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The Twelve Coffins of Dr. Coffin

by Amy Spector

The Twelve Coffins of Dr Coffin - Amy Spector
Editions:ePub
ISBN: 9781685502225
Kindle
ISBN: 9781685502225
PDFHTML/Website
ISBN: 9781685502225

When Leo Wayland accepts a job as head of the new horror unit at Maiden Studios, he knows what is expected. Make cheap movies that earn their money back fast. It doesn't matter that he dislikes horror. He just needs to escape his assistant director's position at a rival studio.

But he didn't expect to be assigned a terrible title and a leading man, all before he even had a script, or that his leading man would be Everett Reid, the actor who rejected a very young Leo’s advances, only to disappear from movies altogether a few years later in a cloud of scandal.

Everett Reid will do anything for a chance to get back the career he lost and away from teaching at a theater camp for children. And if it means working with Leo Wayland again, he can do that too. Especially now that Leo is all grown up and not so untouchable.

With only three weeks, a flamboyant stage actor, twelve scantily clad women, and a sound stage full of coffins may not seem like the makings of something great. But really, that all depends on what you are hoping for.

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Excerpt:

Everett let himself into the house and tossed the mail on the entry table already cluttered with bills. They’d been piling up the last few weeks since the money had finally run out.

Besides his ‘55 Corvette, the small bungalow nestled at the base of the hills was all that was left of nearly twenty years of work. It was enough to crush him if he let it.

He stared at the decanter left on the table from the night before when he and Taylor had toasted his contract with Maiden. But his brother had always been more of a drinker than he had. He didn’t want a drink. He wanted to fall into bed for a night of dreamless sleep.

He flipped the switch to the back patio light and pressed his head against the glass, watching the first drops of rain disturb the mirror-like surface of the pool.

It didn’t rain much in LA, but whenever it did, it reminded him of the years growing up down south with his mother and Taylor.

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He unlatched the door, slid it open, and kicked out of his loafers as he pulled his shirt over his head. By the time he stood at the edge of the pool, he’d stripped completely, and dove in without hesitation.

It had yet to cool down much from the exceedingly hot day, but as Everett swam laps, the rain pelted him, hard and cold.

He swam back and forth, gliding almost soundlessly through the water, letting go of the day and clearing his mind. He ignored the tug at his thoughts of Leo Wayland and the memories they tried to conjure up. Ignored the chirp of crickets, and the distant hint of laughter from the houses on either side of his. He ignored everything until streaks of lightning across the sky forced him to drag himself out of the water again and go searching for a towel.

He left a trail of wet footprints back into the house, like the ghost of a murdered fisherman, through the living room and finally into his bedroom and the attached bath, where he grabbed one the of the white fluffy towels Steven had picked out when they had first moved in together. Before Steven had broken up with him the first time, the second time, and the third. Before Steven had come back that last time, needing a friend and someone to care for him as he worked through whatever he had to work through.

Everett had never understood what that was. Not at the time, and no better now, all these years later. It was enough to know that Steven had been unhappy, that Everett couldn’t make him happy, no matter how hard he had tried, continued to try, even when all he wanted was to move on and find his own happiness.

Once he was dry, he pulled on a pair of briefs and studied his reflection in the mirror. There’d be no more wrangling children at theater camp, or being flirted with by their mothers. Not this summer anyway. This summer he’d be back in front of the camera, doing what he loved.

Everett Reid had done his penance and now he was going to grab some happiness for himself.

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About the Author

Amy Spector grew up in the United States surviving on a steady diet of old horror movies, television reruns and mystery novels.
After years of blogging about comic books, vintage Gothic romance book cover illustrations, and a shameful amount about herself, she decided to try her hand at writing stories. She found it more than a little like talking about herself in third person, and that suited her just fine.
She blames Universal for her love of horror, Edward Gorey for her love of British drama and writing for awakening the romantic that was probably there all along.
Amy lives in the Midwest with her husband and children, three cats and a dog.