Demons, angels, hellhounds, gate keepers and familiars all packed in to one fast, fun story. Goodreads Review
All of the ingrediants of a fantastic read were there–fast pacing, clever writing, high-stakes, and heavy on the occult and paranormal. Plus it doesn’t hurt that this author seems to have a knack for writing descriptions stunning in their originality! Amazon review
Her descriptions are spectacular, writing style smooth and engaging, and her imagination knows no bounds. This tale will have you gripping your e-reader, flipping page after page until you make it to the end. Goodreads Review
Length: 9,500 words
Genre: YA Paranormal Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Musa Publishing
Published: 20th January 2012
Release Day Reading:
Eighteen-year-old Millie Scrubbings must decide if she can stomach her responsibilities as Hell’s new Gatekeeper, or risk the denizens of Hell defiling her home turf.
When eighteen year old Millie Scrubbings moves to new digs on East London’s Nightingale Estate, she believes she’s finally closed the door on a childhood dictated by strangers. But overnight, her peaceful high-rise turns bonkers, and a series of grisly murders leaves Millie frightened and more helpless than ever.
Millie must accept her lead role in rescuing Nightingale from its descent into anarchy, or risk all Hell breaking loose.
Millie prodded the lift’s grimy call button and glanced over her shoulder. Shadows thick with movement skulked beneath the concrete stairwell, darting away from each flicker of the orange security light above her head.
She leaned an ear toward the graffiti-scratched doors and listened for the rattle-clunk of the descending elevator. Like the rest of Nightingale Estate after dark, the mechanism remained eerily quiet.
She hitched the rucksack higher on her back and absently muttered a prayer of protection. Only last week, a guy about her age—eighteen—had been murdered on the fourth floor, his body scattered like a macabre crumb trail up the stairs to the tenth floor—Millie’s floor. The thought of walking where chunks of human flesh had lain curdled her stomach. Worse still, a killer lurked unchecked.
“Millie Scrubbing, what you doin’ hangin’ ’bout a broken lift?”
Millie whirled. Her neighbour, Mrs. Cruickshank, and her piddly Chihuahua, Winston, stood a few feet away.
“Mrs. C., you scared the crap outta me.” Millie clutched a hand to her chest.
The sixty-something skank with a too-tight pencil skirt, crooked beehive and five-inch stilettos sucked hard on a Marlboro. Smoke hung about her head like a grotty aura. Scarlet lipstick leaked into the creases around her lips, and canary-yellow eye shadow meandered past her squiggly-pencilled brows, giving the impression she’d applied it all without the use of a mirror.
“You shouldn’t be out after dark. Remember the police flier’s warnin’.” Mrs. Cruickshank pointed a gnarled finger at Millie and slurred her words. “Smart girl like you should know better. Anyone might creep up on you.”
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