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Kim Faulks
Dark Paranormal Romance
Dark Paranormal Romance
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The death of my father left a hole in my family. Left bankrupt, my brother, Hansel is forced to sell our furniture and our jewels, but refuses to sell our home.

What will we trade when the money runs dry? When the cupboards are bare and there’s still mouths to feed?

Hansel looks at me now with the devil in his eyes. There’s only one who can save me from the fate Hansel has planned--my Ghost in the darkness, my wolf.

But Ghost is forced to leave without knowing Hansel’s bartering the only thing we have left. Me. And I don’t think he’ll be back to save me.

Grab it here on Amazon http://amzn.to/1RhP5wA
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Trapped in a nightmare filled with lust and betrayal, there’s a beast and he’s waiting for her.


“Don’t bother. It’s locked. There’s no way out of here. Even if you did get out, we’re surrounded by the forest. Please, don’t run, Belle. Don’t make me set the dogs free.”

The drug on my lips linger, and the memory of my freedom slips further away while he drones. I thought I was free, hitchhiking along the Midnight Mountain Range, running from those I loved, and their betrayal. Now I’m trapped in a nightmare. One filled with betrayal, lust and a beast. That’s his story, about a beast that’s waiting for me. I try not to listen and plan my escape. But the savage howls from somewhere underneath this room makes me whimper in fear. Through the grimy windows, endless pine trees are all I can see.

“He’s going to fall in love with you, I just know he will,” Mark says. The beast below isn’t the only one in this house. I’ve fought to survive before and I’ll fight again. Maybe this time, I’ll win.

Grab it here on Amazon http://amzn.to/1NYdzsz
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CONFINEMENT

DARKNESS DWELLED IN MORGAN. SHE swam in the empty space that occupied her mind, fighting to get to the surface and to the light, only to be dragged back under once more.

The murky undertow held her down. She kicked and clawed until a crisp, clear, conscious thought pulled her free. Wake up. She inhaled, and felt the back of her throat kick like a mule. Morgan coughed and spluttered. Her stomach clenched in warning, but held fast. Jesus…

Her heavy eyelids refused to budge, but she forced them open. White light washed in, overwhelming her senses, taking her breath. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and then froze—where the hell am I? 

Hot spikes of pain drove into her neck and brain, hammered home with each pounding beat her heart made. Morgan whimpered and dared not move. Through the cracks between her fingers, she stared at the snowed-out room. Her eyes burned and blurred. She blinked away the hot tears and closed them. Bright sparks of light flashed behind her eyelids. Morgan moaned, yearning for the soothing darkness, but now pain was here, and she knew sleep was long gone. 

Every inch of her body ached, but her ass felt the worst. She dropped her hand and touched the floor before pressing her hand to what seemed to be a wooden wall at her back. She pushed, shifting her body, trying to find some relief, but there was none. The barrier at her back felt confining more than comforting. 

Did I pass out? She tried to remember how she got here, but her memories were nothing more than debris scattered along the highway of her mind, like the remnants of a truck wreck. 

She tried to gather what she could and reconstruct the images of her past, but the dead were there, waiting for her. They lay under a blue tarpaulin that flapped in the wind, threatening to expose her for what she was. She edged away from the sickening recollections, skirting the boundaries of her thoughts, gathering what she could. 

Come on, get it together.

Using the wall as a brace, she pushed herself up, one slow, painful inch at a time. The glare of the room was blinding. She pressed her head against the wood, trying to find respite from the sun. Morgan tried to think of the last thing she remembered. 

The bar…. She was locking up the bar. But had that been last night, last week or last month? The stench of old blood and rotting egg, or something, reminded her of a forgotten bin, left too long in the sun making her heave. She wracked her memory until the white-hot pain flared inside her head and she gave up. She couldn’t tell if that was recent memory or not. Every night for her was the same. She worked and went home—alone. 

Why can’t I remember anything? Her mind was one big blur. Just start with the basics… She inhaled and calmed her racing thoughts. Yeah, okay… I live in that one-bedroom dump on Boundary Street. I work at the Night Callers bar, which I fucking hate, and… and I’m a goddamn junkie.

The last memory made her flinch as though this was a secret she should hide, even from herself. Morgan swallowed and tried to get back on track, collecting more of her strewn thoughts, searching for the last thing she could remember. But trying to force the recollection was useless. There was nothing there, nothing but one big black hole and a growing sense of unease.  

She focused on the scarred wood. The marks seemed strange. They cut across the panels, rather than running with the grain. Morgan pulled away slightly, her gaze following the furrows. They kinda look like…. 

Her breath caught. With her gaze riveted to the scars, her insides quivered. They looked like they were made by fingernails. Her heart kicked like a shotgun and the room around her swayed. She reached for the wall, steadying herself, determined not to faint. Her breaths impaled her chest and tore free with each jagged draw. She stared at the gouges. She could feel the frenzied marks under her hands.

Someone had tried to claw their way out of here—tried and… failed? Ice filled Morgan’s gut. The frigid feeling swept away all but one thought while she stood bathed in the blinding light. Jesus, what kind of place is this? 
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CONFINEMENT

DARKNESS DWELLED IN MORGAN. SHE swam in the empty space that occupied her mind, fighting to get to the surface and to the light, only to be dragged back under once more.

The murky undertow held her down. She kicked and clawed until a crisp, clear, conscious thought pulled her free. Wake up. She inhaled, and felt the back of her throat kick like a mule. Morgan coughed and spluttered. Her stomach clenched in warning, but held fast. Jesus…

Her heavy eyelids refused to budge, but she forced them open. White light washed in, overwhelming her senses, taking her breath. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and then froze—where the hell am I? 

Hot spikes of pain drove into her neck and brain, hammered home with each pounding beat her heart made. Morgan whimpered and dared not move. Through the cracks between her fingers, she stared at the snowed-out room. Her eyes burned and blurred. She blinked away the hot tears and closed them. Bright sparks of light flashed behind her eyelids. Morgan moaned, yearning for the soothing darkness, but now pain was here, and she knew sleep was long gone. 

Every inch of her body ached, but her ass felt the worst. She dropped her hand and touched the floor before pressing her hand to what seemed to be a wooden wall at her back. She pushed, shifting her body, trying to find some relief, but there was none. The barrier at her back felt confining more than comforting. 

Did I pass out? She tried to remember how she got here, but her memories were nothing more than debris scattered along the highway of her mind, like the remnants of a truck wreck. 

She tried to gather what she could and reconstruct the images of her past, but the dead were there, waiting for her. They lay under a blue tarpaulin that flapped in the wind, threatening to expose her for what she was. She edged away from the sickening recollections, skirting the boundaries of her thoughts, gathering what she could. 

Come on, get it together.

Using the wall as a brace, she pushed herself up, one slow, painful inch at a time. The glare of the room was blinding. She pressed her head against the wood, trying to find respite from the sun. Morgan tried to think of the last thing she remembered. 

The bar…. She was locking up the bar. But had that been last night, last week or last month? The stench of old blood and rotting egg, or something, reminded her of a forgotten bin, left too long in the sun making her heave. She wracked her memory until the white-hot pain flared inside her head and she gave up. She couldn’t tell if that was recent memory or not. Every night for her was the same. She worked and went home—alone. 

Why can’t I remember anything? Her mind was one big blur. Just start with the basics… She inhaled and calmed her racing thoughts. Yeah, okay… I live in that one-bedroom dump on Boundary Street. I work at the Night Callers bar, which I fucking hate, and… and I’m a goddamn junkie.

The last memory made her flinch as though this was a secret she should hide, even from herself. Morgan swallowed and tried to get back on track, collecting more of her strewn thoughts, searching for the last thing she could remember. But trying to force the recollection was useless. There was nothing there, nothing but one big black hole and a growing sense of unease.  

She focused on the scarred wood. The marks seemed strange. They cut across the panels, rather than running with the grain. Morgan pulled away slightly, her gaze following the furrows. They kinda look like…. 

Her breath caught. With her gaze riveted to the scars, her insides quivered. They looked like they were made by fingernails. Her heart kicked like a shotgun and the room around her swayed. She reached for the wall, steadying herself, determined not to faint. Her breaths impaled her chest and tore free with each jagged draw. She stared at the gouges. She could feel the frenzied marks under her hands.

Someone had tried to claw their way out of here—tried and… failed? Ice filled Morgan’s gut. The frigid feeling swept away all but one thought while she stood bathed in the blinding light. Jesus, what kind of place is this? 
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Gearing up for #Christmas  and another release of my #horror  novel, The Secrets Room. What are you guys up to?

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For an except of my dark #Demon  Fantasy novel Hells Angel head on over to my website and sign-up to my newsletter for info on my next release: http://www.hauntingfiction.com/
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For the Dark Fantasy/Horror readers out there. Hells Angel is now .99 cents on Amazon! 

Loving American Horror Story Coven Series!

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I'm giving away 10 copies of my dark, demon fantasy novel Hell's Angel! Head on over to my website to find out how to enter: http://www.kimfaulks.com/#!giveaways/c10uk

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Check out the cover for my latest release! 
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