–Calypso Grier, Writer/Editor for Wrought Iron Reads
Hello, hello, hello! It’s your girl, Calypso Grier. It’s been a bit since I came at you with what’s going on around here, so I figured I’d pop in and give you guys an update. Now, I know some of you have been wondering “What’s up with the new Reatha Beauregard book?”
Reatha is our paranormal pen, and Antebellum Soul is a hot topic! This dark “scary romance” is her first full length work, and the edits are wrapping up, so we’ll be able to put this bad baby right on your digital and/or even PHYSICAL bookshelf pretty, pretty soon! Can you say, “Woot-woot!”
We were shooting for a late September release, but we’re looking at closer to the end of October. Why? Because a great pot of gumbo has to simmer, and, baby, when I tell you! Book One will rock you!
I chatted with her last month about her work, and Reatha had this to say:
It’s about a bright, young artist named Myranda who travels to the South for research, arriving here with some preconceived judgments about the region. Some of that has to do with her age. She’s in her early twenties.
Anyway, I think anyone who isn’t from here comes here with certain ideas about the place that might or might not be accurate, so I wanted to write a story that challenged that…
What makes this heroine loveable is her willingness to set aside her biases to discover truth and love in unlikely places. Myranda finds herself caught between two worlds, the past and the present.
When we first conceptualized Antebellum Soul, Reatha and I were thinking of a series of short novellas, but Reatha ultimately decided the only proper way to tell this story was to set it down in novel form.
Myranda Avant knows she isn’t who everyone thinks she is, but she continues pretending to be the missing daughter of a sweet family. Upon the discovery of the real Myranda’s dead body in a swampy marsh in Louisiana, she can no longer keep up the charade.
Who she really is, is a mystery to her. She can’t remember anything about her past before being found wandering naked in the woods and assumed to be Myranda. What comes next is a tumultuous series of paranormal events delivered with true flair.
Check out this excerpt from the diva of paranormal and tell us what you think. Ta-ta now, y’all!
I cringed into the pillows. “Dad, you’re scaring me,” I managed. I hitched in a breath.
“Don’t you dare call me that!” he growled.
“William!” Mom moved in the background, a blur to my unadjusted eyes, and I saw her pale fingers close around Dad’s upper arm to hold him back. He easily shrugged her off.
“Dad, don’t.” My sister, Tamara, came to my rescue. “She’s just waking up. She’s not ready for this!” I hadn’t even seen her sitting in a chair at my bedside, but there she was. Her strawberry blond hair stood on end with static electricity in her fierceness. She wasn’t enough to deter the wrath of our father, however.
“No, we’re just waking up! All of us! Here’s the evidence, in case either of you had any doubt. So, don’t tell me I’m overreacting!” Dad shook his head furiously and held up something, brandishing it for both of them to see.
Then, his narrow shoulders slumped as he let what he was holding drop to the floor, and I struggled to focus—damn, the drugs. What was going on here? My eyebrows came together, then winged skyward as I realized what was in his hand. My journal. Oh, no, I groaned inwardly.
“How could we not know?” he asked in a broken voice.
“I can explain,” I whispered.
Shelly murmured, “We didn’t know because we didn’t want to know. We wanted it to be her.”
“You did,” he spat. “You wanted it to be her. I wanted the truth. Did you have something to do with our real daughter’s kidnapping? Are you a con who heard about it on the news? Some fucking runaway! You just wanted to live off of us, is that it?”
“N-no,” I stammered, drawing up the covers to my chin, as if that would protect me. “I swear it wasn’t like that!”
“You lie!” William Avant growled and grabbed my fragile wrist, yanking me up from the bed. The sheet fluttered to the floor, a poor shield. I was a bag of bones that he shook until everything in me rattled.
Shelly cried out, “Don’t hurt her! Billie, you can’t do this!”
“Who are you?!” He shouted. My teeth clapped together painfully. Everything in me hurt. The white room dimmed.
“You’re hurting me!” I sobbed. Tears sprang to my eyes. “Please…” If he didn’t stop, I was afraid I would pass out. Never in a million years had I imagined the man I called ‘father’ would do something like this to me; yet, I deserved it. Two nurses burst into the hospital room at the noise, but one of them ran right back out when she saw what was happening.
“Goddamnit, I will know!” William threatened. “You lying little—tell me who you are!”
“I. Don’t. KNOW!” I screamed shrilly.