QSFer Greg Howard has a new MM paranormal book out:
Cooper Causey spent a lifetime eluding the demons of his youth and suppressing the destructive power inside him. But a disconcerting voicemail lures Cooper back home to the coast of South Carolina and to Warfield—the deserted plantation where his darkness first awakened.
While searching for his missing grandmother, Cooper uncovers the truth about his peculiar ancestry and becomes a pawn in an ancient war between two supernatural races. In order to protect the only man he’s ever loved, Cooper must embrace the dark power threatening to consume him and choose sides in a deadly war between the righteous and the fallen.
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20 Years Ago
They stood side by side, straddling their bicycles between two vine-choked, stone columns that guarded the entrance to Warfield. The manor house teased them in the distance, the front door a mere speck framed by a cathedral of live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. The deserted plantation was still and quiet, daring them to continue. It was a standoff. Whoever made the first move would lose.
Cooper drew in the thick scent of jasmine and held it in his throat. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and trickled down his neck. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and slowly exhaled the nervous energy clogging his lungs. They’d never gotten this far before, and it was nothing like he’d expected. Part ghost town, part sanctuary, Warfield was both creepy and beautiful all at the same time. Like he’d journeyed to hell and felt right at home once he arrived. But being here was wrong. He knew that now.
Kevin rolled his bike forward, calling to them over his shoulder with his trademark sneer. “ Let’s go, chicken shits.”
Cooper glared at the back of his older brother’s head and frowned. Lillie Mae had warned them many times to stay away from Warfield, her eyes cloudy and distant at the mention of the place. The ghost stories and nightmares weren’t enough for Kevin and RJ, though. They wanted to see the real thing up close. So there they were, riding right up into Blue’s lair. If not for the chance to hang around RJ, Cooper would’ve stayed behind in the cool of his bedroom, hunkered down under a pile of books and his summer reading list.
RJ glanced over and shot Cooper a smile. “ You okay there, Red?”
Cooper’s cheeks grew hot, and the butterflies in his stomach were back. RJ always had that effect on him. Cooper looked down, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger, and nodded. Easing his bike forward, he cleared the stone gates with Tony riding beside him in silence. A cluster of sagging structures lay ahead, sheltered from the blazing low-country sun by a row of sprawling oaks.
Tony squinted his eyes. “So this is where it happened?”
RJ glanced over his shoulder, one hand resting on the handlebars and the other moving dirty blond locks out of his eyes. “ Yep. This is it. This is where it all went to hell.”
Greg Howard grew up near the coast of South Carolina, or as he fondly refers to it, “the armpit of the American South.” By the time he could afford professional therapy and medication, the damage had already been done. His hometown of Georgetown, South Carolina is known as the “Ghost Capital of the South,” (seriously…there’s a sign), and was always a great source of material for his overactive imagination. Raised in a staunchly religious, Pentecostal home, Greg escaped into the arts: singing, playing piano, acting, writing songs, and making up stories
After running away to the bright lights and big city of Nashville, Tennessee with stars in his eyes and dreams of being the Dianne Warren of Music City, he took a job peddling CDs and has been a cog in the music business machine ever since. Now an adult with a brain, Greg finds the South Carolina coast to be a perfectly magical place where he vacations yearly and dreams of the day when he can return to write full time in the most tastefully decorated beach house on Pawleys Island. Greg has a soft spot for Spaniels and any rescue animal. People…not so much.