1. Why is a Pantomime thus called? What else would you call the creepy guys clothing choice? 2. Why was the White Rabbit late? It was waiting for a white Christmas 3. What happened when Aladdin rubbed the lamp for the first time? Ew, that’s gross and awfully private. Why does he call it a lamp anyhow? 4. How many ugly sisters were there? I really only have one if I had to say “ugly”. 5. What did Jack exchange for the magic beans? A lot of gas! 6. Why do they always shout ‘It’s behind you!!’ Because if it was in front of you you would see it. 7. What was the house in the woods made of that Hansel and Gretel found? Um, wood. 8. Who owned The Mirror Mirror on the wall? Probably the store the store before the customer the customer 9. What was the name of Dick Whittington’s cat? No, that’s what he called his wife when they argued! 10. Who was Tinkerbell? The guy who fixed the bell in the belltower, a tinkerer of sorts.
We are thrilled to share this amazing new novel by K.T. Rose! The Haunting of Gallagher Hotel just proves that ghost stories are perfect any time of the year!
Read on for an exclusive peek and an amazing giveaway to enter!
The Haunting of Gallagher Hotel
Publication Date: November 5th, 2020
Genre: Supernatural Horror/ Paranormal
Pride and greed infect the soul, anchoring the dead to Gallagher Hotel.
When Chris, a master thief, and Riley, a contract waitress, get mysterious invites to an exclusive party at the haunted Gallagher Hotel, they discover that there is more at play than simple celebrations.
Hidden truths are revealed, and all hell breaks loose. But the “party” has just begun.
Now, Chris and Riley face their demons as they fight to survive a hellish nightmare full of spoiled secrets, carnage, and vengeful spirits lost to the hotel dating back to the turn of the 20th century.
Will they survive the night? Or will their souls be devoured by the most haunted building in Michigan?
K.T. Rose is a horror, thriller, and dark fiction writer from Detroit, Michigan. She posts suspense and horror flash fiction on her blog at kyrobooks.com and is the author of a suspenseful short story series titled Trinity of Horror, an erotic thriller novel titled When We Swing, and A Dark Web Horror Series. She also writes supernatural and paranormal horror novels and short stories.
The book is in the Kindle Unlimited program as well.
She’ll never forget the day she died.
Torches lit up the town square, illuminating scowling and shouting faces. The townspeople launched stones and spit, pegging Trudy’s arms and face as she trudged through the abhorrent mob. She cringed when a pebble struck her cheek. Pain erupted, shooting through her face like lightning striking the earth.
Deputy Hill yanked her arm, leading her through the narrow path the townspeople created. Fists balled, Trudy groaned as the rope around her wrists dug into her skin. Her bare feet picked up glass shards and debris from the cobblestone path as she shuffled along.
She glared around at the angry faces and recognized the men, women, and children of Holloway. She’d done more for them than any God before her. Many of those people owned the very businesses that lined the stone slab she marched across that night. Building and financing the rows of wooden businesses lining the town’s square accounted for half the things she’d done for Holloway. She fed the hungry, made clothes for cold children, and taught woman’s independence. The ever-growing list of the townspeople’s wants was endless. At one point, she didn’t mind the busy work. Fulfilling dreams of the once poor town kept her boisterous and distracted from her bitter reality. Trudy was Holloway’s personal shepherd, making the people her needy sheep.
Hands snagged at her lavender tea gown, adding dirty prints to the blood drops and grime from the beatings in that putrid cell. She glared at the bare-faced man towering over her. The brim of his deputy hat cast a thick shadow, hiding his dark eyes and pale face.
Deputy would miss her. She was sure of it. He got off on the assaults that bruised her face. His heavy fists pounded her bones and scraped her skin until she confessed. And even after her confession, he continued with his evening visits, slamming her body into cinder block walls and passing off open-handed blows to her nose, cheeks, and eyes.
Trudy sighed. A bath with lavender and Epsom salt sounded good for the swelling. She didn’t realize how bloated and purple her once beautiful, fairly smooth skin had become until she passed by the picture window in front of the town’s jail just before they began her walk of shame. Her dark hair matted to her forehead, washed by sweat and blood. Her plump lips were chapped and bloated with bruises.
Even then, her face pulsed with intense hurt. Pain shot through it whenever she winced.
The sea of convictions roared, growing louder as she drew closer to the opposite end of the square.
“Adulterer,” yelled a woman.
“Traitor,” screeched a boy.
“Murderer,” said a pot-bellied man.
Their accusations sent a sickening jolt through her bones. She watched the path underneath her slowing feet, fighting back the tears.