an impressionable youth it beckoned its crooked finger. From there I made a trip to the British Museum and spent a few days studying Witchcraft and black magic. I don’t think, looking back, I was ever drawn to trying to be a participant, it was more a deep-seated fascination and thirst to know more.

It was a natural step, after reading more of Mr. Wheatley’s books, to study dreams and in particular Astral Travel, which is the ability of a practitioner to direct their dreams, and even to meet other people on the plane and have different experiences not possible in ‘the real world.’

Of more recent times I saw the movie Inception, and while I accept this is a remarkable work of fiction, scriptwriting and cinematic spectacle, designed to entertain, here again was a concept about directing dreams to achieve an end. Ever since I saw the movie, I think for the fifth time, I wanted to write a story about dreams.

Who knows where random thoughts of inspiration come from? I certainly have no idea where mine originate from. They seem to just hit me from out of the blue. Once I have an idea, I must explore it, and can only do so by writing it chronologically from that point forward and seeing where it takes me. So, while I wanted to write a story about dreams, I still need a spark to get the fire going and it came from Alicia Dean, asking if I would like to contribute a story to the second volume of Friday the 13th and I literally jumped at the chance. My first foray was a lot of fun to write, a tale featuring my favorite character from the Deadly Glimpses Series I’ve written, a criminal psychologist, Patricia Holmes, turned cop, and having her attend a murder-mystery dinner party with other psychologists, but there is an uninvited guest intent on murdering them all for real.

So, when asked to come back for round 2 by Alicia and agreeing obviously meant I had to come up with a story that would suit the theme. That’s when I recalled wanting to pen something around dreams. I love the symbolism of Alicia’s charter: thirteen authors, thirteen chapters etc, and so – yeah shock horror here’s that inspiration I thought of a clock telling the time of 13 past midnight. And so began my favorite question; what if…..

What if someone has a recurring dream, not just recurring, but a continuing dream staggered exactly one minute apart, starting at midnight? The dream appears to be warning of an impending danger a threat of death not to continue, and each night the horror grows. What would happen at the appointed time, death, or worse?

 Jonathon is a troubled young man. He hates his job, is engaged to a wonderful woman who works with lots of incredibly fit Olympic swimmers as a physiotherapist and deep down, he worries. He fears she doesn’t really love him, that she is so much better than he is, and that the baby she carries isn’t his. Then, a woman, who in some lights reminds Jonathon of an evil looking grey cat, wants to commission him to renovate an old house. This house has a history of black magic ceremonies, murder, and suicide. As each nightmare gets closer to 13 past midnight, Jonathon gets better at controlling his dreams, and tries to fight the evil that is coming relentlessly nearer. 

Many thanks to Alicia for inviting me to write this tale, I had so much fun writing it, and I think, though of course I am terribly biased this could be the most interesting story I’ve ever written. What do you think, dear reader?

Excerpt:
I knew I was dreaming when I peered around the trunk of an ancient Red Gum tree in the park to see if I could spot the cat before he saw me. He, or she, I had not been able to discern the sex, was prancing back and forth across the path. It was waiting for me, and it looked pissed. Suddenly it stopped and jerked its head around, and I ducked back behind the trunk, my heart pounding.
The thing has seen me. How the hell did it know I was here? Now what do I do? My mind raged in overdrive.
Why not just wake up? I replied, then closed my eyes, shook my head, and opened them again.
Nope, not working, I’m still here. Any other bright ideas?
Look, dummy, it’s just a cat, what are you so scared of? Just walk up, kick it out of the way, and get to…to…where the fuck am I going in a hurry?
I took a long, slow, calming breath and stuck my head around the tree again.
HISSSSSSSSSSS. The cat had crept up on my hiding place and launched itself at me, claws out. In a second, it would be on my face biting and scratching.
I woke, sweating, frantic rubbing my face, while the alarm clock glowed and flashed three minutes past midnight.
Bio:
Me – just some bits and pieces about – ME!
(Or as my wife often says: “It’s all just about you Steve isn’t it?”)
I’ve said, more than once, life is about the journey, and not the destination, and what a journey my life has been. We are the sum total of our experiences, and not what we eat, in my humble opinion, and when I start talking about my life to people – just before their eyes glaze over – they often say: “You should write a book.” So I have, several in fact.
Thrillers and crime genres have always fascinated me, and in particular, the dark world of serial killers, and while my beginnings were in the ‘Make love not war’ sentiment, I love a good, unputdownable, thriller. You know, the kind you just want to read one more chapter of, and then another, and then you realise you are late for work. Have I succeeded in creating stories that can take people to that place? Boy I hope so.
Drop me an email, and let me know if I have.
steve@stephen-b-king.com
Happy reading
Steve

 

8 Comments

Filed under New Release

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

May 16, 2022 · 5:34 am

The End of the Road Hotel by Peggy McKenzie ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Peggy McKenzie with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  The End of the Road Hotel…

Fun Fact

I write western historical romance, but I needed a genre that offered a change of pace so I wanted to try my hand at something new. That’s when creepy came along. Could I do it? I had no idea, but I wanted to try.

Blurb

Sometimes, the end of the road is just the beginning…

Felicity Simon is at a crossroads in her life. She and her on-again, off-again boyfriend have been together for seven years with no progress toward matrimony. Perhaps it’s time to make a change. Suddenly, she receives the unexpected news that she’s inherited her great aunt’s estate, Could this be the change she’s been looking for?

The moment they arrive at the hauntingly beautiful old Victorian, Felicity senses something is off with their host, but she can’t quite put a finger on the problem. He’s amiable, attentive, and accommodating. And, his handsome face and impeccable manners hold an allure she finds very enticing. And yet…her instincts warn her to be wary.

It doesn’t long before she realizes her instincts were right.

Snippet: 

She and Teddy arrived just outside the closed dining room doors. “Prepare yourself for the thrill of a lifetime, my pet,” he announced with all the flourish and excitement of a boxing ring announcer. My pet? She did not like the sound of that, and she was about to say so when he pushed the double doors open wide, revealing a dining room full of people sitting at a long narrow table covered in white tablecloths, crystal stemware and silver place settings all reflecting the flickering lights of a room full of tall pillar candles. Everyone was dressed in black formal attire from the same era as Teddy’s tux and her dress. So, it was a costume party from the roaring twenties after all. And there was a dining room full of people, which surprised her. She’d convinced herself she was here alone with Teddy. Now, she wished Austin was here for two reasons: she wouldn’t have to worry about him, and she could say “I told you so” with a big, wide grin on her face. No one would have been more shocked than Austin to learn there were other people in this place, after all, and she would have enjoyed the hell out of watching him scramble to apologize for doubting her.

Teddy escorted her into the room on his arm with a flourish as if she were a grand lady on display, but the closer she got to the occupants of the table, the more her brain had trouble processing what her eyes were seeing. What exactly was she looking at? It was as if everyone was frozen in time. Literally. No one was moving at all. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet our special guest, Miss Felicity Simon. Felicity, say hello to everyone. They’re dying to meet you.”

She stared hard at the first person she came to—really stared at her—or rather…it. Finally, realization punched its way through her confusion. And then, she screamed until she lost consciousness.

About the Author: 

Where Love Becomes Legendary…

An Amazon best-selling author, Peggy McKenzie was born and raised in Oklahoma, and she’s been in love with stories of happy endings and second chances since her first fairy tales in grade school. It wasn’t until she became enamored by Miss Kitty and Marshal Dillion’s love story that she decided to write her own romance stories where she makes certain the cowboy ride away with his lady love and they live happily-ever-after.

Now living in East Texas, she’s right smack dab in the middle of cowboy country, and she’s more determined than ever to fill her stories with rugged, flawed heroes and courageous, strong heroines. If you like happy endings and second chances with a touch of humor, you’ll like this author.

“Heartwarming sweet romance at its best.”

Sylvia McDaniel-USA Today Best-Selling Author

“You will not just read a story by Peggy McKenzie, you will live it.”

Hildie McQueen-USA Today Best-Selling Author

To learn more about Peggy and her books,

visit her website: PeggyMcKenzie.com.

Follow Peggy on her adventures through Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, BookBub, and Goodreads. Gain access to her fan-based webpage where she posts exclusive content by joining her monthly newsletter at https://www.peggymckenzie.com/newslettersignup.

Website: www.peggymckenzie.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/peggymckenzieauthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/pegmckenziebook

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/mckenzie2346/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/peggy-mckenzie

Amazon Author Central: amazon.com/author/peggymckenzie

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/peggymckenziebooks/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15276347.Peggy_McKenzie

6 Comments

Filed under New Release

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

May 15, 2022 · 5:39 am

Witch Ever Way You Go by Robert Herold ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Robert Herold with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  Witch Ever Way You Go…

Fun Fact

Witch Ever Way You Go is set in the Seattle area where I live. There is a bit of rivalry between Seattle proper and the suburban areas. Playing with this idea, I envisioned two rival covens, one in Seattle, the other in the wealthy suburb of Baalberith. (Baalberith is the name for a powerful demon who tempts people to engage in blasphemy and murder. Heck, there is a Diablo Dam and Diablo Lake in Washington State. Diablo means devil, so I didn’t think it was much of a stretch to call a Seattle suburb Baalberith!)

I used many other actual locations for the story: the University of Washington, the 520 Bridge (which was under construction in 2015, when the book is set) and neighborhoods on Capitol Hill. One of my favorite places was a decrepit but awesome Victorian house. Here’s a picture of it:

I have a wonderfully grisly scene in that place! I had planned to do an Instagram reel in front of the house to promote my story. Unfortunately, I just discovered it has turned into something really scary:

Bonus fun fact:

As a boy, Robert Herold wanted nothing more than to grow up to be a werewolf. (Is there any wonder why he writes horror?)

Blurb

When an ill-fated graduate student and his girlfriend are lured into a terrifying world of witchcraft and murder, they become targets for human sacrifice. Is there a chance they can escape a bloodthirsty coven of witches and certain death until the curse is lifted? A spellbinding story of modern horror.

Snippet: 

The crowd in the room became more animated, their voices rising until they were shouting. The man standing over the woman turned one way then the other, presenting the dagger. As the crowd continued the deafening chant, he raised the blade as high as possible, then thrust it down, just below the woman’s left breast. He yanked the knife free, and a fountain of blood sprayed over the man’s robe and white tuxedo. The crowd erupted in ecstasy.

My stomach turned in revulsion. We had been flirting just a few minutes earlier, and now she was dead. “Holy fuck.”

About the Author: 

The supernatural always had the allure of forbidden fruit, ever since my mother refused to allow me, as a boy, to watch creature features on late night TV. She caved in. (Well, not literally.)

As a child, fresh snow provided me with the opportunity to walk out onto neighbors’ lawns halfway and then make paw prints with my fingers as far as I could stretch. I would retrace the paw and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids and point out that someone turned into a werewolf on their front lawn. (They were skeptical.)

I have pursued many interests over the years (among them being a history teacher and a musician), but the supernatural always called to me. You could say I was haunted. Finally, following the siren’s call as an adult, I began writing horror.

Ultimately, I hope my books give you the creeps, and I mean that in the best way possible.

https://www.amazon.com/Witch-Ever-Way-You-Go-ebook/dp/B09V714SSF

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60624641-witch-ever-way-you-go

https://www.bookbub.com/books/witch-ever-way-you-go-a-friday-the-13th-story-by-robert-herold

https://www.amazon.com/Robert-Herold/e/B07YW82TLR/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1

Contact info and social media links:

email@robertheroldauthor.com

https://www.robertheroldauthor.com

https://www.instagram.com/robertheroldauthor666/

https://www.facebook.com/bob.herold.31/

https://twitter.com/RobertHerold666

https://www.facebook.com/Fri13thShortStories/

 

12 Comments

Filed under New Release

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

May 14, 2022 · 7:10 am

Deadly Illusions by Anna Kittrell ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Anna Kittrell with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  Deadly Illusions…

Fun Fact

 A skilled magician (not unlike a skilled writer) can suspend reality, causing the audience to escape into a different realm. Illusionists emit a sense of danger. They captivate and control, challenging us to believe the unbelievable. And who can keep their eyes from that sexy, scantily-clad assistant who drifts and twirls across the stage before succumbing to the handsome magician’s sinister tricks? Add in some mysterious music and billowing smoke—and wow. That’s entertainment! However, magic is predominantly a men’s profession, with less than 8 percent of magicians being female.

While writing Deadly Illusions, my goal was to have the book’s heroine embody the same commanding power and sensuality I’ve seen exhibited in male illusionists. The end result was Melinda Sloan, a beautiful independent woman with a love for magic that sadly, is rivaled only by her love of alcohol. I enjoyed writing a strong main character with real life struggles, who ultimately triumphs when faced with her demons. And the researching of magic tricks and viewing of wildly talented illusionists on YouTube while crafting Melinda’s stage performances was an exciting and unexpected bonus!

Blurb

 When Melinda Sloan’s dream of becoming a professional illusionist comes true, she’s headed for the bigtime—maybe even Vegas. But when a dangerous illusion goes wrong, killing her assistant and closest friend, Celine, Melinda’s dream turns into a nightmare—and a whiskey bottle turns into a friend. Hopeless, she vows to give up magic forever. However, when Melinda is evicted from the family home, her sister, Julia, convinces her to return to magic—and is dead set on being her assistant. Before long, Melinda is onstage in Las Vegas, doing what she loves most. But when her booking agent demands Melinda perform the very trick that caused Celine’s death, Melinda’s refusal results in a breach of contract. Julia persuades her to do the trick—penniless and unemployed, she can’t afford not to. But as she faces the sword-riddled cabinet that holds Julia, her blood runs cold. Is her baby sister lifeless and bleeding inside the sword box? Has she murdered Julia, the way she murdered Celine? Or is the magician being tricked?

Snippet: 

Melinda raised the final sword high in the air, twirled it, then rammed it partially into the box, feeling for Celine’s tug on the blade. With the weight of the audience’s stares on her, seconds felt like hours. What was taking Celine so long?

Finally, she felt a slight tug.

Didn’t she?

The booze swirled in her stomach, making her sweat. She grunted, pretending to struggle as she shoved the sword further into the box—then struggling for real as the blade met with resistance.

The music reached a maddening crescendo, each chord striking a nerve in Melinda’s pounding head.

How much time had passed?

The whiskey clawed at her throat as the room spun.

Just then, she felt a definite tug on the sword blade. Relief flooded her soul. Celine must’ve had a bit of trouble navigating the final blade around the others.

What had it been—five seconds? Ten at most?

Melinda shoved the sword down with all her might, feeling no resistance from Celine. The sword slipped easily through the box, into position.

Confidence soaring, Melinda placed a hand on the box and pranced in a slow circle, turning the platform, showing the spectators every side. She faced the box toward the audience.

Time to retrieve the swords and open the box. She loved this part. Celine would be sitting straight up, beautiful as ever, without a scratch on her. The audience would go wild, like they always did.

Melinda removed the first sword, followed by the others, saving the sword jutting from the top of the box for last. Grasping the handle with both hands and closing her eyes, she made a show of slowly pulling the sword from the opening, Excalibur-style, and holding it above her head.

The music stopped. Shocked cries punched through the silence as something warm dripped onto her face.

“Blood!” Someone shouted.

Who was cruel enough to yell out a thing like that? Sick bastard. The horrible word stuck to her, burning like hot tar.

Sweat rolled down her forehead, into her eyes and mouth. It tasted like whiskey. No. It tasted like blood.

About the Author: 

Anna Kittrell resides in the same small Oklahoma town where she grew up, and has been a secretary at Anadarko Middle School for over twenty years. She married her high-school sweetheart, raised two children, and has an eight-year-old grandson who is her very best friend.  She has written for as long as she can remember and still has many of her tattered childhood creations—stories she used to sell on the playground for a dime, penned on notebook paper. Her love of storytelling has grown throughout the years, and she is thrilled her tales are now worth more than ten cents.

www.annakittrellauthor.com

https://www.facebook.com/AKittrell

https://www.amazon.com/Anna-Kittrell/e/B009OWBPMM?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1648916080&sr=8-1

12 Comments

Filed under New Release

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

May 13, 2022 · 5:20 am

Skadegamutc: Monster in the Mirror by Diane L. Kowalyshyn ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Happy Friday the 13th! It’s release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome Diane L. Kowalyshyn with her story,  Skadegamutc: Monster in the Mirror…

Fun Fact:

 

I’m fascinated my Native American mythological creatures. I wrote about the windigo in Crossbones, the skadegamutc in a Friday the 13th Short Story, and the chepitchcalm in When the Earth Moves (WIP). There are two more Native American creatures I’ll be bringing to life in the Earth, Wind and Fire series sequels.

Blurb:

Officer Pauline McCrory arrives at Alma Wildberry’s cabin under the impression the elder died of natural causes before her hungry one-eyed cat consumed parts of her face.

When the medical examiner rules the case a homicide, Pauline must determine who drained six pints of blood and removed a pound of flesh from Alma’s head and neck.

The investigation brings an age-old Passamaquoddy legend, the Skadegamutc to life, and Pauline must find the ghost-witch before it kills again.

Snippet:

Bob. Alma’s one-eyed cat. A bad eye infection forced the local farm vet to remove the diseased orb and sew up the empty orifice. “Hi Bob,” Birdie exclaimed, just to break the sinister silence in the room. “Where’s Alma?”

Bob didn’t pay any attention. He waddled toward the kitchen and disappeared behind the center island separating the two rooms.

A stale smell, like rotting garbage, wafted from the kitchen.  Many locals used a compost heap for table scraps and burned what little garbage they generated. Her footfalls slowed when she noticed broken glass shimmering like sparkle dust on the floor. Slivers crunched underfoot, despite her trying to avoid them.

The antique mirror hanging on the wall between the bedrooms and the kitchen had fallen to the floor. A shattered bulls-eye of beveled glass leaned against the baseboard. Alma loved that mirror. She loved finding and restoring treasures from tag sales and repurposing them.

Bob started to meow. Soon it turned into languishing yowls. The cat had to be hungry.

Birdie’s progress ground to a halt.

Maybe Alma had gone out to gather mushrooms or flowers and herbs to pulverize and dry, but it didn’t make sense she would leave the broken mirror on the floor. It made Birdie worry that Bob might cut himself so she jumped to attention. She’d sweep up the flakes of glass and take the smelly garbage to the compost before Alma returned. She bee-lined for the closet beside the fridge and pulled out the broom and dust bin. When she spun, she saw a pair of moccasin clad feet—feet that had been previously obstructed by the position of the island—jutting out from the end. Bob sat hunched over Alma’s face gnawing on what remained of her nose.

“Oh, my God, no.” The broom and dust bin clattered to the floor and she ran toward her friend.

Birdie’s stomach roiled when she got closer. It sent her reeling over to the sink where she wretched up the remains of her lunch. Several bouts of nausea assailed her. She splashed some water on her cheeks and forehead and when the heaving subsided, she reached into her pocket and dialed.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“Alma Thornberry is dead. I found her body in her kitchen. I think she’s been gone a while because her cat’s been eating her.”

About the Author:

Diane L. Kowalyshyn writes heart-hammering, high-voltage thrillers—adventures that run on action, intrigue, and romance. Her first book earned a Master of Fine Arts degree in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. She is an avid sailor who’s listened to her fair share of marine storm warnings and relied on the intermittent pulse of a lighthouse beacon to bring her safely back to port. When she’s not on the water, she loves to travel to faraway lands where she navigates rustic landscapes and meanders through ancient and decaying palaces, and castles. Her books are available in paperback and ebook through Chapters/Indigos, Amazon, Google, Nook, iBook, and Kobo.

http://www.dianelkowalyshyn.com

Crossover, March 2021 (Goodreads)
Double Cross, August 2021 (Goodreads)

Crossbones, February 2022 (Goodreads)

Skadegamutc: Monster in the Mirror by Diane L. Kowalyshyn https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09V5RD8VJ

14 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Tagged as , , , , , , , ,

November 14, 2020 · 12:12 pm

Blood and Breakast by me…Alicia Dean. :) A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Happy Friday the 13th!! Welcome to the thirteenth and final post about a brand new series of 13 suspenseful “Friday the 13th” short stories, each by a different author.

Today, I am happy to share my Friday the 13th Short Story, “Blood and Breakfast” – Now available for sale for $1.99 or #FREE on #KindleSelect

AND…be sure to check out our contest:

Enter to win 13 FREE books brought to you by our 13 Friday the 13th authors. See contest link HERE for details.

Fun Fact:

I was plotting my story and trying to figure out why a normal family man would suddenly snap and murder his family. I realized that hallucinations could cause people to do crazy things, so I researched what could make people hallucinate. I discovered that the plant, jimson weed, can cause serious hallucinations. I also wanted to incorporate some kind of an authentic local legend in my story, so I researched legends in various states and came across the Devil’s Footrock in Rhode Island.  I was able to mesh the two–jimson weed and the Devil’s Footrock–to come up with how the husband/father in my story lost his mind and killed his family. It’s so much fun when ideas click and make a story come together. Here’s a photo of Devil’s Foot Rock:

Cool, right? You can learn about the legend surrounding the footprint by reading my story. Or, you can just google it 🙂

Now, more about Blood and Breakfast…

Blurb:

Determined to boost the sagging ratings of her internet radio show, “A Dark Place,” murder junkie Sasha Gillette checks into the Talley House Bed and Breakfast in North Kingston, Rhode Island. She and her co-host plan to broadcast an episode about the murders that took place there thirteen years earlier on a Friday the 13th, when a man butchered his entire family.

Not long after Sasha arrives, the other guests begin to disappear. Has a killer from the past resurfaced or is there a copycat on the loose?

One of the lone survivors, Sasha finds herself trapped with a sadistic killer and, suddenly, murder isn’t as much fun as she thought.

Excerpt:

The bedside lamp glowed, but the room was cast in shadows. The door to the balcony stood open, and the sheer drapes fluttered in the cool breeze. Juliana wrapped her arms around her body and strode over to close the sliding glass doors.

She paced the wooden floor, clenching and unclenching her fists. “The bitch. The little whore.” A knot formed in her throat, and she swiped at the tears streaking her cheeks. “And, the sorry son of a bitch. How could he? On our honeymoon?”

She continued to pace and curse, then took her phone from the nightstand and fired off a text to Bradley.

Sleep on the fucking couch tonight, you sorry piece of shit. I don’t want to see your face.

For a brief moment, she regretted sending it and wished she could take it back. But that lasted only a moment. His return text shattered her heart.

Fine by me. Fuck off.

The sobs that had been building broke free. She dropped to the bed and covered her face in her hands. Her soul felt like it was ripping in two. How did things go so wrong so fast? She thought he loved her. That he would fight for her. Instead, the first slut he encountered, he became a cheating asshole.

A sound penetrated her consciousness, and she sniffled back her tears. The door swung inward. In spite of her fury, her heart lifted. She stood and faced the door as she waited for Bradley to enter. Should she play it cool and make him beg? Or should she forgive him and put this behind them. Start anew?

She took a step toward the door as he entered, then froze. The man standing inside the room was not Bradley. She knew this because he was taller than Bradley, bigger. Besides, why would Bradley be wearing a ski mask?

“Who—who are you?” Her voice quivered. “What do you want?”

He stalked across the room and clapped a gloved hand over her mouth. With his other hand, he gripped her neck and squeezed. She tried to speak but could only make a gurgling sound. Her skin tightened with fear, and her stomach quivered. Terror seized her insides. She grabbed his wrists, clawing at his flesh, trying to loosen his grip. Her hands, slippery with sweat, couldn’t get a good hold.

In the murky semi-darkness, something metallic flashed in her vision. Oh God…a knife.

His hot breath wafted over her neck as he whispered into her ear, “We’re going for a walk. Make one sound, and I’ll slice you open from neck to navel.”

16 Comments

Filed under Author Blog Post

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

November 13, 2020 · 10:47 am

Fatal Legacy by Krysta Scott… A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Happy Friday the 13th!! Welcome to the twelfth of my posts about a brand new series of 13 suspenseful “Friday the 13th” short stories, each by a different author.

Today, I am happy to share Krysta Scott’s “Fatal Legacy” – Now available for sale for $1.99 or #FREE on #KindleSelect

AND…be sure to check out our contest:

Enter to win 13 FREE books brought to you by our 13 Friday the 13th authors. See contest link HERE for details.

 

Fun Fact:

When I was a child I used to visit an arboretum. I loved the forests, gardens, and grasslands. The only thing it didn’t have was a hedge maze. It should have had one. So I gave the arboretum in Fatal Legacy a hedge maze and let my characters run wild in them.

Blurb:

Veronica Wiseman wants nothing more than a quiet life as an appellate attorney But. a serial killer is on the loose in her small town, destroying everything she holds dear. The people she cares about are in danger, and her childhood memories have turned dark. She soon learns that her sister’s death was not an accident and that her husband cannot be trusted.

As she tries to make sense of the tangled mess her life has become, a murderer draws closer. And it appears she is next on his kill list.

Excerpt:

Skeletal fingers of lightning crossed the sky, illuminating her path. For a moment, she feared she was running in the wrong direction. Then she saw it. The small indentation in the farthest hedge. Encouraged, she sped up. Her feet slipped on the gravel, and she stumbled into the bushes. She grabbed onto the slender branches, attempting to gain traction, but her knees buckled, and she swayed into the bush. Steadying herself, she leaned into the fullest part of the bush and pushed off. She stumbled to the center of the path—just as a large blade shoved through.

“Oh my, that was close, wasn’t it?” The eerie voice mocked her.

Gasping, she ran, the frightening laughter following her down the pathway.

Too close.

Adrenaline fueled her with renewed purpose. She flew across the gravel. The narrow passage loomed ahead. A place where the bushes didn’t quite grow together at the corner. Not usually noticeable to an adult but obvious to a twelve-year-old child, crawling on her belly in an attempt to hide from her sisters. Still there. Her breath whooshed from her in relief. It was just as she remembered.

“What are you doing there, Lorelei?” That chuckle again.

It sent icy shards over her skin.

“Had enough? Stymied?”

Her hand flew to her mouth, and she froze. It was like he was right behind her instead of on the other side of a line of thick shrubs.

She fell on her hands and knees. Answering him would be a futile effort. He already knew where she was, and it would be worse to let him know what she was doing. Grabbing the nearest branch, she dragged herself into the small gap between the bushes. Her hips hit a higher branch, wedging her body between the ground and shrub. Stuck! She couldn’t go any farther. The last time she’d attempted this she wasn’t even in a training bra. She’d been so thin she could slide through a leaky sieve. Now, puberty had endowed her with full hips. Her heart thudded.

She had to make it through the opening. Her life depended on it. She tugged harder. With a sickening scrape along the gravel, she moved a little farther. Biting her lip, she slipped along the mud in slow motion—trapped in one of those nightmares where you can’t run. She needed more time.

 

Bio:

Krysta Scott has always been a daydreamer, imagining worlds far away with happy endings. When she was in fifth grade, she was so caught up in fantasy she earned the dubious distinction of being named the girl who daydreams the most. The award for this questionable honor was a colorful transparent plastic poster made to look like stained glass. It was very cool. Given her flights of fancy, it came as no surprise to her family when she announced she was going to be an actress. Unfortunately, her pursuit into theater didn’t last long, because she was too withdrawn and shy to exhibit any talent in this area. Left with no other choice but to pursue a more practical avocation, she decided to major in psychology and then go to law school. Not able to let go of the worlds she created in her head, she returned to writing and was very excited when the Wild Rose Press contacted her first book.

6 Comments

Filed under Author Blog Post

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

November 12, 2020 · 10:37 am

Shattered Reflections by Tamrie Foxtail… A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Hello and welcome to the eleventh of my posts about a brand new series of 13 suspenseful “Friday the 13th” short stories, each by a different author.

Today, I am happy to share Tamrie Foxtail’s “Shattered Reflections” – Now available for pre-order…releasing tomorrow, Nov 13.

Fun Fact:

The idea for the ruins of the family home came from a place we used to hang out as teens. It was an old, abandoned house in a small wooded area. The windows and doors were long gone. There was a big hole where a septic tank had been. We had a friend from another neighborhood visiting. We took her there one night. There was a full moon. I told her the place was haunted. The house had been abandoned after an entire family was murdered and the hole in the ground was where they had been buried. My friend, Carol, was nodding her head, confirming everything I said and adding details here and there. We frightened her so much, she took off down the path and refused to come back. No matter how much we tried, we never could convince her that I made the whole thing up.

Blurb:

Cassidy Dupree’s calm, predictable life is turned upside down when she walks into her sister’s home to find an empty house and a shattered mirror.

Cassidy thought her sister and brother-in-law had a good marriage, the kind she hoped to have one day, right up until her brother-in-law walked out on Kathryn. She thought she knew everything about Kathryn, until the moment she vanished and the secrets exploded.

Now her sister’s killer has turned his attention to Cassidy.

Excerpt:

            She’d always loved nighttime storms, tucked in her bed, warm and safe while the thunder rolled closer, making the air itself vibrate. The cadence of the rain, pounding against the roof was both a lullaby and a parade drummer. She would open the curtains and wait for the lightning to race across the dark sky, opening it up with a brilliant flash, leaving in its wake a negative image that hovered in the night for a second or two.

            But a storm when she lay curled up safe in her bed and a storm approaching when she was outside in the darkness with a killer on the loose were two very different things.

            Cassidy shivered as the storm rolled closer. She parked her car near the bridge, hesitated a moment, then got out, beeping the lock closed and walking along the park’s jogging path for the short distance until she came to the bridge. She reached into her pocket, felt her phone, familiar and reassuring.

            In the middle of the bridge a man stood silhouetted.

            “Hello, Cassidy,” he called. She recognized the voice from the phone call.

Cassidy started up the old wooden foot bridge. The boards sank a little every time she stepped on one, old wood turned soft through the years.

            Thunder rumbled off to the east.

            “Don’t worry,” he said. “The storm’s still several miles away.”

            She came a few steps closer. “I’m here. In the park in the middle of the night with a storm approaching. You can at least tell me your name.”

            “Jeff White.”

            The name zinged through her memory. “Kathryn had a friend named Jeff. They used to meet for lunch.”

            “Yes. I told you, we’d meet at The Oasis.”

            She walked a little farther up the bridge, hearing the slats creak. She rested one palm lightly on the rough wooden handrail, took another step.

            Cassidy’s heart flew to her throat as her right foot sank into nothing. She twisted, grabbing at the old rail with both hands. Splinters dug into her palms and the rail shook. Her left knee slammed against the spongy slats.

 

Bio:

Tamrie grew up in the sunshine state and came to Oklahoma when her Okie husband decided to move back home. As soon as she recovered from a rather serious case of culture shock, she fell in love with Oklahoma and the people. A former small town librarian, she now works at a local high school. She loves carousels, Shelties, soap making, scrapbooking and reading. She currently shares her home with the world’s most stuck up (and lovable) cat.

1 Comment

Filed under Author Blog Post

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

November 11, 2020 · 1:24 pm

Links to Evil by Rolynn Anderson… A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Hello and welcome to the tenth of my posts about a brand new series of 13 suspenseful “Friday the 13th” short stories, each by a different author.

Today, I am happy to share Rolynn Anderson’s “Links to Evil” – Now available for pre-order…releasing Nov 13.

Fun Fact:

I asked the brilliant and talented women in my golf club to help me write this short story since it is about a passel of golfers who help my heroine solve a murder. They provided names, settings, conflicts, and events I could fold into my mystery. They answered questions for 13 days and I wrote the draft in an additional 13 days. I even chose women at my golf course to be BETA readers. In the dark days of COVID, building a short story together was a welcome distraction!

 

Blurb:

A golf vacation meant to heal her injured brain turns into a career-buster, when FBI agent Sable Chisholm is accused of murdering her swing coach. Sable and her fearless foursome begin a perilous journey to expose the evil underbelly of a California links community.

Excerpt:

Sable faced her golfer friends and parsed her disclosure boldly. “I’m not afraid of sex.”

All three women laughed until their eyes watered.

Sable gave them a jaundiced look. “Thanks a lot.”

“You’re full of surprises, girl,” Rena said wiping her eyes. “Want to clarify that statement? I mean there isn’t a one of us who doesn’t love sex.”

Tightening her hands on the club, Sable said, “Being poisoned during a stakeout changed me from an introvert to a raging advocate of every out-there recreation I could find in The City. Climbing, surfing, bungee-jumping, triathlons, sky-diving. You name it. All in the month after carbon monoxide toasted my amygdala.” She cleared her throat. “I sought out sexual adventures as well.”

Rena hooted. In the next moment, she winced. “Protected, I hope.”

Looking at the grass, Sable said, “With married men.”

“Oh,” Bree said.

“Who worked in my office.”

“Ugh.” Sylvia grimaced.

“Two of them.”

“Bridges burned,” Rena opined.

“Mike?” Bree asked.

Sable shook her head. “Close. Too close.”

“Bottom line, Sable.” Rena tapped her finger in her palm. “Your police record details how you beat up two guys in a bar. Any pending suits from revengeful wives?”

“None. I promise. I made a deal with my therapist. No hopping in bed until after the fifth date. I have not slept with any man in Arroyo Grande in the two weeks I’ve been here. Period.”

She pinched her forehead. “My second admission isn’t earthshaking, but for some reason, my boss says I must tell you.” Sable paused. “I own a donkey and a pig.”

Bio:

Scandinavian, Army Brat, Wife, English Teacher, High School Principal, Golfer, Boater, World Traveler, Author.  Now add a competitive nature and a love for ‘makeovers.’  As a principal, Rolynn Anderson and the staff she hired, opened a cutting-edge high school; as co-captain with her husband on INTREPID, she cruised from Washington State to Alaska and back.  As a writer, she delights in creating imperfect characters faced with extraordinary, transforming challenges.  Her hope: You’ll devour her ‘makeover’ suspense novels in the wee hours of the morning, because her stories, settings and characters, capture your imagination and your heart.

Find Rolynn here:

Website

Facebook

Twitter

 

9 Comments

Filed under Author Blog Post

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,