First Chapter of Little Last Words by Cheryl Bradshaw
Penelope Barlow leaned back in the driver’s seat, her thoughts drifting to the events that had taken place over the last several weeks of her life. It had been almost a month since she’d moved back to the seaside town of Cambria, California. After spending the last six years in a verbally abusive relationship, she’d packed some bags, waiting for the night she’d find the courage to leave Dean for good.
Courage came at long last when Dean accused Penelope of smiling at another man while they were out for dinner. After they returned home, he’d hit her for the first time, striking her so hard across the face it sent her hurtling onto the wall. She’d slumped to the ground, curling into a ball as she waited for subsequent blows to come, even though they didn’t.
He spent the next hour apologizing, but it was too late. In that moment, she’d realized it was time for the hell she’d been living through to be over.
She waited for Dean to fall asleep and then tiptoed her way to her five-year-old daughter’s room to play a secret game they’d been practicing. The game was simple. All Sadie had to do was follow Mommy out of the house without making a peep. If she made it inside Mommy’s car without waking Daddy, Sadie would be rewarded with two scoops of ice cream the next day.
That night, mother and daughter fled toward a fresh start in a familiar town, the same town where Penelope had been raised. Family and friends welcomed them with open arms, ready and willing to offer their help and support.
Life was full of new beginnings in the tight-knit community, a town brimming with old memories.
Some memories were good, like the first kiss she’d had in the ninth grade.
Some were bad, like the argument she’d had with her mother after high school graduation.
There were other memories still, some she didn’t like to think about.
As her thoughts returned to the present, Penelope peered into the rearview mirror and smiled. Sadie was fast asleep in her car seat, her head tipped to the side. Her arms were wrapped around a stuffed pink koala, a gift from her grandmother. Staring at her daughter now, Penelope noticed how peaceful and content she seemed, a lot more content than the child had been in a long time.
Turning down the street toward home, Penelope rolled to a stop in front of one of the smaller homes on the street. It was the first place she’d ever lived on her own. At twenty-seven-years old, it felt good to stand on her own two feet, providing a life for her and her daughter.
Penelope opened the driver’s-side door, and Sadie’s eyes popped open.
She yawned, rubbed her eyes, and said, “Mommy, I’m tired.”
“I know, honey. Let’s get you into your pajamas, and then you can go to bed.”
Sadie shook her head. “I don’t wanna go to bed yet.”
Penelope laughed, unbuckled Sadie’s car seat, and scooped her into her arms. “I’m sure you don’t, but it’s after your bedtime. Mommy’s going to bed soon too.”
“Can you read me a story first? Pleeeease?”
Penelope considered the request. “All right. A quick one.”
“Oh…kay.”
Half a story later, Sadie was fast asleep in her mother’s arms. Penelope tucked her daughter into bed, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and went outside to get the groceries she’d left in the trunk of the car. She took the first load into the house and went back for the second. In the distance, a neighbor’s dog began to bark. Soon after, the dog was joined by a second and then a third, until all the dogs in the neighborhood seemed to be barking in unison.
Penelope took one last look around and grabbed the two remaining bags and brought them in. After the groceries were put away and a quick check on Sadie, Penelope crossed the hall into her bedroom. If there was one thing she needed right now, it was a shower. But when she stepped into the bathroom and flicked the light switch, the light didn’t come on. It seemed odd—there were five bulbs in the light panel, and all of them had been working this morning.
How could all of them burn out on the same day?
Maybe they had, or maybe it was an electrical problem.
She checked her bedside lamps, the light in the closet, and the one on the balcony just off to the side of her room.
All those lights turned on, which made the situation even odder.
Penelope made a mental note to speak to her mother about it in the morning, and then she stripped off her dress and grabbed a large, three-wick candle out of the hall closet. She set the candle on the bathroom counter and turned, watching the soft glow of the candle’s flames cast flickers of shadows along the bathroom wall.
Pulling back the shower curtain, she froze.
Someone was behind the curtain, someone who grabbed her by the hair, jerking her forward as they uttered the last words Penelope would ever hear: “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t find out. Did you?”
The post First Chapter of Little Last Words appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>
Little Shattered Dreams, Book 6
At fifty-five, Quinn Abernathy has been through her fair share of experiences in life.
Two divorces.
One child.
One failed business.
One successful one.
And a nasty bout of breast cancer.
Life has been full of choices, both good and bad.
Hoping to leave the painful memories behind, Quinn books a weeklong stay at the Soul Awakens, a retreat known for helping lost souls find themselves again. It is here she hopes to shed her past turmoil, to forgive herself, and those who have wronged her. It is here she will learn that sometimes the past finds a way to creep back in … and for Quinn, it’s about to turn deadly.
Available for US readers at:
Available for worldwide readers at:
Also in this series:
The post Little Shattered Dreams appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>
The post The Widow Maker appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>First Chapter of Crawley Manor Haunting by Cheryl Bradshaw
On a clear, star-filled night, Addison Lockhart sat on the deck of Grayson Manor, sipping on a glass of iced tea and reminiscing about her life. As the gentle breeze frolicked through the leaves of the large elm in the front yard, she thought back to nine years earlier, to the time just after her mother had passed away. It was then she’d learned an important truth—a truth her mother had never shared with Addison.
Addison had a gift … and not just any gift.
She could communicate with the dead, helping lost, tortured souls trapped between this world and the next move out of the darkness and into the light.
The gift didn’t come as a surprise. Ever since Addison was a young girl, she’d had the ability to see things no one else could. At the age of five, while attending her friend Natalie’s birthday party, one of Natalie’s ribbons fell from her hair. Addison reached down to pick it up and a vision of Natalie’s future appeared before her, a vision Addison didn’t want to see—Natalie falling from the tree swing in the backyard.
The vision had been so real, like it was happening in the present moment, even though it wasn’t. As the vision faded and Addison returned to the here and now, she warned Natalie to avoid the tree swing. But Natalie discarded Addison’s concerns, choosing not to listen. Four months later, the rope on the tree swing snapped, sealing Natalie’s fate.
Years later when Addison inherited Grayson Manor, the visions she’d had as a child, the ones her mother had brushed off as though they were nothing, returned, strong and persistent, like a weed desperate to push its way through the soil. It was at this time Addison believed herself to be an empath or a medium. Then she learned she was more, so much more than she’d ever imagined.
On Addison’s wedding day, her grandmother, Marjorie, presented her with a unique gift, and Addison began to understand the power she possessed. The gift was a book of enchantments. It was old and worn … and magical. It had been passed down in Addison’s family from mother to daughter for generations. The passages within its pages read like lyrical verses of music, full of wisdom and advice. It also provided a way for Addison to summon the spirits of her ancestors who had passed on.
Soon after Addison received the book of enchantments, her grandmother died, and Addison gave birth to a daughter, Amara Jane. During this time, Addison’s life took another turn when she was visited by the spirit of Joan Waterhouse, a woman who revealed she was Addison’s ancestor. Addison learned Joan had lived in England in the 1500s. Joan also made known that Addison was much more than a medium and an empath. She was a necromancer, a witch, who one day would hold the fate of the world in her hands.
Joan bestowed upon Addison a red diamond, one of the rarest stones in the world. When placed on top of the cauldron of the book of enchantments the cauldron sunk inside itself and the book ignited, sending a surge of energy through Addison as she and the book became one. Now, Addison possessed the power of every necromancer who had ever lived. She just hadn’t learned the best way to use it yet. And since her mother and grandmother had passed away, she’d been left to figure it out on her own.
Swaying back and forth on the rocking chair, Addison’s thoughts turned to her father, Samael, a man who was also known as the raven. The two had never met, and she knew little of him except that he was a powerful sorcerer. After her mother’s death, Addison had been given a letter. In it, her mother admitted the man who’d raised her, Bill, a man Addison had called “father” her entire life, wasn’t her birth father. Her birth father was Samael. She also learned about Corbin, her twin brother.
Since learning of Samael’s existence, Addison had been warned not to seek him out, but as the months unfolded, she’d thought of him more and more often, picturing him in her mind. She wondered if she looked like him. She wondered if he’d ever tried to find her after all these years. And most of all, she wondered if he was as dangerous as her mother had made him out to be. She’d considered summoning him many times, but as she thought about her own child, she stopped herself. When it came to protecting Amara Jane, it was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.
And so she sat, swallowing back the last of her iced tea as she stared up at the night sky. Tonight, there was a strange stillness to the air, an eerie quiet, an unsettling feeling brewing within—a feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
The post First Chapter of Crawley Manor Haunting appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>
Crawley Manor Haunting Book Five
Tonight, there’s a strange stillness to the air, an eerie quiet, an unsettling feeling brewing within—a feeling that something terrible is about to happen.
A mysterious letter arrives from a woman named Eve Crawley. She claims to be Addison’s cousin, a cousin Addison has never met or heard of before. The letter contains an invitation to Crawley Manor … and a warning.
Something evil is coming.
Something dark.
Something seeking to destroy everything and everyone in its path.
And Addison Lockhart is the only one who can stop it.
Read first chapter HERE
Also in this series:
The post Crawley Manor Haunting appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>First Chapter of Little Tangled Webs by Cheryl Bradshaw
Harper Ellis leaned back on her pillow, staring at the framed photo sitting atop her dresser. In the picture, Harper and her aunt were arm in arm, smiling, the joyous memory now frozen in time. It had been three years since Aunt Frida had died. Three years since her death had been ruled an accident. Three years … and everyone had moved on.
Everyone except Harper.
Harper had spent those years digging, looking for clues, asking questions, gathering every tidbit she could find to explain the unexplainable. She talked to anyone who would listen, trying to get them to see they were wrong, and she was right.
Aunt Frida’s death wasn’t an accident.
She’d been murdered.
Of this, Harper was certain.
At first, most of Aunt Frida’s friends and family indulged Harper’s theories, to a degree. They assumed she was grieving as they were. But as time passed, and Harper refused to let her suspicions go, they grew tired of hearing them. Soon after, her mother asked her not to speak of her aunt’s death again—to anyone—and suggested she put her ludicrous theories to rest.
Harper pulled the photo frame off the dresser and clutched it in her hands, reminiscing about the day the picture was taken. It was Harper’s fifteenth birthday. Friends and family gathered at the park to celebrate. They had a barbecue and took pictures under a gazebo her mother had decorated with balloons and twinkle lights.
It was one of the happiest days of Harper’s life.
It was also the last time she saw her Aunt Frida alive.
A soft rapping sound on the bedroom door snapped Harper back into the present moment. She returned the photo frame to its usual spot and said, “Come in.”
Her mother poked her head inside.
“Have you decided what you’re wearing to the wedding tomorrow?” she asked.
“It’s okay to dress in all black, right?”
Her mother didn’t seem too amused. “Not funny, Harper.”
“I’m kidding, Mom.”
“I know you are, honey. What are you up to tonight?”
“The usual. Hanging out with friends.”
“Don’t stay out too late. We need to leave here at nine thirty to get to the beach before the ceremony begins.”
“I’ll be ready. Don’t worry.”
Satisfied, her mother smiled and closed the door.
It was a rare occasion when Harper lied to her mother. But revealing her actual plans for the evening was out of the question. Tonight, she was testing her latest theory, and this time, she was ninety percent sure she had it right. Step one in the confirmation process required her to leave a note beneath the windshield of a certain person’s vehicle. A note that said:
Meet me at Shamel Park, at the gazebo. Tonight. Eight o’clock.
Don’t show, and I’ll tell everyone what really happened to Frida, and why.
A few months earlier, Harper had stumbled upon an important clue in her quest to prove Frida’s death wasn’t an accident. Now it was time to see if she was right. If she was, she needed to get him to say something to incriminate himself.
Given the fact no one had yet believed her, Harper knew she’d need help if she was to bring Frida’s killer to justice. Over the last three months, she’d been planning and saving, preparing for today.
Soon everyone would know the truth.
Soon, Aunt Frida’s killer would pay.
Unsure of how her suspect would take the news when he was confronted, Harper invested in a little protection. She pulled open her dresser drawer, riffling through it until she found the pocketknife she’d purchased. She stuck it into her purse and glanced at the mirror, pulling her blond, wavy hair back into a loose ponytail. She dabbed a bit of clear gloss over her lips and reached for her car keys.
It was 7:35 p.m.
Go time.
Harper gave her mother a quick wave goodbye and headed out the door. She walked to the car and got inside, gripping the steering wheel as she inhaled a lungful of air. Her heart was beating fast—too fast. But there wasn’t much she could do about that.
During the drive, she rehearsed what she wanted to say in her mind. The words she would use had to be precise. They needed to provoke him, to make him talk, to prove whether he was the man she was after.
Harper pulled to a stop at the park’s entrance and exited the car. Tonight seemed warmer than usual. A quiet stillness filled the air, and there wasn’t much light, just a sliver of a moon peeking out from behind the clouds.
She scanned the area, didn’t see anyone. Perhaps he wasn’t here yet. She checked the time. Five minutes to spare, right on schedule.
Harper walked the grassy path to the gazebo and waited.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then twenty.
At half past eight, it was obvious he wasn’t coming. She strolled back to the car, disappointed the night hadn’t gone as planned. She’d chosen to meet at the gazebo because of its significance.
No matter.
A new plan was forming.
If he didn’t want to come to her, she’d go to him.
She knew where he lived.
Harper pulled the driver’s-side door open, jolting backward when a gray cat darted out from beneath a picnic table next to the gazebo. The cat turned toward her, narrowing his eyes at me, the trespasser.
Crazy cat.
You scared the bejesus out of me.
She huffed a slight laugh and got into the car. Slipping her seatbelt over her waist, she put the key into the ignition. A hand reached out from behind, then two—fingers thick and strong, as they wrapped around her neck. Squeezing.
Harper tried to scream and couldn’t.
She tried reaching for the pocketknife, but the tight, unrelenting grip of the seatbelt wouldn’t allow it.
She curled her fingers around his, desperate to peel them off her, but his grip was firm, unmoving. The man leaned forward, his hot breath filtering inside her ear as he uttered the last words she’d ever hear in this lifetime. “For the record, Harper … you were right.”
The post First Chapter of Little Tangled Webs by Cheryl Bradshaw appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>
Little Tangled Webs, Book 5
What if you knew the person you loved was murdered, but no one else believes you?
Eighteen-year-old Harper Ellis has spent the last three years searching for her aunt’s killer, looking for clues, asking questions, gathering every tidbit she can find to explain the unexplainable. She’s talked to anyone who would listen, trying to make them to see they’re all wrong, and she is right.
Aunt Frida’s death wasn’t an accident.
Aunt Frida was murdered.
Of this, Harper is certain.
Tonight, Harper plans prove her theory, and she’s prepared to risk her own life to do it.
Read the first chapter HERE
Available for US readers at:
Available for worldwide readers at:
Also in this series:
The post Little Tangled Webs appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>
Belle Manor Haunting Book Four
The door to Addison Lockhart’s room opens. Six-year-old Sara Belle walks in. The child seems lost and confused. Addison reaches out, grabs Sara’s hand, and the room goes black.
Addison’s eyes open to find she’s been transported several decades into the past. She’s sitting in the back seat of a car. Sara is beside her. The car stops at an intersection. Moments later another vehicle in the opposite direction barrels through the stop sign, slamming into the car before jerking the vehicle into reverse and fleeing the scene. Who is the driver of the other car? And what secrets within the walls of Belle Manor provide the answer to little Sara’s untimely demise?
Read first chapter HERE
Also in this series:
The post LInks appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>First Chapter of Belle Manor Haunting by Cheryl Bradshaw
Addison Lockhart was holding a jar of tomato sauce in her hand when her water broke. She’d been shopping at the local grocery store when her unborn child decided she’d grown a bit tired of sitting inside of a stuffy womb for so many months. She was ready to make her grand entrance into the world, even if it was nine days ahead of schedule.
Shocked and unprepared, Addison stood for a moment, frozen, staring down at the combination of tomato sauce, glass, and amniotic fluid that had splattered all over the supermarket floor.
A young male employee stepped into the aisle, glancing at the mess as if confused about what to do next.
He looked at Addison and said, “Ma’am, are you all right?”
She stared at him and then tipped her head toward the wet patch on her dress. “I don’t think so. It seems my baby’s coming.”
The employee’s eyes widened, and he held his hands in front of him. “I … ahh … you just wait here. I’ll get someone to help.”
He scampered off, and moments later, a voice came over the store’s intercom requesting a cleanup on aisle three. Addison reached down, attempting and failing to grab her purse at the bottom of the shopping cart before a sharp pain ripped across her abdomen. She gripped the cart’s handle in her trembling hands, trying her best to breathe through it.
I can do this. It’s just a contraction. All I need to do is breathe through it, and everything will be all right.
If only she believed it.
A bit farther down the aisle, an elderly woman rushed to Addison’s side. The woman leaned over the cart, lifting the purse like it weighed nothing. She handed the bag to Addison and said, “Here you go, hun.”
Addison forced a smile. “Thanks for your help.” Then she unzipped the top of her purse, fumbled around for her cell phone, pressed the first number on her speed dial, and waited for the call to go through.
Seconds later, Luke answered, saying, “I was just getting ready to call you. Want to grab lunch somewhere?”
“I think I’m in labor. My water just broke.”
“Already? Where are you?”
“I’m at Fresh Pantry, the one by our place.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Addison ended the call, slid the phone back inside her purse, and slung the purse over her shoulder. She glanced over to see the elderly woman still standing by her side, smiling.
“Is this your first baby?” the woman asked.
“It is.”
The woman reached out, patting Addison’s hand. “Now, don’t you worry. Everything is going to work out. How about I walk you to the front door and wait with you until your ride gets here?”
“I appreciate your help. I think I can make it.”
Addison abandoned the cart and started walking toward the end of the aisle. Several steps in, another wave of contractions began. Addison bent down and reached out, clutching the shelf next to her.
The woman wrapped an arm around her and said, “Let’s get you through this one, and I’ll help you get where you need to be. Okay?”
Addison nodded.
The woman remained by Addison’s side, humming a soothing tune as they made their way to the door. The tune seemed familiar. Addison was sure she’d heard it before—somewhere. She glanced over, giving the woman a closer look. She estimated the woman to be in her eighties, and she had short, gray hair styled into a messy pixie cut. The woman was thin but much stronger than she appeared.
They walked outside, and the woman guided her to a bench. They both sat down. Addison turned toward the woman. “I didn’t think my baby was coming yet or I wouldn’t have gone to the store today.”
“Hard to know with babies, isn’t it? They’re unpredictable little bundles. You have a name picked out yet?”
Addison nodded. “Amara Jane.”
“It’s lovely. How did you choose it?”
“It may sound strange, but her name just came to me one day.”
Addison thought back to the day of her grandmother’s funeral. As she left the graveyard, a breeze had kicked up out of nowhere, and with it, Addison swore she’d heard someone whisper “Amara.” As her pregnancy progressed, Addison and Luke considered several names, but no matter which ones they liked, she always came back to Amara.
“Do you have any children?” Addison asked.
“A daughter, a son, and one granddaughter.”
“I’m Addison, by the way. What’s your name?”
“Josephine. You can call me Jo.”
“Do you live around here?”
“Not far. I always thought I’d move on from this place one day, take a journey, see the world, but I’ve always found it hard to be away from my children for long.”
“My father feels the same way. He just bought the house next door to ours.”
“Do you mind him being so close?”
Addison shook her head. “Not at all. I love my husband, but my dad is the only family I have left.”
A car raced into the parking lot, not bothering to brake when it hit the speed bump near the store’s entrance.
“I’m guessing your ride’s here,” the woman said.
Addison stood. “It is. Thanks again for looking out for me today. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there.”
“You would have been just fine, but I was happy to help. Maybe one day we’ll meet again, and you can return the favor.”
Luke jerked the car to a stop next to Addison, hopped out, and rushed around the side. He jerked the passenger-side door open and eyed Addison. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “How are you doing? Are you okay? I mean, are you all right? Are you in pain? What can I do? I’m here. Just tell me. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
Addison grinned. “For starters, you can ease up on your grip a bit and calm down.”
“Calm down. Right. Sorry.”
He helped her into the car, buckled her into the seat belt, and raced to the driver’s seat.
“I know how much you want to hurry,” Addison said, “but let’s just concentrate on getting there safely, okay?”
Luke had always been the calm, collected type, while Addison had always considered herself to be a bit unsure about things and scattered. Seeing his cork come undone shouldn’t have been satisfying, but somehow, it was.
“How are you feeling?” Luke asked.
“I’ve had a couple of contractions since my water broke. I honestly didn’t know what to do, and then this sweet woman offered to help me. She walked me outside and stayed with me until you got here.”
“Too bad I didn’t get the chance to thank her.”
“I’m sorry. I was concentrating so much on getting out of there, I didn’t give it much thought. I should have. She was sitting right next to me.”
“When?”
“Just now. On the bench when you pulled up.”
He shook his head, confused. “Sweetie, I saw you as soon as I drove in. You were alone on the bench. There was no one else with you.”
The post First Chapter of Belle Manor Haunting appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>
Belle Manor Haunting Book Four
The door to Addison Lockhart’s room opens. Six-year-old Sara Belle walks in. The child seems lost and confused. Addison reaches out, grabs Sara’s hand, and the room goes black.
Addison’s eyes open to find she’s been transported several decades into the past. She’s sitting in the back seat of a car. Sara is beside her. The car stops at an intersection. Moments later another vehicle in the opposite direction barrels through the stop sign, slamming into the car before jerking the vehicle into reverse and fleeing the scene. Who is the driver of the other car? And what secrets within the walls of Belle Manor provide the answer to little Sara’s untimely demise?
Read first chapter HERE
Available on:
Also in this series:
The post Belle Manor Haunting appeared first on Cheryl Bradshaw.
]]>