At an early age, Barbara experienced what she referred to as – supernatural phenomenon. As a teenager she kept a diary in which she documented several of her disturbing nightmares. Barbara ultimately incorporated her visions into several of her writings.
In her writings, she loves to evoke a false sense of security and expectations - leading the reader into a world of the unknown.
Why is, Vincent Zandri an ‘International Bestselling Author? Could it have anything to do with his flawless prose? Could it be his intriguing plot lines, fascinating and personable characters? In my opinion – it’s all the above and more!
‘Moonlight Sonata’ is another extraordinary read in the ‘Moonlight series’ jam-packed with thrills, suspense, and witty dialogue staring our favorite private eye, Dick Moonlight. Zandri takes the reader on an invigorating ride alongside ‘Moonlight’ when he is hired by a ‘ball busting, sexually appealing, she-devil of a literary agent to find her missing star-studded client, Roger Walls. Just when, as a reader, you think you have the plot and characters figured out – Zandri reminds you why he is a pro in this genre.
Family secrets, sexual innuendo, suspense, thrills – lions, tigers and bears oh my! Vincent Zandri is the ‘Wonderful and Powerful Wizard of Hardboiled Crime Fiction…
Vincent Zandri - Bio
Vincent Zandri is the NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author of THE INNOCENT, GODCHILD, THE REMAINS, MOONLIGHT FALLS, THE CONCRETE PEARL, MOONLIGHT RISES, SCREAM CATCHER, BLUE MOONLIGHT, MURDER BY MOONLIGHT, THE GUILTY, MOONLIGHT SONATA, MOONLIGHT WEEPS, FULL MOONLIGHT, THE SHROUD KEY, and more.
He is also the author of numerous Amazon bestselling digital shorts including PATHOLOGICAL, TRUE STORIES and MOONLIGHT MAFIA, as well as the coauthor of DEADLY DOZEN, which sold more than 50,000 copies in its first four weeks of publication. Harlan Coben has described THE INNOCENT (formerly As Catch Can) as "...gritty, fast-paced, lyrical and haunting," while the New York Post called it "Sensational...Masterful...Brilliant!" Zandri's list of domestic publishers include Delacorte, Dell, StoneHouse Ink, StoneGate Ink, and Thomas & Mercer, while his foreign publisher is Meme Publishers of Milan and Paris.
An MFA in Writing graduate of Vermont College, Zandri's work is translated, or soon to be translated, into many languages including the Dutch, Russian, French, Italian, German, and Japanese. A freelance photo-journalist for Living Ready Magazine, RT, Globalspec, inTravel Magazine, along with several other global news agencies and publications, Zandri lives in New York and Florence, Italy. For more go to WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM
Author, Stephanie Boddy, takes the reader on a paranormal journey into the unknown. Based on actual events makes this read not only entertaining but also terrifying. The author introduces to the reader several family members – describes in great detail their horrifying personal accounts, but make no mistake – ‘The House on Poultney Road’ is the main character in this haunting true tale of supernatural occurrences.
I personally finished this riveting book within just a few hours. I found the dialogue to flow with ease – believable, not forced. A reader wants a page-turner, characters that they can relate to, a story that is thought provoking – Stephanie Boddy gives the reader all these things and more in this spine tingling tale of ghostly suspense.
I give ‘The House on Poultney Road’ four stars, and I do believe this new author is well on her way to making a huge splash in the vast ocean of literary works.
Sophia and Rick had been dating for almost a year when,
without any warning, he decided to end the relationship on Valentine’s Day. Her
friends had tried to warn her several times that he was no good but Sophia only
saw in him what she wanted to see. With two failed relationships behind her,
Sophia had wanted desperately to make this one work at whatever cost – if that
meant changing her hair, raising her skirts an inch or two, alienating
whichever friend of hers that he didn't approve of…well, then so be it.
However, Owen was the one friend she would not distance herself from – not for
Rick or anyone else. Owen had been there for her from the beginning, been by
her side through her parents divorce, two failed relationships, and always
eager to lend her his shoulder to cry on. But the one thing they didn't have in
common – an attraction to each other.
Sophia threw the stuffed teddy bear against the wall and
crumpled the red rose between her fingers. “Who the hell does he think he is,
dumping me on Valentine’s Day?”
“I’m so sorry that it took me so long to get here, Sophia. I
know you’re hurting but I promise you I can make it better.”
“I shouldn't have called you, Owen. I know we've been best
friends since grade school but I can’t expect you to drop everything and be at
my beckon call every time I get dumped!”
Owen grabbed her arm and turned her toward him. It seemed
only a second, so fast she didn't have time to think. Owen was there, pressed
against her. He went straight for the buttons on her silk chiffon shirt. Tears
filled her eyes at his startling transformation. The buttons from her shirt hit
the floor as she jerked away.
Owen tilted his head to the side, as if he didn't understand
why she was refusing his advances. Her fear escalated to the surface as she
stared into his eyes glowing like red-hot timbers “ None of those assholes were
ever good enough for you, that’s why I always made sure that it never worked
She fought back the tears. “I don’t understand…!”
His heart was crushed. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he
lowered his head. In that moment her heart wanted to comfort him, but she dared
not. And then suddenly, as if lifted up by a band of demon angels, his demeanor
changed from pitiful me to all-powerful evil.
“You refuse my love for you, deny my heart? Oh yes, you
would rather have the heart of some asshole than to have my heart! Be careful
what you wish for, Sophia.”
And with those last words, Owen slammed the door behind him
and sped away into the night. Sophia was horrified by what had occurred. She
searched her mind for an explanation. It wasn’t like he’d never had a love
life, although not a lasting relationship, he’d dated plenty of girls. Could
what he had said be true? Was he responsible for her failed relationships? How
did she miss the signals?
Several hours had passed by when suddenly the ringing
of the doorbell startled her. She inched her way to the door, all the while
praying it wasn't Owen on the other side. Looking through the peephole she saw
a package left on the top step that was clearly marked in red, ‘Happy
Valentine’s Day.’ Could this be a peace offering from, Rick? She hoped now,
more than ever, that it was. She ripped the top of the box open and folded the
sides down. Inside the box was something wrapped in red plastic and tied with a
beautiful bow, and an envelope that read, ‘You now have my heart’ signed, Rick.
Her hands began to shake as she noticed a red substance leaking out from
underneath the bottom of the box. She didn't want to continue on, but the
mystery of not knowing was too powerful. Her legs gave out as her knees
buckled, sending the box crashing to the floor, and the heart cut from her
lover’s chest rolled across the floor. Her screams echoed throughout the empty
house – ‘What have you done, Owen – Oh my God, what have you done?” The Bloody Valentine's Day Blog Hop
When asked if I would like to contribute to this wonderful holiday anthology "Tales by The Tree" An Anthology of Holiday Flash Fiction - I accepted with delight! I am humbled and thrilled to have my work showcased alongside 40+ talented authors from around the world. To add icing on the cake - Blue Harvest Creative designed the cover art and interior art of this fabulous book - 75 stories to be exact.
Would you like to see the cover wrap for "Tales by The Tree? Well okay then!
I'm a little partial to this pic as well...
Now let me reveal the names of these talented authors who contributed their creative and artistic works. Click HERE And THANK YOU 'Blue Harvest Creative' for the wonderful blog post!
In other fantastic news today, "Tales by The Tree" is represented by J.A. Mes Press a new imprint name and publishing company, dedicated to finding and promoting new and up-and-coming authors with a focus on anthologies - with Blue Harvest Creative as their official book designer!
When you order your copy today you will enjoy 75 flash fiction tales of multiple genres, and in the process of doing so will be helping give to a wonderful cause.
I want to personally thank, Laura LE Jamez, Marissa Ames, Blue Harvest Creative, J.A. Mes Press, and everyone behind the scene who helped to bring these incredibly talented writers together!
There was a time when my grandma came to visit my brother's and me several times a week but recently the visits stopped. It didn't do any good to talk to momma about grandma; in fact, just the mere mention of grandma upset her. Lately it seemed as though momma would rather be anywhere else but here, that is to say, anywhere else but with us.
My little brother's Corey and Blayne skip around the pews as though they were at the playground. A two-year age difference might not mean a whole lot to most people but to me it is a big difference. One more year and I'll be thirteen, a teenager, why three years more and I'll be able to drive. Two years older than my brother Blayne, I'm a lifetime older than my little squirt of a brother Corey, or so that's the way I see it. Momma says when pastor Kinsey preaches the word of the Lord her heart feels less empty. All I know is that every Sunday morning I'm responsible for trying to keep my little brother's out of mischief so momma can concentrate on Pastor Kinsey's speech, or as momma says ‘The Lords word.' The one thing I could always look forward to was when that hour was up and we could head home, home to the smell of sweet cornbread, fried potatoes, and homemade dumplings. Grandma always said she felt closer to the Lord when she was rolling those dumplings and slicing those potatoes than she ever had sitting amongst those holier than thou hypocrites - just one opinion she and momma often disagreed on, there were many more.
Grandma had been our comfort blanket two years ago when daddy died. Two weeks after he passed momma locked herself in her room, only to venture out when grandma put her foot down. She demanded momma take control of her life or else.
"Vickie Lynn Morgan, this better be the last time I come over here and find these children haven't had their breakfast. Now you pull yourself up out of that bed and open this door!"
My little brother's and me kept our distance by hiding behind our bedroom door, all the while trying to muster up enough courage to peak around the corner. Suddenly, if from out of nowhere, a sound of thunder erupted as momma's door opened up and slammed against the bedroom wall.
"How can you talk to me like that when I've lost my husband and your grandchildren have lost their father! You of all people should know what I'm going through!"
"Yes my darling I remember well when we lost your father." Grandma reached out and took momma by the hand. "I also remember doing everything I could to love and comfort you, to be your protector, the very thing your own children need from you now."
From that moment on everything changed. Grandma gave us our momma back; the momma that my brother's and me had known before our daddy's death. She performed a miracle. Not the kind of miracles pastor Kinsey preaches about on Sunday, but it was as close of a miracle as I had ever seen. I only wish Pastor Kinsey could make my heart feel less empty. Who will perform the miracle now? Who will bring back our momma to us this time?
While momma sat on the church bench sobbing, I took my little brother's by the hand and led them up to the casket. One by one, we placed a rose on grandma's chest just as we had done on my daddy's two years before. I then did something I had never done before. I prayed for a miracle just like I've heard Pastor Kinsey talk about on Sunday, a miracle to bring back my grandma, to somehow turn back time. I thought if there were a God and he could do all the things Pastor Kinsey said he could do, if I prayed hard enough, somehow, my prayer would be answered.
Two weeks I took care of my little brothers, preparing their breakfast, making sure they had what they needed while momma stayed locked behind her bedroom door. Two weeks every night, I prayed for my miracle to happen.
After tucking my younger brother's in bed, I walked past my momma's bedroom door and paused for a moment. I wanted so much for her to tell me that everything would be okay. I wanted her to make my heart stop hurting.
I turned down my bed covers, kneeled, and began to pray.
Dear Heavenly Father I have prayed every night asking for a miracle, are you there? Pastor Kinsey
says if you ask then your prayers will be answered. Am I not praying the right way? I want to believe that you are there and that Pastor Kinsey is right when he says you can perform miracles, but I am beginning to think maybe I do not deserve one. So, tonight I would like to ask you to give my momma a miracle, make her heart feel less empty, then that way she might love me and my little brother's again. And if it is not too much would you please give my grandma a hug and let her know how much we love and miss her. Amen
The next morning I awoke to the sweet smell of maple syrup and the sound of bacon sizzling in a pan. When I walked into the kitchen, I saw my little brother's chowing down breakfast and my momma standing over the stove. As I stood in disbelief, my momma turned to me, smiled and said, "Last night I had a beautiful dream. You want to know what it was I dreamed?"
I couldn't get it out fast enough when my little brother Corey read my mind. "Yes mama, please tell us what it was you dreamed!"
"I dreamed I was with your grandma in a glorious garden filled with magnificent flowers of every kind and color. And guess who was standing next to her?"
"Who momma, who?" My brother Blayne asked.
"Your daddy Jack and your grandpa Ollie and they were surrounded by a glorious ray of light."
"What happened next, what did they say?" I said eagerly awaiting her reply.
"Well, it wasn't as though I heard them speak exactly, it was more like a overwhelming feeling I got of peace and joy in their presence, kinda like Christmas time - you know what I mean?"
I watched my momma's eyes light up as she spoke of this wondrous dream and wondered. Did the Lord hear and answer my prayer? I thought surly he must have.
"Anyway children, toward the end of my dream I did hear your grandma say, "Now go back and take care of my little angels, love them and be their protector."
As momma slid my pancakes into my plate, she leaned over and whispered in my ear.
"And Joseph, grandma had a special message she wanted me to deliver just to you. She said to tell you worry no more my angel, for you deserve every miracle God has to offer, and your heart will never be empty because you will always carry the love she has for you within."
It's been forty years since that prayer was answered and many more have proceeded that one. It still gives me goose bumps when I tell this story to my grandchildren. So, when they ask me, "Why doesn't God answer my prayers?" I tell them God answers every prayer in the form of a miracle, and if you believe - your miracle will be answered.