The Occult Series

 

 

A shuddering, thrilling urban fantasy series

The Reign of the Occult

The Occult Series Book 1

by Lauren Louise Hazel

Genre: YA Urban Fantasy

The Reign of the Occult is a shuddering, thrilling, urban fantasy for Young Adults. Filled with hair raising chases through shadowy streets, frightening fights and mind-blowing magic, it's sure to keep many a different genre loving reader happy.

The battle between the Underworld, full of darkness, and the Overworld, full of light, has been evenly balanced for millennia. Caught between them is the mortal world, where humans have become so afraid of a magic they cannot understand or control that they allow the Occult to rule them. After the Occult joins forces with the Underworld, the balance shifts and the Overworld is decimated.

But still, in the mortal world, the magic won’t die. It appears when a supernatural being and a human have a child, like Prue.

This is the first volume in an epic new fantasy series that spans the three richly detailed worlds as Prue, her non-magical half-brother Everett, and all Magic Users, fight to survive. They are being hunted by the Occult, who turn the Magic Users they capture into tools to eliminate their own kind and, eventually, to destroy all traces of magic.

 

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Chapter 1 – Run

“Prue!” Everett gasped, unable to disguise the desperation in his voice. His legs were aching, his lungs burning, and his heart was pounding erratically in his chest – a reminder that, despite everything, he was still alive.

Maybe not for much longer.

He wheezed, attempting to inhale more air, but from the weakness in his legs, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Prue! Which way?” he cried, casting a panicked glance at his sister. He imagined he could hear them, the cocking of their guns, drawing near. Every flicker of movement in the streetlight, every sound, felt magnified, as though even the shadows were poised and ready to pounce.

“Both ways are blocked,” Prue replied at last, her feet pounding the pavement beside Everett, faltering only as they approached the junction. She frowned, eyelashes fluttering, and clenched her fists, her nails leaving angry red indentations in the palms of her hands. She was very pale.

“What are you talking about?” Everett gasped, slowing to a canter.

“Nothing is certain.”

Everett, while used to his sister’s cryptic remarks, was not in the mood for games. “That’s not helping!” he cried, skidding to a halt as they reached the turning. He cast a glance over his shoulder. “Are we going left, or right?”

Prue froze and her eyes did too, as they often were when she saw things nobody else could. “I told you,” she said, in a detached tone. “Both ways are blocked.”

Everett cocked the gun he’d held loosely in his palm, trying to ignore the way it slipped slightly in his grasp, dampened by his sweat-slick skin. “Does that mean we’re dead either way?” he asked, with a carelessness he didn’t quite feel. He checked his ammunition, if only to busy his shaking hands, knowing it would probably make little difference in the end. Maths had never been his strong point, but he knew one gun against hundreds were never favourable odds.

“They’re coming,” Prue informed her brother, although she did not meet his eyes. She was staring into the blackness at the other end of the street; Everett followed her gaze, but as always, saw nothing.

“Where—?” he began, before freezing. He couldn’t see, only hear, the rapid pounding of footsteps along a cobbled street. Low at first, the sound was growing louder, clear in the otherwise silent night. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up in warning. “Ok, you’re right,” he conceded, in a generous tone, “They’re coming! No foresight needed for that. Which way do we go?”

Prue shook her head, dark hair clinging to her bowed face, her eyes crunched in concentration. She was covered in sweat.

“Wait— wait—” Everett muttered, in a panicked breath, realising his sister was going to be of no help. He could see them now, shadows moving in the darkness, emerging at the end of the street. The Officers of the Occult. He shot three times in quick succession – one, two, three – and something must have found its mark, from the strangled cry of pain that followed. They were still alive, then. Good.

Everett had only a moment to feel relief before the others swarmed. They were closing in on them. Although in range, they had yet to fire a single shot; as he expected, their aim was to capture, not to kill.

“Something is changing,” Prue said from beside Everett. She clutched her head, fisting her fingers into her hair, as though physically trying to remove something from her mind. “Another factor is clouding things. His choices are unclear. He’s conflicted already.”

“Prue!” Everett cried, trying to pick something of use from her incoherent ramblings. He pushed her sideways, behind the wall of a garden and out of sight – at least for the moment. They were running out of time – the Officers would be upon them in less than a minute, and then there would be no escape. “Pick a way! Which way has more chance of survival?”

Prue gazed up at the sky, but she was seeing nothing. “Left,” she replied at last, “Maybe he will spare us.”

Without taking a second to contemplate what his sister might mean, Everett grabbed her slippery hand and pulled, turning a sharp left, the Officers of the Occult temporarily vanishing from view. 

The Queen of the Underworld

The Occult Series Book 2

The Queen of the Underworld is the second novel in the award-winning The Occult Series by Lauren Louise Hazel.

Following the fall of The Occult and its Head, Prue receives visions of The Queen of the Underworld—a powerful Demon who was once overthrown by her allies and exiled from her homeland—rising in its place.

Prue sees that the Queen is connected to Prue’s best friend, Lily. This leads Prue and her half-brother, Everett, on their mission across worlds to destroy the Queen and save their friend. But nothing is what it seems.

The Queen is ready and waiting for them—and she will stop at nothing to secure her future and wipe out anyone who opposes her.

 

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Lauren Louise Hazel is a Cyber Security Manager by day and writes YA fantasy by night. She has one annoying brother and younger sister. As she was growing up, the only item her dad would buy her without demanding her pocket money was books. He’s hoping the writing is successful so he can get a Ferrari!

Some of Lauren’s favourite books and influences include the classics – like Lord of the Rings and The Hunger Games – and anything by Haruki Murakami and GRR Martin.

 

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The Broken Crown Saga

 

 

Where loyalty shatters, legends are forged.

The King’s Fall

The Broken Crown Saga Book One

by Orlan Drake

Genre: Epic Fantasy

A Gripping Tale of Royal Betrayal and Hidden Romance

When darkness falls on the kingdom of Ardanthia, readers will find themselves caught up in a story where nothing is what it seems. Princess Eloise faces impossible choices as murder and betrayal tear her world apart. Her secret love for the Prince of Caladorn adds another layer of danger to an already deadly situation. This isn't just another royal romance - it's a heart-pounding adventure where love and loyalty clash in the most dangerous ways possible. You'll feel every moment of tension as Eloise walks the razor's edge between duty and desire.

 

Mystery and Investigation That Keeps You Guessing

Sir Cedric Blackthorn brings detective skills that would make any crime solver jealous. His brilliant mind works to solve puzzles that could save or destroy an entire kingdom. As Ambassador Zafir arrives with hidden motives and Baron Gorgo schemes from the shadows, every character becomes a suspect. The investigation twists and turns through palace halls filled with secrets. You'll find yourself trying to solve the mystery alongside Cedric, picking up clues and second-guessing every revelation. The chase scenes will have you on the edge of your seat as our heroes race against time through a kingdom ready to explode into war.

 

Fantasy Adventure That Brings Legends to Life

The Broken Crown Saga starts with this incredible first book that mixes political drama with fantasy elements that feel fresh and exciting. Secret groups work behind the scenes, pulling strings that control the fate of nations. The world-building draws you in completely, making you believe in a place where magic and politics dance together in dangerous ways. This story proves that sometimes solving one crime can prevent an entire war - and that the most important battles happen in the shadows.

 

For readers of David Eddings and Terry Brooks, this sweeping tale of betrayal, magic, and destiny will leave you breathless.

 

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The King's Fall opens not in a throne room, but underground. A secret order — no names, no titles, only cloaks and the authority of old purpose — has gathered around a rune-carved table to debate an incident that should not have happened: a full diplomatic party has been wiped out on the road between two kingdoms, and neither king ordered it. Someone is pulling strings that no one can see. The council is about to do something dangerous. They are going to look.

 

There existed beneath the old earth a sanctum kept from all maps and memories, shielded by corridors that twisted into each other with a geometry of deliberate confusion. In the deepest of its halls, a chamber circular and primeval waited in perpetual shadow. The room's centrepiece, a stone table whose circumference rivalled a city well, had been carved from a single slab of basalt. Its rim and surface bore etched runes and ancient sigils, their purpose unclear to any but initiates of the silent order that convened there.

Around this table, shrouded figures gathered, their cloaks indistinguishable but for subtle variations in the weave — one a blue so dark it drank in the torchlight, another a coarse grey laced with fine metallic thread, a third in deep forest green that shed a dusting of spores with every movement. Even in the heart of stone, the air hung moist and cold, saturated with the scent of burnt tallow and the musk of old water. From sconces in the arched walls, torches spat and guttered, casting orange light that slithered across faces as pale and anonymous as death masks.

No titles were spoken here, only the functional necessity of names earned and worn like invisible crowns. The magister at the head of the table, tall, angular, motionless save for the slow folding of gloved hands, did not need to identify himself. When he spoke, the voice cut through the stillness as though it had been whetted on the stone itself.

"Our watchers are not in agreement." The words were uninflected, carefully measured.

A murmur passed around the circle, not of dissent but of discomfort. The second figure, smaller but with an evident coiled energy, leaned forward. Her hands were bare, fingers long and stained black along the creases, and she tapped the table where the runes formed a broken circle.

"It is a minor border skirmish, Sentinal," she said. "Bloodier than most, but hardly unprecedented. Let the kingdoms squabble among themselves — Ardanthia and Caladorn have always warred at the fringes." She sounded impatient, as though summoned for a lesser concern.

The magister in blue, whose hood cast his face into shadow, spoke with a slight tremor. "The killing was not so minor. An entire diplomatic train vanished — every courier, every retainer, every guard. The ambassador's body was not even left for ransom. That is new. That is calculated."

The Sentinal allowed the words to settle, scanning the circle with a gaze that seemed to fix on each magister, regardless of where his face was aimed. "Six months ago, an envoy of Ardanthia, Lord Marcus Blackbriar, journeyed south with full ceremonial escort. Their course was direct: Eldoria to Delrith, then through the corridor to Mirashar. Before reaching Delrith, they were set upon and destroyed. Only one man survived, and he staggered back to Eldoria."

"Coward's tale," said the woman with the ink-stained hands. "Most witnesses die of their wounds, the lucky ones first."

The Sentinal ignored the snipe. "Our watcher in Eldoria heard the testimony. The survivor told King Leofric himself that the attackers wore the livery of Caladorn. Our watcher in Caladorn, however, tells a different story: they found no evidence of a sanctioned operation. If anything, Caladorn's own patrols have increased since the incident. Their court desires peace. Their king is tired of war."

A rustling of fabrics, the weight of suspicion shifting around the table. The green-cloaked figure finally broke his silence, voice low and gravelly. "If both kings are ignorant, then who profits from the attack? It's no longer a border dispute. It's something else."

A pause, broken only by the hiss of a torch collapsing into itself. The Sentinal's next words fell heavier for the silence.

"Our order exists not to shape events, but to understand them. Yet this affair grows more opaque with every new witness. Either our watchers lie, or we are being lied to. That alone is reason to intervene."

"There's little evidence it threatens the Balance," the woman pressed. "What can it matter if kingdoms grind each other to salt? We have seen worse in the east. Nothing endures but the Pattern."

"Unless the Pattern itself is being rewritten," the blue-hooded man said.

At this, the Sentinal brought his palms flat on the runic table, producing a hollow note that echoed into the stone. "We are not theorists. To maintain the balance we need clarity, not further confusion. We will look. Tonight, we summon the memory of that day and see for ourselves."

The woman's upper lip curled. "The power to see through time is not borrowed lightly, Sentinal. It leaves marks on both the living and the dead."

"We risk more by not knowing," the Sentinal said. "If our council cannot agree on what is, how can we guide what must be?"

The blue-hooded man lifted a hand, uncertain. "If it is as you say, and both sides are being manipulated, then the ritual may be hazardous. Memory is often trapped by the will of those who shaped it."

Twilight’s Dominion

The Broken Crown Saga Book Two

The peace was always a lie. They just didn't know whose.

Queen Eloise of Ardanthia has done everything right. She negotiated the alliance with Caladorn, married the prince, held her court together through blight and borderland attacks and the whispered threat of an ancient secret order. Now, with villages vanishing overnight — crops blackened, livestock dead, people simply gone — she does what any good ruler would do. She sends her best.

Sir Cedric Blackthorn, the precise and principled knight-investigator. Captain Elira, a soldier who has survived too much to flinch at anything. Tomas, a scholar more at home with footnotes than fistfights. Ryn, a street thief from the Saltspire docks whose instincts are worth more than anyone's education. And Auralias — the Court Mage, brilliant and unsettling in equal measure — who brings knowledge of old magic that none of the others possess, and who may be the only thing standing between Ardanthia and the League of the Moon.

Together, they are hunting the League before the League can finish what it started.

What they find will change everything they think they know — about the attacks, the conspiracy, and the true scale of what is being assembled in the dark. There are artifacts, older than any living kingdom, whose power was thought lost to history. There are secrets buried so deep that uncovering them will cost more than anyone is prepared to pay. And there is a question, growing louder with every mile: who, exactly, is the enemy?

Twilight's Dominion is a story about loyalty tested to breaking, courts where every smile hides a calculation, and the particular horror of realising that the enemy has been in the room all along. It is about a queen learning that the peace she built was built for her — and a company of mismatched, battle-worn companions who keep fighting even after the ground gives way beneath them.

Set across mountain fortresses carved from living rock, fog-wrapped port cities, a besieged royal palace, and the treacherous corridors of two kingdoms in collision, this is epic fantasy for readers who like their politics sharp, their magic consequential, and their betrayals earned.

Perfect for readers who love:

*The political intrigue of A Song of Ice and Fire

*The ensemble loyalty of The Lies of Locke Lamora

*The world-building depth of Robin Hobb

*Characters who are competent, scarred, and worth caring about

"There's no certainty in what's ahead. But I'd rather die among friends than watch the world go to monsters."

The Broken Crown Saga:
Book One: The King's Fall
Book Two: Twilight's Dominion
Book Three: Echoes of Kings - coming soon

 

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Twilight's Dominion opens on two stories running in parallel. In the first, Lady Seraphina D'Argent — a diplomat travelling alone through the unforgiving Crownspine mountains — has just been surrounded by armed strangers on a mountain pass. She has been riding for ten weeks on orders she doesn't fully understand, heading toward coordinates her queen gave her without explanation. She is about to discover something that will change everything she thought she knew about the world she serves.

~820 words

 

The figures came on in absolute silence, fanning out across the trail with the efficiency of wolves. In a matter of seconds they had closed off her retreat and were sliding, almost bonelessly, down the talus to encircle her.

Their leader wore a helm that entirely concealed his face, its visor painted with a crude snarl of animal fangs. The others carried composite bows at the ready, arrows nocked, but pointed down — a gesture that managed to be both merciful and contemptuous at once. Seraphina drew Cassia to a halt and set her hands openly on the pommel, every muscle rigid with calculation.

"State your business," the leader growled, voice rendered inhuman by the tin of his visor.

Seraphina debated, for perhaps two breaths, whether to attempt bluff or bravado. The bows decided the matter. "I am Lady Seraphina D'Argent, of Armathor," she replied, "on a mission from Her Majesty Queen Evelina."

The leader turned, a lazy gesture that made mockery of her authority, and a snort went up among his lieutenants. "And your escort?"

"Was not permitted." Seraphina kept her gaze level, though the blood pounded furiously in her ears. "I am to meet with a representative of the Riders, if you are such."

The mention of the Riders produced a shift in the circle. The archers exchanged glances, some wary, some almost amused. The leader drew closer, boots crushing the shallow crust of snow.

"You speak too much for a courier," he observed. "But too little for a spy." He swept a gauntleted hand at her pack horse. "Open your satchel."

She untied the travel case from the gelding, working fingers gone numb in the cold, and fished out the scroll tube. It was heavy, made of dark wood and brass, the wax seal untouched. She held it up so they could all see the sigil of Caladorn: a pair of crossed sabres over a seven-pointed star. There was a stillness, then a slow, careful release of tension among the archers as the leader nodded, almost respectful.

"Walk forward. Slowly," he said.

They escorted her up the ridge, off the trail, through a section of scree so loose that even Cassia balked. For an hour, maybe more, they wound through impossible switchbacks and across narrow spines of rock, each step a new exercise in balance and terror. Finally, the leader raised his hand and the party halted at a narrow saddle between peaks.

Seraphina caught her breath, took a long swallow from her water skin, and paused as she noticed what lay beyond the saddle.

The city was carved into the living stone of the mountain's interior, hidden from the world by both geometry and design. Terraced galleries spiralled down the inside face of a gigantic crater, studded with windows and fire-gleaming vents that gave the place an eerie, hive-like vibrance. Slender bridges of bone-white stone spanned the void between rocky spurs, connecting to massive towers whose roofs gaped open to the sky. Far below, at the crater's deepest point, a plaza of blue granite caught the light of a hundred lanterns, transforming it into a pool of shimmering stars.

She had never seen such a thing. She had never heard of such a thing. And yet, as she stood there, wind plucking at her cloak, Seraphina understood instantly, with a sick clarity, that Queen Evelina had always known.

They did not take her down the public steps. Instead, the archers led her along a narrow spiral cut into the stone, half-tunnel, half-balcony, with just enough space for one person and a horse at a time. The air grew colder with every turn, and the hum of unseen machinery — bellows, pulleys, some kind of water-driven elevator — echoed from deep within the walls. At last they emerged onto a flagstoned platform where the leader, visor now up, gestured for her to dismount.

"Wait here," he said, less threatening now. "You will be summoned."

Seraphina did not ask how long. She untethered her gloves, flexed her hands, and tried not to shiver in the thin mountain air. The view from the platform was staggering; across the chasm, the terraces of the city glimmered with what looked like glass or ice, and tiny figures moved between the arcades.

A boy in a grey tunic arrived, bearing a tray of tea and something that looked like bread but tasted of cedar and salt. He smiled at her with a gentleness that belonged to another world. When she asked him his name, he merely gestured for her to drink.

Time stretched, then snapped back when the leader returned, flanked by two more guards in matching visors. "You will come," he said.

I am a new author writing under the pen name Orlan Drake, my real name is Chris Hills Farrow.  I've worked as a freelance writer for magazines in the past but have always wanted to write fiction, and after having more free time during the lockdowns, I have made some progress. I enjoy fantasy because it opens my mind to other worlds or ways of life that do not exist in real life, or have ever existed.

 

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The Guerrilla Guide

 

 

A high-octane playbook where old-school wisdom meets the power of AI—packed with insights, deliverables, and real-world strategy for anyone determined to thrive in an era of seismic disruption.

The Guerrilla Guide for Entrepreneurs & The Rest of Us

by Joseph Gulesserian

Genre: Nonfiction Business, Entrepreneurial Self-Help

“A must read for those interested in the future of business and beyond.” – Amazon reviewer

 

We are all entrepreneurs, as we try to break away from the chains of normative expectations in this grand adventure we call life—where we strive to thrive, survive, find purpose, and make sense of all we can be.

The Guerrilla Guide for Entrepreneurs & The Rest of Us is an action-packed, high-octane playbook that delivers skills, insights, opportunities, and occasional wit. It takes the reader to a place where old-school grit and new-school AI reconcile! It is a place where Elon Musk meets Jack Ma and a Harvard MBA encounters the Streets.

You may be working in an organization, in management, a gig worker, running a business, or creating the next Nvidia. Either way, this book equips you with actionable know-how and skills that are nothing short of life-changing and saves the empowerment hype for the fictional section of the library.

Happy Hour is over, and the last patrons will be unceremoniously thrown out of the New Orleans bar to a street named Yesterday! Arguing with the future is like calling the cops to give out speeding tickets at the INDY 500. Scrolling for answers on TikTok or YouTube Shorts leads to a street called Empty.

The Guerrilla Guide for Entrepreneurs connects the past, confronts the present, and predicts the future before it happens.

It’s where glory meets tragedy—and it’s all here:

*Does innovation actually pay?

*Who are the 12 greatest entrepreneurs that changed civilization—and what can we learn from them?

*How to master the art and science of sales, negotiation, financing, and brand-building

*How to leverage AI for competitive advantage

*How will AI reshape the employment market

*Tales from the Streets...

*What will the future of Tomorrow look like?

In The Guerrilla Guide for Entrepreneurs, Gulesserian’s third book takes you through fascinating and indelible destinations filled with twists, turns, glory, and tragedy—culminating in a knowledge-packed read that delivers real, actionable results. With a blend of humour, insight, and sharp wit, he takes the gloves off for all 12 rounds and presents a truly unique perspective forged from his lifetime of entrepreneurial business and brand-building, along with his time as a business management professor.

This book not only enriches and charges the reader’s mind with hard-earned wisdom—it also stands as an essential reference for your personal library and a call to arms!

 

What readers are saying:

“If Michael Porter and Anthony Bourdain co-wrote a business book, it might look like this. The Guerrilla Guide for Entrepreneurs fuses sharp strategic frameworks with gritty real-life business lessons from the trenches. From learning curves to AI disruption, Gulesserian doesn’t just talk theory—he’s lived it.
Wit, insight, and humility pour through every chapter. The negotiation section alone should be required reading. And the “Tales from the Streets” offer the kind of context no MBA program dares touch. Highly recommended for anyone who wants their business knowledge with teeth.” – Amazon reviewer

 

“From AI to competitive strategy to opportunity, to the history of innovation — and especially the negotiation chapter — this book is simply worth its weight in gold. It’s the street-smart MBA you wish existed: bold, raw, yet refined — and full of moments that make you rethink the past, the present, and the future. There are plenty of feel-good and empowerment books, but this one actually delivers actionable skills, insight, and strategy — in a way that’s entertaining.” – Amazon reviewer

 

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Joseph Gulesserian is a seasoned entrepreneur, brand strategist, and former business management professor who taught corporate finance, statistics and marketing at the post graduate level. With over 30 years of real-world experience he has launched companies, created consumer brands from scratch, and helped others grow theirs by uniquely blending street-smart strategy, business school training and hands on know-how.

He is also the author of the bold and prophetic The Practical MBA on Economics—a no-nonsense, eye-opening look at how the global economy really works, why fiat money is eroding your wealth, what you can do about it, while providing a looking glass into the future.

Known for blending humor, wit, irreverence, and actionable insight, Joe writes for entrepreneurs, career-minded professionals, and anyone ready to thrive in a world of seismic disruption.

He believes business is not just for boardrooms—it’s a survival skill. The Guerrilla Guide for Entrepreneurs is his call to arms.

 

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Skies of Blue

  

Chapter One

 

Janet Nelson parked her vehicle on the slight incline near the entrance of Cedar Ridge Hills Museum. She turned the car off only to hear it continue to run before it coughed, chugged, burped, and made other colorful bodily function noises before it stopped with a sigh of relief.

The door made a piercing screech, objecting her to exit from the car. It continued its complaining until she slammed it shut.

You’re never going to make it…

She ignored the condescending voice and took a deep, cleansing breath.

The majestic manor sat on the crest of the hill. Seen from the cliffs and Lake Superior, it shared the summer sky. A faint ray of light appeared on the far horizon dispelling the darkness. The morning breeze cleared the dawn mist shrouding the distant boundary dividing heaven and earth.

It hinted at the secrets and mysteries within the haunted walls of the museum until they dissolved into each other. The ancient cliffs projected upwards, a hundred feet from the lake below.

Janet inhaled the comforting fresh air. The lake beyond the rock face was calm and motionless. The curling waves were gentle. The lake was never still, the massive expanse of Superior beckoned, pulling the tides to a distant shore. The unseen currents demanded obedience. The force of the great lake forever called the people of Locke Bay to its shores.

The museum was a vast and sprawling place. Its rooms were many, and its halls elaborate. It stretched from high towers to deep cellars.

Of all its many rooms, there was one built deep into the very foundation of its secrets. One room roused different emotions in different people; the ‘campfire’ rituals inspired stories revealing its secrets of transcendental travel. To others, it was simple curiosity.

To a handful, it was fear and desperation.

The great walls of Locke Manor weathered years of troubles and happiness.

Janet used to play manhunt among the deserted hallways, partying with her friends before the state’s purchase. The college students considered it an initiation of sorts, a rite of passage…to spend one night in the sanatorium section among the haunted halls of Locke Manor.

The warmth and radiance of the sun shining down on the great house couldn’t remove the woeful shadows clouding her days. They haunted her, just as the halls of the great manor were haunted by its past.

Somehow, all those wide-eyed, naïve dreams came crashing down around her. Janet was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and life served on a silver platter. However, no one could accuse her of being lazy. She was raised to work for what she wanted. Her parents were financially comfortable, not her. She had to make her own way.

Entitled was a dirty word in her family.

She’d married into a more affluent family, new money. Of course, it wasn’t unexpected. However, somewhere along the line, she’d lost the silver spoon, and dropped the silver platter until it shattered and broke into tiny little pieces.

She literally ran away from the comforts of wealth; and began her new life with a quarter in her pocket.

For her, it was the last straw. Lines became more important to him than the roof over their heads. He’d lost his temper when he found out she threw it in the trash. She touched her tongue to the tooth he broke.

She fell against the door and grabbed the closest thing. Janet had thrown the large formal lamp at him. When he ducked, it gave her a chance to get away from him. She ran from the house before he had a chance to grab her again.

Janet had found a quarter on the ground while walking to her friend’s house. She had nothing but the clothes on her back. She started her new life with absolutely nothing but that quarter.

She was forced into hiring a lawyer to pick up her and Aiden’s belongings, the ones he hadn’t destroyed.

Everything went up in smoke. Like the phoenix, her life was reborn.

She lost her job and dropped out of college. So much for her master’s degree.

You’ll never make it without me, princess.

Yeah, watch me.

She may have a broken-down car, a tiny apartment she shared with two other people, and was working in a small diner…but she’d be damned if she would go crawling back to him.

She even started dating a year ago. It was a freaking disaster, a huge mistake. Her divorce was pending. Even though there hadn’t been any physical relationship, X accused her of adultery. She hadn’t found a job to support herself, let alone their son.

When X refused to return Aiden on one of his visitation weekends, all hell broke loose.

She retained a small apartment with roommates. He had a large home, a bank account, possession of the vehicles, and an expensive lawyer. He’d accused her of doing all the things he’d done to her.

The X used it all against her.

You want your son back? Then come home and be a real wife.

Her divorce was finalized last month. He promised he would break her. He almost did. She’d lost the only thing that mattered, custody of her son. Shared parental responsibility, Janet had him 50% of the time, but Aiden lived with X.

He bragged about how he’d bought her lawyer.  

Despair threatened her heart.

Two years passed since she walked away from a life of luxury, and she still had the quarter. It was a reminder that tomorrow was a promise of hope and second chances.

She stared at the door to the museum.

This job could be her redemption, a new beginning to change not only her life, but also the lives of others around her.

Janet knew what it was to live in darkness, to find a moment of reprieve, only to be plunged into obscurity again. She understood the undercurrents hidden behind superficial smiles.

When she’d first come to Locke Bay, Cedar Ridge Hills lured her to it. She was fascinated by the imposing manor house. It separated the boundaries of the mystery from the truth and the boundaries within the mind.

Janet took a deep breath before entering the Cedar Ridge Hills Museum. Her hands shook. She had no qualifications, no inkling of what she was getting into, nor did she have any idea of how much she should be asking for a wage.

All she knew was what George told her.

Sweet and wonderful George Greene was one of the docents at the museum. He’d chatted with her when business was slow at the diner, and they’d gotten to know each other. They’d been looking for a new tour guide, and according to George, she’d be perfect for the position.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, George. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Me either, but it appears our newest curator has exited the building.”

Her mouth dropped. “Another one? Three in the last month?”

He grunted. “Four.”

She frowned, disappointed. She hadn’t realized how much she hoped to get the position.

He locked the door behind her. “Come on. Let’s have some coffee.”

Following him, she rubbernecked her way down the hall toward the kitchen area.

“Don’t fret. Since I’m the one doing the hiring today, you have the job.”

“Really?”

“It’s all yours.”

“I’ll need to give a two-week notice. But I can work part-time until then.”

“Absolutely. We can start your training today if you’d like.”

Janet laughed. “I like. I like.”

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A note from Pam:

As we were walking through the stories played out in my head. Skies of Blue was inspired a few years back when we toured the Ohio Reformatory. I pictured a live-in curator who needed a new beginning. Then... when the pictures were printed---I saw the orbs and now we have  The House on Cedar Ridge Museum Series