Hi and welcome to my website. I hope you enjoy browsing through the books I have written. I strive to create unique and individual plots for each and every book, not just stories by numbers. Of course, it is up to my readers to decide if I have succeeded. Your feedback is very welcome. Thanks for reading. Marie.x
Book samples
Prologues
Forget Me Not
The narrow stairs creaked at every third step taken as if it were telling her to turn around. Despite knowing she was alone in the house, she winced at each sound made as she climbed towards the attic room. Ahead of her, white and silvery clouds were lending a shimmering glow to the otherwise dark room. Her reflection appeared in the cracked windowpane as she took the final step onto the ragged carpet. Taking off her glasses as she moved closer to the image, she could see the blotches under both tired red eyes. They reminded her of the disappointment she had experienced a few hours earlier before the wine had temporarily washed away the tears. And yet the day had started so hopefully. Maybe it wasn’t over yet. Maybe, just maybe… No, she thought to herself, it is over, and she must accept it.
Crouching to open the tiny cupboard door, she looked down and noticed a teardrop splashing onto the wooden box still in her hands. It was a box she had no place opening. She recalled her conversation with that old woman in the nursing home which had made her feel so ashamed. It was time to move on with her own life, not dwell on someone else’s past. Tomorrow would be a new day, different from all the others. She placed the box inside the cupboard and closed the door for the last time.
Then she heard the stairs creak.
One Deadly Secret
Lara’s eyes fixed on the dark wooden door in front of her. Behind it was the answer to a question, the question that had dominated her life for so long. After twenty years of extreme emotions, she had no idea how she would feel when the door finally opened. When it did, her emotions remained buried deep inside.
He was just as she expected him to be. He did not turn his scrawny face to look at her when she walked into the small room where he and several suited men and women were sitting. How could she tell if he was truly remorseful when she couldn’t see into his eyes, the windows of his soul? As if reading her mind, he lifted his head and turned his cold, beady blue eyes to meet hers. There was no remorse; she could tell that immediately. Yet he had convinced the parole board to the contrary.
The man dressed in the least expensive suit, who had guided Lara into the room, sat down next to her. With his softly softly approach he’d persuaded Lara to contribute to the deluge of information that the Hugo Boss suits had to consider. Those men and women would need to decide the extent of the risk the convict posed to the community he would be going back to after twenty years. What had prison life been like for him? Twenty years was a long time to be well-behaved. And did he now regret the heinous crime he had committed all those years ago?
Her hands were shaking as she unfolded the statement that she was dreading reading out. It was brief, like the time she’d had with her sister. All she could say was that she missed Bella and grieved for the future relationship that they’d both been robbed of. It didn’t matter to the panel. That she could also tell. They feigned sympathy but they had already made their decision. Tom Bailey would be released.
Outside the courtroom, Lara thanked the victim liaison officer and hurried back to her car. Bailey would be back on the streets within weeks, but at least he wouldn’t be anywhere near her. That was the first and last time she would have to see him.
Then the realisation slammed into her like a steel bar - she had seen him before, those cruel blue eyes, that smirk, the tiny scar on his left cheek. Suddenly, it was clear - he didn’t feel remorse because there was nothing to feel remorse for. He didn’t kill Bella. Someone else did.
Forgetful Waters
The brightness of the sky is wondrous tonight. Every star in the universe must be making an appearance, radiating a myriad of dying glows through the darkness of space and time. It is said the stars visible on Earth no longer exist and are merely the remnants of a life long gone.Just like a person in a photograph. But she doesn’t want to believe something so beautiful is not really there. Even the moon appears so much closer than usual. She reaches out to touch the vast golden ball in the hope she will be energised by its cosmic rays. But of course, it is an optical illusion. The moon isn’t really golden. Rather, it is a lump of dull rock many thousands of miles away, a giant version of the one she is sitting on, the one that is now digging into her legs. What is she doing up here alone? That’s right. She’s meeting someone. But she can’t remember who it is. The inside of her head feels like the sea below, tossing and filled with froth. What was she drinking back there? An unseasonal brisk breeze sweeps across the headland causing a moment of soberness and she trains her ears to listen out for footstepsbetween the lappingof the waves. There is something. Someone. She can hear shuffling … yes, footsteps. The steps are getting louder,and she wondersif she should be afraid. Seagulls are cawing loudly, and for a moment,she loses track of the other sound. There it is again, stronger this time. Ahead of her, the outline of a person begins to emerge, and her heart misses a beat. It disappears into the sea mist, and she thinks she may have imagined it. Then it reappears and steadily grows larger as it comes towards her. It is him. He is here and is smilingat her, his eyes glistening in the near darkness. She cries out with relief, running towards him before suddenly stopping. She can see something else glistening like the stars so far above them. As the steel slices her arm, she cries out in pain. The blade rises up again and she steps back to avoid it, falling into the dark water below.
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