Every shot was like the branch of a metal tree snapping.
For Halloween in 2016, I spent the month sharing a paranormal murder mystery set in the Victorian era. At the time, I had just wanted to share a fun story, but it grew to be so much more than that. Many of you fell in love with the characters, admiring their strengths as much as their weaknesses, and their fight for freedom.
But how well do you know or remember The Moreau Witches? While I continue to work on the book, I thought I’d put a quick contest to test that memory. The prize will be a coupon from Skullcandy, offering *3 Months of YouTube Red.
The winner will have until April 1 at midnight to redeem the offer, so this contest will end on March 29th. To win, all you need to do is answer the questions below:
- What was the name of Madeleine Moreau’s tutor in Barfleur?
- What relation…
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I held the blade to my husband’s throat, watching as his olive-green eyes drifted closed.
‘Hurry up, Ingrid,’ he said. ‘I’m going to be late.’
I scraped the white foam from his square jaw.
‘Where’s my suit?’
‘It’s laid out on the bed,’ I replied, smoothing the razor down his cheek. ‘I finally got that stain out of your white shirt.’
‘Lipstick, I think.’
His Adams apple bounced in his throat. ‘It must have been yours.’
‘It was red.’
‘And? What’s your point, Ingrid?’
My hand trembled. One little slip and I could make those crimson stains warranted, like a splatter of paint on a clean canvas. ‘I don’t wear red.’
‘Yes, you do. You were wearing it the day I met you!’
‘That was years ago . . . I can’t believe you remember.’
‘Of course I remember!’ His incredulous eyes found mine in the…
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