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Foxworth Publishing
Valerie's Secrets
Valerie's Secrets
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CHRISTMAS PRICING IN AFFECT THROUGH DECEMBER, 2011...
"Stunning new talent!"...
Andrew Neiderman, author of The Devil's Advocate
BOOK TWO OF THE NIGHTENGALE LEGACY OF SIN AND BETRAYAL
Years ago, in Valerie Nightengale’s extravagant Nightengale Manor, the stage was set for secrets, secrets that she did not want anyone to discover. Not even her son. Now, because the sins of the fathers linger still, there are secrets everywhere. Deadly secrets!
They linger in the deep and silent shadows in the corners of the foreboding Nightengale Manor. They haunt the little house down the hill where once upon a time unspeakable sins of the flesh were committed. Now, thanks to Valerie Nightengale and her hypocritical teachings, they haunt the very grounds surrounding the small dwelling!
So even more secrets must be planted by the guilty to confound the innocent, to cover the trails of forbidden, wicked lust, and bitter family betrayal. But worst of all, for the son of Valerie Nightengale and Jack Preston, Jon Preston, terrible secrets must be planted to obscure the tracks of betrayal and even the tracks of... murder!
From Valerie's Secrets...
I watched, curiously detached, as a woman appeared to me out of nowhere as if in a dream. She invaded the constant blackness that surrounded me in a blaze of bright light, in a sure coming of glory. The woman was costumed in a long, flowing, habit-like costume that was made entirely of white; she appeared as a nun except she wore nothing on her head. Only her dark, flowing hair offered any real kind of contrast to her brilliant, white outfit. The beautiful, billowing garment enfolded her slight frame and no other part of her was exposed to me except for her face and her hands. Together, they seemed to float independently of the rest of her white attire. In time, I realized that she was my mother. Her name was Valerie Nightengale. I knew that much about her. I could remember my mother’s name and I remembered that she had a different last name than my own. Momma, I remembered. I called the woman Momma.
Momma appeared to me in this light of sudden brightness out of the darkness all around me; it had to be a dream. It was as if Momma was an angel of mercy on a holy, life-saving mission. Yet for some reason I could not yet identify, I knew that my mother was no angel, she was anything but an angel. I instinctively knew to fear that this dream would soon turn into a nightmare.
Momma’s strange and solemn yet familiar face was bright and beautiful, it shone with a mother’s natural strong and protective love for me, her son. Yet, at the same time, her face was threatening-looking, it was dark, brooding, fearful. That face that I knew so well glowed with a frightening sort of self-satisfaction; somewhere, deep inside of my memory, I was able to recall that my mother was always self-satisfied for one reason or another. But that was not apparent to me now. My mother thought she was special, Momma thought she was something else. Her half-smile for some reason almost resembled a frown; the corners of Momma’s mouth were twisted both up and down at the same time in a sadistic grimace. Despite the vivid whiteness around me, despite the glowing, glorious beauty that emanated from everywhere around her, Valerie Nightengale was also very frightening in every way imaginable. In fact, she radiated ebony shadows.
Ebony shadows of black. Ebony shadows of shame. Shame she felt, I sensed, that was a shame for me and for everyone else in her life.
In the best-selling tradition of the most famous gothic authors...
The Nightengale Legacy Of Sin And Betrayal
Valerie
Valerie’s Secrets
Valerie’s Sinners
Valerie’s Freaks
Valerie’s Family
Valerie’s Legacy
Dorothy's Prophecy
The Nightengale Legacy Sampler Edition
"Stunning new talent!"...
Andrew Neiderman, author of The Devil's Advocate
BOOK TWO OF THE NIGHTENGALE LEGACY OF SIN AND BETRAYAL
Years ago, in Valerie Nightengale’s extravagant Nightengale Manor, the stage was set for secrets, secrets that she did not want anyone to discover. Not even her son. Now, because the sins of the fathers linger still, there are secrets everywhere. Deadly secrets!
They linger in the deep and silent shadows in the corners of the foreboding Nightengale Manor. They haunt the little house down the hill where once upon a time unspeakable sins of the flesh were committed. Now, thanks to Valerie Nightengale and her hypocritical teachings, they haunt the very grounds surrounding the small dwelling!
So even more secrets must be planted by the guilty to confound the innocent, to cover the trails of forbidden, wicked lust, and bitter family betrayal. But worst of all, for the son of Valerie Nightengale and Jack Preston, Jon Preston, terrible secrets must be planted to obscure the tracks of betrayal and even the tracks of... murder!
From Valerie's Secrets...
I watched, curiously detached, as a woman appeared to me out of nowhere as if in a dream. She invaded the constant blackness that surrounded me in a blaze of bright light, in a sure coming of glory. The woman was costumed in a long, flowing, habit-like costume that was made entirely of white; she appeared as a nun except she wore nothing on her head. Only her dark, flowing hair offered any real kind of contrast to her brilliant, white outfit. The beautiful, billowing garment enfolded her slight frame and no other part of her was exposed to me except for her face and her hands. Together, they seemed to float independently of the rest of her white attire. In time, I realized that she was my mother. Her name was Valerie Nightengale. I knew that much about her. I could remember my mother’s name and I remembered that she had a different last name than my own. Momma, I remembered. I called the woman Momma.
Momma appeared to me in this light of sudden brightness out of the darkness all around me; it had to be a dream. It was as if Momma was an angel of mercy on a holy, life-saving mission. Yet for some reason I could not yet identify, I knew that my mother was no angel, she was anything but an angel. I instinctively knew to fear that this dream would soon turn into a nightmare.
Momma’s strange and solemn yet familiar face was bright and beautiful, it shone with a mother’s natural strong and protective love for me, her son. Yet, at the same time, her face was threatening-looking, it was dark, brooding, fearful. That face that I knew so well glowed with a frightening sort of self-satisfaction; somewhere, deep inside of my memory, I was able to recall that my mother was always self-satisfied for one reason or another. But that was not apparent to me now. My mother thought she was special, Momma thought she was something else. Her half-smile for some reason almost resembled a frown; the corners of Momma’s mouth were twisted both up and down at the same time in a sadistic grimace. Despite the vivid whiteness around me, despite the glowing, glorious beauty that emanated from everywhere around her, Valerie Nightengale was also very frightening in every way imaginable. In fact, she radiated ebony shadows.
Ebony shadows of black. Ebony shadows of shame. Shame she felt, I sensed, that was a shame for me and for everyone else in her life.
In the best-selling tradition of the most famous gothic authors...
The Nightengale Legacy Of Sin And Betrayal
Valerie
Valerie’s Secrets
Valerie’s Sinners
Valerie’s Freaks
Valerie’s Family
Valerie’s Legacy
Dorothy's Prophecy
The Nightengale Legacy Sampler Edition
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