After her ex-boyfriend commits suicide and her mum’s alcoholism sparks yet
another psychotic episode, seventeen-year-old Alyssa Wood flees her small
hometown of Broadwater and heads to New York City to stay with her bohemian
aunt — a Wicca High Priestess.
Alyssa revels in the anonymity of a big city and her new life. Her grades climb, she has a new best friend, and a new guy: the sexy geek Ronan — a saxophone player who prefers jazz to pop.
But her newfound peace is soon shattered when she sees a dead body in one of
Ronan’s music clips — and she’s the only one who can see it. Worse still, Alyssa recognises the body that has been murdered a week forward!
Alyssa doesn’t believe in the supernatural…despite her family’s Wicca
background. So how will she overcome evil when it’s closer than she thinks?
USA TODAY bestselling author and multi-award winner
Nicola Marsh writes flirty fiction with flair for adults and riveting, spooky
stories for teens.
indie, and sold over 6 million copies worldwide. Her first mainstream romance
BUSTED IN BOLLYWOOD was nominated for Romantic Book of the Year 2012. Her first
indie romance, CRAZY LOVE, was a 2012 ARRA finalist.
for Best Young Adult novel.
(Romantic Book of the Year) and National Readers’ Choice Award winner, and a
multi-finalist for a number of awards including the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, HOLT Medallion, Booksellers’ Best, Golden Quill, Laurel Wreath, More
than Magic and has also won several CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Awards.
Wrapped in plain brown paper with a card addressed to me, the flattish box looked like it could be a CD cover and my heart skipped a beat. Maybe this time Ronan had settled for playing the song and not filming it?
After what had happened with the last clip? Doubtful.
I palmed the parcel and waited until I got inside to open it, scurrying to my room and slamming the door before ditching my satchel and flopping into the bed. I loved surprises—bar the nasty one I’d got last night. Presents were a rarity in our household once Mom spiraled out of control, so when I received a gift I took my sweet time opening it and this one was no exception.
I turned over the plain white card: nothing but my name in large block letters, tied to the parcel with brown string. Typical of a no-frills guy with music on his mind rather than decoration.
I slipped a finger beneath the seal at one end, then the other, unfolding the stiff paper and peeking in the end. Yep, definitely a CD cover. I eased off the rest of the paper, eager to listen to my boyfriend’s latest masterpiece.
A flat black cardboard square resided beneath the plastic cover and I flipped it open.
It took me less than a second to realize there wasn’t a CD inside.
And another second to process what was.
Bile rose in my throat as I flung the packet away, my hands jerking so much I could barely grab the trash can as I heaved into it.
I retched until I had nothing left and still the waves of nausea rolled over me, exacerbating the dizziness.
I wished I could black out, that I didn’t have to look at proof of my madness lying on the floor like a coiled cobra ready to strike.
Seeing the dead body on the video, seeing Noah’s name spelled out at the séance, paled next to the enormity of this.
The necklace I’d given my ex, the one I’d buried alongside him for sentimental reasons, on the carpet at my feet.