Scent of a White Rose; Roses & Thorns; Blood of a Red Rose; Death of a Black Rose PDF
Preview Scent of a White Rose; Roses & Thorns; Blood of a Red Rose; Death of a Black Rose
The Rose Trilogy Boxed Set by Tish Thawer * The Rose Trilogy Boxed Set: Scent of a White Rose Roses & Thorns Blood of a Red Rose Death of a Black Rose Published by Amber Leaf Publishing Copyright 2011-2013 by Tish Thawer All rights reserved www.tishthawer.com Cover designs by Regina Wamba of Mae I Design and Photography Free stock photo of woman courtesy of Marcus Ranum/ranum.com Boxed Set design by Emma Michaels This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any use of name brands is done so under the Fair Use act. Licensing Note: This Kindle eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be resold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the author's work. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment. Table of Contents Contents Acknowledgements Scent of a White Rose Roses & Thorns Blood of a Red Rose Death of a Black Rose Excerpt from Raven's Breath Acknowledgements To say "thank you" somehow seems insignificant for the gratitude I feel. So many people encouraged and supported me throughout this journey that is The Rose Trilogy. Only you know the contributions you made, and whether you feel they were small or large...in my eyes, they were all HUGE! Thanks to each and every one of you, my dear friends! A special thanks to my family, for without you none of my dreams would come true! Scent of a White Rose (Book One of The Rose Trilogy) Rose’s eye blinks, an idea blooms, But who could’ve imagined the impending doom? * CHAPTER ONE Wide Awake (Rose) I opened my eyes and felt death. The presence of it, the weight of it, the sadness of it. I couldn't believe my mom was gone. I thought the weight of it described it best. It felt like a weight on my chest...one that would never get lighter. Dad said that we'd be okay. "Time heals everything, Rose," he always told me in that solemn tone of voice. I didn't believe him. How could I, when I could tell that he didn't even believe it himself? But honestly, I didn't want time to pass. I just wanted to lay here on my bed, wide awake in my black funeral clothes, and stare at the ceiling. I just wanted to lay here remembering when my mom and I had painted my room and hung those stars and moons. They weren't the stick-on, glow-in-the-dark kind. They were beautiful crystals in all sizes and colors strung from my freshly painted black ceiling. They danced and gleamed just like we had imagined. Well, just like she had imagined. It had been her idea...my mom, the crafty one. With a spark of wonder in her voice she'd said, “It will be beautiful and you’ll feel like you’re sleeping under the twinkling stars every night.” I wasn’t convinced. But when we were done, we opened the curtains to let the moonlight flow in, and I was speechless. She’d been right. I'd been amazed as I watched the beautiful little stars and moons twinkle and spin right there in my very own room. God, I love my mom. I didn't want time to pass. I wanted it to reverse. * (Rose) My mom, Loraine Reynolds, was killed in a “freak accident." Someone broke into our house in the dead of night, and when they found my mom coming out of her room, they killed her. That doesn’t sound too freaky, right? Your average burglary gone wrong. I guess what made it "freaky," was that the cops were baffled by how she had been killed. The only evidence of violence was two small puncture wounds on her neck. At first they thought she’d been stabbed by an ice pick or something, which was strange enough, but then came the really strange part. Her body had been drained of all the blood. See…freaky, right? The robbers didn’t take anything. The cops assumed that they must have panicked and left in a hurry. There were no fingerprints or DNA left at the scene, and no trail for them to follow. After receiving nothing but countless apologies, we faced the fact that we were never going to get an explanation as to how or why my mom had been killed. It’s now been about six months since the accident. My dad has gone back to work and I’ve gone back to school. My college is only about twenty minutes away, but you’d think it was in a third-world country from the way my dad has been treating me. I understand that he’s freaked. And, I understand that I’m now the only family he has left, which he reminds me of on a daily basis. But damn it, I’m twenty years old, and I’m not a child. But, every time I look at him, and I see the sadness in his eyes, and watch the emotions roll across his face, I hold my tongue. Because he’s right; I am the only family he has left. So, if he wants to treat me like I’m ten instead of twenty, that’s okay. If he wants to have one of his company cars take me and pick me up from school, that’s okay. And if he insists that I live with him until I graduate college, that’s okay. But I’ll be damned if he’s going to stop me from seeing Christian.
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