Friday, November 29, 2013

A Bleak - Uh, Black - Friday For Sure | Charles A. Ray | Blog Post | Red Room

A Bleak - Uh, Black - Friday For Sure | Charles A. Ray | Blog Post | Red Room

Get it Free! 'Incident at Cactus Junction

The first of my holiday offerings, Incident at Cactus Junction, the Kindle version, is free December 1 - 5. Start your holiday book shopping with this bargain now!

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Kindle Books: Holiday Book Specials

Looking for stocking stuffers for those favorite people on your holiday gift list – or just want to give yourself a treat? Books are great gifts, because they keep on giving year round. And, e-Books are even greater because they’re so portable. I’m offering a holiday special for my readers. During the weeks leading up to Christmas, five of my Kindle titles will be available either FREE or at a greatly reduced price. Make a note of the dates and get your shopping done early.

Buffalo Soldier: Incident at Cactus Junction Third in the Buffalo Soldier series, historical novels for YA readers. In this story, Sergeant Ben Carter and his men are sent to protect the citizens of the West Texas town of Cactus Junction from a gang of rustlers. In the process, they also have to contend with local prejudice.
Get it FREE December 1 - 5!

 Dead Men Don't AnswerAnother Al Pennyback mystery. Al is asked by a young woman to find out why her fiance, supposedly dead for six months, answered his phone. As he investigates, a ghost from his past - a military operation gone terribly wrong - comes back looking for revenge. To make matters worse, he discovers that the dead man might actually be alive, and a murderer. The clock is ticking for our intrepid DC private detective, known as the Brown Knight.  Get it FREE December 6 - 10!

African Places: A Photographic Journey Through Zimbabwe and southern AfricaA photographic journal of my travels through southern Africa.
Discounted December 3 - 9, beginning at $0.99 or 81% off regular price!

 Pip's RevengeThe second in the series about Pip of Pandara, a foundling with special powers. A sword and scorcery fantasy. Pip has been given command of Pandara's army, and furthermore, Queen Daphne has instructed him to find a wife. To complicate his life, the Barbarian Tenkuk is mounting an invasion army, and Pip must defend Pandara against him. He's not sure which is the harder task, fighting Tenkuk or finding a wife.
FREE December 11 - 15!

 Angel on His ShoulderA comic fantasy. Winston Nesbitt is a 40-year-old loser who still lives in his parents' house; is abused by his employers; and, is in love with a co-worker but afraid to let her know. He was comfortable with his life, if not exactly happy with it. He didn't think could get any worse, but then his grandmother, who died twenty years earlier, comes back as a tiny spirit, bent on straightening him out. Discounted December 10 - 15. Get it for $0.99.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

WIP: Chapter 1 of Buffalo Soldier: Yosemite

English: A photograph of Yosemite National Par...
English: A photograph of Yosemite National Park ranger Shelton Johnson in the uniform of a "Buffalo Soldier" as part of a living history re-enactment. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
An Afro-American Corporal, in the 9th Cavalry....
An Afro-American Corporal, in the 9th Cavalry. Snow covers the ground 1890. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As a special holiday treat for fans of the Buffalo Soldier series, I’m offering a sneak peek at chapter one of the latest work in progress; Buffalo Soldier: Yosemite, a fictional account of the role played by the Buffalo Soldiers of the U.S. Ninth Cavalry in the development of the National Parks system, which is scheduled to be completed by the end of the year.
     They came riding through a sharp cut in the mountains, where the trail started to dip down toward the broad, flat plains below. After more than two months, most of it spent in the saddle, they were weary and looking forward to getting home.
     The lower they got on the trail the higher the temperature rose. The great coats they’d had to wear at the higher altitudes to protect from the bitter January cold were starting to feel heavy.
     “Detachment, halt,” Sergeant Ben Carter said, loudly enough so that Corporal Tom Holman, who was riding point, could hear. Ben noticed that his breath fogged less than it had when they started riding earlier that morning, and he was starting to feel sweat forming under his armpits. “Let’s take off the coats, and tie ‘em to the back of the saddles.”
     The nine cavalrymen riding behind him wasted no time shucking the heavy coats.
     “Dang, I didn’t think you was ever gone let us take them things off,” Sergeant George Toussaint, Ben’s second in command, said. “I was sweatin’ like a blue tick dog in a Louisiana swamp in that thing.”
     Toussaint rode up alongside Ben. The wide smile on his broad, brown face belied his words. Ben noted that the normally phlegmatic trooper had been smiling and happy for almost the entire mission. In fact, everyone in the unit had been considerably happier since they’d been moved from their job of escorting work details and sent off to scout a route from Fort Union to Yosemite. Despite the long days in the saddle, the rugged terrain ranging from high mountain to scorching desert, and weather that was freezing cold in the mountains and hot enough to fry bacon in the desert, Ben and his men had been in fairly good spirits for the entire time.
     “Yeah,” he said. “I was starting to feel a bit hot myself. I don’t reckon we’ll need ‘em for the rest of the trip.”
     As they came down out of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, north and northeast of Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico Territory, they could see the plains off to the east that seemed to go on forever. Ben knew that Fort Union, home to two troops of the Ninth United States Cavalry, was just over the horizon - about thirty miles more, and they would be home.
     Up ahead, he saw that Holman had tied his coat behind him and was waiting for his signal to move out again. He waved.
     When Holman’s horse was turned, Ben signaled the rest of the detachment to move out. In a clatter of hooves, ten riders and five pack horses resumed their trek down off the mountain.
     Over two months on the trail had been taxing, but Ben was satisfied that they had accomplished their assigned mission of mapping out a route from Fort Union to Yosemite that could be traveled by a wagon carrying surveying equipment and driven by civilians with little experience on the frontier. He had also, he felt, accomplished the mission he set for himself.
     After an extended period of garrison duty, the men of the detachment had lost their edge. During the mapping mission, Ben had them perform tactical drills at every opportunity. From setting up camp at night, and breaking camp each morning, mounting sentries at every stop, and on a few occasions in isolated areas away from settlements, doing rifle, pistol, and saber drills until they could do them with their eyes closed. There had been complaining the first few times, and they were clearly rusty, but as the old skills came back, and their performance smoother and by reflex, they began to enjoy it. Being outside in the open air, with starry skies over their head at night, was what they needed to feel like soldiers again. He could see it in the way they rode. Their heads held high, shoulders squared, and backs straight. These were once again the men he felt confident going into battle with.
     They hadn’t even minded that their mission caused them to be in the field over the Christmas and New Year’s holidays. They’d shot several quail and a small deer and cooked them over an open fire to supplement the rations they carried. The fresh meat, along with several jugs of apple cider they’d bought at a settlement in California they’d passed through, made the meals around their campfire every bit as festive as it would have been had they been at Fort Union. Even George Toussaint, taciturn by nature, joined in the singing around the fire, surprising everyone with his beautiful baritone voice.
     He breathed deeply of the air, fresh and crisp. He enjoyed the feeling of the sun bathing his face and hands, and the sight of the animals coming out to take advantage of the warming air as the sun burned off the night chill.
     As Ben looked ahead, something about what he saw bothered him, but it took a few seconds for his brain to process what he was seeing.
     Off in the distance, he could see Holman’s horse idly grazing. But, there was no sign of the trooper. Ben senses’ went on alert. He raised his hand, halting the column.  Toussaint quickly rode up beside him.
     “What’s the matter?” he asked.
     Ben pointed. “I see Tom’s horse, but I don’t see him,” he said tensely.
     He quickly went through possible scenarios in his mind. He hadn’t heard gunfire, and there wasn’t enough cover in front of them for an Indian with a bow to hide, so it couldn’t be a hostile attack. Holman was a good horseman who wouldn’t just fall off his horse, and it he’d gotten off for some reason, Ben should be able to see him. A standing man was visible for miles on the flat terrain.
     “You want me to go up and check?” Toussaint asked.
     “No, you stay here with the unit. I’ll take Malachi with me.”
     Ben called Private Malachi Davis forward. Davis was the best shot in the unit. If firepower was needed, Ben felt confident with the youngster at his side. He pulled his horse around and kicked it forward toward Holman’s grazing mount. Davis followed close behind.
     As they got closer, Ben saw a dark shape on the ground. At first, he feared it might be a dead body, but then he saw it move. Closer still and they heard the moans. It was Holman, writhing on the ground. They halted their horses and both men vaulted from the saddle.
     “Keep a share lookout, Malachi,” Ben said, kneeling next to Holman. “Tom, what happened?”
     The corporal’s dark face was contorted in pain. “O-o-ow!” he cried. “My horse was spooked by a snake, and throwed me. I think I done broke my leg.” He pointed to his left leg which was at a strange angle from his body.
    Ben felt gingerly along Holman’s leg, staring at his hip. As he reached a point about eight inches above the knee, he felt a sharp bump, and Holman screamed in agony. Ben quickly removed his hand.
     “Yeah, it appears broken all right,” he said. “Malachi, go get the others. We’ll have to make camp here until I can figure out what to do.” He laid a hand on the injured trooper’s shoulder. “You just lay back and rest, Tom. We’re gonna have to set that broken leg somehow.”
     Holman’s brow was covered with beads of sweat. He spoke through clenched jaws. “It hurt somethin’ awful, Ben,” he said. “I don’t think I can ride.”
     “Don’t worry; we’re not too far from the fort. I’ll send somebody to get a wagon.”
     Ben rose and walked over to retrieve Holman’s horse, which he tethered to a small bush next to his own. He began gathering twigs for a fire, glancing constantly at his friend, who still moaned occasionally. He had just finished stacking the wood near Holman, and was about to light it when the rest of the detachment rode up.
     Toussaint rushed over to him. “Malachi told me what happened,” he said. “What we gone do?”
     “We’ll set up camp here. We need to try and set that broken leg, too.” Ben issued rapid fire orders. “Send Hezekiah on to the fort to get a wagon to transport Tom.”
     The big sergeant whirled and began carrying out Ben’s orders. Ben motioned for Corporal Samuel Hightower join him next to Holman.
     “Yeah, Ben,” Hightower said. “What you need?”
     “We need to set this broken leg,” Ben said. His face was creased with worry. “I’m not sure I know how to do it properly. I was hopin’ maybe you’d learned how when you and your ma lived with the Indians.”
     Hightower nodded. “I reckon I might be able to. I need four pieces of wood, as straight as possible, and about the length of his leg from crotch to the ground, and some twine.”
     “I can do that,” Ben said. He hurried off, scanning the surrounding terrain for something matching Hightower’s request.
     He found two pieces of the length Hightower wanted, so the corporal used four shorter pieces to make up for the missing lengths. They cut strips from Holman’s saddle bag to secure the wood to his injured leg. Ben had to hold him down as Hightower affixed the makeshift splint. When they were done, Holman lay back, his face and upper body slick with sweat, his chest heaving. He looked up at his two friends, his eyes clouded with pain.
     “How you feelin’, pardner?” Hightower asked.
     “Like I done been stomped by a Brahma bull, is how,” Holman replied. “Did you have to be so rough puttin’ this here splint on?”
     “I needed to cinch it up tight so them broke bones don’t move around. I done seen a bad splint let the bones move and they cut a vein. That happen, you’d bleed to death.”
     Holman winced. “Oh, in that case, I forgive you.”
     “Hey, Tom, we got some vittles goin’, you feel up to eatin’?” Ben said.
     Holman smiled weakly. “I done broke my leg, not my belly. ‘Course I feel like eatin’.”
     Ben had him lie back and rest, his saddle as a pillow and wool blankets below him and covering him, while the men set about erecting tents and getting their supper of beans, beef, and biscuits done.
     The sun was below the peaks behind them, casting long dark shadows over the plain, by the time Private Hezekiah Layton returned from the fort, accompanied by the post doctor and a wagon driven by a husky corporal.
     The doctor examined Holman’s leg, while the corporal untied the wagon’s two horses and put them in with the detachment’s animals who had been tethered in an area twenty feet downwind of the circle of tents they’d erected.
     When he’d finished his examination, the doctor, a gaunt captain with lank brown hair and watery blue eyes, stood and turned to Ben. “That’s a pretty bad fracture he’s got,” he said. “Can’t do much but try and keep him comfortable, though, ‘till we get back to the fort hospital. You did a pretty good job of settin’ it, sergeant.”
     “Thank you, sir,” Ben said. “But, it was Corporal Hightower that did that.” Ben looked around. “I notice you and the driver didn’t bring tents. You can use mine, and I’ll bunk with one of the others. The driver can do the same.”
     The captain laughed. “Reckon I wasn’t thinkin’ too clearly. I appreciate that, sergeant. Reckon we’ll need to borrow mess kits as well.”
     Ben shrugged. That the officer hadn’t thought to equip himself for an overnight stay didn’t surprise him, but he was a bit disappointed in the corporal. Troopers of the Ninth were supposed to be field ready at all times – his men now were. This one, though, had obviously been in garrison too long.
     “No problem, sir,” he said. “We have extras in the supplies. Brought ‘em along in case we had any lost or damaged.”
     That, Ben thought, was what it really meant to be a cavalry trooper.

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Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Red Card for the Red Line

If Washington’s Metropolitan Area Transit Authority (WMATA) was a soccer team, the Red Line that runs between Shady Grove and Glenmont would be a player not pulling his weight. The Red Line, part of the oldest line in the 37 year-old combined subway/surface rail system, has been plagued with problems for the past several years, including excessive delays, breakdowns, and accidents.

When mishaps cause the system to have to single track – which seems to happen almost every day – riders during rush hour can experience delays of two to four hours, stations as crowded as a Tokyo subway station and frustration levels that are off the chart. Add to this the design flaws in the system, such as platform tiles of a material that becomes as slick as ice when it gets wet, escalators and elevators that stop working at the most inopportune time, and turnstiles that malfunction frequently, and you have a set of irritants that force many commuters back into their cars and onto the crowded streets and the Beltway.
The Red Line handles about 150,000 rider trips a day, making it one of the busiest of the system’s soon to be six lines (the Silver Line to Dulles Airport is set to open sometime in 2014). If its problems cause people to jettison mass transit commutes, and go back to the highways, think of what that will mean to area traffic and pollution. That’s another 100K cars or so on roads that are already overcrowded, and tons more greenhouse gasses emitted into the atmosphere.

Come on Metro; fans are sitting in the stands cheering for you to get your star player in shape and back onto the field.

Monday, November 18, 2013

DIPLO DENIZEN: The American Diplomatic Spoils System, Part III: M...

DIPLO DENIZEN: The American Diplomatic Spoils System, Part III: M...: To: Bradley Bell       Executive Producer, CBS      The Bold and the Beautiful Dear Mr. Bell: I hereby submit my application to join...

My Top 5 Trips in 2013

This year, 2013, which is almost over, is the first full year since my retirement from government service. Having spent 50 years traveling for the government, I’ve become addicted to packing and spending a fair amount of time in hotels around the world. I feared that being retired would put a huge crimp in one of my favorite pastimes, but so far, I’ve been pleased to discover that, even in retirement, there are many travel opportunities. Despite an accident in July, when I fell and broke my right hip, resulting in six weeks of limited mobility when the doctors thought it was just a bruise, and another twelve weeks of being confined to my house when they found a small fracture that required surgery, I’ve still accumulated a lot of travel miles. With a month and a half left in the year, my travel will be restricted to subway trips from my home in suburbia to downtown Washington, DC, but I still had five great journeys that have made 2013 a memorable year. Arizona and New Mexico In March, I was invited to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona to participate in the Air Force’s major personnel recover exercise, Angel Thunder. Unlike past exercises, I didn’t get to do any helicopter trips, but did do several road trips between Tucson and Playas, New Mexico, with a side trip to historic Tombstone, Arizona.
Cameroon The Canada-based magazine Afrique Expansion invited me to join a media delegation traveling to Cameroon in May to cover Cameroon’s national day celebrations. In addition, we did road trips around the capital Yaounde and then drove to the port city of Douala. Included were visits to a tourist village and an ape sanctuary.
Dearborn, Michigan After returning to the U.S. from Cameroon, I left home the next day for Dearborn, MI, where I was the grand marshal for the city’s Memorial Day parade. Great visits to the Ford Museum and Ford Village, which included a ride on a turn-of-the century carousel.
Chautauqua Institution, New York Chautauqua Institution, in western New York, is home to the country’s oldest public book club. Despite a broken hip (which hadn’t been diagnosed at the time) I drove up to participate in the institution’s activities. A historic site, and a great place to spend a week in the summer.
Suffolk, Virginia After my hip fracture was diagnosed and I had surgery, I was housebound for more than ten weeks. My doctor, however, cleared me to drive and move around on crutches just in time for me to travel to Virginia’s east coast to work with a team of defense consultants in Suffolk, VA during the second week in November.
In addition to some great scenery, which I photographed madly, each trip was a culinary delight. From eating some rather exotic dishes in Cameroon to mouth-watering barbecue in Suffolk, I partook of local delights at each venue. For the rest of 2013, I plan to rest up and get ready for 2014.
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Saturday, November 16, 2013

HR BlogVOCATE: What’s Wrong with Saying “I Don’t Know”?

HR BlogVOCATE: What’s Wrong with Saying “I Don’t Know”?: I read an article the other day that advised employees to never tell a boss, “I don’t know.” Instead, the authors advised, th...

Monday, November 11, 2013

A Salute to Those Who Serve

Whether they’re sitting watch in the rugged terrain of Afghanistan, at a radar screen on a ship in some distant ocean, behind a desk at a post in the U.S., or on their back porch remembering their service, our veterans have never failed to answer the call when their services were needed. They’ve come from farms, small towns, and towering cities; farmers and factory workers, men and women, all colors and religions – and, when necessary, they’ve paid the ultimate sacrifice.

Take a moment today to reflect on the freedoms that we as Americans all too often take for granted, and the price in blood that our veterans have paid to purchase those freedoms. We might have to endure some economic hardship, but compared to much of the rest of the world, we have it easy. And, it’s largely due to the men and women who have been willing to put their lives on hold, and go into harm’s way.

They don’t ask much; only that we not forget. Show your respect and gratitude to our veterans. They deserve it – they’ve earned it.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Marza - the Film by Regan Young

Former U.S. Marine Regan Young has made an evocative film about his time in Afghanistan. He needs but $5,000 to finish production and release it. Check it out at and consider supporting this artistic and worthwhile endeavor.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

What's in a Name?

An interesting and thought-provoking article on the controversial issue of using Native American names for American sports teams.

Friday, November 1, 2013

What Ambassadors Really Do: NSA's Alexander Got it Wrong

In an October 31, 2013 meeting of the Baltimore Council on Foreign Relations, General Keith Alexander, Commander of U.S. Cyber Command and Director of the National Security Agency (NSA) got into an interesting exchange with Maryland State Senator James Carew Rosapepe (D), who served as an ambassador during the Clinton administration, when Rosapepe challenged him on the ‘national security justification’ for the NSA’s surveillance against ‘democratically elected leaders and private companies.’
Alexander’s response was facile, and drew laughs from many present. I reprint here what appeared on The Guardian’s news site:
“We all joke that everyone is spying on everyone,” he (Rosapepe) said. “But that is not a national security justification.”
Alexander replied, “That is a great question, in fact as an ambassador you have part of the answer. Because we the intelligence agencies don’t come up with the requirements. The policymakers come up with the requirements. One of those groups would have been, let me think, hold on, oh, ambassadors.”
You have to credit Alexander with being quick with a quip, but, had he thought to engage his brain before starting his mouth, he might have realized just how off base his remark was. Instead, he merely demonstrated that even some of our senior officials are ignorant when it comes to the role played by ambassadors in developing our foreign policy. Instead of clarifying the issue, he only muddied the water further, and in this case, not with anything approaching the truth.
To put that comment in perspective, let me state that I’m speaking from the perspective of someone who served as an ambassador twice, as a senior Department of Defense official for three years, and spent more than 15 years of my 20-year army career involved in intelligence and counterintelligence.
Item one: ambassadors do not establish intelligence requirements. And, I would challenge the good general to show concrete evidence of an NSA requirement that came directly from a serving ambassador. Intelligence requirements are established by committees in Washington. They are sent to the field for ambassadors to comment on. And, here I’m not naïve enough to think that we were told everything. I’m quite sure there were times it was determined that even as ambassador, I had no ‘need-to-know’ what a particular agency was up to in my country of assignment, the president’s letter to me giving me authority over U.S. agencies notwithstanding. Having been a military intelligence officer, I now that this is just the way the world of intelligence works.
Item two: An ambassador who asked intelligence officials at his embassy to spy on the head of government to whom he’s accredited would be taking a grave risk. His or her job is to maintain bilateral relations (even when we have disagreements with the government), and should such an operation be discovered, whatever short-term gain it achieved would be outweighed by the long-term negative consequences.
Sure, we would like to know leadership intentions, but there are other ways to determine them that don’t risk provoking an unnecessary crisis or causing a break in the relationship, especially with an ally.
Was Alexander joking, or was he serious? If he was joking, it was in extremely poor taste. If he was serious, one has to wonder just how much he really knows about how Washington works. At any rate, malicious statements like this must not go unchallenged. As Secretary of State John Kerry said recently from London, NSA’s programs have gone ‘too far.’ Too much of what they’re doing is on ‘automatic pilot’ and being done because they have the capability to do it. Just because we can do something, though, doesn’t mean we should do it.

The same thing goes for what we say. Just because Alexander could say what he said, and without offering any specifics to support it, doesn’t mean he should have said it. In fact, he most definitely should not have said it, and he owes a statement of apology to every man and woman who has served this country as an ambassador.

Spellbound Winter Book Tour


Today bestselling author, Sherry Soule has some exciting news to share with us! All the previously published books in the Spellbound series have been rewritten and republished with more epic romance and suspenseful thrills. The new versions also include exclusive bonus material and brand new scenes. Even additional scenes from charming, bad-boy, Trent Donovan’s point-of-view! To help promote the new editions, she is doing this awesome book promo to share the update with fellow booklovers.
Must heroes need a sidekick, and if fate smiles upon you, then you’ll have a paranormal pet watching your back. But which one best suits YOU?
After taking this quiz, please be sure to share your results in the comments below.

What size pet would you prefer?
a)    Small
b)    Medium
c)    Large
d)    Gigantic

Do you mind a pet that might shed?
a)    Loose fur? I’m cool with that
b)    Rough scales are acceptable
c)    Transparent coat? No biggie
d)    Shedding pelt—ain’t a problem

How would you like your pet to greet people at the door?
a)    Rub their ankles and purr
b)    Spitting and growling
c)    Bark and sniff hand
d)    Snarling and howling

How much protection would you like to have?
a)    Minimum – docile and fluffy
b)    Moderate – Vicious yet cuddly
c)    Extreme - Invisible but deadly
d)    Tremendous - Bite anyone who messes with me

What would you like to feed your new pet?
a)    Tuna and bowl of milk
b)    Human emotions—fear, anger, lust, vengeance
c)    Nothing
d)    Chew on skeleton bones—they make a tasty snack

Where will your pet sleep?
a)    On my lap
b)    Hiding in the shadows
c)    Never sleeps
d)    Curled up in a cozy cave

What type of toys would your pet like most?
a)    Mice and squeaky toys
b)    Stuffed dinosaurs or dragons
c)    Chase balls and fetch newspapers
d)    None. Does not play well with others

If you answered...
Mostly a's: Your pet is a magical cat! Witches have used familiars for years to help increase the power of their spells. Cute and helpful!
Mostly b's: Your pet would be a Shade! These affectionate demonic creatures are a cross between a puppy and a dragon. Small but fierce!
Mostly c's: Your supernatural pet is a ghost dog! These creatures are often dubbed hellhounds, too, and they are vicious animals. Muscular and opaque!
Mostly d's: Your pet is a ferocious lycan! These were-creatures make impressive guard dogs. Clever and scary!
Places you can cyberstalk Sherry Soule:
Official Website:
Official Spellbound Series Universe:
Twitter @WriterSherry:
Deadly Witchcraft. Ghostly Threats. Doomed Romance.
They say every town has its secrets, but that doesn’t even begin to describe Fallen Oaks. The townsfolk are a superstitious lot and the mystical disappearance of a local teen has everyone murmuring about a centuries old witch’s curse.
When sixteen-year-old Shiloh Trudell takes a summer job at Craven Manor, she discovers a ghost with an agenda. That’s where she meets the new town hottie, Trent Donovan, and immediately becomes enchanted by his charms.
Finally, Shiloh’s met someone who is supercute and totally into her, but Trent is immersed in the cunning deception that surrounds the mysterious Craven Manor. So much so that he may lose sight of what is truly important to him. And she can’t decide whether she wants to shake him or kiss him. Yet neither one of them can deny the immediate, passionate connection growing between them.
But underlying everything is the fear that Trent may be the next victim on a supernatural hit list, and Shiloh is the only person with the power to save him…
With cryptic messages from a pesky wraith, Shiloh will finally begin to understand the mysterious significance of the strange mark branded on her wrist and decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice to protect the other teenagers in town.
Unfortunately, for Shiloh, not all ghosts want help crossing over. Some want vengeance.
Ready for some thrills and chills?
Amazon Paperback: