Is There A Planned Sequel To The Bone Houses?

Samantha Hale thought she had it all — a perfect marriage, a thriving career as a software engineer, and the kind of life that looked flawless from the outside. Until she discovers her husband is cheating on her… with her sister. And that her sister is pregnant. Betrayed. Homeless. Broke. One night, Samantha enters a radio contest on a whim — and wins an old Victorian mansion in a forgotten countryside town called Willow Creek. It’s supposed to be her new beginning. But the house has a secret buried deep beneath its foundations. When she unlocks the door to the basement, Samantha finds two stone coffins — and accidentally awakens Lucien Varyn, the long-lost King of Vampires, and his enigmatic right hand, Sebastian. Lucien is dark, magnetic, and far too dangerous. Sebastian is cold, calculating, and hiding something behind his icy loyalty. Both are bound to her by an ancient prophecy neither of them expected to come true. As strange events unfold and old powers stir, Samantha must decide who to trust — and who to love — before the house claims her soul… Because in Willow Creek, under the glow of the Blood Moon, the past isn’t dead. It’s just waiting to be awakened.

One night a young boy unable to cultivate falls into a cave and changes his destiny forever. Orphaned, unable to cultivate, ridiculed by all, the boy who fought with bones has a bone to pick with all those who wronged him and a mystery to uncover.

"Let's play a game, let's find out if you live or die." Skilled with the ability to Astral Project, Jason finds himself trying to escape a mansion filled with demonic entities while also trying to save his bestfriend. Only the dead survive where the days are shorter and the nights are longer.

This award-winning, psychological experience is back in print, and includes the exclusive sequel The Sound of his Bones Breaking, a novella that will leave you truly shaken. Board for free. But the cost might be your life. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

After years of running from her past, Lissa returns to the one place she never wanted to see again—her childhood home. The town hasn’t changed, but Lissa has. Now a mother, a wife, and a survivor, she’s trying to rebuild a life while standing on the crumbling foundation of her trauma. Just a few months. Just until she finds her footing. But the house doesn’t let go so easily. It smells of mildew and memory. Dust covers more than furniture—it coats every secret Lissa tried to bury. As she navigates motherhood, old friendships, and a strained relationship with her sister, Lissa discovers more than ghosts in the attic. A photograph violently scribbled out. A letter from someone she hoped was lost to time. And a journal that brings her back to the girl she used to be. Her husband, Colt, tries to be her anchor. Her son, Lucas, is her reason to fight. But a single name—just one letter, T—is all it takes to fracture her resolve. The past isn’t dead. It’s waiting in the basement. In a letter tucked behind old receipts. In the quiet corners of her memory where no one else can go. As the days pass, the house begins to feel like a trap.Lissa must decide if she’s strong enough to dig through the wreckage of her past… or if some secrets are better left buried. Told with raw emotion and atmospheric suspense, House of Quiet Screams is a story of trauma, resilience, and the silent strength it takes to confront what once felt un faceable. For Lissa, surviving was never the end of the story—facing what comes after might be the beginning.

At the Halloween Carnival, my younger brother and I got separated. Not long after, the headless body of a teenage boy was found in an alley. My father was consumed with rage—he blamed me entirely. He locked me in the chapel and forced me to chant prayers and light candles for my brother's soul for eighty-one days and nights. After that, he had me sold to a brothel in the city's red-light district, so I could spend the rest of my life atoning for my brother. He instructed the brothel manager there to give me only the most depraved clients—and to make sure I was left barely breathing. The brothel manager, paid to follow orders, assigned me to women with twisted tastes. Night after night, I was tormented. When I came down with consumption, I was denied any care. The hands I'd once used to turn pages—the hands of a scholar—were deliberately broken, crushing whatever hope I had left for the future. Eventually, one client went too far, and I died on the bed. The brothel manager had my body rolled up in a straw mat and dumped in a mass grave outside town. A year later, on New Year's Eve, my brother came back.