Emily Taylor

The Last Summer at Willow Cottage Fog curled over the river like a shawl. Margot Thompson sat on the

The Last Summer at Willowgreen Mist curled over the brook like old Lady Harrow’s knitting shawls.

The Last Harvest “I won’t let you do this, Mummy! Not unless my corpse is in your way!”

Alice froze when she heard her mother-in-law’s words. Her fingers loosened of their own accord, and the

Diary Entry – March 22nd Rain drizzled outside my window as I paced the kitchen, frustration simmering. “

“—I won’t let you do this, Margaret! Not without a fight!—Edward shouted, blocking the gate to

Eleanor Hartwell stood by the window of her cottage, clutching a letter the postman had delivered.

Clara Whitmore stood by the window, her hands trembling slightly as she read the letter the postman had

Everything was perfect until she returned. “What are you doing here?” Emily nearly drops

—You’re Eve? Slater’s wife? —Yes… Who are you? —That doesn’t matter. What matters is why I’m here.