The house #WipItUp #horror #PNR

WIPimage12And it’s another WIPItUp Wednesday. Woop! So, did you enjoy my teases for the last four weeks? *snicker* I see last week’s got everyone’s interest up. I’ll definitely be finishing that one soon and will give you more snippets when it gets closer to publication.

This week, I’m giving you another snippet from one of my many works in progress. This is from a paranormal/horror M/M romance.


There were many things James would have preferred doing than to step down off the train on the outskirts of Haming Straights. Among those that popped instantly to mind were going to the dentist, marrying Hannibel Laring, or falling down face in the mud while letting wild animals stampede over him. But none of those possibilities seemed to be an option as a cloud of coal dust surrounded his head and made him choke.

“Come along, James,” his mother Mila said sharply from somewhere outside the dust cloud. “We must get to the house.”

The house. The reason they were there. Well technically, he supposed, it was only partially the house. ‘Twas his uncle’s house. Marlton Javier Worth had lived in it for close to seventy years and died just three weeks ago at the age of one hundred and three. Even though they lived a full territory away, his mother rushed to bustle her, him, and her newest husband all the way from the new Territory of Colorado to Washington Territory as soon as possible once the communique came just one week previous.

James had been confused and unsettled as on any given day she wanted nothing at all to do with him. However the moment the missive hit her, she sent along a demand for him to arrive at her door, suitcase in hand, for a long trip. Too scared not to obey, he had done as ordered, but as he had just spent days on the train being ignored by her and her current husband, James could not figure out any reason for him to be along.

He stepped out of the cloud of soot and glanced around the wooden dais they stood on. There was no station at all. Just a stop in the middle of nowhere. “James,” his mother shrieked and with a wince he picked up his case and followed her and Stewart Haven, her husband, toward a rickety horse-drawn carriage. Queasy at the sight, he wished he had the guts to refuse to enter such a conveyance. But he did not. Neither would any other lad who was brought up with a witch for a mother.


Yes, yes. I know. I’m a tease. But I won’t be sharing snippets from my next release until the end of the month. So I’m still set on giving you bits and pieces from my works in progress pile 🙂

This was from as unyet untitled story involving a furious ghost, a spirit worker, bleeding walls, and a few things that go bump in the night.

Now, go enjoy some more works in progress 🙂

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