Teaser Tuesday: INTERRED

I can't believe Interred will be five years old in six months. Back in 2011, when I met Raine Thomas and I asked her to beta for me, I never imagined she would be taking a chance on me and this book. For that I'll be eternally grateful. So, here's a teaser from Interred, in case you've not read the series yet. :) What are you waiting for?

Amazon 
Amazon UK





Fear is slowly replaced by frustration. “There.” My teeth grit so I don’t scream. My finger forcefully taps the window. 
Several things happen at the same time. The electricity dies around us, leaving us in darkness. My eyes stay on the boy in the front garden because that mysterious light hangs around him, almost as if it wants me to stare at him. He raises his hand and the power comes back with a flicker. 
Once the lights are on again, a pounding on the door makes us jump. The sound has my heart beating fast in the middle of my throat. I try to ignore the kids screaming as my eyes search the garden. The boy is gone.
 Mom takes Lorelai from Dickie’s arms, cradling her in a protective way. With her free hand, she pulls me away from the window. 
“Who in the world…?” Dickie grabs his rifle and approaches the door. Drew snickers, since the weapon serves a more decorative purpose. It’s been up on that wall since the last time Dickie went hunting with his dad when he was ten years old. 
I can’t blame Dickie for his caution. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Who in their right mind would come over during a storm? 
The image of the black sedan creeping along the road floats into my mind, raising goosebumps on my arms. I stand back with Mom, Drew and Lorelai as Dickie answers the door. 
“I’m terribly sorry to disturb you at this time.” An English accent echoes through the house, prompting me and Mom to move closer to the door. “Is Mara Huxtable here?” 
A bewildered look crosses my mother’s face the moment she hears the man’s voice. I lean to the side to look at our visitor, but Mom remains frozen in the hall.
 “Who are you?” Dickie asks, lifting the rifle so the Englishman can see it. 
“I’m her cousin.” The stranger pushes the gun away and makes his way in, settling for the middle of the hallway. His gaze scans the pictures on the wall beside him. “Frederick Huxtable,” he adds. 

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