"Out of the Darkness," a romantic paranormal/horror thriller by Lesli Richardson , is under contract with Lyrical Press, Inc. This dark novel is about an ancient evil trying to claim everything a woman loves and holds dear. Set outside of Brooksville, Florida, many of the locations used are real or based on real places.

The release date is January, 2009 in e-book format, with a pending release date of June, 2009 for print.

Click the Read More button to read an excerpt from "Out of the Darkness."

Unedited Excerpt from "Out of the Darkness"
Copyright 2008, Lesli Richardson

The fence made a ninety-degree turn west and ran through some trees. She rounded the corner and came upon a forestry truck parked by a gate. Tom Jenkins was bent over a chain that looked like a maniac had gone padlock crazy. There were at least twenty different locks attached.

“Hi Tom.”

He looked up, startled by her silent approach, then smiled. “Hi Mrs. Corey. Beautiful morning for a ride.”

She nodded. “I like mid-week the best. I don’t have to worry about the horses spooking.”

“It is quiet.” A new length of sturdy chain lay at his feet, and he worked on the one on the gate with a pair of bolt cutters, but was having trouble maneuvering it with the padlocks in the way.

“Hold on a sec,” she dismounted and looped Mutt’s reins around the truck’s side mirror. She grabbed the chain and held it up and away from the fence post, allowing him to gain purchase with the bolt cutters and cut it loose.

“Thanks.” He removed one of the locks, a heavy-duty combination lock, from the old chain and used it to attach the new chain to the post. The new chain was much thicker and heavier than the old one, and looked like it would take more than a pair of bolt cutters to break through. “We used to allow people to put locks on the gate. This is the legal access for park residents and the utilities, but as you can see, too many people have taken advantage. This lock is like the one on the front gate, we can change the combination on a regular basis.” He held up a pair of signs she hadn’t noticed before.

This gate for utilities, official use, and residents ONLY. Unauthorized access will be prosecuted. No lock placement allowed. For access, call park ranger 24/7 at (352)555-0808.

He used sturdy zip ties to attach one sign to each side of the gate.

“I didn’t realize this gate was even here,” Sami said.

“It’s not a publicly used road. Mostly it’s the volunteers who live here and work in Brooksville, and don’t want todrive all the way to the main gate. It’s also the right-of-way access for your property.”

He pointed down another clay road. “The ranger compound is that way. The main road’s not bad today, but if it’s sloppy, or the weekend with a lot of traffic, or a while since it was graded, people use this gate.”

He started to sling the old chain into the bed when he remembered the horse, and carefully lowered it into the truck so as not to spook him. “How are you getting along?”

There was more to his question, she knew from his tone of voice.

“It’s been…interesting.”

“See anything?”

“Like what?”

“You know that house has a history, right?”

She thought about her encounter with the librarian and picked her words carefully. “I know it’s had an unusual past, if that’s what you mean.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. If you repeat this conversation, I’ll deny it. My dad and grandfather worked here, even before the state set this area aside. It used to be part of the Withlacoochee Forest, not a separate park.

“No one’s lived in that house more than a year since George Simpson’s family disappeared. He probably killed them, but there was never any proof. Most residents only last a month or two, if that long. People have died in the house and around the property. You’ve been the longest residents there in over ten years. It usually sits vacant at least a year between tenants.”

Killed his family? She hadn’t read that. Then again, she got sidetracked. Maybe that’s what Jane McCartyle wanted to tell her. “What about the owner? I saw it keeps getting deeded back.”

“Shelly Johnson. Sweet woman. She got upset middle of the night. She was pregnant, made her husband drive her to her sister’s house. The next day the brother-in-law checked on him and found him dead in the basement.”

“What happened?”

“Coroner ruled it an accident. Looks like he tripped on something, hit his head. Ms. Johnson never got over his death and blamed it on the house. She always sells it with the stipulation the house goes back to her if the people decide not to live there.”

“Why would she hold onto the house if it has such bad memories?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Rumor is she thinks the house is haunted, can’t let go. Maybe she thinks her husband’s ghost is there. She never remarried after Jim Johnson died, still lives in her sister’s house in town.”

Sami wasn’t sure she wanted to get into the details of what she thought she saw early that morning. “Everything’s fine. Except my husband’s an asshole, which isn’t anything new.” She tried to laugh.

Tom looked serious. “What’s wrong?”

She realized how it sounded. “Oh, no–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean like that.” Sami blew out a deep breath. Why was she even talking to him? “If you repeat any of this, I’ll deny it, but we’ve had issues for a while. He thought the change of scenery would help his writing and our relationship, and I’m not sure it’s done any good for either.”

She unwrapped Mutt’s reins, relieved to have said it out loud to someone else, and wishing she hadn’t. “It’ll work out, or it won’t. Either way, it’s nothing the house has or hasn’t done.” She mounted. “Thanks for the information, Tom. If I see anything strange, I’ll let you know.” She was eager to end this conversation.

“Let me know if anything strange happens, seriously. You stay safe.”

Her heart racing, she nudged Mutt into a trot toward home. Maybe she did see something last night. She was not a staunch believer in the supernatural. It was okay to write about paranormal happenings, but she didn’t believe those things happened in real life.

Did she?

It wouldn’t hurt to do more research.

Jeff met them at the pasture fence. Sami pushed him out of the way and opened the gate. She couldn’t delay any longer, but she didn’t want to face Steve yet. She quietly opened the front door. From the level in the coffee pot, he’d been up at some point. His study door was closed, and she stealthily made her way upstairs.

The bed was made, as was the guest bed. His way of partial atonement.

The hot shower felt good. She tried to think about her work and not how angry she was. How much longer did she try, should she beg Steve to change? Was she horrible for wanting a husband who would fight for their marriage? She was tired of doing all the work.

She turned to find the shampoo and let out a frightened yelp at the dark shape on the other side of the shower curtain. She ripped it open.

Steve stood there, looking sheepish and apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“Goddammit, Steve!” What little serenity she’d achieved vanished. “Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?”

He studied the floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened last night. I don’t know why I’m sleepwalking, I don’t remember anything.” He looked at her, his eyes pleading. “What do you want me to do?”

What did she want him to do? A few weeks ago, she would have replied she wanted him to fight for their marriage, for her. Now she wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted. It would be easier if it died a quick and painless death, wouldn’t it?

Was it worth saving?

She sighed. “I honestly don’t know what I want you to do,” she admitted. “I suggested counseling before we left Ohio, and you jumped down my throat like a crazy man.”

“I don’t want them to put me on medicine that makes it impossible for me to write.”

“You’ve been on meds before. Is that what you think you are, depressed?”

“I don’t know.” His looked close to tears. “All I know is you’re right. I didn’t want to admit it, but now…” He didn’t finish, and shrugged. “I don’t know what to do.”

Sadness enveloped her. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve worked my ass off, and I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to fix you, tired of feeling like I’m the only one who cares about this marriage. I’m damn sure not going to beg you to touch me.”

He looked up, startled. She didn’t give him time to reply, yanked the shower curtain closed again.

“Are you having an affair?” he asked, his voice hollow.

She ripped the shower curtain open, jerking out two of the hooks in the process. “Are you shitting me? How dare you! Am I having an affair? I’m not the one on the computer fourteen hours a day!”

Her ferocity drove him back a step, and she lashed out. “Steven Corey, I stood by you, believed in you, have been your strongest supporter. I stayed with you through your drinking and when you got in recovery. I fought tooth and nail for this fucking marriage. You are the one who went AWOL, not me. I’m the one who kept initiating sex. I’m tired of begging you to touch me, and I tell you what, it sucks having my husband tell me, night after night, that he’s not in the mood. If anyone has a right to ask about affairs, it’s me, not you!” She yanked the shower curtain shut again.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She lathered her hair. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry you don’t give a shit anymore. You need to decide what you want, Steve, because I’m done chasing you. You need to figure out how to fix our marriage, because I’ll be honest with you, I’m all out of ideas.”

Tears stung her eyes and she stepped under the water. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of him.

How did they get to this point? Part of her wanted to reach out, draw him to her, fix his sad face. He seemed genuinely upset.

Then again, every fight seemed to make him genuinely upset. Even the ones he started.

It didn’t used to be like this. He used to make her feel like she was not only the most beautiful woman in the world, but she was the only woman in the world. Lately, it felt like she didn’t even exist. She wanted a magic cure, something to make her feel–

Make her feel the way Matt used to make her feel.

That’s when her tears flowed in earnest. She thought she heard Steve leave but didn’t look.

Was this what it was all about? That Steve never made her feel, even in the best of times, the way Matt used to? Back then, Matt wasn’t ready to commit. He didn’t want to see others, but he’d been honest that he wasn’t ready to get married and have kids.

Matt introduced her to Steve at a party after they’d agreed to just be friends. The unspoken pact between them was they never told Steve about their past. They were close friends, and he was her agent, that’s all Steve needed to know, all they wanted him to know. Otherwise, it would complicate things.

She kept her face under the spray, trying to wash those thoughts away. She heard the shower curtain open and then Steve’s arms curled around her. He pull her against his bare chest and held her like that for several minutes.

He didn’t try to seduce her, simply held her. Something else he hadn’t done in quite a while.

It felt good. Like maybe there was hope.

The water went cold. She reached out to turn it off when he pulled her against him again, but his palms felt rough against her arms and she wondered what he’d been doing to get them so chafed. Then his voice, distorted, whispered in her ear, and she realized for the first time he smelled of whiskey.

“Don’t worry, everything will change. It’ll be over soon.”

Her heart hammered and she wheeled around, stumbling, alone in the shower.

She screamed.