A devastated Heather Stone is driving eight hundred miles to cry on her sister’s shoulder, after her boyfriend of three years has dumped her.
He needed space! Our sex life is boring! You need to find the passion that’s been lost!
“Well, screw you!” she yells, just as her overheated car, pings, coughs, and shudders to a stop on a deserted road by the Arizona eastern border. Could anymore happen to her? She grabs her purse and starts walking. The sign Dugan’s Creek, leads her to an oasis of lush foliage and rushing water to cool off her blistered feet.
The sun starts to set and Heather is thinking this might not have been the smartest move. Moving shadows and night sounds from the brush lets Heather know she isn’t alone at Dugan’s Creek.
“Space?” Heather asked slowly.
“Look…” Steve stopped, running his hand through his hair. “Yea - space.”
“No, please,” Heather said, folding her arms across her chest, “continue with what you were going to say.”
Steve plopped down on the Ethan Alan black leather, no-armed straight back chair. “It’s us, Heather. We’ve been together for more than three years and…and, well it’s just not fun anymore.”
She took her Liz Claiborne suit jacket off and carefully hung it on a dining room chair. “Well excuse me if one of us needs to play the part of an adult.”
“Christ, Heather, we never go out. This is October! We have had to back out of 2 different Halloween parties because you have unexpected obligations. Don’t you remember our plan? I was going as the werewolf and you were going to be Little Red Riding Hood?” He watched as her face turned angry. “Couldn't you just tell them, 'Sorry, I’ve got plans?”
“Not if I want to get somewhere in this company! I thought you were with me on this?” She started pacing. “It’s all make believe, Steve. It used to be fun to pretend, but we have to grow up. You…you have to grow up!”
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Ghost stories—what better
inspiration for character names can there be? Follow this tour to find the
background for the character names of the Born
from Death series.
Kate Raynham nèe Morgan
Kate is a modern woman married to
a man who died in 1890. She sheltered her daughter in order to protect her, to
save her from the pain she’s lived through her entire life.
The inspiration for the name:
Hotel del Coronado is a stunning Victorian beachfront resort hotel in the very
southern California city of Coronado, just south of San Diego. It was only four
years open when a beautiful young woman named Kate Morgan checked in on
November 24th, 1892. She was apparently very ill for the time she spent at the
hotel, and it was later speculated she had taken a large dose of quinine in an
effort to induce miscarriage of an unwanted child. That she was distraught
there was little argument, so when she was found on the outside steps leading
to the beach on November 29th, with a single bullet hole in her temple and a
gun nearby, the death was quickly ruled a suicide. From that point on, strange
phenomena have been reported at the hotel: strange noises, lights flickering on
and off, and even the occasional ghostly woman in Victorian garb wandering the
Book 2 of
the Born from Death series
The only emotion Ilona can
muster is anger for the death of her mother. Barely engaged in life, she
focuses all of her energy on finding and punishing her mother’s killer.
Since Ilona can see
ghosts, Archer has to find unique ways to hide while watching over her. When
Ilona is in danger of being mauled by a dog, he desperately tries something
that shouldn’t be possible. And yet he succeeds. This is just the beginning of
his discovery of who—what—he truly is.
Lettie continues to
interact with Ilona, her one friend, even when a Messenger warns her.
Eventually, Lettie remembers the ancient connection Archer and Ilona share, as
well as her part in the punishment Archer bore as a result of that connection.
Ilona runs from her sheltering mother in order to find the
truth, why she’s seeing people who are invisible to everyone else. A mysterious
boy named Archer guides her through Brooklyn and introduces her to Hendrick,
the man who claims to be her father—though he died in 1890. Ilona must discover
not only what she must do to rid the city of Soll, a sadistic and powerful
spirit, but also what it means to be half ghost. She proves what her mother
told her—love is stronger than death.
M.S. Kaye has several published books under
her black belt. A transplant from Ohio, she resides with her husband Corey in
Jacksonville, Florida, where she tries not to melt in the sun. Find suspense
and the unusual at www.BooksByMSK.com.
boy didn’t walk up to a urinal or into one of the stalls, or even up to the
mirror. He stood in the middle of the room.
Lettie watched curiously.
moved backward away from him. Out of him.
recognized Archer’s shiny black hair and strong frame even before she could see
gasped. But ghosts can’t inhabit people.
boy shook his head and looked around. “Fuck.”
sorry,” Archer murmured so the boy wouldn’t hear.
stared at both of them.
boy turned, leaned his hands on the counter, and looked at himself in the
mirror…not the way people usually looked at themselves. It was more like he was
trying to see something more than was in the reflection.
watched him, as if waiting for him to see something.
Lettie understood. Archer hadn’t merely inhabited the boy—he’d possessed him.
But there were only a couple ways that’d be possible—if he were half ghost, or
struck Lettie like a horse galloping across a battlefield. An ancient memory.
Lettie had been around since the beginning of time on Earth, but most of those
thousands of years she let slink around the crevices of her mind. It was mostly
just walking the bridge with the newly deceased. There were a few memories,
though, that burned into her every time she let herself pull them forward. And
burned was precisely the right word.
knew—or rather, remembered—why Archer would never leave Ilona.
The peal of the church bells from the
abbey tower startled Genevieve. The sound added to her mounting anxiety.
The massive abbey loomed over the stone
paved path.All the nuns were at evening
mass.With a bit of luck her
disappearance would go unnoticed for a few more hours. The Abbess would assume
she was cleaning the toilets as ordered.
Fear skittered through Genevieve when she
turned away from the abbey towards the path leading to town. Nothing
stirred.She hesitated.Evil emanated from the forest surrounding the
abbey. With a shiver, she leaned against the solid oak gates that flanked the
abbey's main path. They had hidden her from detection for the past couple of
hours, but how much longer would she be safe?
The mountain shadows grew thicker and
She moved her weight from one leg to the
other. They ached from so much standing, but she lacked the strength to return
to the gardener's cottage and wait for Andrew's arrival as planned. Genevieve
closed her tired eyes. The image of old Ryan, slumped dead in his chair in his
cubicle, caught life in her mind and made her whole body ripple with fear.
She'd rather wait for Andrew here,
Had he forgotten his promise? What if
something terrible befell him during the last three days, or he had changed his
mind? Why should he risk all for an ordinary nun?
Had his folks talked him into giving her
up, made him see reason? Helping her out of her predicament meant a huge risk
for him -- losing his family, his friends and his position among his peers. His
words echoed in her mind. "I will risk everything for you, even life, if
* * * *
"Anne, Anne, wake up. Wake up,
please," the insistent voice whispered next to her ear.The touch of a hand, on her shoulder,
She opened her eyes, still half between
sleep and reality. Her gaze stopped on a stranger, a woman, by her side.
The moon's pale face, the only light,
filtered through a small gap in the tent's entrance; yet the stranger's whole
body emanated a kind of soft ray, a yellowish halo making her figure and face
easy to discern.
A long, dark robe, similar to those worn
by nuns in monasteries centuries ago, covered her body. No traditional
headdress covered the woman's red hair, which fell loosely over her shoulders
in long, heavy tendrils and continued down her chest and back.
Anne stood up and studied the intruder
with open curiosity. The stranger’s wax pale face looked corpse like. Anne
opened her mouth to ask her who she was. She looked Anne straight in the eyes,
placed her forefinger on her lips and whispered, "Hush, come. Follow
Anne's eyes widened.
The woman, moving away from the sleeping
bag, appeared to glide above the ground. Her bare feet didn't make a sound.
As if hypnotized, Anne followed the
illuminated silhouette heading into the forest, without questioning her own
An onrush of sensations unfamiliar to her
followed. Dizziness and a malevolent feeling of unreality suffocated her. The
presence of evil, creeping up and enveloping her, became almost palpable. Her
throat turned dry, and she gasped for air.
* * * *
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