Blurb:
Ali’s never been so
scared. She’s housesitting for a colleague on Halloween night, but the lights
have gone out, and terrible noises and crashes send her imagination into
overdrive. When her brother’s friend comes to her rescue, he kisses her in the
dark three times. Once back in the light, Ali is embarrassed at allowing him to
kiss her. Byron tries to ignore his strong attraction for Ali, especially
seeing he’s not ready for a relationship. When Ali finds out why, she runs
away, but life has other plans. What can bring them together? Fate, faith, or
the memory of his Halloween kisses?
Author:
Kathy loves reading
and writing even more. She homeschools her three kids, so in between
unsuccessfully explaining the difference between subject and predicate or how
to divide fractions, she enters an imaginary world of troubled and passionate
characters whose stories take over the page. Kathy lives in Kwazulu Natal,
South Africa, where the summers are hot, the winters cool, and bugs thrive. Her
first published novel, Wedding Gown Girl, came out in 2012 with Astraea Press.
She belongs to the Romance Writers of South Africa Group (ROSA) which has been
her greatest support and inspiration the last few years.
Excerpt:
Chapter One
Ali Micklejohn heaved
a large two-seater couch in front of the door and sat down on the expansive
three-seater to watch TV. Tonight was going to be a long night.
The wind blew in eerie
echoes through the house she stayed in, knocking the loose window clasps like
horror music with its squeaks, creaks, and sighs. The elements weren’t worth
being scared of though. They were just sounds. No, this was South Africa, and
even though she stayed in a fairly safe area, couldn’t someone be lurking in
the shadows? Especially since she couldn’t lock the door. That was reason to be
scared, she told herself, not all the strange creaking noises and “haunted”
thoughts. The lock on the front door had given out on her this evening when she
came home after struggling to turn the key for about an hour. The couch across
the door provided her only way to feel a measure of safety.
Whines seared through
the room; long, sad sounds that pierced into her gut. She shivered slightly and
pulled her thin jacket closer to her chest.
Tonight was the 31st
October. Halloween. And really, so what?
She’d never believed
in Halloween, never celebrated it. Growing up in South Africa, Halloween had
only taken off the last few years. Most of the older generation didn’t
celebrate it at all. Some kids dressed up in outfits and went to parties. It
hadn’t spread to the more serious generation yet.
Trick or treating
wasn’t safe in a country where kids dare not walk the streets at night and
knock on strangers’ doors. But decorations were all over the shops and even
graced the school where Ali worked as a secretary. Spiders, witches’ hats,
orange pumpkins, and zombie masks. Dark, sombre colours, which she actually
liked in a perverse way. So, to a degree, she’d been immersed in the feeling of
scariness, a feeling she normally found funny and wacky.
Not tonight for some
reason.
She wasn’t the fearful
type, never had been. Having survived being hijacked outside her parents’ gate,
she’d learnt to appreciate every day, every moment, and she felt like a
survivor. She was one.
The wooden front door
creaked and groaned with the vicious spring winds. Why did spring always have
to be so windy in Newcastle? She turned the TV up to drown out the sounds. She
switched the channel to a comedy show and settled down with her large slab of
hazelnut chocolate and a packet of crisps. Oh, the joys of living on her own
for a change—she could have the whole bag to herself.
That’s why she’d
decided to house-sit a few nights for a teacher at the school where she worked.
And to get some time to think.
Besides, all her
roommates were going out to a party with their boyfriends. Definitely not fun
for the only single one left of the tight-knit group.
The TV made a fizz,
and the light from its screen compressed into a small dot. All the lights in
the house went out.
A power failure.
She sat frozen for a
moment, unsure what to do next. This wasn’t her own home. Where did they keep
candles and torches? At her place, she stored them in the kitchen drawer, and
so did her parents in her childhood house. Wouldn’t that be the logical place? Blinking
furiously, she hoped to find a light somewhere to guide her to the kitchen
without bumping into something. Nothing. She couldn’t see a single thing. There
was no moon tonight. Probably as overcast as it had been the whole miserable,
rainy, windy afternoon. She spread out her hands in front of her and walked
slowly, one awkward, terrifying step at a time.
In the darkness, the
sounds were magnified. Wind whined like a strangled prisoner through every
window, door crack, and ceiling board. Something tapped at one of the windows
from the dining room. Tap…tap…tap. Probably just a branch from a nearby bush.
It couldn’t be a ghost or a zombie, could it? Her quickened pulse didn’t
believe any logical arguments tonight.
