Let's get THINGS straight: You made up your mind about me and my son the day some prude, who got what she deserved, told you to. Silly you. Cause I'm not Beverly. And, I'm not my son either. I'm Momma. And, that's just gonna have to be good enough for you. Cause serial killers don't grow on trees, you know. You have to plant them.

KeptAn Erin Lee ThrillerInspired by a true storyBree's destiny had always been kept.Like a dirty secret, it was nearly impossible to escape a certain dark fate. A victim of circumstance determined to survive, she only wanted someone to trust. But it wouldn't come easy.First, it was the family life that forced her to run away from home at age fifteen.Next, it was her son's father, Le, who pulled her from friends, locking her into a toxic web of abuse...

Trigger warning. That's what the front entrance should say. Instead, it lies the same way the outsiders do. Week after week, it cheerfully ushers unsuspecting loved ones and visitors to the registration desk where they'll sign day passes to visit us: the broken girls. The lost. The forgotten. The damaged. The twisted. Every Saturday-Sundays on holidays too-outsiders will visit with no clue what really goes on in the place they've sent us to where...

Sometimes, the cravings just take over. Jimmie Putnam is an ordinary man by any measure. By day, he works as a law clerk. At night, when he can't fight the cravings, he becomes a collector. He takes great care of his human Things, buying them cherry lipstick and reading to them from his journal. When they've, been on their best behavior, he even takes them out of his freezers... Sometimes, the need is just too deep. Florel Ross has been mostly invisible...

Every business starts with a market and a need.It was obvious when Heather got out of a quick stint in county lock-up that there was a need for someone to give karma a little shove in the right direction.We've all been there. We know the pain of moving on. But what if, Heather and Suzie wondered, moving on could be pain-guaranteed-for the ones who'd hurt them?Welcome to The Ranch:A place where clients are encouraged to order justice ala carte. Torture...

Tears.They were the big guns women brought out when pouting didn't work and wallets got wedged between socks – locked up tight in drawers because chicks were expensive.It wasn't like best friends Victor and Drake were new to this. Successful, decent-looking guys with careers and healthy futures ahead, they'd had their share of trophy girlfriends. But dating Sylvia and Sara-twin sisters with the ability to pitch astray aerial assaults at uncooperative...

You maddddd-e up your mind about me, Momma, and Candy the day they caught me wearin' my favoritttt-te T-shirtttt.Silly you. 'Cause I ain't Momma, Candy, or even Flora. And believe it or not, there was a time long before all them Things. Them Things are just the sprinkles on tttt-top. I'm Jimmie. And that's gonna have to be better than salty nuts.Momma's right. Serial killers don't grow on trees. But they don't get planted either. And now, with nothing...

The rules were simple: We were to accept His testimony. We were to want no worldly goods. We were to give up our ties to the outside world. We were to finish strong. We were to know this wasn't our world. That would come and only He could deliver us. For now, we were to live in His Village; granting only Him the authority to change our souls.