Nicky Webber > Recent Status Updates

Psychological suspense...keeping me hooked

Gripping

Interesting and thiuhht provoking

Sometimes there’s a hairline crack in a dark corner of your life and you know if you unload this awful, ugly broken fragment, it will explode the new relationship.

The weariness after our long journey home is unmistakable, yet it’s overshadowed by the shared, unspoken dread clinging to us like a second skin.

Playing catch up with my book reviews. Been so busy with everything alongside completing my new psycho thriller, Whisper Island. Finally have a hour to log in all the books I've read over the past six months. There's been some really GREAT ones.

Enjoying this dip into time travel and USA Kennedy history. Brilliantly done.

This Domestic Thriller has two sisters at it's core who weave a series of lies to dupe a Swat Guy and avoid the police but the twist is in the uncover life as one of the sisters is transferred to Italy.... the plot thickens.

With the two key characters, teenagers during WWII, you get their perspective as they experience life growing up during the war. The chapters mostly alternate between the girl in London and the boy in Holland. This clean story is historically accurate and an ideal read for YA - lots to learn and experience by reading Crow's Song.

"That's just it. She pretended to be normal, but was completely unhinged. I offered to pay for psychiatric care, but she refused. The longer things went on the worse she got. I told her to get tranquillisers or anti psychotics and I could organise it through a specialist at the hospital, but she wouldn't hear a word about it. I was at my wit's end."

"Fumbling a little, I hold the baby the same way my mother let me hold my younger brother. Its tiny bare feet are cold. I frown and glance down at the baby’s screwed up red face. It bawls again, sobbing so hard the pacifier falls from its mouth onto the porch floor. I notice a large red lump forming on its forehead. Something isn’t right. My throat tightens with fear. Is this man hurting the baby?"

"Fumbling a little, I hold the baby the same way my mother let me hold my younger brother. Its tiny bare feet are cold. I frown and glance down at the baby’s screwed up red face. It bawls again, sobbing so hard the pacifier falls from its mouth onto the porch floor. I notice a large red lump forming on its forehead. Something isn’t right. My throat tightens with fear. Is this man hurting the baby?"

"Laura dislikes the man. Everything is so ordered and contained. It's as if Pellegrini is protecting the Mafia in this situation. Pushing tolerance and understanding while Grace lies cold in a morgue nearby. The man smelt of arrogance, the tilt of his head, the occasional sniff, relays his disregard for women."

"I am an outsider, an interloper in my town home. I watch my dad and Lotte sitting and chatting close and cosy on the sofa in the front room. I move onto the floor and sit on the carpet to observe them more carefully. the entire time, they simply smile at one another and constantly hold hands. He's besotted with her!"

"What do you mean?" I frown. "You didn't say it was dangerous." I shift in my seat, feeling uneasy. I don't want to annoy ancient spirits. It's not worth it. "Maybe we should turn back."

"He waves his black leather-gloved index finger, showing me to towards his direction. My first thought is to turn and run, but I hear my father's warning.
"Never ever run," he told me. "Or they'll shoot you in the back, Piet."

"After drowning in so much darkness, Sam seems like a lighthouse beam, flashing enough to expose the next steps to light her way forward. This is something they can do to help Grace, a small ray of hope ahead.

"Did you not hear me? Breaking curfew is punishable by death. I follow orders. These are my orders. Do you want to die?"
He draws out the last word, as if it's a razor cutting into the early evening silence.

She clutches her hand bag and lets herself out of the driver's door, walking calmly towards Karl's vehicle parked nearby. If she had a blade, she would slash his tyres. She tries the driver's door, and it's unlocked. Idiot.

"I'm late!" My heart pulses throughout my body as leap from the bed in an adrenalin rush, grab my underwear strewn across the apartment carpet, and scramble into my dress.
"Don't go. Stay a little longer," he pleases like a reticent child.

"Let's just try it for a lark," Grace days, laughing. "Just for fun. Who would ever believe the Larkson sisters would do anything illegal?"

Suddenly the crickets and birds fall strangely silent. Only the summer breeze moves into the lounge, making the drapes sashay across the carpet as my cousins play. At first I think I hear a very low humming noise. I strain my ears before realising the sound comes from a swarm of bees but the background noise grows louder...

‘He’s shy, that’s all,’ Grace sits down again, opposite Laura and takes a gulp from her wineglass.
‘Does he love you?’ Laura tries another approach.
Grace pulls a face and shrugs. ‘Well, he says he loves me.’
Laura shakes her head. ‘Is that before he screws you or after he’s left the building?’

Mum makes up stories over breakfast, saying my dad telephoned while I slept. How can she think I don’t know this is a lie? There is no telephone in our house. Sometimes she explains that she walks to the neighbours to take his calls while I play in the street with my friends. I know this is a lie too, but I play along. I don’t want to upset her. Sick with worry is how Aunt Connie describes my mum.

Once I returned home, I place them in my sensuously shaped pottery vase and while they seem out of proportion, they also smoulder with light and uplifting energy. Thoughts of touching him again and his hands all over me engulf my senses. Am I becoming addicted to my night-time visitor? Obsessed with a strange man sharing my secret life.