Congratulations Andy Coldham in Worthing. Books on their way to you.
EXCITING NEWS! When North London Paranormal Investigators investigate the town of Ware over the next 6 months, I have been asked by them to write the whole adventure in book form which will be published by Dave Lyons of Raven Crest Books, entitled Ghost Town. Fans of Mike Travis will probably enjoy reading the real deal.
The team will be conducting thorough and professional investigations into the many and various reputedly haunted locations. There will be historical research including archaeology, witness interviews and vigils.
I will be working alongside the team writing as they go along during the investigation. This is a long-term project with many participants, Mickey and the team, witnesses, and the locations themselves. I have even been promised a part in one of their investigations!
EXCITING NEWS! When North London Paranormal Investigators investigate the town of Ware over the next 6 months, I have been asked by them to write the whole adventure in book form which will be published by Dave Lyons of Raven Crest Books, entitled Ghost Town. As each location is investigated I’ll receive the reports and the witness statements to work with. This means that I will be working side by side in real time with Mickey and his team, which is very exciting. I have even been promised a place on one of the investigations. Fans of Mike Travis will probably enjoy reading the real deal.
The team will be conducting thorough and professional investigations into the many and various reputedly haunted locations. There will be historical research including archaeology, witness interviews and vigils. They have already visited Ware a few times and have begun speaking to people out and about. Everyone was welcoming and friendly and Mickey and the team have already had a sneak preview at some of the prime locations that they will be investigating.
Very Much Watch This Space!
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No peace for Mike Travis over Christmas it seems. Christmas Spirits is a collection of four short stories with a festive theme. There is a haunted painting, something very wrong at the panto, a Santa that isn’t what he seems and as for the Christmas toy that every little girl wants – well, just don’t go there!
Telling ghost stories round the fire on Christmas Eve has a long tradition, so if you dare , you can pre-order from today for delivery to your kindle or pc in time for a spooky story session before hanging up your stocking.
Everyone enjoys a make-over, and it’s true for vampires and werewolves too!
The Beckett Vampire Trilogy just a whole new look with great new covers.
Although they aren’t at no.1 ad 2 in Australia any longer, they were right there at the top for the last four weeks or so, and are still both in the top ten. You can check them out at
Midnight Wine – getbook.at/midnightwine
Lycan – getbook.at/lycan
Tonight is the second night of the full moon of November. Throughout history and folklore it has been known as the Snow Moon, the Fog Moon, The Moon of Storms and the Mourning Moon.
November was the ninth month of the Roman calendar, but in Celtic tradition it was the beginning of the new year, Samhain (31stOctober) marking the end of their yearly cycle. So November has long been associated with endings and beginnings. As November Eve is also known as Halloween/Samhain/Eve of All Souls it’s association with the dead and departed loved ones is firmly entrenched in our psyche and so the name of the Mourning Moon is perhaps the most appropriate.
Our seasons appear to be changing, but back in history, November was known for the cold north winds that would bring the snow, hence the Snow Moon ‘handle’. It seems that the other pseudonyms for the full moon of this month are weather-related too.
The Crone Goddess Hecate has many celebrations throughout the year, but November 16th is known as the Night of Hecate. She is also known as Hecate the Three-formed, being a Goddess of youth, motherhood, and old age, and her celebrations used to take place at a three-way crossroads at night. Food would be left at the crossroads as an offering to her and she was known to rule the passages of life, birth and death.
There are countless sayings and lore associated with the full moon. An old verse tells us:
When the moon is at the full, mushrooms you can safely pull
But when the moon is on the wane, wait ere you think to pluck again
Country folk maintain that the weather is more likely to change at the four quarters than at any other time, and rain is coming when there is a halo around the moon. Gardeners have long planted and harvested according to the phase of the moon and been more successful in their crops.
The pull of the lunar tides is also said to affect mental health, hence the word ‘lunatic’ for someone suffering with intense mental health issues as we now understand it, but way back when the word was first coined it simply meant that the person was ‘mad’.
And don’t get me started on werewolves ….
Picture the scene – Deserted Victorian/Colonial buildings which form the village of Johnsonville in rural Connecticut. No-one lives there and it has been abandoned three times in its history. This quaint village, where no-one lives is up for auction on – you guessed it – Halloween!
So if you fancy owning a ghost-village and have a cool $800,000 going spare, you could be the proud new owner of this picturesque piece of history.
Thank you Australia! You’ve made Midnight Wine a no.1 best seller on your amazon site, with Lycan right behind it at no.2.
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The plane landed on the Greek island of Kos with a resounding bump and a heavy lurch. ‘Co-pilot’, I thought, with a smile. My fellow passengers, true to form, ignored the instruction to remain seated until the plane had come to a halt, and made a group dive for the overhead lockers. I could never understand why they always did that, when faced with a wait to reclaim the hold baggage. But it mattered not, nothing did now; I had made my decision.
I had returned to seek out the one who would have made me on my last visit. Yiannis. But he had sensed in me a hesitation, and had left me mortal. Compassion in a vampire was, to me, hitherto unknown. I wondered if he would sense my return, my decision to seek out the Dark Kiss that would take me into the eternal night. I was ready now.
I yearned for the enveloping arms of darkness, the freedom from mortal worries and cares. My hesitation last time had been born of a reluctance to experience the grief and passing of another that I loved, for it would be beyond bearing. To ‘live’ without the warmth of family was truly abhorrent to me, but the grief had come anyway, and now I understood. I had known, but now came understanding; that they never truly left, just changed. As I would change.
Greece and its islands had been the birthplace of many of the ancient ones, including Yiannis, and in my return was a sense of coming home. I prayed he would know of my return and come to me.
The heat haze on the tarmac hit like a wall after the British cold autumn morning, and I relished it, for if the one I sought sensed my presence, it would be one of my last midday. I followed the impatient holidaymakers to passport control and handed my documents to the impassive customs officer. Did he know my purpose, I wondered? And if he did, would he care? I thought it unlikely. I boarded the coach that would take me to my hotel and, with luck, my chosen destiny.
I was lost in my thoughts and dreams of immortality when the coach halted in the car park of my hotel. The middle-aged driver handed me my suitcase and wished me a pleasant holiday. I smiled and nodded my thanks. There was nothing to say, really.
It was the hottest part of the day and, as usual, only the British were lying under the burning sun. I shielded my eyes against the glare as if, already, I was one of those that walked only by night. My sunglasses afforded some protection, but I knew then, that with the passing of the day, I would become one with the night, with the dark.
I knew it would avail me nothing to call him, for he would be sleeping, waiting for the night to fall, when he could leave his sanctuary and seek the nourishment that was the life-blood. I went to my room to rest.
As the sun capped the rugged mountain that went down to meet the sea, I was reminded of the words from Shelley’s poem, Love’s Philosophy: ‘As the sun clasps the earth and the moonbeams kiss the sea, what is all this sweet work worth, if thou kiss not me?’ And it was the Dark Kiss that I yearned for.
I knew that I would be able to find it from another that walked by night, but it was the tenderness and compassion of Yiannis that would take me into the night, into the dark. And it would be his compassion that would teach me the ways of the vampire.
As it is all over Greece, dusk did not give itself gracefully to the night, it came suddenly, like death. It was full dark and I went to my balcony and poured a glass of the local wine. ‘Yiannis, I have returned to you. I have come home. Will you come to me and make me as you are? Will you make me vampire? I am ready now.’
I returned to my room and lay on the bed, waiting, listening. It seemed that hours passed and I had begun to think that, after all, Yiannis had not heard me, had not sensed me – or worse, had rejected me. I felt the tears form behind my eyes, and a solitary one fall down my cheek.
‘Why are you crying? Did you not know that I would come to you?’
Yiannis. My maker had come for me.
When the death came, there was no pain, there was nothing except a never-ending darkness. And then a sudden warmth rushed through me as his blood filled my mouth, and then I opened my eyes into eternity, into the night, into the dark.