Nothing says Halloween like a great spooky read and just in time for Halloween, my very first ever paranormal is available…and guess what???…it’s FREE!
Why? Because I want you to love me, to really love me. Or at least not hate me for trying something new.
I’m very happy to say that The Legend of Sarah Latham has been very well received so far (the old gal even got a FANTASTIC 5-Star review!).
Actually, the cabin wasn’t a terrible replica of the home she had shared with the Latham men. Her gaze immediately lifted to the loft where the boys had slept. The fireplace to her left had a huge kettle hanging from a hook and a wooden table had chairs surrounding it, closely resembling the home she’d made.
A Voodoo doll with Xs stitched for eyes and pins sticking out of it hung in the window. She’d never done that; such a brazen act would have brought suspicion of witchery from her neighbors. She guessed that was what the museum was going for—the blatant signs of witchcraft that legends were made of.
A stuffed black cat sat on a chair, forever stuck with its paw in the air and its mouth open, as if it would hiss eternally. The Lathams had never owned a cat. Sarah loathed cats then and now. Black felines were just another stereotype blown completely out of proportion.
There were a few wicked witches, a few black cats, a few covens that summoned demons from Hell, and for all time witches were supposed to have black cats, pointy hats, and Satan on speed dial. She shook her head, offended that this was part of her legend.
A stand in the middle of the room with a glass case over it summoned her.
“Jasper,” she breathed. She bypassed all the other trinkets and displays and went straight for the book. His journal. The journal she’d given him and protected with a spell so long ago was there and was nearly as perfect as it had been then.
The book lay opened to a page with a drawing. She’d always been amazed by his artistic ability. He could put charcoal to paper and make the most lifelike images appear with just a few strokes and smudges.
Her smile fell when she stood over the picture exposed to museum visitors. A drawing of her. A perfect drawing in fact. Four hundred years later and she looked exactly as she had in the drawing he’d made. In the drawing her dark hair was pulled up and tucked under a bonnet, her clothes were from the old days, but her light eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips were the same.
“Whoa,” Elizabeth said, standing next to Sarah. She looked from the drawn Sarah to the live one. “Remember how I said you kind of looked like Sarah Latham? I take that back. You are a dead ringer for Sarah Latham.”
So, go ahead, take a minute to download this free read and let me know what you think!