Three by P. J. Roscoe

Screen Shot 2019-02-03 at 18.53.05


A book of three short paranormal stories along with three character side stories from three of Paula’s novels.


Amazon UK
Amazon US



Excerpt from The Lonely Inn – The inn was known to me. I had frequented this place many times growing up, either with family for Sunday meals, or later as a teenager, we’d hide in the corner with our cokes and lemonades, hoping the landlord wouldn’t notice. I had my first legal drink here. My older brother’s sixteenth birthday was held here and my father’s retirement party. By the time I’d learned to drive aged twenty, it had closed. Now, I saw it rarely, but when my journey did pass by I would send it a smile, if not a kiss, and quietly say how sorry I was that like many other old inns, it had closed due to lack of customers and higher rates.

I suppose the closure was inevitable. It squat in the corner of a secluded crossroads, as if it were part of the scenery. Its black and white exterior slowly turning green with ivy and moss as Mother Nature reclaimed it. If you blinked, you may miss it, but it had always been there; centuries before I was born. No flashing games took up space. No music filled any silent moments. The dull sound of conversation, fine ale and warmth from the open fire had a charm of its own.

I hadn’t been sure that I would head out that way. I just needed to drive, to think, to get away from my situation. I had to make some hard choices, and Jonathan wasn’t making it any easier as I questioned my position. I didn’t take much notice of which direction I was headed, but found myself on the road to the crossroads. I hadn’t intended to stop, but when I saw the old inn, I found myself pulling over into the small area at the front and got out.

The paint on the black timbers had all but peeled away from the Welsh weather and years of neglect. Parts of the white plaster had come away, revealing the stone beneath. All the windows had long since been boarded up as they’d become the target of bored teens, who likened the sound of breaking glass to some sort of release. The beautiful old oak door that had needed a good hard shove to open had not escaped brutality.  It lay on the floor, warped and broken beneath a pile of glass, weeds and bricks.  A cheap plaster board now blocked the way in. I roamed around to the side nearest the road, and saw that someone had decorated it with colourful graffiti of a fist, along with various swear words and initials.

I heaved a loud, sad sigh at seeing such destruction on this beautiful building and wandered back, past my car and around to what had once been the small car park. I was surprised to see a static caravan parked at its furthest end, but of people, there was no sign. I shrugged and continued my exploration, I wasn’t doing any harm.

I shielded my eyes against the glare of the late afternoon April sun as I gazed up at the boarded up windows, the rotting wood and the slate roof that beggared believe that it was still intact. The small chimney also looked intact, and I was recalling the smell of the wood fire when I saw him watching me. I hadn’t noticed the back door was not boarded up and he stood within the dark doorway, a smile on his face.

Electric Eclectic books are a great way to find new authors. These novellas are especially for people who love to read, but perhaps don’t have a lot of time. I read this in and eventing. Although creeped out, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I know I will be reading another Electric Eclectic book by this author.

Screen Shot 2019-01-25 at 17.49.11


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.