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Haunting Avery Winters Books 1-6 Book Bundle

Haunting Avery Winters Books 1-6 Book Bundle

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Regular price $20.25 USD
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The first six books of a fun, bestselling ghost mystery series set in a quaint English village on sale for a limited time! Normally $28.94 US, now only $20.25. That's a massive saving of 30%. Only available here. Buy this binge package to save!

"Avery Winters is one of my new favorite protagonists. She's so relatable and I almost feel like the main character. I love the cast of characters and flow of the story. I won't lie, I cried at the end and bought the rest of the available series." — Heather GoldenStrickland

Main Tropes

  • Amateur Sleuth
  • Ghosts
  • English Village Setting

Synopsis

Aussie journalist Avery Winters was content—she had a caring boyfriend, great job, and supportive… okay, so her parents weren’t actually supportive, but she’d accepted she could never be the son they’d wanted seeing as how she was born a girl. Avoiding them seemed to work well, and, she reasoned, no one’s life was perfect. And that was fine, except whilst covering a news story in a storm, Avery’s cosy life disappeared in a flash. Lightning struck, stopping her heart and blowing her favourite black boots to smithereens. It was pure luck that an off-duty nurse was walking nearby.

When Avery came to in the ambulance en route to hospital, she’d thought the worst was over. She was wrong. Her lightning-induced hallucinations—there was no way they were ghosts—were impossible to hide. Her boyfriend soon left, and her boss suggested she take extended leave. Unable to cover her rent, she moved back in with her parents. And that’s when the fun really began.

Unable to cope with their insistence she was crazy, and desperate for an escape, she responded to a journalist-wanted ad… in the UK. Armed with a new fear of storms, companions others couldn’t see, and the hope that leaving the stress behind would improve her mental state, she boarded a plane for London. What she didn’t count on was not being able to leave her ghosts behind… literally. Oh, and that the quaint English village she’d be living in had more skeletons in its closet than the Natural History Museum. When she stumbles upon a dead body in her rented apartment on her first day, she’s tempted to get back on the plane. But whilst it’s not a good omen, returning to her parents would be worse, so she decides to stay. Only, she’s not sure if it’s the best decision she’s ever made, or the worst.

She’s about to find out.

Intro into Chapter One

The young woman at the real-estate office’s reception desk looked up at me through her gold, angular designer glasses. She must’ve been about my age—twenty-six—but the disdain in her gaze was more like an adult looking at a child they were about to discipline. “I’m sorry, Miss Winters, but we don’t have another key. Fiona, our agent, took it last night. She was going to meet you at the property, but she’s been called out to another urgent appointment. The owner should be able to let you in. Just knock on her door.”

I heavy sighed and tried not to let my frustration show. I’d gotten off a plane from Australia about twelve hours ago and hired a car for the long drive here. Apart from maybe two hours’ sleep in cattle class and four hours’ slumber in a hotel last night, I hadn’t slept much for almost two days. Travelling from Australia to the UK was not for the faint of heart, or the weak of stomach. I’d thrown up in the airport in Dubai… much to the dismay of the other passengers in the waiting area. Yep, I hadn’t made it to the bathroom in time. Vomit can sneak up on a person. “Do you know if she’ll be home? Can you call her?”

She smiled an evil, I don’t-really-care smile. “She leaves her phone off the hook. I can try, but I bet it won’t ring.”

I gritted out a smile through clenched teeth. Okay, so it was a grimace, not a smile, but I was trying… sort of. Or maybe not. Actually, I was. If I hadn’t been trying, I’d be yelling by now. “Try. Please.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Bit of a cow, that one. Like my ex-wife.” The older man’s voice came from next to me. I wanted to answer, to agree—about the receptionist, not his ex-wife—but since he was likely a figment of my imagination, and no one in the UK knew I was crazy yet, I kept my words to myself. My brain had concocted the seventy-something-year-old when I’d hopped off the plane. His thinning white hair was evenly dispersed on his head. It was light and floaty, like a muppet’s. I didn’t mind him—so far, he always said what I wished I could. I figured it was my subconscious keeping me company. Ever since I’d been struck by lightning, different people followed me around… people no one else could see.

It was why I’d left Sydney.

It was why my boyfriend had left me.

It was why I’d left my family behind. Okay, so I couldn’t blame everything on my mental state—my parents, especially my father, were less than understanding. When I’d come clean about the fact I thought I could see ghosts, they’d laughed at me. Then things got serious—they’d called the psychiatrist and admitted me to hospital for a few days. I came out heavily medicated and stayed that way for months. Now I had to believe in myself. I still wasn’t sure the apparitions were ghosts, but maybe, just maybe my gut was right. In any case, I didn’t have time to think about that right now.

Cow lady with the designer glasses hung up the phone with a flourish and gave me a sarcastic smile. “See. Told you. Just turn up. She doesn’t go out much, and she’s likely to want to check you out anyway. I would imagine she’s set aside her morning to wait for you.”

I wasn’t getting any more help from this one. Best to get on the road and hope the old woman was home. “Ah, what’s her name?”

“Mrs Margaret Collins. Best call her Mrs Collins. She’s not very friendly.” She gave me a forced smile and looked back to her computer screen, obviously dismissing me. The British were known for their goodmanners. Shame no one had told her.

My heart raced—it knew what I was going to do. “Right, well, thanks for not helping.” Did I really do that? Said what I wanted? Adrenaline shot through my stomach.

Her head snapped up. Her mouth half opened as if she wanted to say something, but the surprise at being called out must have blanked her brain. I hated when that happened… to me. It was satisfying for it to happen the other way around for once. 

Old guy next to me laughed. “Nicely done.”

Before the receptionist could figure out how to respond, I turned and left, my strides longer than normal as I hurried. I wasn’t running away. Not. At. All. Naughty, Avery, giving in and falling to her level. But if it was so naughty, why was it so much fun?

I hopped into my diminutive red hire car, and the old guy appeared in the back seat. I turned to look at him. “You’re a bad influence. I don’t normally speak my mind.”

He laughed, revealing a missing canine. “You should do it more. It’s entertaining.”

I shook my head but smiled. At least with my brain giving me people to talk to—I wasn’t quite ready to trust my gut on the ghosts—I’d never get bored or be alone. The burn of tears took me by surprise. I wasn’t even two days out of Sydney, and I missed my family, even if they weren’t very nice to me. Damn. I was not going to cry. I sat up straighter, wiped my eye with the back of my hand, and turned on the ignition. You got this.

I pulled out into the street. According to my GPS, my destination was only a few kilometres away. Everyone spoke in miles here, but that would take time to adjust to. 

At least the scenery was nice. I yawned.

“Don’t fall asleep there, lassie.”

“I won’t. Especially with you there to keep me awake.” I laughed at how crazy yet helpful that often-maligned state of being seemed to be. Even still, if I could take back being struck by lightning and get rid of these pretend people, I would—ghosts or not. My life, as it had been, wasn’t perfect, but it had been good enough. A little voice—in my actual head this time—told me that maybe I deserved better than “good enough.”

The car crested a hill, and as I drove down the other side, I wrinkled my forehead. Was that what I thought it was? These weren’t more apparitions created just for me by my brain, were they?

Two women wearing revealing white dresses sprinted down the footpath. Their harried expressions were too severe to be because they didn’t like running. Something was wrong. One of them waved at me to pull over. My day had already gone to hell, so why not stop and help? At least I’d feel like I’d done something good for the day.

I pulled to the side of the road, and a young woman with brown hair, and cleavage busting out of the top of her dress, hurried to my window. She was carrying a cat. Could this get any weirder? I wound the window down. “Are you okay?”

“Those men back there are after us. Can we please get in?”

“They look like trouble.” Old guy—I hadn’t asked his name because it was just me, only older and male—made me pause. I flicked my gaze to the rear-view mirror. He shook his head. I scrunched my face up, trying to tell him that he was wrong. He shrugged and gave me his gap-toothed grin. I could also see those men getting closer, and they didn’t look like they wanted to give these women flowers. My eyes widened.

I jerked my head back to look at the stranger at my window. “Yes. Get in!”

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