Leslie began her writing career as a stay-at-home-mom. Her life-long love for reading lead to reviewing books for Goodreads, Amazon and Jillian Dodd's Author Blog. Leslie is also the cofounder of The Indie Bookshelf, which hosts yearly author signings, primarily in the Dallas/FT Worth area.

When she is not writing, you will find her lunching with friends, sipping a cup of joe, binging on Netflix or working on a home DIY project.

Leslie lives in Texas with her husband, teenage son and daughter, and two very silly pugs. 

He knew me from the moment I stepped through the broken window.

Studying me.

Watching me.

Changing me.

I was unaware of him at first; my life was too out of control to notice. The constant moving and lack of money after Mom divorced Dad was turning her into a different person. All she did was drink and she was now this angry person I didn't want to know.

But once I stepped through the window inside that house, I could feel the peace surrounding me. Hugging my body as if it had arms. Protecting me. Loving me. It was like the house knew what I craved and it felt too good to question any of it. So I went back, day after day. I hungrily guzzled up the euphoria like a raging alcoholic, reaching for another drink.

Just like my mother…

Atticus

Mrs. Stephens is walking the perimeter of the room, repeating her words as she tips the vile, allowing the black water to drop on the floor. Without warning, what sounds like hundreds of voices fill up the room, making it impossible to hear, while millions of black, dust-like specs swirl around the room.


My eyes are drawn up when I realize the black shadow creatures are back, turning in circles above our heads. Bloodcurdling screams and horrific, demonic cries reverberate around us as if they're having a war with one another. Shrieks fade in and out until every last creature finally vanishes into midair, silent. I shift my eyes back and forth, looking for Atticus, but there's no sign of him.


Chapter 53