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Karen Michelle Nutt
Victory Tales Press Print
Victory Tales Press E-book
Category:
Halloween
Publisher: Victory Tales Press
ISBN-10: 1453818758
Pages: 158
Copyright: Oct. 1, 2010
ISBN-13: 9781453818756
The Curse of Tempest Gate by Karen Michelle Nutt
Clarity Shaw, a reporter for Unbelievable Finds, seeks answers concerning the curse of Tempest Gate Cemetery. Warnings from the Bed and Breakfast’s receptionist and an old man only make her more curious. Determined to get her story, Clarity ventures into the old cemetery.
Even though she is tied to the legends surrounding Tempest Gate through her ancestry, Clarity does not believe in the paranormal. She intends to collect the local versions of the stories, take some photos, and be on her way.
A beautiful sculpture in the cemetery, a stone angel warrior, draws her attention and her admiration. Could this be the Archangel Michael? Then she finds out more than she bargains for when she sits in the devil’s chair on the eve of Halloween. Two entities need her for their own personal reasons, but only one will demand her heart.
Always and Forever by Cheryl Pierson
At a children’s Halloween carnival, a Gypsy fortuneteller predicts a new love for both Cindy and Gage. When the two meet over a poorly carved pumpkin, love flickers to life and the stars begin to align.
But the odds of finding a new love later in life seem insurmountable and the prophecy seems too good to be true. After all, Gage has been burned before and Cindy doesn’t believe in fortunes or second chances.
Will doubt overshadow their attraction or has love already been set in motion? Can the star-crossed pair put their faith in the love that was foretold? Can they believe in each other?
Conceived in Darkness by Laura Shinn
Prince Orekon is out of time and out of solutions. He must mate and he only has until sunrise in three days or he will lose his throne. The alternative would be disastrous for his people. The females from his world of Astovia are lovely and willing, but his heart remains cold. There is not even one among them who wants to discover the heart within the beast. And Orekon refuses to mate with just any female available. He wants a female who will join with his heart as well as his body.
Music is Kathryn Schaffer’s life and passion. It’s the only thing in her life that keeps her going, waiting for each performance. When a strange man in a corridor holds her captive from behind, Kathryn is momentarily terrified. Until his touch softens and he whispers words of passion and love in her ear. Knowing she will never experience those emotions in her entire life, Kathryn takes a chance and opens her heart to a stranger.
However, falling in love is never easy and trials and challenges await back on Astovia for the mated couple. Orekon is confident in his ability to maintain the throne, but Kathryn is in a world unlike her own. Will she find a way to win over the hearts of the Astovian people as she did with Orekon?
A Haunting Love by Rebecca J. Vickery
Trudy thinks she must have lost her mind by agreeing to house-sit a huge, old, Victorian mansion during Halloween week. Lights switching on and off along with odd noises lead her to meet a certain, handsome police officer named Simon. The attraction is mutual and undeniable. Maybe the scare was worth the chance to go out with this guy.
When odd things at the old house continue, Mina, Trudy’s best friend and partner in a vintage clothing shop, teases her about having a poltergeist. Deciding she can deal with that better than an actual person out to do her harm, Trudy relaxes a bit—until the ghost takes over on Halloween, revealing a curse and an ancient, haunting love.
Excerpt for The Curse of Tempest Gate
She chewed on her lower lip, debating if she should give the chair a try. “The stories surrounding the chair were meant to scare people,” she reminded herself, trying to forget Hester Higgins ominous warnings about the entity of Samael feeding off a person’s deeds. “Sordid deeds.” Her worse offense was taking extra cream home from the nearby coffee shop to use later at home. She couldn’t imagine Samael getting high off of that. Besides, the legend of the chair was probably invented to scare away vandals.
With a shrug of her shoulders, she plopped down in the chair, facing the Archangel Michael, who appeared to be eyeing her with disdain. “Don’t look at me that way. I had to sit here. I work for a magazine—and I’m talking to a statue.” She shook her head. It must have been the knock to her head. It made her loopy. She lifted her camera, facing the lens toward her. At arm’s length, she snapped a self-portrait of herself sitting in the chair. She looked at the picture on her screen, thinking it looked okay, but something in the corner of the photo caught her attention.
The clouds shifted overhead and the photo became shadowed. She had to magnify the picture, bringing the image closer to the screen. Her heart beat faster in her chest. A shadow in the shape of a man stood behind her off to the left of where she sat. She whipped around in her seat, half expecting to see the figure looming over her, but there was nothing there.
Her body relaxed and she sat back in the seat, studying the image once again. She might have dismissed the figure as a trick of the light if there hadn’t been two glowering red eyes staring back at her. “Now that’s creepy.”
The shadows deepened overhead. With a frown, she glanced up at the storm clouds moving in fast from the other direction to join the ones hovering overhead. She had to go now. Her windbreaker wouldn’t repel a downpour and she’d end up drenched. She flew to her feet, but something whipped around her waist like a vice and yanked her back into the chair. She let out a gasp of surprise as she glanced down at the ivy wrapping around her, binding her as securely as ropes would. She struggled against the plant determined to keep her prisoner, but her fingers were useless against the vine’s strength.
You’re sitting in the devil’s chair. The annoying voice in her head reminded her in a tone of how-stupid-can-you-get.
A scream crawled up her throat in a roar of denial. “Demons are not real! They are not real,” she yelled again.
“Oh, but they are,” a deep voice momentarily broke through her tirade.
Her limbs froze and her heart threatened to stop. The Archangel Michael stepped down from his base, his wings spread wide in a ruffle of feathers that sliced through the air. He no longer was a frozen stone effigy, but flesh and blood. His hair was seven shades of gold and his eyes as blue as the sky. Her mouth dropped open, but no words left her lips.
“I believe you asked for my service.” He bowed before her with a generous display of courtesy.
She let the scream come loose, bellowing like a banshee set free to find its prey.
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