The Well Of Souls Series~ A paranormal historical romance by GD Steel and Ray McHatton In 1746, Scotland fought its last battle for sovereignty on the moors of Culloden, and lost. For over 200 years there have been Highlanders trapped in the Well of Souls… Cameron and Enid are young lovers, until Prince Charles Stuart’s war tears them apart. Trapped in the Well of Souls, Cameron’s essence is tied to his bagpipes, keeping his link to his family alive throughout the centuries, always mourning his lost love. In 2013, Gavin is a staid Scottish Accountant and Master Piper haunted by dreams of war, sorrow and death. Elizabeth is a young American Mercantile Heiress on holiday researching her family’s lineage before taking over the family business. They are each haunted by the ghosts of the past in different ways. Will love be enough to free the trapped Highlanders from The Well of Souls or are their fates tied to that of Scotland’s Independence? **Contains ADULT content

In a tumbledown castle in the Western Highlands of Scotland lives the Boggart. He is invisible -- an ancient mischievous spirit, solitary and sly, born of a magic as old as the rocks and the waves. He has lived in Castle Keep for centuries, playing tricks on the owners. But the last Scottish owner has died and left the castle to his great-nephew Robert Volnik of Toronto, Canada. The Volnik family -- including Emily and her nine-year-old computer genius brother Jessup -- visit Castle Keep, and when they return to Toronto, they unwittingly take the Boggart with them. The astonishments, delight, and horrors that invade their lives with the arrival of the Boggart fill this swiftly moving story. The collision of modern techology and the Old Magic brings perils nobody could have imagined -- and, in the end, an amazing and touching solution to the problem of the Boggart who has found himself on the wrong side of the ocean. Sometimes extremely funny, sometimes wildly scary,and always totally absorbing, this remarkable story -- brilliantly imagined and beautifully written -- marks the return of the Newbery Award winner Susan Cooper to the field of novels for young readers. An outstanding achievement, The Boggart will work its special magic on all who read it.

Lament seems to have been universal in the ancient world. As such, it is an excellent touchstone for the comparative study of attitudes towards death and the afterlife, human relations to the divine, views of the cosmos, and the constitution of the fabric of society in different times and places. This collection of essays offers the first ever comparative approach to ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern traditions of lament. Beginning with the Sumerian and Hittite traditions, the volume moves on to examine Bronze Age iconographic representations of lamentation, Homeric lament, depictions of lament in Greek tragedy and parodic comedy, and finally lament in ancient Rome. The list of contributors includes such noted scholars as Richard Martin, Ian Rutherford, and Alison Keith. Lament comes at a time when the conclusions of the first wave of the study of lament-especially Greek lament-have received widespread acceptance, including the notions that lament is a female genre; that men risked feminization if they lamented; that there were efforts to control female lamentation; and that a lamenting woman was a powerful figure and a threat to the orderly functioning of the male public sphere. Lament revisits these issues by reexamining what kinds of functions the term lament can include, and by expanding the study of lament to other genres of literature, cultures, and periods in the ancient world. The studies included here reflect the variety of critical issues raised over the past 25 years, and as such, provide an overview of the history of critical thinking on the subject.

A childhood game ends in tragedy. Social unrest explodes on the streets of Dublin. An undercover cop is forced to leave his safe haven and confront the ghosts from his past. And in the bowels of the nations highest security prison, the institutions most infamous resident stirs in his cell. His rage builds as he dissects the circumstances of his incarceration. The thought of revenge consumes him, of death to the one who betrayed him. Little does he know that events in Tranquillity will soon give him the opportunity he craves.

With whatever romance one might be tempted to embellish the origin of Lonsdale Road on account of an architectural superiority to the streets around, it would be fanciful merely for that to endow it with any influence upon the character of the people who live there. Apart from a house where the drains are bad, that has achieved the reputation of being haunted, because the landlord prefers to let it stay empty rather than spend money on putting the drains in order, Lonsdale Road possesses as unromantic a lot of residences as the most banal of West Kensington streets. The nearest approach to a scandal is the way human beings and cats go courting in the lane at the end; but since the former do not live in Lonsdale Road and the latter are not amenable to any ethical code administered by the police, the residents do not feel the burden of a moral responsibility for their behavior. Such a dignified road within seven minutes of the railway station had in the year 1881 made a strong appeal to Mr. Gilbert Caffyn, who, having just been appointed assistant secretary to the Church of England Purity Society at the early age of twenty-six, with a salary of £150 a year, was emboldened by his father's death and the inheritance of another £200 a year in brewery shares to persuade Miss Charlotte Doyle that their marriage was immediately feasible. Mr. Caffyn had been all the more anxious to press for a happy conclusion of a two years' engagement because Mrs. Doyle was showing every sign of imminent decease, an event which would eliminate a traditionally unsatisfactory relationship and enrich her daughter with £300 a year of her own. Mr. Caffyn therefore sold a quarter of his shares, purchased a ninety-nine years' lease of 17 Lonsdale Road, the last house on the right-hand side away from the growing traffic of West Kensington, and got married. If No. 17 was nearest the railway, it was also rather larger than the other houses, an important consideration for the assistant secretary of the Church of England Purity Society, who was bound to expect at least as many children as a clergyman. Still, for all its extra windows, it was not a very large house; and when in the year 1902 Mr. Caffyn, now secretary of the Church of England Purity Society, with a salary of £400 a year, looked at his wife, his nine children, his two servants, and himself, he wondered how they all managed to squeeze in. He hoped that his wife, who had been mercifully fallow for seven years, would not have any more children, though it might almost be easier to have more children than to provide for the rapid growing up of those he had already. Why, his eldest son Roland was twenty. The question of his moving into cheap rooms to suit his position as the earner of a guinea a week at a branch bank had been mooted several times already, and Mr. Caffyn had been compelled to turn his study (which he never used) into a bedroom for him and his brother Cecil, now a lanky schoolboy of fifteen, rather than expose himself to the likelihood of having to supplement the bank clerk's salary from his own. Then there was Norah, who was eighteen ... but at this moment Mr. Caffyn realized that he had only eight minutes to catch his train up to Blackfriars, and the problem of Norah was put aside. It was a hot morning in late September, and he had long ceased to enjoy running to catch a train.