Ghost House

Ghost House

by Alexandra Adornetto


$16.79 $17.99 Save 7% Current price is $16.79, Original price is $17.99. You Save 7%.
View All Available Formats & Editions
Choose Expedited Shipping at checkout for guaranteed delivery by Wednesday, December 11


From the New York Times bestselling author of the Halo trilogy comes the start of a beautiful and powerful new series

After the loss of her mother, Chloe Kennedy starts seeing the ghosts that haunted her as a young girl again. Spending time at her grandmother's country estate in the south of England is her chance to get away from her grief and the spirits that haunt her. Until she meets a mysterious stranger…

Alexander Reade is 157 years dead, with secrets darker than the lake surrounding Grange Hall and a lifelike presence that draws Chloe more strongly than any ghost before. But the bond between them awakens the vengeful spirit of Alexander's past love, Isobel. And she will stop at nothing to destroy anyone who threatens to take him from her.

To stop Isobel, Chloe must push her developing abilities to their most dangerous limits, even if it means losing Alex forever…and giving the hungry dead a chance to claim her for their own.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780373211302
Publisher: Harlequin
Publication date: 08/26/2014
Series: Ghost House Saga Series , #1
Pages: 320
Product dimensions: 5.60(w) x 8.40(h) x 1.10(d)
Age Range: 14 - 11 Years

About the Author

Alexandra Adornetto penned her first novel at thirteen and is now a New York Times bestselling author. She lives with her five-pound Yorkie named Boo Radley, who she rescued from a trailer park in Alabama. As a child, she saw a lot of ghosts. Her parents were concerned. She now lives in Hollywood with all the other misfits. You can find her online at and follow her on Twitter @MissAllyGrace.

Read an Excerpt

I sensed the ghost before I saw her. Something in the air changed, just a fraction. I picked up a dull vibration, like the humming of bees or the crackle of leaves tossed around by the wind. At first I mistook her for one of the mourners, until I looked properly. Then, my palms grew slick and I wondered if anyone else could hear my pounding heart. The flurry of emotions that stirred in my chest was too conflicted to settle on just one. The ghost had crappy timing, showing up on the day of my mother's funeral. But then again, the ghosts I'd known had never been big on tact; they were far too self-centered.

When I was a kid, I saw them everywhere. They intruded into my life on a daily basis. It was my mom who taught me how to block them out. Now, funnily enough, the woman who protected me from the dead, had gone to join them. Don't be afraid, Chloe, I remembered her telling me. Just stand your ground and tell them to leave you alone. To my surprise, it worked. They went away and until that afternoon I hadn't laid eyes on one since. Deep down I'd always known they'd come back, but why today?

I was sitting in the front row between Grandma Fee and my kid brother, Rory, watching the shiny mahogany casket being lowered into the ground. I wanted to cry, but there were no tears left. My eyes were already raw and burning. Grandma Fee gripped my hand, the only sign of emotion she allowed herself to show in public. Don't get me wrong; she wasn't unfeeling. She was just British. Her fine-featured face, still beautiful despite its lines, was set in stone. Rory looked small and sad, hunched over with his knees squeezed together. Swamped by an oversized suit, he looked younger than his twelve years. I was tempted to reach out and push back the coffee-colored curls falling over his eyes, but I didn't trust myself to move even an inch. I was holding my breath and tensing every muscle into a coil. If I let go, even for just a second, I was scared I'd break into a thousand pieces. I was sort of like Humpty Dumpty. I might have been put back together, but nothing was in the right place. I would never be whole again.

The funeral service was almost over, and the Reverend was sweating beneath his heavy black vestments. I watched a bead of sweat swell at his temple and meander down to disappear behind his left ear. Out of the corner of my eye I snuck a look at my dad. Over six feet tall and lanky, he sat at an awkward angle, spilling out of his chair like he wasn't sure how to arrange his limbs. I'd never seen him look so lost. His broad hands gripped his knees so tightly, the knuckles had turned white. And every intake of breath was an effort, like he had to keep reminding himself to breathe. It made me wonder how he was going to get through the rest of the day.

But right now I had a bigger problem on my hands. The ghost stood not more than twenty feet away from me. At first I refused to acknowledge her, throwing only a cursory glance in her direction, hoping my indifference might drive her away. I held myself ramrod straight and fixed my eyes on the newly dug cavity in the ground waiting like a hungry mouth. It was strange to think that from now on this spot would hold the physical remains of my mother. The thought made me slightly dizzy, and my throat constricted to the point where I wanted to gasp for air. I found myself thinking about the casket rotting away until it finally collapsed in on itself, granting access to whatever parasites lived in the damp earth. My whole body started to tremble, and I quickly averted my eyes. Those kind of morbid thoughts weren't going to help anyone. I needed to stay strong for Rory and Dad. If I didn't, who would take care of them?

Only when the casket was in place did my father let out a soft, shuddering breath. His face was an open book, proclaiming his loss. But who could blame him? My parents had always believed their relationship was strong enough to weather any storm, except death, I guessed.

As the Reverend's voice droned on, hollow and comfortless, I watched the gray clouds gather overhead. I let my eyes flicker to where the ghost stood. From across the well-worn path that separated us, she kept her own silent vigil. It was so brazen, the way she stood there in broad daylight even though we both knew she wasn't alive. She was in the original part of the cemetery where most of the railings were rusted and eroded, half buried in the earth. Around her, cracked headstones sat crookedly like bad teeth.

The woman clearly didn't belong to my world. She was dressed in black from head to toe, including the ruched bonnet framing her sallow face. Beneath it her hair was parted severely in the center and wound in a bun so tight, the veins in her temple throbbed. The bunch of wild flowers she clutched was already beginning to wilt, as if everything in her presence quickly lost the will to live.

I didn't need a second look to know that this was not a happy ghost. Then again, the ones left behind to haunt the earth rarely are. You could always tell from the look in their eyes that they were restless and troubled. Maybe their lives ended tragically, maybe they had unfinished business or maybe they were just never able to let go. As a child, I assumed everyone could see them. It was years before I realized I was alone in my abilities. I would sometimes wonder why me? Who singled me out and decided I'd be up to the task? These were not questions anyone could answer, so I simply learned to live with my little quirk, hoping that one day everything would finally make sense. I was still waiting for that day to come.

The ghost commanded my attention again when the woman's eyes widened and she sank to her knees. I let out an involuntary gasp, causing more than a few heads to turn in my direction. My little brother glanced anxiously across at me. For just a second, I was filled with a flutter of hope. Was it possible that Rory could see her too? Much as I hated the idea of him being tormented by the dead, it would mean that I wasn't so alone, that I wasn't such a freak. But as I looked back at him, I saw only concern for me reflected in his eyes. He couldn't see anything else. I shot him a tight smile to show that everything was fine. Except that it really wasn't. Not even close.

I decided to try a new tactic. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on willing the apparition away. The Reverend's voice, softer now, reached me as if from a distance: " Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it."

I opened my eyes just as the muted chorus of amens rang out. The woman was still there, right where I'd left her. Only, her eyes looked different now. They seemed mocking, as if she was amused by my efforts to dispel her.

My mother's words floated back to me once again: Look them right in the eye. They can't hurt you. And so I did. As I held her gaze, the scornful expression began to dissolve. The rest of her soon followed, blurring at the edges like a chalk drawing on the pavement washed away by rain. Eventually, she just wasn't there any more.

With the final prayer concluded, everyone rose in unison and began to make their way back to the parking lot. I slipped away and headed in the opposite direction, until I was right in front of the little headstone where the woman had stood. The inscription, eroded by time and the elements, was barely visible, but I could still make out the words: Thomas Jerome Whitley 1906-1910. He'd been just four years old when he died.

"Chloe?" I turned to find Grandma Fee standing behind me in her tailored black suit, not one silver hair out of place. She scanned the gravesite, and I could tell she wanted to ask about its significance. But now wasn't the time. Instead, she placed a gloved hand on my shoulder. "You can come back anytime you want."

"I know," I murmured. But I wouldn't be back anytime soon. I didn't need to come here to feel close to my mother. When I thought of her, I wanted to remember the things no one else would think about—like the way she used to snort sometimes when she laughed too hard, or how excited she got about birthdays, or how she'd leave little notes in my lunch-box even after I was in high school. I certainly didn't want to remember her by this dismal affair.

"Come on." Gran shepherded me away "Let's go home."

The drive back to the house seemed to pass in a blink. I'd been hoping for more time to brace myself for the congregation of mourners that showed up in our living room to pay their respects. I vaguely recognized some of the women from our church bearing casseroles and chocolate pies. It felt weird seeing all these strangers. I'd never seen them around when Mom was alive, what right did they have to show up now that she was dead? Gran found me in a corner, trying to avoid conversation or anyone who might attempt to hug me. She pushed a tray of mini quiches into my hands.

"Put these on the table," she instructed. I didn't object; I was grateful to have a job. I looked around for my friends Natalie and Samantha, but I couldn't see them. They'd been at the funeral but probably had decided to skip out on the awkward part. I wasn't surprised. If there were no tequila shooters or boys in snapbacks, they couldn't handle it.

I caught sight of Rory as he made a hasty escape upstairs. I wasn't going to drag him back. He was even more uncomfortable around strangers than I was. There was no reason we should both suffer. Dad was doing his duty, shaking hands and thanking people for coming, even though his movements were robotic and the faraway look never left his face. For once I was glad Gran was there to take charge. She had that air of authority that nobody questioned. I think it was her British accent that always made her sound bossy, even when she was just commenting on the weather.

"I think we need more plates, Chloe," she murmured as she walked past me. I slipped silently into the kitchen to grab a few minutes to myself.

I'd barely had a chance to catch my breath when I was distracted by the sound of a child humming. I looked around in confusion; I couldn't remember seeing any children among the mourners. Then I realized it wasn't coming from inside. I moved to the open window and peered out. In the middle of our yard stood a majestic fir tree, a tire swing suspended from one of its lower branches. My eye traveled slowly up the tree that my brother and I had climbed countless times as children. There, in the uppermost branches, sat an odd looking boy. For a second I thought it was one of the neighbors' kids who had wandered over and climbed too high for his own safety.

I was on the point of alerting someone when the details sank in. The boy was wearing shorts with knee-high beige socks and old-fashioned shiny lace-up shoes that even the dorkiest kids in our neighborhood wouldn't be caught dead in. That could mean only one thing. He was dead. Like the woman at the cemetery, he too fixed his gaze on me as he swung his legs and continued humming his doleful tune. I wondered how it was possible for his voice to reach me so clearly. He certainly wasn't dressed for climbing trees. His clothes were starched and wrinkle free, and there wasn't a single graze on his smooth alabaster knees. I'd never set eyes on him before yet somehow I knew his name was Adam and that in life he hadn't been allowed to climb trees.

Gran poked her head through the door.

"What's the hold up with those plates?" We both knew she wasn't really asking about the plates. She was checking up on me. More than anything I just wanted to be left alone. My body was numb from head to toe. My own house felt alien. I saw familiar faces around me, but they seemed like strangers.

"Sorry," I mumbled, without making eye contact. "Got distracted." Gran sighed and folded her arms.

"Chloe, please try to remember that everyone is here because your mother meant something to them."

"You mean they didn't come for the free food?"

She looked at me sternly. "Now is hardly the time to get stroppy."

I wasn't sure what stroppy was supposed to mean so I assumed it was an English thing. Grandma Fee hailed all the way from Hampshire—Jane Austen country, as she liked to tell anyone who would listen. She'd met my American grandfather on exchange in college. They'd been inseparable, marrying soon after graduation and travelling around the states as Pop built his career as an investment banker, until he passed away from cancer a few years ago. Then, to everyone's surprise, she'd packed her bags and gone back to her roots. Maybe there were too many memories here. When I was growing up, my dad used to jokingly refer to her as Hurricane Fiona.

"Board up the windows-Hurricane Fiona's about to hit," he'd say and now I understood why. She was a woman on a mission.

"Sorry," I repeated. I really wasn't trying to be rude. I was just absent, operating on autopilot and counting the moments until I could collapse on my bedroom floor and never get up again. "I just…I don't think I can do this, Gran."

We both knew I wasn't talking about the next half-hour. I was talking about the rest of my life. I couldn't picture it anymore. I'd had all these lofty ambitions. I was going to study like crazy on my SATs, get into an Ivy League school and end up as a journalist for the New York Times. But it all seemed like a waste of energy now, given that I didn't even know how I was going to get through the next few days.

Grandma Fee tucked a loose strand of honey-colored hair behind my ear and straightened her shoulders like she was preparing for battle.

"Yes, you can," she told me. "Do you want to know why? Because you're a Kennedy. And Kennedys were built to weather any storm. Things might knock us down, but we always get back up again. Do you hear me?"

I knew that if I tried to speak, the words would get strangled in my throat, so I just nodded mutely. Grandma Fee kissed my forehead. "That's my girl."

When she was gone, I turned back to the window for one final look. The boy was gone but his appearance had left me deeply unsettled. My strange ability had been lying dormant. I hadn't seen a ghost in almost ten years. Now two had shown up in the same day? It had to mean something. Were they back to send me a message? Was this some kind of Cole Sear type deal, or had my mother's passing simply blurred the barrier between the living and the dead? I had no idea, and there was no one I could turn to for advice. But I knew one thing for sure. These ghosts were different than the ones that had visited me as a child. Those had simply been there, passive and unobtrusive, almost part of the furniture. But the woman in the graveyard and the little boy in our yard…they wanted something.

I knew one thing for sure. This wasn't the last I'd see of the dead.

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See All Customer Reviews

Ghost House 3.2 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 9 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I can't wait for the next one
MontzieW More than 1 year ago
Ghost House (The Ghost House Saga #1) by Alexandra Adornetto is such a great book, it just ripped my heart out so many times! Oh, I can't tell you how awesome this ghost story is. Scary, wonderful, romantic, haunting beautiful and sad. A fantasy I am so glad I picked up from the library. This is sooooo good, I would read it again and I never re-read books! Yes, that good. LOVED it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This was a pleasure to read, it wasn't an emotional roller coaster and it wasn't really a deep story line. It was an easy read and I look forward to the next one.
lynard69 More than 1 year ago
This was a book that had it all. Drama, excitement, heartbreak and plot! I am hoping to find the rest of the saga to read. It is amazing. You must love a good ghost story though or you will not feel the same. Best YA I have read in a long time.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Worse then fanfic. This book was combersome , and hard to struggle through. An over written under edited tale of Mary Sue.
Andrea17 More than 1 year ago
I love ghosts. I love ghost stories. I love stories about people who can see and interact with ghosts. Unfortunately, this is not a "waking up in the middle of the night because the ghosts are going to get me" story. This is just your typical paranormal teen romance. Ghost House starts with the untimely death of Chloe and Rory's mother. After having not seen ghosts for years, Chloe begins seeing them again after her mom's death, whose funeral we begin the story on. Not long after said funeral, Chloe's grandmother decides she and her 12-year-old brother should go back to Hampshire with her for a change of scenery. Almost immediately, Chloe encounters the ghost of Alexander Reade and he is the most beautiful thing she has every laid eyes on. If you've read my reviews before, you know how I feel about instalove. Nine times out of ten, it's a deal breaker for me. I didn't immediately close the book because it doesn't start out as instalove, but as a crush. Something innocent that everybody goes through. However, just a few short days and minimal encounters later . . . L-O-V-E to the max. A delayed instalove if you will. At one point she even states that she'd "been waiting all my life for Alexander Reade to show up." Slow your roll, kid. Now Joe was a love interest I could get behind - and he had a lot going for him: 1) British 2) Nice guy 3) Good with animals, especially horses 4) Great with Rory 5) Has flesh and a pulse. But no, she goes for the dead guy whose crazy, also very dead, girlfriend is out to get Chloe for unknown reasons.  I found myself to just be . . . underwhelmed. Plot, dialogue, descriptions, characters. All relatively underwhelming. There were interesting aspects (the flashbacks into the history of Alexander and Isobel, for instance), I was intrigued as to what Isobel's deal was, and on occasion Chloe's narrative pulled me into the story. Unfortunately, the bad outweighed the good and I was unable to get fully enriched  in the story. However, I can see younger readers enjoying this book. I envision giving it to my 16-year-old cousin and her thoroughly enjoying the book and hankering to get her hands on the next two. Also, I think I would have enjoyed this back when I was a Twilight fan (and if you are a Twilight fan I don't mean anything bad by this, I'm merely making a comparison). For me, the book just felt been there, done that, don't wanna go back. I am just not the right audience for this book and there's nothing wrong with that
BookLoversLife1 More than 1 year ago
Chloe has always seen Ghosts but has managed to push them away since she was a little girl but when her mother dies, they come back. She is too heartbroken to shut her mind from them. Her father is equally heartbroken and isn't able to properly look after her and her brother so he asks their Grandmother to take them for a while. Thing is that their Grandmother owns an estate in England, which to Chloe is a dreary cold place. The last time she was there the place was run down and very cold!! Yet things have changed since then. The estate has been fixed up to be nearly as grand as it used to be and is now a Guest House. Despite the house being magnificent, Chloe knows its going to be a hard summer. She misses her mother but she is also so bored. She decides to take a walk and during it she sees a stranger. He is so handsome and regal and Chloe thinks he may be on of her Grandmothers guests. On her return from the walk she runs into him again and he introduces himself as Alexander Reade. He is a Ghost and is tied to the house and grounds. As Chloe gets to know him she realises he isn't like other Ghosts but the more time she spends with him the angrier his past love, Isobel, becomes. She starts tormenting Chloe and Chloe needs to find a way to stop her before its too late.  This is my first book by Alexandra Adornetto. I have her other series but haven't read it yet so when I was accepted to review this I was thrilled yet a little hesitant. Id read some pretty horrid reviews of her work, including this,  and didn't know what to expect. Well I was pleasantly surprised with Ghost House. It didn't knock my socks off by any measure but I enjoyed the book. Right off Im going to get the negative stuff out of the way and will say that the authors writing style, while at times eloquent, was for most of the book very juvenile. I know the author is only 18 or something but still!! I also thought the romance element was eye rollingly nauseating. Those two factors were the biggest down fall for me. Chloe arrives at the estate and its kind of insta love between her and the ghost, I mean seriously!! How can you fall for a Ghost? I can understand having feelings for him but not falling for him. Then Alex is all, I love you so much etc but I still have feelings for Isobel, she was my first love, yada yada!! Ugh. So ya, I didnt like the romance between Alex and Chloe at all!! No onto the good parts. Character wise, I liked Chloe. She was strong, sensible (to a point) and brave. I liked the fact that she hates that she can see ghosts but learns to live with it. I know if I could see ghosts Id hate it too!! She learns to block the ghosts out but when her mother dies, she hasn't got the mental strength to do it, she is too devastated. I liked Alex too. He is the typical male aristocrat. Strong, powerful and commands respect but he is also sweet. I liked that we found out his and Isobels story in segments and we see the sweet and respectful side of him. I did think that Isobel wasnt used enough though. I would of liked to have seen more of her because what we did see was chilling!!  Plot Wise, it was good. Girl goes to spooky house, sees ghosts and has a vengeful spirit to contend with. That about sums it up but yet I still enjoyed the concept. The setting was perfect, England does have some spooky manor houses and when its a dull, dreary day, it would be really spooky.  Overall I liked (I know Im using this word a lot!!) Ghost House. Despite its faults, its a chilling ghost story. I loved the last part of the book because the story really picked up. It left us with a cliffhanger ending so I will definitely pick up book 2 to see what happens and Im hoping that the authors style might mature a bit from now on. She has something special but it just needs to be refined. 
eternalised More than 1 year ago
After reading Halo, and not enjoying it all that much, I was hesitant about picking up Ghost House. Ultimately, my love for ghost stories decided for me, and I gave it a shot. I wasn’t dissapointed. The story is engaging, it has some original elements, the writing has improved from the Halo series, and characterization was slightly better as well. It still won’t land on my list of favorite books, but it’s a great improvement from the author’s first series. That said, the book lacks passion. Anyone could’ve written it. The characters are bland and boring. Life-altering events, like the death of Chloe’s mom, are completely glossed over. Why should she feel pain over what happened to her mom when she has a new guy to swoon about? Yeah, right. The plot is uninspired. A girl loses her mother, moves into a large house with her grandmother, and starts seeing ghosts. She falls ofr a ghost named Alexander, and that brings about the rage of his former lover, Isobel. Grange Hall is lifeless and dull, which is not what would be expected of a haunted mansion. It seems to be a reflection of the personalities of the characters. Chloe is a cardboard figure without real emotions. Alexander is your standard mysterious hero hiding secrets. The antagonist is as one-dimensional as the other characters, and her motives are never truly explained, or how she became such a powerful spirit. Chloe is judgemental, dull, and has as much chemistry with Alexander as she has with a bed, a chair, or anything else. Which means: nada. Also, I fail to grasp why Isobel gets all the blame. Why is it right that Alexander blames her for something that happened to her, and something she has no control over? For those of you who read the book, was this just as mind-blowing to you as it was to me? Isobel is another victim, not some evil tyrant. Makes no sense whatsoever. Why is she supposedly to blame for everything? The book ended up being a dissapointment. The idea was good, but the plot failed halfway through, and the characters lacked depth. I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I truly feel very bad about having to write this, but I am extremely disappointed. This book was an anticipation I would have gladly added time to, if it could have been....more. I feel that the author was filling a quota, more than giving the reader something to chew on. The story was unoriginal and met a deadline. Her Halo books rocked the awesome-this is crap. I'm sorry but if I'm going to be paying good money for something, at least give me a real story.