Archive for the ‘Snippets’ Category

Accidental Witch, Final Episode

Monday, April 11th, 2016
It’s a brand new story from the Sexy Scribblers!

The Sexy Scribblers is a group of 14 authors who create short stories for your reading pleasure.

To find out more about us, check out our mission and who we are on my Sexy Scribblers page.

Need to catch up? Read the previous episodes first.

Episode One * Episode Two  * Episode Three * Episode Four * Episode Five * Episode 6 * Episode 7



Episode Eight

By Lena Hart


Mary’s heart dropped at the sight of the dark shadows looming over the Pastry Bitch like menacing claws. They swooped down sharply, and she jumped out of her seat.


The shadows instantly fell away like a black drape, disintegrating into dust. Stirling pulled her back down to her seat as a hush whisper began to travel through the crowd at her sudden outburst.

Mary ignored the curious gazes and rounded on her date. “Why did you do that?”

Stirling cocked a brow. “That was not me, love. That darkness manifested from you.”

What was he talking about? She didn’t have darkness in her. She was a good person—she just didn’t like to be walked all over. Or accused of doing something she hadn’t.


“It appears you hold more power than you realize, Mary.” He smirked. “And you’re more vindictive than you think.”

She stared at him then down at her hands, incredulous. “You’re crazy if you’re saying what I think you’re saying…”

“And what is it that you think I’m saying?”

“That I’m a…witch?”

“A very unseasoned one, but you’ll learn.”

Mary’s heart began to race at what he’d just confirmed. Did she really contain that kind of magic in her?

“And once you grow into your own, you’ll find your path.”

“My path to what?”

“The dark or the light.”

“You mean I’m either going to be good or evil?”

“More or less.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be wicked, but I can’t let the Pastry Bitch get away with ruining my career.”

“You want revenge, then take it.”

“I want to have her hair fall out. I want ants to come pouring out of her chocolate soufflé. I don’t want to actually kill her.”

“You can do all of that and more, love.” Stirling leaned back in his seat and assessed her quietly. “But will any of that satisfy you?”


Mary glanced at where the Pastry Bitch stood at the far end of the room, admiring her work as the attendants began to serve her popular dessert to the guests. Mary should have been standing there, too. She’d put in just as much work into this function to make it a success, and that moment of glory had been taken from her.

But looking around the room, it was hard not to let the delight from the guests lift her spirits. She may not get the acknowledgement for it, but she would take pleasure in knowing that she’d been a part of putting those smiles on these people’s faces.

Mary sighed in resignation. To hell with the Pastry Bitch. She would let karma take this one.

“If I have to be a witch,” Mary murmured, “I prefer not to be a green one.”

Stirling chuckled. “I can see you’ve watched too many movies. Witches are actually quite attractive.” He winked at her. “Exceptionally so.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “You’re a—” She didn’t bother completing the sentence. Of course he was a witch. He’d practically told on himself with his impossible good looks—and that blood pen he kept in his pocket. “So are you a good witch or a bad one?”

“What do you think?” he asked, taking a sip of his champagne.

Mary tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know. I have a feeling you’re only good when it suits you…”

“You’re very perceptive. That’s a useful trait to have with your kind of power.”

“Can you teach me to be a good witch?”

He carefully placed his glass down then lovingly ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. She trembled from the delicate touch.

“I can teach you a lot of things, love. And I plan to. But goodness is as innate as it is subjective. Goodness is having the power to steal every soul in this room but choosing not to.”

She stared at him blankly. “You can do that? Steal souls?”

“Yes.” His dark eyes flashed brilliantly. He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips across hers. “But I’d rather steal your heart.”

As he deepened the kiss, Mary lost herself in his embrace. In that moment, she forgot about everything—and everyone—and concentrated only on Stirling Drake and the sensuous spell he casted with his lips.

The End!


Watch for the next exciting story to come from the pens of the Sexy Scribblers!

Accidental Witch, Episode 2

Tuesday, April 5th, 2016
It’s a brand new story from the Sexy Scribblers!

The Sexy Scribblers is a group of 14 authors who create short stories for your reading pleasure.

To find out more about us, check out our mission and who we are on my Sexy Scribblers page.

Need to catch up? Read the previous episodes first.

Episode One

Episode Two

By Aubrey Wynne



“Gus, did you purchase my supplies?”

“Yes, sir,” the chauffeur said over his shoulder, weaving through traffic. “You will be pleased with the pendulum. It’s a brilliant clear amethyst. However, there were no white candles only red.”

“That’s fine. I only need the red for tonight.” Stirling Drake smiled at the fat raindrops now splattering against the windshield. He loved a good storm. “Did you find the sixth volume?”

“It’s on your desk, sir.” At the red light, Gus looked in the rear view mirror. “Will you be needing my assistance before the charity auction tonight?”

Stirling needed to take care of this hex before he left this evening. “No, I think can manage without assistance.” He let out a sigh. “The last thing I want to do is put on a tux tonight.”

“But it’s for a good cause, and she should be there. Speak of the…” He slowed the car. “Is that Miss Reynolds, sir?”

Through the tinted glass, he saw the stunning honey blonde march toward the curb, a tote bag slung over her shoulder. Her purse swung wildly from her wrist as she shook her fist at what appeared to be the heavens. A wicked smile curved Stirling’s lips, and the rain immediately turned into a downpour. The thin material of her dress now clung to her delicious curves.

“I believe the damsel is in distress.” He rolled down the window of the Mercedes. “Can I give you a lift?”

She leaned down, wiped the sodden gold tendrils from her face, and gave him a disgusted look. “If you can improve my day, I’ll go anywhere with you.”

He opened the door, stretched out his long legs, and took the tote from her. “Allow me.” Mary rewarded him with a dazzling smile. She left a trail of water across the dark leather seat as she slid across.

“Mr. Drake, how nice of you. It’s been one hell of a day, and I don’t think it’s noon yet.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not a vengeful person but if I could—”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, Miss Reynolds?” The anger flashing in those green eyes sent heat through him. This woman had stirred his blood when he first met her last month. Drake Corporation raised funds each year for literacy, and she had catered the dinner. Asking her out, he had been politely informed that dating clients went against her moral business standard. Stirling vowed then to never hire that caterer in the future.

“So I told that spiteful pastry chef that I’d put a curse on her.” Her head slammed against the back of the soft leather.

Can you put a curse on her?” he asked in a low voice as he slid closer. Stirling’s midnight eyes locked with Gus’ tawny stare in the rear view mirror.

Her laughter seemed incongruous to the previous rant. The sudden switch in mood made her even more attractive. Yes, there was something about this female; she awakened a longing deep inside him.

“Don’t be sil… You’re not serious.” Her full lips pursed slightly, and she gave him a wary look. “Are you?”

“Of course not, Miss Reynolds. However, your misfortune is my good fortune.” He gave her his most charming smile and slowly reached out his hand and brushed a dripping curl behind her ear.

“And how is that?”

“I can no longer be considered a client if you are no longer employed. Perhaps I could share some magic with you over dinner. Would you be my date for the charity auction tonight? I believe an event you were in charge of?”

A grin curved her mouth. “Please, call me Mary.”


Watch for the next Episode of Accidental Witch from The Sexy Scribblers.

The Accidental Witch, Episode 1

Sunday, April 3rd, 2016
It’s a brand new story from the Sexy Scribblers!

The Sexy Scribblers is a group of 14 authors who create short stories for your reading pleasure.

To find out more about us, check out our mission and who we are on my Sexy Scribblers page.

Episode One

By Luanna Stewart


Mary Reynolds clicked save and leaned back in her chair, a feeling of satisfaction at a job well done. The catering for the annual statehouse shindig had been handled by their number-one competitor for years, but thanks to her massive skillz, her employer would make the big bucks.

She glanced around the large open workspace. She’d not worked here very long, and she wasn’t exactly friends with any of the staff, but she felt accepted. Mostly. Her gaze went to the one cloud in her otherwise sunny sky. She had no clue what she’d done to piss off the pastry chef. But as her older brother always said, it is what it is.

Her office phone buzzed. The summons to the big boss’s presence. She grabbed the printout of the calendar for the next three months, nicely filled thanks to her hard work, and skipped into the lair.

“You’re fired.” He kept his gaze on the menswear catalogue he was flipping through.

“Wait, what?” Mary’s heart zipped into overdrive.

“You are fired.”

“I don’t understand.” Her boss had finally gone off the deep end. The pressure of doing dick all day had finally gotten to him.

“Which word is tripping you up?”

Bastard. Rubbing her lack of a college degree in her face as usual. She’d completed enough credits for three degrees. They just weren’t all in the same subject. Or at the same school. “Why am I fired?” Sweat trickled between her boobs.

“There’ve been too many complaints.”

Whoa. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

He flung a file across his high-tech glass and steel desk that probably cost as mush as her car. Probably more, given the sad excuse for a car she could afford. “It’s all documented, so don’t waste your time going after a wrongful dismissal suit.”

Mary snatched the folder and flicked through—shit—over a dozen incident reports. What the fuck? Inebriated? She hardly ever drank. Who could afford booze? Incomplete project? Bullshit. The only project she wasn’t happy with was when she was forced to work with that pastry bitch. Yeah, there was her signature.

“This is a witch hunt.” She shook the folder, wanting to smack him upside the head.

“And don’t try any discrimination nonsense. I believe in religious freedom as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.” He circled a picture in the catalogue. Skinny jeans. Not in his lifetime.

“What the Hades are you talking about?”

He heaved himself from his custom leather chair, quite a feat, and circled the desk. He pulled a sheet from the stack in the folder and held it three inches from her face.

She squinted. Satanic ritual.

“Okay, this isn’t funny anymore.” She snatched the paper from his meaty hand and read further. “I lit a candle, a balsam scented candle, because it was freaking Christmas, and I wanted to create a festive atmosphere in this dungeon. It had nothing to do with summoning be-ell-za whats it.”

“Pack up your desk and leave within the hour, or I’ll call security.” He settled in his chair and sighed, done with his exercise for the day.

“We don’t have security.” Ass. What they had was a mom-and-pop catering business, located in the basement of a strip mall, operated by the spoiled brat of the mom and the pop. “You haven’t heard the last from me.”

“Threatening your boss now?”

“You’re not my boss anymore.” She left the office, slamming the door, and faced the assembled crowd. No pitchforks. But plenty of knives. Which made sense given the large space was basically a huge kitchen. She’d never felt threatened by a paring knife before, but in Johnny’s hand, dripping with the juice of strawberries he was slicing for the compote for that afternoon’s reception at the mayor’s house, the reception she’d put on their books, suddenly the atmosphere seemed menacing.

Head held high, she marched to her little corner and started emptying her desk drawers into her tote bag. A shadow fell across the desk. She knew who it was based on the smell. Waves of cloying camellia hit her nose, bringing on a sneeze.

“You got what you wanted. I have no idea why you hate me, but I take solace in that fact that karma will right this wrong.” Mary met the steely gaze of the pastry chef. “Or maybe I’ll put a curse on you.”

She smirked as the other woman turned pale, and then turned tail and scuttled back to her workstation. Bitch.

Lugging her tote and her purse, she climbed the stairs. Not to worry, she’d get another job. She was damn good at organizing other people, and she’d made valuable contacts amongst the local movers and shakers. She’d be employed in no time, certainly before her next mortgage payment was due.

She stepped outside just as the sky opened. So much for the weather forecast, which had called for another hot and sunny day. Within seconds she was soaked, and her car was at the far side of the parking lot. Bloody, bloody hell.

A sleek black foreign car pulled to a stop in front of her, and the passenger side window lowered. “Can I give you a lift?”

She leaned down to see who the idiot was blocking her path.


Watch for the next Episode of Accidental Witch from The Sexy Scribblers.


#SexyScribblers Halloween Special – Prescott House – Final Episode

Saturday, October 31st, 2015


Which means we’ve reached the end of the

Sexy Scribblers Halloween story.


The Sexy Scribblers are 14 romance authors who have come together to compile short stories and take you on an adventure. You can find each story as it’s released, in part or in whole, as well as past stories, on the blogs of the any of the participating authors as well as on the Sexy Scribbler’s Facebook page and Website.

Prescott House

Missed Previous Episodes?  Read them here:

Episode 1 * Episode 2 * Episode 3 * Episode 4 * Episode 5 * Episode 6

Episode 7 * Episode 8 * Episode 9 * Episode 10

Episode 11 (final episode)

by Lena Hart

“Sarah, stand back! I’m going to kick the door in.”

Sarah didn’t want to go back. Somewhere in that dark, cold basement was a damn ghost. And not any ghost. One that wanted to kill her!

“Eric, please hurry,” Sarah shrieked.

The door shuddered and shook from Eric’s frantic kicking, but it refused to open.

“Come on, come on!” Her agitated plea went unanswered. Instead, a cold draft brushed against her back and she knew without a doubt he was behind her. Still, she refused to turn around.

“Wh-why are you doing this?” Her words were directed at no one but from the gust of cold air that brushed across her neck, she knew he was still with her.

“Your great-great grandfather’s family killed me and took me from my one true love.”

The words were spoken so clearly, Sarah knew for certain that it hadn’t come from her imagination. Her heart raced and her breath came out in short, sharp pants—in rhythm with the pounding on the door. She recalled the frightening tale her older brother had terrorized her with years ago.

It clearly wasn’t just a scary story.

Yet, if it were true, and her great-great grandmother now roamed the house in search of her beloved husband, why hadn’t they reunited?

“Because your brother and all those who believed that lie are fools! The love of my life didn’t die of a broken heart. Those bastards killed her!

The sudden bellow paralyzed Sarah until she became numb all over. Suddenly, there was no loud banging on the door… There was no more Eric.

She was surrounded by silence.

“I was murdered by people who were out for revenge, and the love of my life was buried alive! Forced to die alone…in darkness!”

“Dear God…” Sarah breathed.

The vengeful spirit dissolved into hysterical laughter. “It’s too late for that, Sarahhh. You will die the way your Prescott men intended—just as they allowed my wife to die—in darkness.”

Sarah inhaled sharply and suddenly the walls of the dark basement seemed to be closing in around her.


Sarah raced up the last flight of stairs and began twisting and jerking at the handle. A stark white light seeped from beneath the door and she was desperate to get to the other side. She wouldn’t die like this. Not in this dark, cold basement. Alone. She wouldn’t!

“Hehehehe… You’re not leaving here, Sarahhh.”

Oh, yes, the hell I am!

Sarah gave the door one last tug and to her astonished relief, it came open. Harsh bright light blinded her and she squinted against its brilliance.



“Sarah, angel… Come back to me…”

She was once again surrounded by warmth and immense relief almost made her knees buckle. She made it out. She was free.

“I can’t live without you, Sarah…”

Sarah followed the bright light but couldn’t make out anything, so she just followed the sound of her husband’s loving voice.

“Please come back to me…”

Suddenly the light grew impossibly bright. “Brant, where are you? I can’t see you.”


Her eyes flew open. She lay on a stiff bed, staring up at a plain, white ceiling. There was beeping…


She turned her head to the voice she thought she would never hear again. “Brant?” she croaked, her mouth dry.

“Yes, honey. It’s me.”

Sarah found her husband sitting beside her, looking as if he’d aged a decade. It was the most beautiful face she’d ever seen.


“Shhh. Don’t try to talk. You’re in the hospital. Let me go get the doctor.”

“No, wait.” She tried to reach out for his hand but found she couldn’t move her arms. She looked down at them and found her left arm, wrapped from wrist to shoulder in a heavy cast. But hadn’t she landed and hurt her right arm? Or had that only been in the dream?

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember? We were in an accident on Highway 1. There was an off-duty EMT worker on the road that night and thank God he found us. We wouldn’t have made it otherwise.”

Sarah remembered a pair of sexy chocolate-brown eyes and smiled. “Eric…”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

Despite her stiff lips, Sarah’s smile widened. “Lucky guess. Are we still in California?”

“Yes, angel. We’re still here.”

Sarah released a small sigh of relief. “So no Samhain. No small, podunk town in Texas. Thank you, God.”

Brant’s brows pulled together and he ran his warm palm over her bare arm. “Just get some rest, honey. You took quite a hit and have been in a coma for the last ten days. I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

Sarah stilled. 10 days? She’d been trapped in that twisted dream since October 21st? That could only mean…

“Brant, what’s today?”

His lips curved in a mirthless grin. “October 31st. I know it’s not your favorite holiday, but happy Halloween.”

Sarah shook her head. In that moment, the disjointed words of the Prescott Ghost echoed in her head.

“…every Hallows Eve… make the Prescott descendants suffer.”

No,” she cried out. “It can’t be…”

Brant’s frown deepened and he continued rubbing the chill from her left arm. “I know it’s all confusing right now, honey, but everything will start making sense again soon. I promise. You’re back now and that’s all that matters.”

“No, Brant, you don’t understand. He’s going to kill me! I have to get out of here!” Sarah shoved the hospital sheets aside and began tugging at the tubes in her arms, her desperation making her numb to the pain throbbing through her body.

“Sweetie, calm down. Dr. Samhain! Someone! I need help!” Her husband tried to grab her arm, but Sarah shoved him away. “Sarah, damn it! Stop before you hurt yourself!”

“Brant, please!” She had to get the hell out of there!

A crowd of nurses and doctors rushed into her hospital room, but only one face was distinct.


Her husband stood to the side, concern and anguish etched on his handsome face. She reached out to her husband, but several strong hands held her down and she felt the sharp sting of a needle pierce through her upper arm. Panic caused her to fight in earnest.

But it was too late.

Whatever they had shot her with began to take effect and the edges of her vision began to grow dark. Her muscles began to relax and keeping her eyes open was proving to be impossible.

“Please…” she called out, but the words were barely a murmur.


Oh, God. No! Sarah forced her eyes open and turned toward the voice. It can’t be him. It can’t be…


The ominous voice chanted her name and she couldn’t tell from who or where it came from. Suddenly, that familiar maniacal laugh surrounded her. It started low until it vibrated against the walls like a bolt of thunder. An icy chill coursed up her arm and down her spine. Above her, a large dark figure loomed, and the rumbling laughter grew louder.

A dark, large figure swept over her, bringing with it a cold draft. A raw scream curdled in her throat and she slammed her eyelids shut. The cold grew stronger, along with the rapid beating of her heart.

Sarahhh… It’s Hallow’s Eve…

The pounding of her heart thumped in her ears.


This time, the whispered voice was like a cold breath licking along the lobes of her ear. She squeezed her closed eyes tighter. The abrupt silence was deafening.

Sarahhh… IT’S TIME!

Her body jerked at the sudden roar, and she began to spiral into nothingness.


She continued to delve further into the unknown, the chilling laugh following her—taunting her—deeper into the darkness of her mind.


happy halloween1

We hope you’ve enjoyed Prescott House. 

Watch for the next story to come from the Sexy Scribblers.

In the meantime, check out the other stories available for free from the Sexy Scribblers 

Sexy Scribblers Website

Sexy Scribblers on Facebook

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#SexyScribblers Halloween Special – Prescott House – Episode 10

Friday, October 30th, 2015

We’re SO close!  It’s almost …


Which means we’ve almost reached the end of the

Sexy Scribblers Halloween story.

 Watch the story unfold as we reveal the final few episodes…and creep closer to All Hallows Eve.

halloween 2

The Sexy Scribblers are 14 romance authors who have come together to compile short stories and take you on an adventure. You can find each story as it’s released, in part or in whole, as well as past stories, on the blogs of the any of the participating authors as well as on the Sexy Scribbler’s Facebook page and Website.

Prescott House

Missed Previous Episodes?  Read them here:

Episode 1 * Episode 2 * Episode 3 * Episode 4 * Episode 5 * Episode 6

Episode 7 * Episode 8 * Episode 9 * Episode 10 * Episode 11

Episode 10

by Valerie Twombly

“Fucking really? I’m getting sick of this shit,” she yelled to make herself feel better. There was no Prescott ghost. Period.

With a sigh, she placed her free hand on the wall and carefully turned, feeling for the doorknob. Once she had the clunky piece of metal in her grasp, she gave it a twist.


Again she tried, but the cold metal refused to budge. She pulled, hoping maybe the door would pop open, but that failed as well.


“Brant?” Even though she knew that eerie call wasn’t him.

Something cold whooshed by her and caused her to shiver. Once more she tried the door and again it remained stubborn, refusing to open.


She jumped and placed her palm on her chest as if it would help slow her racing heart. “I really need to pull my shit together.” She let out a sigh of relief. “Eric. The basement door is stuck.” The sound of heavy footsteps grew closer and seconds later the jiggle of the handle.

“Shit, Sarah it’s stuck. I’ll have to kick it in.”

Pressure built on her back then suddenly she was falling.

“Aaaaghh!” Sarah reached out to try and grab something, anything that might keep her from tumbling down the stairs and killing herself. Somehow she managed to catch hold of the handrail and slow her descent. Finally, she landed with a hard crack on her right arm. Blinding pain shot through her.

“I finally have you at my mercy,” a sinister voice whispered in her ear.

She startled and tried to ignore the urge to vomit. “W-who are you?”

“Well, Granddaughter, I’m the one who’s going to take your life.”

She did a mental search and came back to the story her brother always told. Not possible.

“Oh it is possible and yes, I’m the warlock your family burned alive. I vowed every Hallows’ Eve, I would make the Prescott descendants suffer.”

Nothing made sense and she tried to clear her fuzzy mind and remain conscience. “But why would you kill your own family?”

“Not blood,” he scoffed.

“Not blood? I don’t understand.” She winced as she tried to move.

“I married your great-grandmother later in life. Your blood grandfather died in an unfortunate accident.”

She had this sick feeling he had somehow been behind it when suddenly she was lifted to her feet and shoved against something hard and cold. Pain, anger, and fear shot through her. “I didn’t kill you and this shit is beginning to piss me off.” Way to tick off a ghost, dipshit. Except he was real, there was nothing ghostly about him. In the darkness, she could make out the whites of his eyes.

Realization hit. “It was you in the road, wasn’t it?” His laughter sent her blood simmering. He was responsible for Brant’s death. She quickly remembered her earlier discussion with her deceased husband. Oh Brant, how am I supposed to stop a ghost?

“It was, but unfortunately I wasn’t corporeal. That can only happen on All Hallows’ Eve. Now, I intend to finish what I failed to do that night.”

A sudden crash came from upstairs. “Sarah? Damn it!” A light shined and relief swept over her. Eric. She’d momentarily forgotten about him.

“Eric, the ghost is real!” she screamed with an urge to make sure he was safe.

“Well, no shit!” he shouted back as his light grew closer. The Prescott ghost hissed and disappeared.

~ * ~ * ~


To be continued…


Check back tomorrow for the next episode of

Prescott House

halloween 5

In the meantime, check out the other stories available for free from the Sexy Scribblers 

Sexy Scribblers Website

Sexy Scribblers on Facebook

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