Growing up…seriously,
what chance did I have?
Typical TV entertainment: Count Yorga Vampire or Night
Gallery reruns.
Regular reading material: “Creepy” Horror Comics
and Stephen King.
Normal sibling activity: A low-lit Séance
(better still if conducted on a stormy night or during a “black out”).
Oh, I hear ya.
Where on
earth were her parents?!
It was a single-parent (and remote) household,
mother working full-time, mostly night-shift. My sister (adequately older)
looked after my slightly younger brother and myself. She’d brush my hair, make
my lunch, help me with schoolwork.
My sister also shared with us her devotion to
all things spooky. (Anyone heard of Eulalie the Witch? <epic shudder>) I
wouldn’t swap the ghost stories and good times we three shared for the world!
Now, I write romance for a living, the sweeter
variety, with babies and strong, protective men who always deliver a memorable
happy-ever-after for my deserving heroines. My latest series of short stories
and novellas is set in the fictitious small town of Point St. Claire in Maine.
In a previous story, I’d introduced the Point’s lighthouse, which is (of
course) haunted.
Here’s the blurb from A Haunted Moonlit Night…
Former
dot-com success Jack Mason doesn't believe in ghosts or goblins. He hadn't
bought this old lighthouse and keeper's cottage in Maine because of its eerie
past, but to indulge a childhood dream. Then photographer Sammy Briar blows
onto the scene.
Sammy's story, delivered the night before Halloween at the site of a haunted grave, would raise the hair on the back of anyone's neck. Jack is intrigued, and not only by her tale. Everything about Sammy is captivating, mesmerising, including her kiss. It's as if...
Well, it's as if they'd met before.
Sammy's story, delivered the night before Halloween at the site of a haunted grave, would raise the hair on the back of anyone's neck. Jack is intrigued, and not only by her tale. Everything about Sammy is captivating, mesmerising, including her kiss. It's as if...
Well, it's as if they'd met before.
Like all good ghost stories, there’s a twist in
the tale that, I hope, will leave you caught between a gasp and a sigh.
To celebrate my favorite holiday, Halloween, I’m
giving away a digital copy of A Haunted
Moonlit Night as well as a digital copy of my best selling collection, The Complete Holiday Babies Series. To
be in the draw, share with us your most memorable spooky experience growing
up…but do it with the lights on!
Tabitha
Robbins
is a penname for a best-selling romance author with millions of books sold
worldwide. Tabitha is into New Adult, Young Adult, Paranormal and Contemporary
romance. Anything with a hot hero and an unforgettable love story! Stay up to
date with the latest news and releases here.
A Haunted Moonlit Night sounds wonderful. Love the blurb. :)
ReplyDeleteJack and Sammy's story sounds wonderful. My spooky experience happened 30 years ago when my dad lost his battle with cancer. I was shut in my bedroom, told to stay there by my protective older brother, while the rest of the family were with Dad. I peeked out of my room and saw a thin thread of smoke coming from his room. It floated towards me and then disappeared through the ceiling. My mum said it was Dad's way of saying goodbye to me as I was the only one not with him when he died.
ReplyDeleteThanks Nicole and Shelley!
ReplyDeleteShelley, what a spooky but wonderful experience. Some things just can't be explained away.
The night my father died, I was driving home with my sister and brother, talking about dad, of course. He totally loved horse races. Along the conversation, my sister said that she'd never seen a falling star. As we drove by the local race course, a star fell, arcing over the track. We all agreed it was his way of saying a final goodbye.
I don't have a spooky experience, but my mother has seen a ghost. A young girl in a long flowing nightdress. My mother said she was not afraid & then in the blink of an eye the child was gone. My mother is not given to flights of fancy, so this made a believer out of me.
ReplyDelete