Novel & Cerita Books By Kathleen Woodiwiss

BLACKWOOD MANOR – AFTERNOON The study was dark and heavy with the smell of old books and whiskey. Tall shelves of leather-bound volumes lined the walls, and stern family portraits stared down like judges. Alexander Blackwood sat behind his massive oak desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes were cold as he looked at the woman sitting across from him. Katherina Rodriguez looked broken. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair messy.

I tell him before ducking outside and sparking up a smoke as I lean on my polished bike. My thoughts wander to the woman who called herself Flames last night. She'd had my attention as soon as her wide green eyes had met mine, her full lips curled in an amused smile as she casually dealt with Tanya. When she walked into the bar, I'd stood back and observed as everyone tracked the fiery red heads movements through the room. Whether she meant to or not, she managed to get the attention of everyone in there and I'm sure caused a few to suffer from their eyes wandering off of their ol' ladies. When she has walked away from me outside, my c**k had jumped in my trousers as I watched her round hips

Clara Yanuwah stood on the cliffs above Caligo Cove, her boots sinking slightly into damp, salted earth. The wind carried the scent of decay—not fish, not seaweed, but something far older. Stagnant blood and rotted prayers. She clutched her grandmother’s journal tighter beneath her coat. Each page had led her closer. Each memory had cost her more. Now, at the edge of the world, Clara faced the unfamiliar truth of the ocean’s echo—that WildWood had a twin born not of roots and bone, but tide and silt.

Brodie Six Weeks After Esme’s Disappearance I paced up and down in the small wood we had found. We had already been there too long. Situated on the edge of the Lincolnshire border, the woods were too close to a lot of main roads and it made me nervous. Everything made me nervous. I hadn’t been able to run for weeks, not properly, and it did nothing to help the tension building up inside. With each day that passed, I got more worried about Esme. Jackson wasn’t equipped to deal with what they were both facing.

Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. ISBN: 9798283695181 Cover Design: Malissa Wood Published by: Simply Magical Creations, LLC Printed in the United States of America About the Author Malissa Wood is a South Carolina-based author who writes emotionally charged fiction grounded in truth, trauma, and survival. Drawing from her own life experiences, she weaves powerful stories that blend mystery, heartbreak, and resilience. When she’s not writing, she runs her small business, Simply Magical C

A soft breeze moved through the trees, and the leaves whispered things neither of us could quite understand. Finally, Silas knelt and pulled the small leather-bound satchel from his cloak. “The rite instructions. Briar marked the translations and ingredients. There’s enough time to practice once.” I sat beside him, cross-legged in the grass. My hands shook just a little as I opened the book. The page shimmered. Rituals like this weren’t meant for us. Not anymore. Not since the Goddess turned her face from blood rites after the first wolf war. Most of the old ways had been buried.

The library was a third illustrious and recognizable library in Wicklow for encompassing historical quixotic and idealistic fictions. They pushed the heavy doors open and entered into the reception area inhaling the smell of old books. "Hello, Ms Kate!" Louisa and Sheila greeted a middle-aged woman, sitting behind her desk reading a book. Ms Kate Long was a frumpy woman, and she was fanatical about books, and had always said; 'There's no-one like her who adored books like a possessive demon.' She was divorced without having children, and she thought of books as her family.

Willow loved it because it was a small table and chairs tucked into its own corner, surrounded by high backed walls on both sides. She had felt bad for lying to her grandmother earlier. She wasn't here to get a new book but rather read the one Loriann had given her. The leather diary had been burning a hole in her bag for days now. Gently, she placed the book on the table in front of her and stared at it, as if it would burst into flames at the first touch. Opening the cover, she began to read, devouring the history of the Red Hoods and one Weyland Brochade in particular.