Casey is having the time of her life. She's 18, allowed to drink and she's ready to hit up the night clubs. One night, Casey parties a little TOO hard and a unknown man takes advantage of her. He threatens her with a knife and she has no choice but to follow his instructions. He orders her into his van and the party continues on outside, oblivious to the fact that Casey was getting kidnapped. Her best friend, Dan leads her search investigation and is determined to find her. Along the way, Dan realises he has feelings that are more than friendly towards Casey. Weeks go by and there is still no sign of Casey. Will Dan ever find her? Whilst Casey is held captive, she discoveries information about her life and herself that she had no idea about. She also discovers that her kidnapper is someone she had only heard about, someone she thought never existed.

A young woman who was always the life of the party, quick to tell a joke, always smiling and happy, tragically dies at age 23. What her mother found after her death reflected a much different young woman, her poetry. Her words showed a young woman crying out to feel loved, wanted, beautiful and worthy. Struggling to accept herself as the wonderful, happy, beautiful young woman everyone else saw her as. Her words reflect the pain and torment she allowed another to cause her. It is her mother's most heart felt desire to reach even one young person struggling to accept themselves. To encourage them to open up and talk to someone, to know they are never alone, to know their feelings are validated. She also hopes to reach a mother that perhaps feels her daughter is perfect and completely in charge of her life, as mothers often do. After reading her poetry, hopefully it will facilitate conversation, confirm unconditional love and help to end words that a mother never hears. I am her mother and these are her words.

With eleven missing women to find and six high-profile burglary cases to solve, the last thing Detective Nathan McNamara needs in his life is one more complication. And that's exactly what his recent one-night stand is becoming-complicated. With his heinous lieutenant breathing down his neck for answers and his accidental girlfriend dropping hints for a commitment, Nathan is realizing that his career and his bachelor status are both on the line. When the burglary cases suddenly escalate to homicide, Nathan must put everything else aside to stop the killer. But this is easier said than done when the blonde from the bar repeatedly shows up at his doorstep and enlists his own mother against him. Now he's more convinced than ever that his job hangs in the balance and that the Surgeon General's warning on the whiskey bottle should include something about women. The Detective is part of THE SOUL SUMMONER Series. Book one of the series is available on WATTPAD.

Tons of serial killers and haunted places throughout the world.

Ever wondered what it would be like to experience ghosts? Want to find others who were haunted just like you? Want to be chilled to the bone? Well, now you can! These are real stories from real people about their experiences with spirits! Fascinating, horrifying, and 100% true!

Just a few moments in a regular day at work. Put on a badge and gun and see if you have what it takes.

this book is in honour of halloween! XD!!!

A collection of 'life lessons' for those reaching a certain age and scratching their heads. " What do I do now?" Dredged from eighteen years of conversations with my two sons...

Do you know anyone with a crippling, morbid fear of flying? Well, you do now. I have a theory: An event one spring day in the town cemetery at the dawn of my existence had everything to do with planting a stark view of life and death which led, eventually, to a profound mistrust of infernal contraptions that carried you up into the sky. Because of that profound mistrust, vast portions of my prime were spent (and misspent) on long journeys aboard trains. A trip that would have been a blip in time by plane was an entirely different deal on the train—days and nights, not hours. Veritable miniature eternities. This led to encounters, adventures, dilemmas and situations that could only happen on a train—and not merely because of the train’s comparative slowness, but because train people are an entirely different breed of human from airplane people (or bus people, for that matter, and that’s another story). Trains are so....well....so existential. This stark view of life and death, which also had plenty to do with me lobbying my mother (in vain) to get busy on building a fallout shelter in our basement, had some stiff opposition. To be an American child in the 50s was to open one’s innocent eyes on the post-WW2 decade, an era jumping with progress,plenitude, dazzling crazed optimism and fun. Nightmare glimpses of atrocities from that big bad war we missed by the skin of our teeth bobbed to the surface occasionally, sobering us and reminding us of our aberrant good luck, and in my case, whispering that innocence was but a thin, thin membrane, that this world I’d been born into was a seething, infinitely complicated place, and I’d better pay attention. But let’s have some fun! Here we go, with Bad Boys. What’s rock ‘n’ roll but the shot heard ‘round the world?