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Actor's Guild Tag

The Actor's Guild

Paranormal Mystery Series

By Charlotte Holley

Picture of Me for the Books

* NOTE: Cover Art designed by Charlotte Holley, using Stock Photos from Dreamstime (http://www.dreamstime.com/res460075)

The Actor's Guild Cover

McCann's Manor is the first of The Actor's Guild Paranormal Mystery Series and was released in eBook form January 7, with the print version available as of February 4, 2008. The second in the series, The Bakery Murders, is also scheduled to be released in February in eBook form, followed in the coming months by Whispers From the Past. The Actor's Guild Paranormal Mystery Series combines elements of fantasy, mystery, paranormal and gothic genres to produce a haunting and spellbinding story of possession, love and betrayal.

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McCann's Manor

Elizabeth Carr and her friend Kimberly Henson are psychically gifted and have worked together for years to help unfortunate souls find peace and go into the Light, a calling which has brought them much joy and adventure—and trouble and heartache.

When John Carter, internationally acclaimed screen actor, meets Liz and Kim at a party and tells them of McCann’s Manor, they accept the invitation to live at the Manor for a year to try to help its restless spirits.

They soon find themselves in the midst of a puzzle that could prove too much for even their honed paranormal skills. Nothing is what it seems. The doors Liz and Kim open may not be so easily closed, should they change their minds about the endeavor they have taken upon themselves, and a secret more sinister than they can imagine is waiting for them inside the passages of McCann’s two hundred-year-old Manor . . .

EXCERPT:

. . . Kim arrived as a corpse was being hauled outside in a body bag. Two men were maneuvering an ambulance gurney down the beautiful stone walkway. Pulling her car around to the parking area, she saw more police cars. What was going on? She was stricken—could something have happened to Liz? She watched all the people dressed in uniforms and street clothes going about their various jobs while none of them paid any attention to her at all.

What had happened? The weight of what she was seeing replaced her initial shock and she hurried to the entrance, but was denied access by one of the deputies, who stepped in front of her.

“I am sorry, ma’am, but you can’t go in there just now. We are here on official business.”

“The hell I can’t go in!” She spat at the deputy, leaning forward, trying to see who was inside. “I live here. Where is Liz?”

“Over here, Kim!” came a familiar voice from the hallway, right inside the door. “It is okay; she does live here.”

Kim walked to her friend’s side, took one look at her and added more questions to the barrage that were battling to be first from her mouth. “What happened to your head? Who did they take out in that horrible body bag?” Her best friend looked dazed and had a growing bruise on her forehead.

Liz reached up and touched her head, found the knot was quite large. “I am fine. I fell and hit my head. The body bag is Ben McCann—and Timothy.” She turned to go down the hall and into the library. “Come sit and talk to me.”

To Kim’s hearing, Liz sounded much too calm for the information she was conveying. “You are kidding!” she exclaimed. “I am gone for the afternoon and when I come back you have found McCann’s body? Where?” Kim, still shell-shocked, sat in one of the high-backed chairs by the windows, close to Liz and spoke in exasperation. “You scared the you-know-what out of me—I thought it was you in that body bag.”

Liz felt her friend’s dismay, but answered with a smart-ass barb, “How do you think I would have gotten into that kind of shape all by myself?” She squeezed her friend’s hand and sat back again . . . .

The Bakery Murders

Liz Carr and Kim Henson got more than they bargained for when they agreed to move into McCann's Manor and rid the place of unfriendly spirits.

Nothing they had experienced in their ghostbusting careers could have prepared them for what lay ahead. They solved the mystery of the deaths of Leonard and Missy Tatum, as well as the murder of Benjamin McCann two hundred years before, but they never guessed that was only the beginning, nor could they have dreamed of the strange creatures from another world waiting to invade their lives.

Now death stalks them on all sides as they attempt to unravel the enigmatic questions surrounding Benjamin McCann and the beautiful house he built . . .

Excerpt

"Aren’t you going to ask a lot of questions, or say something smart-ass?" John wanted to know.

"I am sure you must have some kind of explanation; I am just waiting for it," Mark said, giving John a reassuring nod.

"When I was doing the thing with the Jewel and the lights and all, Ben just suddenly reached out and touched the Jewel—that was when the blue lights happened. You saw that, right?" John asked.

"I saw the blue light, yes," Mark said. "I didn’t see Ben touch the Jewel."

"Yeah, that is what I meant; you saw the blue lights," John said. "An interesting thing happened when he did that, Mark. When he touched the Jewel, it opened up a temporary portal. He was here one second and the next heartbeat, he had left. He was going home so he would be there when his body died."

"What? You mean when he suffocated in the passage at the bottom of the fireplace?" Mark wanted to know.

"Yeah, that’s exactly when I mean," John affirmed. "Here’s the thing, though—he sent his body home, but his soul merged with mine somehow."

"Oh," Mark said, "I see. That is interesting."

"You don’t believe me?" John asked.

"No—no! Of course, I believe you," Mark said. "Why shouldn’t I?"

"You don’t think it is a little strange?" John asked.

Mark rolled his eyes and wagged his head side to side, replied, "Strange? We are sitting here on an alien world with Gorshans, Canitaers, Wylvaens and Gaeradons, having undestroyed a burned-out temple and genetically altered about fifty thousand Gorshans to be teddy bear sweethearts instead of mean, ornery gorillas, using magic—and you ask me if I think Ben’s soul merging with yours is strange? All right, maybe it is a little strange, but then, in view of all the things I have been through the past few days, it is almost normal. I don’t think my life is ever going to be the same again. I guess I’d rank it about seven on my weird-o-meter scale. Last week it would have been about a nineteen."

John had to laugh at Mark’s response. It was the first laugh he’d had in days and it felt good. "Thanks," he said. "I needed that!"

"So," Mark said hesitantly, "Ben’s in there with you. Is that a permanent thing?"

"Yeah," John said. "I think it’s one of those ‘til death things."

"Are you all right with it, then?" Mark asked.

"Actually, I am," John admitted. "I know more now than I did, and I don’t feel as helpless about being stuck here while Liz and Kim are home being chased around by a maniac. I think I will adjust okay. I just don’t know how Liz will take the news that she can’t see Ben anymore."

"Yeah, I guess that is a real kicker, but she wasn’t too happy the way things were, either," Mark pointed out. "She’s a pretty strong and smart cookie. I think she will adjust, too, pal."

"I hope so, Mark; I really hope so," John said, "because I can’t undo what has been done, and Ben and I both love her and want her to be happy."

Whispers From the Past

Whoever said the past is dead and buried never knew the evil wizard Arvashan or his fiendish plan to avenge himself on those who caused all the trouble at the very beginning . . . Liz Carr and Kim Henson find they have only skimmed the surface when it comes to the mysteries of the past and their lingering affects on the present. They are about to learn their lives and those of John Carter and Mark Adams are hopelessly tangled with Arvashan’s in a way they could never have expected.

The four friends, the local priest and the ineffable Benjamin McCann himself, have worked hard to return peace to McCann’s Manor, only to find each step forward has brought ever-increasing repercussions, leading them deeper into Arvashan’s diabolical schemes. Now the ancient sorcerer, infuriated by their success in freeing his captive souls, makes his demands, offering Liz an ultimatum she can never hope to accept or live with.

Liz has a few weeks to set her affairs in order and return with Arvashan to the past and a fate she has no memory of, or Arvashan will kill everyone she loves. The situation calls for a level of cunning and skill the friends will somehow have to find within themselves, along with a mastery of magic greater than any they possess, before they can emerge victorious over the ancient nemesis. But there is more . . . much more . . . and they are running out of time . . .

Excerpt

Darkness . . . cold, unrelenting darkness so thick it nearly stole her breath from her was all Liz could perceive, though she strained into the blackness. The entity she knew as Ptarmigan had spoken to her of such a place, she recalled—a freezing, dark pit where no light penetrated. How had she come here, though? What sorcery was afoot that she should find herself banished to the depths of Ptarmigan’s prison? Or was the darkness, the cold, the feeling of isolation merely illusion? Surely she wasn’t alone in this place, she reasoned, though she could sense nothing to indicate the presence of anyone else.

She fought to calm her racing heart, slowly drew in a breath and reached her hands out to feel the nothingness in front of her. “Hello?” she whispered.

Laughter.

“Who’s there?”

“You know me, Draita,” the voice whispered, so near her ear it made her whirl toward the sound. “Remember, my beloved . . . Remember. . . . ”

She forced herself to remain calm, even though the fear of the dark she thought she had pushed aside years before clamped down on her throat like a fist, threatening to choke off her oxygen. From where in her past did the all-encompassing panic she felt this moment arise? As a child, she remembered, she was desperately afraid of the darkness, but she had believed that dread was long behind her now. She stood staid and still, forcing a deep, ragged breath into her lungs. The darkness did not exclude the air, she told herself. Breathe! Just breathe . . . and be calm.

About Charlotte and Her Writing

Charlotte Holley has an inborn love of all mysteries and the supernatural, and has been reading and writing about the paranormal for more than forty years. A mass communications major, she has written and published newsletters, magazine and newspaper articles, as well as poems and short stories since receiving her bachelor’s degree in 1980. As a beaded jewelry designer, she has also self-published nineteen pattern collections on CD and in ebook form and has produced over 250 individual original patterns.

Having spent several years as a professional psychic, she has had extensive experience with the spirit world and has observed supernatural dramas that defy all rational explanation. Charlotte uses her expertise and story-telling ability to weave a powerful tale of mystery and horror, of love and deceit and of the overpowering desire of the human nature to make things right.

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