The Ghost of Joanna Storm: Morgans Rock, #3

By M. L. Bullock

"The Ghost of Joanna Storm" - Dive into the Spooky World of Morgan's Rock

 

In the heart of Morgan's Rock, where the echoes of the jazz age still linger, vengeful ghosts from a bygone era await. Megan Pressfield, now a successful author, thought she had uncovered every lurking secret, especially after revealing the terrifying truth within the Hall of Shadows. For a time, the spectral world seemed at peace, allowing her and Alex to cherish the honeymoon phase of their marriage.

But not all is serene. Alex is tormented by specters of his own history, phantoms that refuse to release him. His growing fascination with the mansion's vintage elevator hints at a looming calamity, threatening not just him, but their budding family. As Megan's pregnancy advances, the couple discovers that some truths might be best left buried. And as the paranormal disturbances intensify, they are compelled to seek assistance to quell the restless spirits.

Will Megan and Alex succeed in exorcising Morgan's Rock and find their much-desired peace? Or will their own concealed secrets ensnare them in a web of the supernatural?

Join the thrilling conclusion in "The Ghost of Joanna Storm", the captivating finale of the Morgan's Rock series. Perfect for those who crave a blend of romance, mystery, and the otherworldly!

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.L. Bullock
• Release date: Oct 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223958116

M. L. Bullock

M. L. Bullock is the bestselling author of the Seven Sisters series. Born in Antigua, British West Indies, she has had a lifelong love affair with haunted houses, lonesome beaches, and forgotten places. She currently lives on the Gulf Coast and regularly haunts her favorite hangout, Dauphin Island. A visit to Historic Oakleigh House in Mobile, Alabama, inspired her successful supernatural suspense series Seven Sisters. For more information, visit mlbullock.com.

Book preview

The Ghost of Joanna Storm

Morgan’s Rock Series

Book Three

By M.L. Bullock

Text copyright © 2019 Monica L. Bullock

All Rights Reserved

Dedication

This book is dedicated to anyone who can do the Charleston.

Table of Contents

Chapter One—Megan

Chapter Two—Megan

Chapter Three—Megan

Chapter Four—Sylvia

Chapter Five—Megan

Chapter Six—Megan

Chapter Seven—Alex

Chapter Eight—Megan

Chapter Nine—Alex

Chapter Ten—Sylvia

Chapter Eleven—Alex

Chapter Twelve—Megan

Chapter Thirteen—Sylvia

Chapter Fourteen—Alex

Chapter Fifteen—Sylvia

Chapter Sixteen—Alex

Chapter Seventeen—Sylvia

Chapter Eighteen—Alex

Chapter Nineteen—Alex

Epilogue—Megan

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

Tis some visitor, I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more."

Excerpt from The Raven

Edgar Allan Poe, 1845

Chapter One—Megan

Are you sure you can’t wait until we get home? Alex tilted his head toward Morgan’s Rock, which shone above the street fair we were attending this evening. It was late and I was tired, but nature called. I had had a wonderful time; the air was warm and balmy here by the sea, despite the fact it was autumn. It took me a few seconds to realize that Alex was kidding with me, but my bladder and I didn’t find this funny at all. Not to mention that laughing would be disastrous at this point. Alex was surely smarter than to make fun of a woman who was only two months away from her due date. But that was Alex Wagner. He liked living on the wild side. He kissed me despite my frown. I’ll meet you at the car, Meggie.

Perfect. Would you mind taking this with you? I handed him a cloth tote bag full of handcrafted goodies, none of which I needed. But I wanted to take them home regardless.

I’m surprised you didn’t buy the mandala rug too, he said, grunting at the weight of my bag.

Don’t make me change my mind. I’ve still got a few dollars in my wallet.

Please don’t. It’s an ugly rug, Meggie. Oh, damn. My phone is ringing. I’ll meet you in the car. Alex was a guy who could manage four things at once—most of the time. He tossed his shaved ice cup in a nearby garbage can and carried my tote bag, all while examining his phone screen and digging in his jeans pocket for his keys. Huh, it’s Lucy. He grunted as he answered the call.

For the life of me, I didn’t know why Alex sounded surprised. His new assistant, a lanky college student with silky brown hair and sulky eyes, called him at least six times a day. Personally, I could not imagine working with someone who could not make a simple decision without calling me about it.

Should I order bright pink or blush ivory roses for the conference room? Would it be okay if Jeffrey Lee Owens submitted his manuscript twenty-four hours later? He needs the extra time to let his book juice.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Lucy Marlow’s list of needs grew daily, but Alex didn’t seem to mind. It didn’t bother him that she couldn’t walk and chew gum without him. But it bothered me. The thought of bringing up the subject with him again gave me horrible anxiety. I did trust Alex; that was not the source of my unease. I did not bring the issue up for an entirely different reason. As if she too could experience my stress, the baby kicked and shifted, making my need to find a restroom more urgent with every passing second.

You’re thinking crazy, Megan. You love Alex, and you two have a great life. Let sleeping dogs lie. Dead. Let them lie dead. You haven’t seen a single ghost in all these months. They aren’t here. The baby belongs to you and Alex.

Have fun with your flower shopping, Alexander. If he was going to insist on calling me Meggie, I would return the favor. If he didn’t watch out, I’d brandish his entire, extraordinarily snobbish name, Alexander Royce Gareth Wagner. I thought it was hilarious when I first heard it—on our wedding day. But once I met his mother, I understood so much about Alex’s upbringing and his being saddled with such a royal name. I grinned at him as he waved me away good-naturedly. I waddled off to the portable restroom.

The street fair had been delightful—just the distraction I needed to take my mind off my weird thoughts. Alex wasn’t a cheater. I refused to fixate on that ridiculous scenario.

I smiled at a fellow fair attendee who also had a bag of treats in her arms. I didn’t know the organizers of the event, but whoever they were, they had done a great job of making it fun for everyone. The road had been blocked off; the street fair was so small that it only took up a few blocks, but those few blocks were packed with booths and tables. There were things to eat and things to look at, lots of handicrafts and artists displaying their work. Until today, I had no idea that so many artists called Rockville home. I liked that—I belonged here. More and more, I felt like I belonged here. I had no business eating that giant corn dog or drinking that fresh lemonade, but those had been the tastiest things I’d had in a long time. I could tell my daughter appreciated the snacks too because she had been rolling around ever since I’d scarfed them down. And although I would have loved nothing better than to enjoy another cup of that tasty lemonade, my bladder simply couldn’t handle it. Hence my need to find the appropriate facility.

No, this situation isn’t ideal, but when you gotta go, you gotta go.

I’m convinced you’re going to be a ballerina, little girl. Please stop pirouetting on my bladder, Joanna, I whispered. I had to be careful not to let Alex hear me call her by that name. He still wasn’t sold on the idea and wanted something trendier, like Angelina or whatever ridiculous name he came up with. But to me, the name Joanna would be perfect. Maybe Alex was right that naming our daughter after the late starlet was inviting trouble. But then again, he didn’t know what I knew. And I wasn’t sure he would believe me if I told him. I could scarcely even admit it to myself.

My baby belonged to Joanna and Paden. Somehow, some way, during my time as Joanna, I’d made love to Paden and conceived a child. Could it be true? I felt a little sick now.

Wait! I heard a voice calling me. My balloon! a nearby child cried out desperately as a lazy helium balloon bounced past me and then began to float up and away.

I’ve got it! I promised as I raced toward the runaway balloon. I wasn’t very tall, but I stood on my tiptoes and managed to grip the end of the string and pull it back just in the nick of time. Here you go, I said as I offered it to the worried child.

Thank you, he said with tear-filled eyes. His mother raced up to join us; she was a pretty lady with short hair and pink cheeks.

Zachary! Don’t run off like that! I’m sorry. Did he run into you? She put her hand on her son’s shoulder protectively and moved his dark hair out of his eyes. He swatted her hand away.

No trouble at all. He didn’t hit me, but his balloon did. That was a lucky catch, sir. I’m not sure I could do that again. The baby rolled in my stomach, and I caught my breath at the strange sensation. I would never get used to that feeling, but I was pretty sure all new mommies felt the same way.

Zachary, what do you say to the nice lady?

I said thank you already, the little boy announced as he bounced the balloon up and down and quickly ignored us. If he wasn’t careful, Zachary would certainly lose the balloon again. And I wasn’t really joking...I couldn’t chase it twice.

He did thank me, I confirmed with a friendly smile at the two of them.

My name is Julie, and you’ve met my son, Zach. Have we met before? Your face is so familiar to me. Julie tucked her short blond hair behind her ear as she studied me. Her eyes were an unusual color, a kind of purple with hues of gray. It was a lovely combination. My writer’s brain searched for the right adjective.

Misty. That’s how I would describe them.

It’s a small world, that’s for sure. I smiled sweetly without offering too much information. I still had to pee, and I didn’t want to get caught up in a long conversation. If I revealed my identity, I was sure I’d have to pose for selfies and answer a dozen questions. Not that I did not appreciate my fans, but this was certainly bad timing.

You know, I really feel as if I have met you before. I don’t look familiar to you?

I shook my head politely. No, I don’t think so. But it is nice to meet you, Julie. I’m Megan Wagner. I don’t want to seem rude, but I have to go find a restroom. My daughter treats my bladder like it’s a bouncy house.

You have a kid in there? Zachary asked as his mother tied his balloon to his wrist again. His dark eyes studied my expansive stomach.

I do. A very active kid. Probably as active as you.

Zachary whined at me, I don’t think so. I’m not a baby. I want to hold the balloon, Mommy. I am a big boy.

I know you are a big boy, but you’ll lose your balloon if you don’t watch out. And I’m not going to buy you another one, she warned him sternly. Thanks again for saving the day, Megan. He’s obsessed with balloons, but he can’t manage to keep one for longer than five minutes. Maybe we’ll see each other again.

I liked the idea of making some new friends, but nature’s call prevented that at the moment.

Maybe we will, I said as I waved goodbye and hurried off to take care of business. Have a nice evening, I called over my shoulder, but they said nothing. Surprisingly, the restroom wasn’t too gross, but I got in and out as quickly as possible. I was sad to see that Julie was gone when I returned, but what did I expect? I’d given her the brush-off.