Urban Life Books

Evander is a complete mystery to Sarah until she's given a spell book he authored. Is he a tortured prince? A bloodthirsty jester? The owner of the haunted mansion or the man hired to drive the ghosts out? 

Christina didn't want to be an escort! She didn't want to juggle the egos of different men! She wanted to get a real job in the corporate world and stop escorting, but what should she do when she finally gets her corporate job and her favorite client becomes her boss? To make it worse, he's very attractive. 

Juliet is the innocent freshman at university. Seth is the mysterious stranger. Too handsome to be real, he barely looks human. Most telling of all, he has three sets of bite marks down his throat. He denies being a vampire, though he openly admits he's nothing but trouble... until that fateful day when he kisses Juliet and her vision opens to show violence, death, a reality she can no longer... more...

Veda didn't expect Salinger to fall for her so completely that he was willing to dive into an adventure with needles, crystal balls, spell books, magic circles, and the delicate curtain that separates this world from the next.  

The following story was the first fruit of my New York life when I began to live it after my quarter of a century in Cambridge and Boston, ending in 1889; and I used my own transition to the commercial metropolis in framing the experience which was wholly that of my supposititious literary adventurer. He was a character whom, with his wife, I have employed in some six or eight other stories, and whom I... more...

ENTER CHORUS A dry snow had fallen steadily throughout the still night, so that when a cold, upper wind cleared the sky gloriously in the morning the incongruous Indiana town shone in a white harmony—roof, ledge, and earth as evenly covered as by moonlight. There was no thaw; only where the line of factories followed the big bend of the frozen river, their distant chimneys like exclamation points on... more...

Preface I know no way in which a writer may more fittingly introduce his work to the public than by giving a brief account of who and what he is. By this means some of the blame for what he has done is very properly shifted to the extenuating circumstances of his life. I was born at Swanmoor, Hants, England, on December 30, 1869. I am not aware that there was any particular conjunction of the planets... more...

I When old Mr. Marshall finally took to his bed, the household viewed this action with more surprise than sympathy, and with more impatience than surprise. It seemed like the breaking down of a machine whose trustworthiness had been hitherto infallible; his family were almost forced to the acknowledgement that he was but a mere human being after all. They had enjoyed a certain intimacy with him, in... more...

CHAPTER I. POLLY ARRIVES "IT 'S time to go to the station, Tom." "Come on, then." "Oh, I 'm not going; it 's too wet. Should n't have a crimp left if I went out such a day as this; and I want to look nice when Polly comes." "You don't expect me to go and bring home a strange girl alone, do you?" And Tom looked as much alarmed as if his sister had... more...

"I'm N. G.—that's a cinch! The sooner I chuck it the better!" Caught in the swirl of the busy city's midday rush, engulfed in Broadway's swift moving flood of hustling humanity, jostled unceremoniously by the careless, indifferent crowds, discouraged from stemming further the tide of pushing, elbowing men and women who hurried up and down the great thoroughfare, Howard... more...