Happy Holiday #Book #SALE - #awardwinning #paranormal #darkfantasy #99cents #bestseller

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#Paranormal Wednesday - Exclusive Excerpt from VOICES by Clarissa Johal #99cents #sale

Do you like ghost stories?

VOICES is on SALE for .99 cents via Amazon during the month of October. 

Grab your copy now!

Book Details:

Title: VOICES 

Genre: Paranormal Psychological Suspense 

Author: Clarissa Johal 

Editor: Bobbie Metevier

Cover Art: David Walker
Published by Permuted Press May 2015

ISBN: 9781618685698

ASIN: B00WAH55JW

Pages: 264

Excerpt

“I’m bored,” Isabella complained.

“You’re always bored.” Moira flipped the page of her sketchbook and started another drawing of the hospital.

Isabella flopped down on the bed. “Play a game with me, Moira.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“You never feel like it. Ever since you got here.”

Moira sighed, exasperated. “Isabella, I can’t exactly play a game with you while everyone can hear and see me, can I? If I start doing that, they’ll never let me out.”

“I wish you’d never been sent here! I hate it!” Isabella cried. She sat up and glared at Jack, who had been standing by the window observing them. “Why did you make her attack that man?”

“I was protecting her.” Jack’s expression hardened. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

Moira made an irritated sound. “That’s bullshit, Jack, and you know it. You weren’t protecting me.”

“He would have left,” Isabella continued. “Moira said, ‘No thank you,’ I heard her!”

“He put his foot in the door,” Jack snapped. “You don’t know anything. You’re only six, Isabella. I know what he was thinking—”

“You told me you didn’t!” Isabella tilted her chin defiantly. “You said you were just getting back at her—”

“You lying little—” He lunged forward.

“Leave her alone!” Moira slammed her sketchbook shut. “Stop fighting, both of you. I can’t concentrate if you two are going to bitch at each other the whole time.”

Jack hovered over Isabella for a moment longer before he finally pulled back.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Moira continued bitterly. “I’m here now.” She stood and gathered her sketchbooks. 

It would have been a grand exit, except for the fact that the both of them followed her to the door. That, and she practically ran into her nurse opening it.

“Afternoon, Moira,” Sheila said brightly. “You have a visitor.”

Adam leaned in from behind her.

“Hi,” Moira said, surprised.

“Busy?”

She glanced behind her. Jack had retreated to the corner of the room. Isabella lingered beside him, seemingly unsure. “Not exactly.”

“Nurse Sheila,” Adam said as if he were talking to a child, “I know how much you love me, but may I have some private time with my friend now?”

“If you need me, Moira, I’m down the hall.” Sheila eyed Adam warily. “You have a buzzer too.”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Adam said after the nurse left. “Looks familiar, oddly enough.”

“Yeah, it’s…home for now.”  

“Didn’t see you in the dining room at breakfast.”

“I usually have breakfast in here.”

“Didn’t see you at lunch either.”

She glanced at her leftover spaghetti and hard dinner roll. “I was just finishing up.”

“You left me alone with all the crazies,” Adam said. “You okay?”

Hesitating, Moira picked up her plate and dumped the spaghetti into the garbage. “I’m having one of those days when I just want out.” She scraped the plate clean with a plastic knife.

“Want to go for a walk?” Adam asked.

A chill crept up her spine as she felt Jack’s presence behind her. Moira’s hand tightened convulsively on the plastic knife handle. “Around the hospital?”

“Unless you want to make a break for it?”

Adam approached her and Jack backed away slightly. Well, that’s interesting, she thought. Moira quickly dropped the knife into the garbage. “I’d love to go for a walk.”

“Let’s go, then,” Adam said. “Once we get past the station, I’ll strip naked to distract the nurse, and you knock her over the head. We’ll be out of here before they even catch us.”

Moira paused, torn between laughter and thinking he would actually do it.

“Kidding,” he grinned.

 ***

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Happy October! #book #sale #99cents #paranormal #darkfantasy #ghosts

Happy October!
To celebrate, all my books are 99 cents October 1-7th. 

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New Cover & #Sale - Struck by Clarissa Johal #paranormal #darkfantasy #KindleUnlimited #99cents

Book Details:

Genre: Paranormal
Author: Clarissa Johal
Editor: Samantha Ettinger
Publisher: Faeriemoon Press
Number of Pages: 228

About Struck:

Caught a terrible storm, Gwynneth is struck by lightning. She wakes in the hospital with a vague memory of a mysterious stranger. 

Following her release, the stranger visits her at will and offers Gwynneth a gift—one that will stay the hands of death. She is uncertain whether Julian is a savior or something sinister... for as he shares more of this gift, his price becomes deadly.

Excerpt:

She stared into his pale eyes, the color of storm clouds. A scream welled up in her throat. He pushed her against the wall and shook his head in a warning.

“Do not scream.”

His voice was low and soothing. She nodded quickly with every intention of screaming her lungs out as soon as he removed his hand.

“Do not scream,” he repeated.

Gwynneth could hear her breath heavy against his hand. He wore finely made black leather gloves. Why would he be wearing gloves inside? She thought frantically. It’s not cold enough to wear gloves. Dressed in black from top to bottom, except for a white, high-collared dress shirt, he looked archaic. She tried to match him with a time period. Mid-eighteenth century? Even his demeanor was aristocratic and proud. Small silver buttons ran the length of his jacket. They pressed sharply against her thin hospital gown.

“Do you trust me?” He studied her intently and removed his hand.

“You were there when I got hit,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you bring me to the hospital? You left me at the funeral home.”

“I had no transportation. I left you where you would be found.”

“Why didn’t you stay with me?”

“I have my reasons. I am here now.”

Gwynneth paused. “Thank you for saving me.”

“I wish something in return.”

“I-I don’t have anything.” She flinched as she felt a small tug from deep inside. It was as if probing fingers were searching for something. Fear bloomed within her. The probing stopped.

“Are you saying no?” His voice held an edge.

“I don’t understand.”

“Are…you… saying…no?”

Confused, she nodded slightly. Suddenly, Julian grabbed her around the shoulders, and they fell into blackness. Something powerful swirled around them. Something malevolent. She panicked and clung to him. There was pressure on all sides of her, as if the air was folding and becoming heavier and heavier. And then, everything stopped.

“Open your eyes, Gwynneth,” he whispered.

They were in a Victorian house. A fire burned in the fireplace. The scent from the burning wood filled the air. Muted light reflected off elaborate, but worn, wallpaper and furniture. A half-eaten biscuit lay on a delicate-looking plate next to an empty teacup resting on its side.

Julian took her by the hand and led her up a winding staircase. She studied him from behind. Tall and lean, though quite broad-shouldered, long white hair draped his back like silk. His form-fitting, tailored jacket hit mid-thigh. Matching black pants were tucked into knee-high leather boots. He walked with catlike grace, his boots making light sounds on the stairs.

Otherworldly, her thoughts whispered. Still in her hospital gown, Gwynneth felt vulnerable and naked. Her bare feet pressed against the wooden floor. Grit stuck to her toes.

He led her down a hallway lit by fluted glass light fixtures. At the end of the hallway was a door.

Never taking his eyes off hers, Julian opened it.

Dark figures scattered like exploding glass. Red…so much red. There was blood everywhere. Blood-soaked sheets, pillows; blood pooled onto the wooden floor and soaked into an ornate carpet.

A woman lay across the bed. She wore an old-fashioned white nightgown, which was plastered to her body. Her long dark hair spilled across the sheets. Gaping wounds covered her chest. A knife lay on the floor. The windows were open, and white curtains fluttered in the evening breeze.

The creatures writhed in the corners as light from the hallway shattered their darkness.

A strangled sound escaped Gwynneth’s throat. Julian wrapped his arms around her and urged her forward. The figures that had fled into the corners seeped into the scene once more.

“They come for her. I want you to watch.”

Gwynneth shook violently. He gripped her tighter.

The figures swarmed over the dead woman’s body. They snaked up her torso, across her face, and into her hair. Gwynneth felt their need, burning and relentless.

“Oh my God, she’s not dead,” she moaned. Her vision went black.

______________________

Indie Book of the Day Award
Second Place - Preditors and Editors Readers Poll 2014

Struck is 99 cents via Amazon!

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                                                             YouTube Book Trailer

#99cent #sale & #newrelease - STRUCK and POPPY by Clarissa Johal #paranormal #excerpt

Download your copy of Struck now for 99 cents! 

While you're at it, check out my new release & spin-off novel Poppy  

Struck by lightning...claimed by shadows.

Caught in a terrible storm, Gwynneth is struck by lightning. She wakes in the hospital with a vague memory of a mysterious stranger. Following her release, the stranger visits her at will and offers Gwynneth a gift—one that will stay the hands of death. She is uncertain whether Julian is a savior or something sinister... for as he shares more of this gift, his price becomes deadly.

Excerpt from Struck:

     “I saw one of them in here, Julian. Those shadow things. I saw it. It went into Seth’s bedroom.”

     A frown creased his smooth brow. “You must have been imagining things, Gwynneth. Are you positive?”

     “Yes.” She stared at him uncertainly. “You have to keep those things out of here.”

     “You are asking for my help, then?”

     Gwynneth hesitated. The question seemed to imply much more than she wanted to admit.

     “I need something from you in return,” Julian said quietly. He took her arms. “Just a small token. You won’t miss it.”

     She covered her face with her hands. “I must be going crazy. You’re a figment of my imagination. Forget it, Julian. Just go away.”

     “Is that what you think I am?” He gently removed her hands from her face. “I’m not a figment of your imagination, Gwynneth. I assure you.”

     She looked up at him. His face was so beautiful. Mesmerizing. She felt herself lean toward him without thinking.

     “A small token.” His gloved thumb stroked her cheek hypnotically. “I can offer you so much in return. Let me show you.”

     His storm-filled eyes made her feel like she was drowning. Before she could reply, Gwynneth was pulled into blackness.

     Folding. Everything was folding in on them. The weight of the air pressed against her skin, crushing her. Something evil hovered around them. Waiting. She could feel it. Poised to strike, it was ready to yank her from Julian’s grasp. She clung to Julian in fear, the blood pounding in her ears.

     The weight was suddenly lifted, and they stood in the empty reception room of Homestead. “What was that?” she began. ”Why are we here?”

     “Trust me.” Julian held her as she gained her bearings again. “I will show you what it can be.”

     “Nobody will die?”

     “If you trust me.”

     Perplexed, she allowed him to lead her down the hallway. They arrived at room 102. Mr. Allen’s room, Gwynneth thought. Everyone liked the elderly gentleman, even his children visited several times a week. She hated that Mr. Allen’s medication made him forget things from time to time, but most of the residents were on medication of some kind.

Mr. Allen sat in bed, doing crosswords puzzles. She wasn’t surprised to see him awake. Most of the elderly kept odd hours and experienced insomnia.

     “He can’t see us either?” she whispered.

     “No.” Julian stood behind her. His slid his hands up her arms, and nudged her forward. “Watch, Gwynneth.”

     She watched, trepidation pricking at her insides. Something peeled itself from the wall and occupied space in the room. Something dark and filled with need.

     “What is that?” she breathed. “Julian, you promised.” In a blink, it was beside Mr. Allen. The figure jerked and flickered humanlike, but wrong. Its arms and legs were moving backwards against their joints, and its face morphed but wouldn’t settle. It reached out with lightning speed and grabbed Mr. Allen by the shoulders.

     “No!” she screamed.

     Julian stopped her from lunging forward. His fingers dug painfully into her skin. “Tell it to go away, Gwynneth.” He pulled her against his chest. “Stop it from taking his life. You can, you know.”

     Her heart raced. Gwynneth felt like the air was being sucked from the room. Mr. Allen fell backwards onto his bed. The figure crawled over him like an insect.

     She lunged against Julian’s viselike grip. “Stop!”

     The black figure immediately pulled away. In a blink, it was on them, and they fell backwards onto the floor. Icy cold washed over Gwynneth as the creature enveloped her body like a second skin.

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 ___________________________________________________________________

A red-headed, pink-loving mortician who speaks to the dead.
A moody, unsociable funeral director.
Poppy and Dante from Struck are back.

Something is lingering around Skyview Funeral Home—and it's stealing souls of the dead.
With Dante in tow, Poppy is determined to put a stop to it.
Can she protect those who are trying to cross over, or will her soul be next?

Excerpt from Poppy:

The root cellar was a small space with a low ceiling. At one point, it probably smelled of apples and potatoes, but now, there was nothing but the scent of lawn mower gas, dirt, and cold stone. Poppy reached into the darkness, searching for the light bulb string. Her fingers connected, and she pulled it on with a click.

“Gladys?”

Weak light illuminated the usual garden-equipment clutter. Rakes and shovels were piled against a stone wall. Several cans of gasoline sat next to an old lawn mower. Bags of fertilizer and garden fungicide sat beside them. Gladys was nowhere in sight.

A rustle sounded from a darkened corner. Fully expecting to see a rat or trapped bird, she held the bulb in such a way to throw light on it. The door slammed shut behind her.

“Geez!” Poppy lost her grip on the light. The swinging bulb cast rising and falling shadows on the walls. She made a move to push the door open when the lightbulb suddenly shattered, leaving her in darkness.

“Gladys?” Poppy kicked herself for not waiting until morning, when Dante could have accompanied her. The grating sound started up from the corner of the room. It ran slowly along the ground until it stopped in front of her. That’s not Gladys. You walked right into this one.

She clutched the jar to her chest, her heart thumping. “I have the locket, if that’s what you want.”

The answering silence lay across the cellar like a shroud.

“I’ll make you a deal. You leave my dead alone, and I’ll leave the locket right here.” Her voice sounded against the close confines. “Good luck with the sea salt, if that matters.” Poppy inwardly cringed as she felt a trickle of blood from her nose. Dammit. She attempted to put up her barriers, but it was too late.

A heaviness descended upon her shoulders like a mantle. Something lashed out and scratched the skin of her throat.

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