Meet My Guest Alicia Dean and Read About Her New Fun and Suspenseful Small Town Mystery, WICK'ED WAYS

Alicia has been my guest many times. If you haven't already, meet her here!

At ten, Alicia wrote her first romance novel—starring a hero who looked just like Elvis Presley—and she still has the tattered pencil-written copy. A lifelong Oklahoma resident, she grew up in Moore and now lives in Edmond. She is the proud mother of three grown children and surrounded by a strong network of family and friends.

When she’s not reading or writing, Alicia loves Elvis Presley, Major League Baseball, National Football League, and rewatching favorite shows like Dexter, Justified, Friends, Seinfeld, Everybody Loves Raymond, and Breaking Bad. Her favorite authors include Michael Connelly, Dennis Lehane, Lee Child, Lisa Gardner, Ridley Pearson, Joseph Finder, and Jonathan Kellerman.

About WICK'ED WAYS

In quaint Wisteria, Wisconsin, opening a candle shop was supposed to be Paget Ross’s fresh start.

Instead, she’s become the prime suspect in a small-town murder.

After a bitter divorce, Paget leaves Oklahoma behind and buys Lotus and Lights, a struggling candle shop in the charming town of Wisteria. With creative new ideas, signature scents, and plenty of determination, she quickly turns the cozy little store into a local success.

But when a body is discovered inside her shop’s relaxation room, Paget’s new beginning goes up in smoke.

As whispers spread, suspicion grows, and another murder rocks the town, Paget realizes someone is targeting everyone connected to the shop—and she may be next.

To clear her name, Paget must uncover buried secrets, outsmart a killer, and expose the truth before the next flame is hers.

Excerpt:

She stepped out from behind the counter and moved down the hallway, stopping at the door of Scents and Solitude. She knocked lightly. “Marco?” she called. “Time’s up.”

No response.

She frowned.

Maybe he’d fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had done that. But the buzzer went off in the room. Surely that would have woken him.

She knocked again, a little louder. “Marco?”

Still nothing. A small thread of unease wound through her. She reached for the handle and opened the door. “Marco, I just wanted to—”

The words died in her throat.

The room was exactly as she’d left it. Muted light. Gentle music. The candle still flickering steadily.

Marco lay in the recliner. Perfectly still.

At first, her mind tried to make it normal. He’s asleep. That’s all. But something was wrong. Deeply, unmistakably wrong.

“Marco?” she said again, her voice sounding loud in the still room.

She stepped closer. His head was angled to one side. The mask had slid off and his eyes were half-open—not focused, not seeing. His lips were tinged blue.

“Marco?” Her voice cracked.

She reached out and shook him. He didn’t move. Didn’t react. His skin was cool to the touch…

Paget jerked her hand back. “No,” she whispered. Her pulse roared in her ears. “No, no, no—” She leaned in again, her fingers trembling as they pressed lightly against his wrist. No pulse.

 WICK'ED WAYS is free for Kindle Unlimited or 

Purchase it on Amazon here

 Connect with Alicia

 

Meet My Guest Pamela Thibodeaux and Read About GIVING ON PURPOSE: HOW 30 DAYS OF CONSCIOUS GIVING CAN CHANGE YOUR LIFE

Thanks for being my guest, Pam! 

Meet Pam

Pamela S. Thibodeaux grew up in the town of Iowa, Louisiana. She is a mother, grandmother, award-winning author, life coach and spiritual mentor. Her tagline, “Inspirational with an Edge!” ™ defines her life, writing, and coaching style. 

About Giving on Purpose: How 30 Days of Conscious Giving can Change Your Life

What if the key to abundance isn’t giving more—but giving in balance?

We’ve been taught that it’s more blessed to give than to receive. But what if receiving is just as sacred as giving? And what if the two were never meant to exist apart?

The Giving on Purpose journal invites you to explore the powerful, often misunderstood connection between giving and receiving. If you’ve ever felt like you give endlessly—your time, love, energy, or resources—yet struggle to receive in return, this journal was created for you.

Through guided reflection and intentional prompts, Giving on Purpose gently opens your heart and mind to conscious giving—helping you recognize where imbalance may be blocking blessings and how aligning giving with receiving can transform your spiritual and emotional well-being.

✨ Inside, you’ll discover how to:

•           Release guilt around receiving

•           Recognize your worthiness to receive from God

•           Cultivate deeper gratitude in everyday life

•           Restore balance between generosity and abundance

By the final page, readers experience a renewed sense of self-worth, a deeper belief in their God-given worthiness to receive, and a lasting attitude of gratitude.

Give freely. Receive boldly. Live abundantly.

Giving on Purpose: How 30 Days of Conscious Giving can Change Your Life is your invitation to do all three—without guilt, fear, or limitation.

Why I Wrote 

Giving on Purpose: How 30 Days of Conscious Giving 

Can Change Your Life 

Many people give automatically, it's just part of our nature. But then, at some point, some folks get frustrated or resentful because you feel like you're giving and giving and getting nothing in return. But the truth is we are always receiving! Scripture and the Universal Law of Divine Compensation tell us that when we give, it shall be given unto us good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over! I really believe this project will revolutionize the way we think about giving and receiving / sowing and reaping.

An Excerpt

There is Always Something to Give

Before I received the revelation that inspired this journal, I, like many, feared giving. Especially money. For much of my life, my intentions to obey and/or give were overruled by all the reasons why I couldn’t. Not always, but when there was more month at the end of my money or when I felt prompted to give but questioned whether that was truly God or guilt or just me. But as I’ve grown and matured and come to realize the truth of how powerful giving is, I do my best to act immediately when the urge hits.

Another misconception we have around giving is that money is the only commodity that truly counts. Not so!

Do you own a garden and give fruit and vegetables to your family, friends, and neighbors? Are you a hunter who shares the meat you harvest with food banks or needy families?

When he was alive, my husband loved satsumas, so we planted two trees in our yard. Every year he’d gather bags and bags of these sweet citrus fruits and give them away.

Once he went to get a haircut and a lady was talking about her husband’s diabetes and how much he loved satsumas but how expensive a small bag was. My husband went home and brought back two plastic bags full for her! He didn’t know this woman or her husband. He just enjoyed giving whatever and whenever he could.

He also loved to make jelly…you guessed it, to give away. No matter the cost, time or energy that went into making pint jars of gooey goodness, he was always willing to share the joy he experienced in doing this.

The Kindle version is up for preorder but the paperback and hardcover editions release March 22nd - I know that's a Sunday! - but it's the date God gave me 😇

I am also running a Kickstarter campaign. Similar to GoFundMe, Kickstarter is for creative projects. I'm hoping to raise enough funds to do some REAL advertising and promotion and get this book out into the world. 

Please consider supporting me in this endeavor. You can do so HERE.

THANKS! 

Find and follow Pam via her Website and Social Media links found via Linktree

 

New Release! NATHANIEL AND SOPHIA HAWTHORNE: OUR DESTINED BOND

I'm very happy to announce my latest release, NATHANIEL AND SOPHIA

 HAWTHORNE: OUR DESTINED BOND, about the Hawthornes' storybook romance

 with a paranormal twist.

UNIVERSAL LINK 

About NATHANIEL AND SOPHIA HAWTHORNE

Salem, Massachusetts witnessed horrific and shameful events in 1692 that haunted

 the town for three centuries. Accused as witches, nineteen innocent people were

 hanged and one was pressed to death. Judge John Hathorne and Reverend

 Nicholas Noyes handed down the sentences. One victim, Sarah Good, cursed

 Noyes from the hanging tree: “If you take away my life, God will give you blood to

 drink!” She then set her eyes on Judge Hathorne. “I curse you and your

 acknowledged heirs for all time on this wicked earth!” Hathorne was not only Sarah

 Good’s merciless judge; he also fathered her son Peter and refused to

 acknowledge him. 

In 1717, Nicholas Noyes choked on his own blood and died. Every generation after the judge continued to lose Hathorne land and money, prompting the rumor of a family curse. By the time his great great grandson Nathaniel was born, they faced poverty. 

Ashamed of his ancestor, Nathaniel added the ‘w’ to his last name. His novels and stories explore his beliefs and fears of sin and evil, and he based many of his characters on overbearing Puritan rulers such as Judge Hathorne. 

When Nathaniel first met Sophia Peabody, they experienced instantaneous mutual attraction. Sparks flew. He rose upon my eyes and soul a king among men by divine right, she wrote in her journal.

But to Sophia’s frustration, Nathaniel insisted they keep their romance secret for three years. He had his reasons, none of which made sense to Sophia. But knowing that he believed Sarah Good’s curse inflicted so much tragedy on his family over the centuries, she made it her mission to save him. Sarah was an ancestor of Sophia’s, making her and Nathaniel distant cousins—but she kept that to herself for the time being.

Sophia suffered severe headaches as a result of childhood mercury treatments. She underwent routine mesmerizing sessions, a popular cure for many ailments. Spirits sometimes came to her when mesmerized, and as a spiritualist and medium, she was able to contact and communicate with spirits. She knew if she could reach Sarah and persuade her to forgive Judge Hathorne, Nathaniel would be free of his lifelong burden.

Sarah’s son Peter had kept a journal the family passed down to the Peabodys. Sophia sensed his presence every time she turned the brittle pages and read his words. John Hathorne’s legitimate son John also kept a journal, now in the Hawthorne family’s possession. Living on opposite sides of Salem, Peter and John wrote in vivid detail about how the Salem trials tormented them throughout their lives.

Nathaniel finally agreed to announce their engagement, and married Sophia on July 9, 1842. They moved into their first home, The Old Manse in Concord, Massachusetts. Wanting nothing else but to spend the summer enjoying each other, we became Adam and Eve, alone in our Garden of Eden, Sophia wrote in her journal.

As success eluded Nathaniel, they lived on the verge of poverty. After being dismissed from his day job at the Salem Custom House, he wrote The Scarlet Letter, which finally gained him the recognition he deserved.

But the curse he believed Sarah cast on his family still haunted him. On a visit to his  cousin Susannah Ingersoll at The House of the Seven Gables, Sophia spotted a judge’s gavel. Out of curiosity Sophia picked it up and a shock ran through her as if electrified. She dropped it, instantly knowing it carried something evil. Susannah told her Judge Hathorne had used it during the trials.

Sophia urged Nathaniel to write a novel about the house, knowing it would be cathartic for him. While they lived in Lenox, Nathaniel finished writing The House of the Seven Gables. The Gothic novel explored all his fears and trepidations about the curse. He told Sophia, “Writing it, and especially reading it aloud to you lifted a tremendous burden off my shoulders. I felt it physically leave me. I carried this inside me since my youth and couldn’t bring it out to face it. And I have you, and only you, to thank.”

But he did not believe the curse could be lifted. 

At that moment Sophia knew what she needed to do. “We’re going to The Gables. Only there can I make sure Sarah forgives the judge.” She invited renowned spiritualist John Spear to The Gables. She explained that she needed to complete one final step to convince Nathaniel the curse was lifted.

At The Gables, John asked Susannah if anything in the room was connected to the witch trials. She retrieved the gavel and handed it to him. As John curled his fingers around the handle, he told them that the judge suffered lifelong anguish after condemning the victims. He didn’t publicly atone because he needed to carry out his duties as a judge. His energy, his essence, was still attached to the gavel.

He told Nathaniel that his belief in the curse fed this object, physically creating a monster.

Sarah herself did not curse his family—but the energy of all the anger, bitterness, venom and hatred in her words survived the centuries. That caused the misfortunes that befell him and his family. Only his final and unconditional forgiveness would end that. He urged Nathaniel to forgive Judge Hathorne. “You don’t have to say it out loud,” John said. “Just forgive him in your heart.”

Nathaniel bowed his head and whispered his forgiveness.

A ghostly mist formed in the doorway. Sarah conveyed to Sophia through the ether what she needed them to know. As she faded to nebulous mist and vanished, Sophia assured Nathaniel that his forgiveness of the judge now balanced out the suffering of the victims. 

She turned to the last page of Peter’s journal and saw words that were not there before: Dear John, I forgive you. Signed, Sarah Good.      

John Spear, Nathaniel and Sophia went to Judge Hathorne’s gravesite to give the journals and the gavel proper burial.

As they turned to leave, Nathaniel grasped her hand. “We’re going home, my Dove. And I don’t mean Salem or the Berkshires, but to where you and I started, as Adam and Eve. Back home. To our Garden of Eden in Concord.”

 

Read About My 1894 New York Romance FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET With an Italian Holiday Recipe

 

Happy Holidays With a Genuine Italian Recipe

 

Can an Italian sweatshop worker and an Irish cop fall in love on Manhattan’s Lower East Side in 1894? The answer is a big YES, and once they’re enjoying wedded bliss in their Greenwich Village brownstone, they spend their first Christmas together feasting on her strufoli (Italian for honey balls). 

In FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET it's 1894 on New York's Lower East Side. Irish cop Tom McGlory and Italian immigrant Vita Caputo fall in love despite their different upbringings. They know their love can survive poverty, hatred, and corruption. 

getBook.at/NewYorkSagaBookOne

Here’s Vita’s Honey Balls recipe: 

When my grandparents came from Naples and landed at Ellis Island in the early 1900s they brought many recipes with them, but only in their heads. No one brought cookbooks or recipes along with their possessions. A favorite Christmas treat is Struffoli, better known as Honey Balls. One Christmas when I was a kid, I watched my grandmother make them and scribbled down the ingredients as she sifted and mixed and baked and drizzled. Here's an accurate recipe in English!

Ingredients
Dough:
•2 cups flour, plus extra for dusting
•1 large lemon, zested (about 2 teaspoons)
•1/2 large orange, zested (about 2 teaspoons)
•3 tablespoons sugar
•1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
•1/4 teaspoon baking powder
•1/2 stick (2 ounces) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces, at room temperature
•3 large eggs
•1 tablespoon white wine, such as pinot grigio
•1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
•Canola oil, for frying
•1 cup honey
•1/2 cup sugar
•1 tablespoon lemon juice
•1 1/2 cups hazelnuts, toasted (see Cook's Note)
•Vegetable oil cooking spray
•Sugar sprinkles, for decoration
•Powdered sugar for dusting, optional

Directions

For dough: In the bowl of a food processor, pulse together 2 cups of flour, lemon zest, orange zest, sugar, salt, and baking powder. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Add the eggs, wine, and vanilla. Pulse until the mixture forms into a ball. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Cut the dough into 4 equal pieces. On a lightly floured surface, roll out each piece of dough until 1/4-inch thick. Cut each piece into 1/2-inch wide strips. Cut each strip of pastry into 1/2-inch pieces. Roll each piece of dough into a small ball the size of a hazelnut. Lightly dredge the dough balls in flour, shaking off any excess. In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan, pour enough oil to fill the pan about a third of the way. Heat over medium heat until a deep-frying thermometer inserted in the oil reaches 375 degrees F. (If you don't have a thermometer a cube of bread will brown in about 3 minutes.). In batches, fry the dough until lightly golden, about 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate to drain. (The rested and quartered dough can also be rolled on a floured work surface into 1/2-inch thick logs and cut into equal-sized 1/2-inch pieces. The dough pieces can then be rolled into small balls and fried as above).

In a large saucepan, combine the honey, sugar, and lemon juice over medium heat. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally, until the sugar is dissolved, about 3 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat. Add the fried dough and hazelnuts and stir until coated in the honey mixture. Allow the mixture to cool in the pan for 2 minutes.
Spray the outside of a small, straight-sided water glass with vegetable oil cooking spray and place in the center of a round platter. Using a spoon or damp hands, arrange struffoli and hazelnuts around the glass to form a wreath shape. Drizzle remaining honey mixture over the struffoli. Allow to set for 2 hours (can be made 1 day in advance). Decorate with sprinkles and dust with powdered sugar.

Remove the glass from the center of the platter and serve.

Note: To toast the hazelnuts, arrange in a single layer on a baking sheet. Bake in a preheated 350 degrees F oven 8 to 10 minutes. Cool before using.

Total Time: 4 hr 12 min
Prep: 1 hr 30 min
Yield: 8 to 10 servings

Meet Award-Winning Author Joie Lesin and Read About Her New Paranormal Romance Novel THE PASSENGER

 

THE PASSENGER, a 1940s ghost story set in the California wine country, tells a tale of family connections, life-changing choices, and love—lost and found.

ABOUT JOIE:

Joie Lesin is my fellow Wild Rose Press author, a lifelong fiction writer and poet. She is most recently the author of The Passenger (The Wild Rose Press, 2024), and her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She has long been fascinated by anything otherworldly including mermaids and ghosts. Joie writes character-driven, emotional, atmospheric tales about heartache and hope.

What’s It All About, Joie? 

The Passenger is the story of Elizabeth Reilly, a young widow and an empath who communicates with ghosts. She doesn’t just hear them. No, they appear to her as if alive. After losing her husband as a casualty of WW2 and a chance encounter with a dying man, she befriends the dying man’s ghost. To help her friend pass on in peace, she travels from her home in Boston to California’s wine country. There she discovers her task won’t be so easy. To help her friend, she must first help the living family he left behind. 

What Inspired Me? 

To set the stage for what inspired The Passenger, I need to tell you a bit about myself as a teenager. I used to make up stories in my mind for strangers I would encounter. I instinctively knew every single person had something they were dealing with—be it big or small. I would play the "what if" game, and I would tell their story. My mind would spin—asking the questions, creating the backstory, and discovering the inciting incident. 

On the day I met my ghost, Paolo, I was on the city bus on the way home from school playing my game when I noticed a man sitting at the back of the bus who seemed a bit down on his luck. I wondered, what if he were alone in the world? What would happen if this man collapsed there on the bus? Would he die right there on that bus alone? What if I, or someone else, comforted him in his dying moments? 

Do you know where I am going with this? 

Yes, this is how I met Paolo Clemente. The story I told silently in my mind planted the seeds for the story that would become THE PASSENGER. 

How Do I Do It? 

Well, I’m analytical and like to plan, plot, track, and categorize my tasks. I don’t do this with my books. When I write, I take full advantage of my working imagination. I let the story lead the way. I have an idea of the major plot points—that I may or may not write down because they live in my head. Then I write from plot point to plot point, filling in the gaps and puzzling it all together. 

When Do I Write It? 

After many years of fitting in writing during stolen moments and at night when everyone else was asleep, I am now writing full-time. A benefit of my current schedule means I can plan and plot to write first thing in the morning. However, I still find myself writing by the light of the moon more days than not. 

I plan to keep trying to change my ways though. 

What’s Next for My Writing? 

I’m working on the final draft of the story that takes place two decades after The Passenger ended. Like its predecessor, it’s a ghost story. What I can share about it now is: It’s 1969 and the ghosts are gathering.

Blurb: 

She’s a 1940s ghost whisperer. 

Burdened with her empathic gift, Elizabeth Reilly wants to be free of it and fit in with normal people. Nevertheless, when the spirit of an old man asks for her help, she travels across the country to help him return home. 

He’s the son of a ghost. 

Gio Clemente is still angry with his father who abandoned him as a child. To help the father pass on, Elizabeth must persuade Gio to let go of his anger. Though he resents her intrusion, they are both stunned to find themselves fighting a profound attraction. 

Elizabeth can accept his headstrong brand of love, but can Gio accept her gift—and believe in her?  

Link to Book Trailer 

Excerpt: 

Elizabeth’s stomach churned in nervous knots. She squirmed on the cloth seat, and her foot twitched. If he heard her erratic heartbeat, he’d realize how frantic she was—and hot. Perspiration built up on her forehead. Grabbing the metal handle, she rolled down the squeaking window, and inhaled the pure air. The fragrances of the forest filled her senses—the resinous scent of pine, the earthiness of soil, and damp detritus of fallen branches and decaying leaves. The surrounding land was alive, vibrant, and something more she couldn’t quite identify. Somehow, the vehicle they drove in and the path it traveled seemed out of place. 

Gravel on the uneven road crunched and ground under the truck’s tires. Elizabeth sat straight in her seat and stole stiff, awkward glimpses at Giovanni. A frown marked his lips. His lean, well-defined face held soulful eyes bringing to her mind images of the sad little boy he must have been. 

A thin red scar stretched down his right cheek and she itched to run a finger along the faded edges. She’d caress his stubble-shadowed chin and tell him how terribly his father missed him. Instead, she stared out the truck window. 

Enormous ancient trees shrouded the road and hid the valley from the rest of the world. Elizabeth closed her eyes to the beauty. She was here, on the way to Paolo’s vineyard with his son, aching to tell Giovanni everything. If she did, he’d send her away, and she’d never be able to help his father. 

Connect with Joie:

Website

Bluesky

Instagram

FB

TikTok

Goodreads Book Page

Purchase THE PASSENGER:

Amazon

Apple Books

B&N

Kobo

 

Meet My Guest Alicia Dean and Read About a Halloween Treat....

Say hi to my guest Alicia Dean and read about a Halloween treat....

It’s Halloween…time to get your spooky on. Every Friday the 13^th, I and 12 other authors each release a stand alone horror short story related to Friday the 13^th. (13 stories, 13 authors…get it?) 😊 The most recent series, #7, was published Friday, June 13, 2025.

Check out my story, Dirty Girl, and the 12 other stories in the series…ONLY 99 cents each!!

About Alicia

At age ten, Alicia Dean wrote her first ever romance (featuring a hero who looked just like Elvis Presley and who shared the name of Elvis’ character in the movie, Tickle Me), and she still has the tattered, pencil-written copy. Alicia is from Moore, Oklahoma, and now lives in Edmond. She has three grown children and a huge network of supportive friends and family. 

Other than reading and writing, her passions are Elvis Presley, MLB, NFL (she almost always works in a mention of one or all three into her stories) and watching (and rewatching) her favorite television shows like Dexter, Justified, Friends, Everybody Loves Raymond, and Breaking Bad. Some of her favorite authors are Michael Connelly, Dennis Lehane, Lee Child, Lisa Gardner, Ridley Pearson, Joseph Finder, and Jonathan Kellerman…to name a few. 

Find Alicia Here

A tragic accident…

A fateful decision…

A horrific weekend they won’t soon forget…

Everet Holcomb is cheating with his sister-in-law, Blair, and the two sneak off for an illicit out of town getaway. While driving down a dark country road, they hit something and are horrified to discover they've killed a young woman. Panicked, they bury the body instead of calling the police, knowing if their spouses learn of their affair, they’ll lose everything.

When Everet’s son brings his new girlfriend home for his college graduation celebration, they notice that something about her seems…off. The odor of dirt emanates from her, but Everet and Blair are the only ones who can smell it. And when Everet almost chokes to death for no apparent reason, they start to wonder…have their misdeeds come back to haunt them? 

Excerpt:

The shovel scraped against a root, the sound amplified in the oppressive silence of the Vermont forest. Everet jumped, his heart hammering against his ribs. He glanced up at Blair, but she seemed unfazed, her features macabre behind the gleam of the flashlight. The light danced across the freshly turned earth, illuminating the ghastly task at hand.

Everet swallowed, the metallic tang of fear coating his tongue. “Do you think this is deep enough?” He hated the tremor in his voice. He hated everything about this.

Blair appraised the hole and gave a curt nod. “Deep enough to hide her.”

He wiped sweat from his forehead, the cool night air doing little to alleviate the clammy heat clinging to his skin. The forest felt alive, watching them with unseen eyes. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent shivers down his spine.

“I just... I keep thinking about her face,” he whispered. “Disfigured beyond recognition. Almost…obliterated.”

Blair huffed a sigh. “Snap out of it, Everet. We don't have time for your guilt trip. We made a mistake. We're fixing it. Now, let’s get her in the ground and be done with it.”

He knew she was right, logically. But logic had abandoned him the moment the sickening thud echoed through the quiet road, the moment he saw the young woman lying lifeless in front of the car.

He gripped the girl’s feet and Blair picked her up by the shoulders, and they eased her into the hole. He took some solace in the fact they’d placed her there gently rather than tossing her in like discarded trash. But then, that would be small comfort to the friends and family who would never know what happened to their loved one.

He began shoveling the loose dirt on top of her body, when a sound came to him. A low, keening moan that seemed to emanate from the very earth beneath his feet. He froze, his shovel clattering to the ground.

“What was that?” he stammered, his eyes wide with terror.

Blair paused, her head cocked. “Probably just an animal. Get back to work.”

But Everet couldn't move. The moan came again, closer this time, laced with an unearthly sorrow that resonated deep within his bones. He recalled what he’d read about Agatha. About how she’d vowed vengeance on evildoers. Well, weren’t him and Blair evildoers? It didn’t get much more evil than what they’d done.

“For God’s sake,” Blair bit out. She snatched the shovel from where it lay and finished covering the girl with dirt. When she was done, she looked at him, and a hint of sympathy shone in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Everet. I know I sound callous, but I don’t mean to be. It’s the only way I’m able to keep it together. Yes, what happened was tragic. But our going to jail, losing everything, hurting the people who love us would only compound the tragedy. Nothing can be done to bring the poor girl back. The best thing for everyone is just to move on and try to forget this ever happened.”

Everet nodded but didn’t reply. He knew damn well he could never forget this had happened. And if Blair had even an ounce of humanity in her, she wouldn’t be able to either.

Purchase Dirty Girl on Amazon

Find all the stories in the series here

 

Meet Alicia Dean and Read About Dirty Girl, Part of the Friday the 13th Series

 

Thanks for hosting me on your blog, Diana. Today, I’m sharing about a horror short story that is part of a Friday the 13^th series. Each Friday the 13^th, twelve other authors and I publish short horror stories set around Friday the 13^th. It’s been so much fun. We have certain recurring elements in all the stories: a broken mirror, 13 chapters, a person must die on or a body must be found on Friday the 13^th, and the killer and/or victims must have 13 letters in their name.

The most recent series released on June 13^th and my story is titled

Dirty Girl…

Available on KU OR only 99 cents to purchase!!

 About Alicia

At age ten, Alicia wrote her first ever romance (featuring a hero who looked just like Elvis Presley and who shared the name of Elvis’ character in the movie, Tickle Me), and she still has the tattered, pencil-written copy. Alicia is from Moore, Oklahoma, and now lives in Edmond. She has three grown children and a huge network of supportive friends and family. 

Other than reading and writing, her passions are Elvis Presley, MLB, NFL (she almost always works in a mention of one or all three into her stories) and watching (and rewatching) her favorite television shows like Dexter, Justified, Friends, Everybody Loves Raymond, and Breaking Bad. Some of her favorite authors are Michael Connelly, Dennis Lehane, Lee Child, Lisa Gardner, Ridley Pearson, Joseph Finder, and Jonathan Kellerman…to name a few. 

About Dirty Girl

A tragic accident…

A fateful decision…

A horrific weekend they won’t soon forget…

Everet Holcomb is cheating with his sister-in-law, Blair, and the two sneak off for an illicit out of town getaway. While driving down a dark country road, they hit something and are horrified to discover they've killed a young woman. Panicked, they bury the body instead of calling the police, knowing if their spouses learn of their affair, they’ll lose everything.

When Everet’s son brings his new girlfriend home for his college graduation celebration, they notice that something about her seems…off. The odor of dirt emanates from her, but Everet and Blair are the only ones who can smell it. And when Everet almost chokes to death for no apparent reason, they start to wonder…have their misdeeds come back to haunt them?

Excerpt

The rain pelted down harder, slapping against the windshield like a tsunami. He turned the wipers higher, but they were fighting a losing battle. He could barely see through the downpour. Fortunately, they were close to the Airbnb. Everet gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles bleached bone white in the dashboard glow. The green numbers of the clock read 1:30 a.m. The narrow road curved like a snake’s spine, lit only by the twin spears of his high beams.

Peering through the windshield, he could just make out the lights of the Airbnb. Relief coursed through him. Almost there…

Then, a flash of something white coming out of the woods caught his attention. A hard thumping sound was followed by the vehicle jolting violently. He slammed his foot on the brakes.

Blair screamed. “Did you hit something?”

Everet’s voice came out in a raspy quiver. “Yeah. I think so. Some…animal.” But he knew it wasn’t an animal. It was walking upright. And he’d seen the flash of a pale face right before the impact.

He slid the gearshift into park, then reluctantly climbed from the Lexus. On trembling legs he sloshed through the rain to the front of the car. There, in the road five feet ahead, lay a still figure.

He let out a strangled cry and rushed over, dropping to his knees. Long rain-soaked hair flowed behind her. Her white blouse was splattered with blood, and her body lay at an unnatural angle.

 Please don’t let her be dead. Please don’t let her be dead.

 He was barely aware of movement behind him.

“What the fu--?” Blair said. “Is she…is she okay?”

With dread, Everet took the girl’s shoulders and gently turned her over. Bile rose to his throat when he saw the mangled face.

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