Showing results for "Kitty" in Horror

After an eviction notice and one too many apple martinis, I wake, stripped bare and alone in a cell. No, wait, not alone. My evil garbage fire ex, Andrew, who suggested he’d let me stay with him “for a price” is here, too. He’s the whole reason I lost my job. My head is throbbing, my vision fuzzy. “Andrew, you piece of… what are you doing?” “Who’s Andrew?” My blood runs cold. That’s not Andrew’s voice. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Die Welt hat sich verändert. Kreaturen, die im Schatten lauern, sind keine Schauermärchen mehr. Wer sich zu weit in die Wildnis hinauswagt, riskiert den Tod. Und wenn du eine Frau bist, droht dir ein noch schlimmeres Schicksal. Monster jagen ist mein Job. Ich bin verdammt gut darin. Ich brauche keine Hilfe dabei. Vor allem nicht von denen, die an allem die Schuld tragen. Mein Vater macht mich zur Liaison-Offizierin. Zum Babysitter für die fremden Kommandosoldaten. Ihr Anführer ist ein primitiver Wilder. Nichts an ihm zieht mich an. Absolut gar nichts!

Caroline Verlaine knows something is wrong. Her sister has gone missing, and no one can tell her why. The only option is to go where Roma was last seen—an estate with a deadly history. The Stacy family has lived off the Dover coast for generations, carefully navigating the treacherous quick sands nearby. But the sands aren't Caroline's biggest threat. Everyone here has a secret, especially the enigmatic young heir Napier Stacy. No matter where Caroline turns, the ground she walks is dangerous.

Morley's sequel to Parnassus on Wheels, his second love letter to the bookselling trade, The Haunted Bookshop, finds Mifflin and McGill now married and ensconced in Brooklyn. When Aubrey Gilbert, a young advertising man, visits the shop, he falls for Mifflin’s assistant, Titania. But something is amiss. The ghosts of literature aren’t the only mysterious visitors in Mifflin’s bookshop, where books disappear and reappear, but Mifflin is too distracted to notice. Gilbert takes Titania's safety into his own hands. Her life—and the Mifflins’—may depend on it.

Can't have a midlife crisis if your entire life is a crisis. After that bombshell of discovering the identity of the evil entity roaming the halls of my estate, burning down the house to root it out was looking like a good idea. If only it was that simple. Knowing who it is and finding it within the labyrinth halls of this estate is proving to be a challenge. And now the house itself is sick? Can a house even get sick? Looks like I've got some ghostbusting to do.