Where Can I Read A Street At Named Featuring Bob?

Eidolon Avenue: Where the secretly guilty go to die. One building. Five floors. Five doors per floor. Twenty-five nightmares feeding the hunger lurking between the bricks and waiting beneath the boards. The sequel to Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast (“a great read...powerful and jarring” - Cemetery Dance) returns to the voracious Eidolon as it savors The Second Feast. A narcoleptic man in apartment 2A battles a vengeful past determined to rob him of everything as he runs from the barbaric disaster of a delusional love. A woman in 2B, reinventing herself to please a callous boyfriend, discovers the horrors that wait in the shadows of her self-renovation. The man in 2C, a teacher at the nearby Catholic girl’s school, collapses beneath the brutal consequences of his lecherous desires. An older woman in 2D, after decades dedicated to the church, is cornered at last by the grisly carnage beating at the hollow center of her faith. And a college student in 2E, hungry to escape an ignored life of invisible anonymity, finds herself captured between the pages of a ravenous book. All thrown into their own private hell as every cruel choice, every drop of spilled blood, every silent, complicit moment of cowardice is remembered, resurrected and relived to feed the ancient evil that lives on Eidolon Avenue. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

Eidolon Avenue: Where the secretly guilty go to die. One building. Five floors. Five doors per floor. Twenty-five nightmares feeding the hunger lurking between the bricks and waiting beneath the boards. The sequel to Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast (“a great read...powerful and jarring” - Cemetery Dance) returns to the voracious Eidolon as it savors The Second Feast. A narcoleptic man in apartment 2A battles a vengeful past determined to rob him of everything as he runs from the barbaric disaster of a delusional love. A woman in 2B, reinventing herself to please a callous boyfriend, discovers the horrors that wait in the shadows of her self-renovation. The man in 2C, a teacher at the nearby Catholic girl’s school, collapses beneath the brutal consequences of his lecherous desires. An older woman in 2D, after decades dedicated to the church, is cornered at last by the grisly carnage beating at the hollow center of her faith. And a college student in 2E, hungry to escape an ignored life of invisible anonymity, finds herself captured between the pages of a ravenous book. All thrown into their own private hell as every cruel choice, every drop of spilled blood, every silent, complicit moment of cowardice is remembered, resurrected and relived to feed the ancient evil that lives on Eidolon Avenue. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

"Don't move," he trailed his kisses to my neck after saying it, his hands were grasping my hands, entwining his fingers with mine, putting them above my head. His woodsy scent of cologne invades my senses and I was aroused by the simple fact that his weight was slightly crushing me. ***** When a famous author keeps on receiving emails from his stalker, his agent says to let it go. She says it's good for his popularity. But when the stalker gets too close, will he run and call the police for help? Is it a thriller? Is it a comedy? Is it steamy romance? or... is it just a disaster waiting to happen? ***** Add the book to your library, read and find out as another townie gets his spotlight and hopefully his happy ever after 😘 ***** Warning! R-Rated for 18+ due to strong, explicit language and sexual content*

When American engineer Evan Hart arrives in Rome, he expects worn stones, ancient architecture, and a chance to quietly rethink his failing marriage. He doesn’t expect Livia Moretti—the enigmatic archivist whose fragile intensity pulls him into a slow-burning, dangerous affair he never meant to start. Livia is brilliant, secretive, and a little broken… and Evan can’t stay away. But when he finally tells his wife Leah he wants a separation, she collapses, claiming she’s been diagnosed with a devastating neurological disease. Overnight, Evan’s guilt becomes a trap. Then Livia disappears without a trace. Anonymous photographs of him and Livia arrive in the mail. A stranger begins watching his apartment. And Leah—sweet, steady Leah—starts behaving in ways he can’t explain. When Evan finds hidden documents and photographs connecting the two women in his life, he follows a clue to a remote coastal village, where he learns Livia once lived under a different name… and may have been running from something far darker than heartbreak. As Evan digs deeper, he uncovers the edge of a conspiracy built on identity, memory, and manipulation—one determined to keep its secrets buried. Someone is pulling strings. Someone is rewriting the truth. And someone wants Evan to stop asking questions. Caught between a wife he no longer understands and a lover who may not be who she claimed to be, Evan is forced to confront the one question he never thought to ask: If the women in his life are wearing borrowed identities… then who has been shaping his? In a story of seduction, deception, and emotional obsession, All the Names She Wore explores the dangerous terrain between love and control—and what happens when the truth becomes the most terrifying lie of all.

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

She fell inlove for the very first time and she thought she could peacefully live with her new personality and name. She thought that she could keep her secret for the rest of her life. But in an instant, all that she had worked hard for was completely GONE. *** Beforeicalledhername 2021AllRightsReserved_Catlyn/Latte