SERAFINA AND THE VIRTUAL MAN by Marie Treanor

SERAFINA AND THE VIRTUAL MAN by Marie Treanor

Serafina's, Book 2

Real man versus dead man - no contest!

Dale Ewan, the wealthy owner of Genesis Gaming, has a serious poltergeist problem. In desperation, he calls on Edinburgh's unique psychic investigation agency, Serafina's.

But Sera and her hacker friend, the beautiful and aggressive Jilly, find more than one spirit haunting the ugly country house. While Sera fights the poltergeist, Jilly encounters what appears to be the ghost of Dale's brilliant ex-partner, Genesis Adam, trapped in his own new virtual reality system.

 Jilly delves headlong into Adam's mystery. How did he get there? Why is he more exciting and attractive than any of the real men in her life? How are Jilly's own criminal brothers involved in his death? And what are Dale and his wife Petra hiding? Apart from the body buried in their garden...

While Jilly falls in love with the sexy, virtual ghost, Sera has problems of her own, not least the shadowy presence of the undead Founder that seems to threaten Sera, her vampire lover Blair, and all her friends.

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~Excerpt~

He groaned into her mouth and lifted his head. His breathing was ragged, his voice unsteady. “Would you allow a dead man to make love to you?”

Jilly, who’d had such difficulty encountering a live one she could even tolerate, just said, “Please, please…” in a mindless sort of way she suspected she’d despise in the morning. Right now, it didn’t matter, since she was pulling him with her toward the large, ornate bed.

He muttered something beneath his breath, and suddenly he lifted her off her feet and strode across the room with her. Now here was the Rhett Butler that Dave Jenner had so signally failed to emulate the other night—masterful, urgent, strong. And yet he laid her on the bed with gentleness and straightened to drop the braces from his shoulders and tear off his tie and shirt.

She reached for him, and he came into her arms as if it was the most natural place in the world to be. He lay over her, his body deliciously heavy on her hips, her pubic bone. His still-covered erection pushed between her parted thighs. His skin felt warm and smooth under her hands as she ran them over his shoulders and arms and back. He was beautiful, she realised; a naked man could be astoundingly beautiful, and suddenly she wanted to see all of him.

She wriggled under him, which had the additional advantage of pleasing her body, so avid now for new and greater thrills, pushing at him until his face changed and he yanked himself off her as if afraid he’d been hurting her. Suddenly terrified he’d go too far away, she seized his naked shoulder, pushing him onto his back on the pillows so she could stroke his lean, broad chest.

Breathing deeply, he let her, watching with obvious pleasure. She smiled and kissed his chest just above the nipple, then the nipple itself, letting her lips linger there to enjoy the novel sensation.

Muttering something that was at least half groan, he reached up to the unseen fastenings of her dress and tugged once. It slipped down her shoulders to her elbows, revealing some weird corsetry that he began to unfasten at her back, hook by hook. His gaze never left hers, and suddenly it was unspeakably exciting to feel his fingers working at her back, knowing that any moment, she’d be naked. Greatly daring, she traced one finger down the central line of his chest to the waistband of his trousers. She unfastened the buttons there and kept going, revealing the fine line of hair that ran from his belly button into his shorts.

She paused. The full length of his erection lay thick and hard over his flat stomach. She laid her hand over it, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath for ages. She liked the feel of it, hot, ridged, enticing; she yearned to see it.

But she hesitated, suddenly unsure. A thread of panic brushed through her, threatening her with memory. But he seemed to read her mind and obligingly shoved his trousers and underwear down over his hips.

Her breath caught. He took her hand, and, under her widening eyes, he kissed her fingers and palm and then placed them over his naked cock. She swallowed. The skin felt so soft over all that steely hardness, so amazingly hot under her hand. She closed her fingers around the shaft, and he smiled at her.

“Oh yes,” he approved softly, and then, swiftly, he sat up and rolled her under him, and there was no dress, no corset between them. A quick scuffle of his feet, and the last of his own troublesome clothes vanished too. His hand closed over one breast, softly, tenderly caressing.
Slowly, oh so arousingly, he lowered his gaze from her eyes to her uncovered breast.

“Fuck,” he said huskily. “I knew you’d be beautiful all over. But your breast is like…” As if he ran out of words, he lowered his head and took her nipple reverently between his lips. The pleasure was exquisite, especially when his lips moved in the sweetest caress she’d ever imagined, gently rolling and tugging.

She closed her eyes, never wanting it to stop. And it seemed he was in no hurry, for he kissed her nipple for a long, long time while his hand kneaded the other, doubling her pleasure. His leg, long and muscled, stretched over both of hers, and he moved it caressingly until he shifted position and lay instead between her thighs.

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HAUNTED PASSION by Tianna Xander

HAUNTED PASSION by Tianna Xander

Will Jeni survive All Hallow’s Eve and the day of the dead in an Irish castle filled with haunted passion?

When Jeni makes a trip to Ireland on a whim, she finds the impossible. The two men she’s dreamed about most of her life are nineteenth century ghosts! Despite that, they want her with the same heat that they have displayed in her dreams for the last several years.

Will Jeni survive a night in an ancient castle filled with haunted passion?

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~Excerpt~

Jeni stood in the doorway of the study looking up at the portrait on the wall behind the desk. She knew those faces.

She dreamed of them every night.

Not once since she turned sixteen had she slept a night without dreaming of those men. Both were the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. They were also the unreasonable standard to which she’d held all of her boyfriends throughout the years. No one could hold a candle to either of them. How could they? They had both been in her mind and were fictitious examples of what she expected in a man.

Somewhere, she had gotten a glimpse of a photo of this portrait. Whether it was in a book or some pamphlet of the area, she didn’t know. Her mother had brought her here to Ireland once when she was little to see her father, but they had never found him. Her father had died long before they had arrived.

Had she seen this portrait then?

She moved into the office and looked around. She wasn’t supposed to be here, but the photo of this portrait in the pamphlet had her dodging the tour guide and sneaking past the velvet rope she wasn’t supposed to cross.

Tears filled her eyes as she stood staring at the painting of two men who were long dead. They were both perfect, just as she remembered them. One with his clear green eyes and a smile that looked like it held secrets. The other, always looked somber as though he held the world on his shoulders.

They were brothers, yet not. She didn’t know how she knew that. Until she’d arrived, she hadn’t known much about the men in the portrait other than being the oldest two of the Earl’s three sons., they had both disappeared one night, never to be seen again. The Earl’s brother had inherited the title and no one ever spoke about them again, until someone found this portrait as they cleaned out the castle when it was put up for sale.

“I know you,” she whispered and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “It feels like I’ve known you both forever.”

The portrait wasn’t horribly old. It was from the early to mid nineteenth century. She looked around, wondering just how much trouble she could get into for being here. After all, she was supposed to be on a tour and ditched it. Turning, she headed for the door.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Jeni jumped guiltily at the nasally sounding voice. Looking up, she grimaced at the staid-looking butler who stood frowning down at her.

“This portion of the castle is not a part of the tour, madam.” His voice was polite as he glared down at her, his expression accusing. “If you would be kind enough to follow me, I shall escort you out.”

“Uh, sure. I mean, yes,” Jeni said with a nod. She lowered her head, too embarrassed to meet the man’s censuring gaze.
“Right this way, if you please.”
She had to hand it to the guy. He was awfully polite for a man who’d just caught her snooping around.

Jeni followed the man through the wide corridors, expecting him to take her back to the front door of the castle and give her the boot. Instead, he led her back to the tour group and left her in the back. He didn’t even embarrass her by announcing to the guide about how he’d found her snooping around in the current owner’s study.

“This is why you are a lucky group,” the tour guide said with a wide smile. “The current Earl would like to extend an invitation to any of you to spend the night to see that this is one of the most haunted castles in Ireland.”

She moved to unhook the velvet rope that blocked the way into the rest of the castle, leading them to the very room that Jeni and the butler had just vacated.

The guide smiled as she pointed up at the portrait of the two men that Jeni had just spent several minutes staring at and smiled. “The newest Earl has just discovered that, as we had thought, this is the Earl of Wessex, Edward Godwine and his adopted brother, Garrick Godwine. Rumor has it that their younger brother murdered them to inherit the title. Their father has never found peace. He haunts the study. It is said, the two young gentlemen also haunt the castle to this day.”

She turned to an inscription on the wall and pointed. “They say that they were killed by a witch’s spell and will never find rest until the right witch recites the spell on the wall at midnight on the day of the dead. The paint has been refreshed every five years since the year ten sixty-six to preserve the spell in the event that one day they may possibly find rest.”

The group filed into the room, all of them looking at the Old English writing.

Jeni stared up at the spell on the wall. It wasn’t written in modern English, but somehow, she knew what it said.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she typed the translation into an email and sent it to herself. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she knew she had to stay here overnight, no matter the cost.

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DEMONICALLY TEMPTED by Stacey Kennedy

DEMONICALLY TEMPTED by Stacey Kennedy

Frostbite Book Two

Tess Jennings, now a member of the Memphis Police Department, is on her first cold case. The suspected suicide of Lizbeth Knapp ten years ago isn't a theory her family accepts - they believe she was murdered.

But the case is only one of Tess's worries. Ghosts are talking, and word of her abilities rapidly spreads. A dark ghost is terrifying the spirits of Memphis, and she must force the entity to cross over.

Tess doesn't have to do this alone. Not only does she have her ghost-lover, Kipp McGowen, but the department has brought in a medium. Dane Wolfe might answer all her questions, but he also brings a world of trouble. Will Tess finally have all she's ever wanted, or will everything she's vowed to protect be ripped away?

*SERIES DOES NOT CONTAIN STANDALONE STORIES. MUST BE READ IN ORDER. FIRST BOOK IN SERIES IS SUPERNATURALLY KISSED*

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Excerpt:

Copyright © STACEY KENNEDY, 2012

Chapter One

The old farmhouse had seen better days. Not only could it use a coat of paint, but it also needed a dose of love. Dry, brown grass surrounded the home, and the only flowers topped four-foot high weeds.

I glanced next to me at Zach—a cop with the Memphis P.D.—and crinkled my nose. “Someone actually lives here?”

His blue eyes met mine and he ran a hand through his blond, stylish hair and shrugged. “Max said the victim’s sister still resides in the home where the death happened.”

As he lowered his arm, he cringed, and I winced at the memory. Heck, only weeks ago he’d been stabbed and shot in the shoulder.

The man who caused Zach’s injury got it worse—by my very hand, no less—but I was glad Hannah Reid’s murderer hadn’t returned to haunt me.

I might have suffered some serious remorse. That is, if I didn’t believe God wouldn’t punish me because I killed a murderer. Brody would’ve done the same to me if I hadn’t gotten to him first. I tried my best to stick with that theory. It saved me from the lingering guilt I might—and would never admit to—have for taking a life.

Sure, there was an internal investigation through the police department, and I had been questioned until my voice went scratchy. But in the end, the shooting had been declared self-defense, and I was perfectly happy with that. Or so I told myself every day until I finally believed it.

Besides, the cops that I now worked alongside had my back throughout the investigation, and nothing would change that. We’d grown close through the time spent during the Reid case, and even closer in the weeks that followed.

“I’m going to see if Lizbeth is out here somewhere,” Kipp—a ghost, and my lover—said, dragging me from my thoughts.

Yes, our relationship was complicated and it’s insanely sick that I’m in love with a ghost, but I wasn’t about to fight my heart’s desire.

“If you find her, then come tell us, immediately. The less time I have to spend in that house, the better.” Scummy houses and me didn’t mesh well. I like cleanliness and hate spiders.

“He’s going off on his own then?” Zach asked.

As of late, Zach had caught on to our conversations better. Seeing that I was the only lucky one—or not so lucky as I viewed it—who could hear ghosts’ communication was annoying, at best.

Maybe I gave more descriptions in my answers than I normally did, or maybe he’d gotten used to having to fill in the blanks. Whatever it was, I appreciated the ease of our conversations now. The back and forth got on my last nerve.

As Kipp strode away, I stared at his scrumptious ass filling his dark blue jeans. The man might be a ghost, but he was sex packaged into muscular goodness.

One of his eyes was chocolate brown, while the other was crystal blue, and he had untidy brown hair that no matter how messy only made him look more attractive. And he was all mine.

I blinked, pulling myself away from my ogling, and frowned at Zach. “Ready?”

His gaze danced with laughter, yet a smile never appeared. “For someone who accepted a job with the department, you would think you’d hold more excitement.”

“Just because I can officially call myself part of the police department—which is absurd, by the way—doesn’t mean I still don’t have hesitations.”

My gift took a while to adjust to but I knew when to see reason. Helping ghosts that had met a horrible fate wasn’t a bad job. That is, as long as I didn’t run into any more crazy-ass killers who wanted to make me a ghost, too.

Zach approached the house, and I trailed after him, not showing half the confidence he carried in his gait.

I climbed the old steps, slightly worried the wood would break under my weight, but seeing Zach went first and the man was all power, the wooden planks could support my slender frame.

He knocked on the door. And a moment later, it opened to a woman who matched the house. She appeared to be in her fifties, but the dark circles under her eyes and the hunch to her shoulders made her look well worn.

“Ms. Knapp?” Zach asked.

“Yes.” Her voice dripped with despair. “Are you the detectives?”

Zach nodded. “Is it still all right if we come in?”

She widened the door, and moved aside. “Please call me Anna.”

“Thank you, Anna.” Zach entered the home. “We appreciate you taking the time to discuss Lizbeth with us.”

I hesitantly followed and tried my damndest not to let my repulsion in the house show. Not an easy feat.

“Please, will you have a seat?” She waved out to a couch that I wouldn’t sit on even if it had a layer of plastic over top of it.

I held back my desire to gag, and twirled my finger in my brown, shag-cut hair. “I’m okay here, thanks.”

Zach grimaced at me before he took a seat and shed all emotion as he turned to Anna. “We’re aware that this will be difficult for you to discuss, but we need you to remember anything you can from when Lizbeth died.”

“I’m not sure I can tell you anything that…” She peeked up at the ceiling. I followed her gaze seeing dark brown stains, and restrained my shudder. “…Max, was that who I spoke with?”

“That’s right. He’s the sergeant.” Zach smiled softly. “He told us the necessary information, but I’ve learned it’s always best to hear it directly for myself.”

In all actuality, I hadn’t heard all the details except that I was officially on my first cold-case.

“Well,” Anna paused, glancing down at her fingers as she fiddled them. “It started a year before Lizbeth’s death. She began to act differently.”

Zach pulled his pad of paper and pen from his pocket, and flipped the notebook open. “Can you explain that in more detail?”

I clasped my hands in front of me. Just because I was now part of team didn’t mean I would start acting like a cop in any official capacity. Let’s be serious now. I wasn’t really a detective.

Anna continued, “She’d talk to me about an evil presence around her.”

“Evil?” I gasped.

“I know how funny it sounds. At the time, it did to me, too. But looking back, Lizbeth just didn’t seem like herself, and maybe I should’ve listened to her.” Anna crossed her arms and shifted in her seat. “She used to be a very happy young woman. Full of life and spirit, but all of a sudden she seemed so dark.”

I gave my head a shake, trying to make sense out of her nonsense. “Dark how?”

“Depressed.” Anna exhaled. “She never came out of her room, and totally withdrew from life.”

“She was suicidal, then?” Zack asked with a gentle tone.

“I suppose you’d draw that conclusion from what I’m telling you now, but the truth is I never took her to be the type.” She gave a knowing look. “Like I said, she was well adjusted and quite happy.”

“But you just said she was depressed,” I countered.

“Yes, I did, but still, Lizbeth was a fighter. She used to tell me that this evil presence was overtaking her soul, and she tried so hard to fight against it.”

Zach made a face. I made one of my own. We were speaking English, yet gibberish would have made more sense.

Seeing that we were getting nowhere, and I suspected Anna had lost her mind a long time ago, I moved along. “Did her condition get worse?”

“It got so bad, my parents had no idea what to do. You have to remember it was a different time. The medications for depression that exist today didn’t back then.” Tears welled in her eyes, but they cleared just as quick. “My parents took her to a doctor, even admitted her into a hospital, but my mother couldn’t manage to leave her there. She thought love would bring Lizbeth out of her trouble.”

“Clearly, it didn’t.”

“That’s right, it only got worse. Lizbeth started to hurt herself.”

Zach’s eyebrows rose. “You mean, caused injuries to herself?”

“No one ever knew—and Lizbeth never said—how she did it. But she had lacerations all over her back.”

Zach scribbled notes, and then peered at Anna. “Did Lizbeth ever say anything to you about the wounds?”

Those tears now weren’t so easily pushed away. “She was adamant she had never caused them.”

One conclusion came to my mind. “No one believed her, did they?”

“Who else would have done it?” Anna retorted. “At that point, Lizbeth hadn’t left the house in over six months.”

Zach stared at Anna, his gaze probing. I inhaled deeply, understanding the frustration. The dust in the room settled into my nostrils. I rubbed at the tickling in my nose, and considered what she had told us.

It seemed to me Lizbeth had clearly been suicidal. I’d watched television shows were people cut themselves. Maybe this was all that was going on here. Case closed.

Zach scribbled a few more lines of notes then scrutinized Anna. “How did Lizbeth act in the days before she died?”

“Strange.” Anna wiped the tears from her face. “She always had this dark cloud over her, but in the week before her death it became much worse. She’d stopped eating and we had to force liquids down her throat.” Her chin quivered, more tears spilling. “But it was in her eyes where I saw her demise.”

“What did you see?” I whispered, not totally sure I wanted to hear her answer.

“She was already dead.”

Zach coughed. “Pardon?”

“Lizbeth was no longer in her body.” Anna shook her head, sending more tears rushing down her cheeks. “I know that sounds crazy, but that’s the only way I can describe it. She had already left.”

“Where did she go?” I urged.

“I have no idea. All I know is she was gone.”

My assumptions that Anna was off her rocker deepened. One question would solidify if I believed she held any sanity at all. “Why do you stay here…in this house?”

Anna’s eyes swam in sadness. “I’m afraid that Lizbeth is still here, and if I leave she’ll be all alone. I don’t have the money to fix the house. Since her death—times have been hard.”

Wasn’t I a shit? Her answer was clear and concise, and, well…I could understand her reasons. If she were insane, I assumed her purpose for staying here would be, too.

Zach closed his notebook, and placed it into the pocket of his black slacks. “Would you take us outside to the water and discuss what happened the night she died?”

“Of course.” Anna stood from the couch and approached the front door.

Zach gestured toward the hall. I took the hint. Since Kipp hadn’t returned yet, it confirmed he hadn’t found Lizbeth’s ghost. Before we left I needed to check out the house to see if she remained. “Do you mind if I use your washroom?”

“Not at all.” Anna dabbed her tears with a tissue, and then raised her chin. “It’s down the hall—third door on the right.”

“Thank you.” I headed toward the hallway while Zach continued to ask Anna another question as they exited the front door.

The hallway was in a similar condition to the rest of the house, completely in shambles. The flowered wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the color of it resembled something not worth discussing. I wrinkled my nose, catching a whiff of mold, and continued walking.

To my left was an open door to a bedroom. I peeked in and clothes were thrown over the light blue bedspread. Furniture was scarce, but the room seemed lived in. It did appear slightly more taken care of than the rest of the home, which drew the conclusion that this had to be Anna’s bedroom.

I scanned the room and couldn’t see Lizbeth’s ghost, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. She could be hiding. “Lizbeth,” I whispered.

No one responded.

Leaving the room, I carried on down the hall to another bedroom on the right, but as I called out her name again, I received the same response.

The bathroom was to my left and another room lay on the right. The door was closed and I did my best to keep quiet as I opened it. I couldn’t hear Zach or Anna in the house anymore, but I didn’t want to chance it. I pushed the door open and it creaked.

I peered in and my heart skipped a beat. “Creepy.”

The room wasn’t in the same condition as the house. It looked brand new, even the paint on the walls appeared fresh, and Lizbeth’s name was written in wooden letters above the dresser.

Of all the rooms to keep nice, Anna chose this one. I couldn’t decide if that was sweet or freaky.

“Lizbeth,” I whispered again only to be met with silence. I’d never had a ghost hide from me before, usually they were so intrigued by my ability they always approached.

I closed the door, headed for the bathroom, and went straight for the sink. At least the room was clean. Yes, in horrible condition, but the yellow bathtub had been scrubbed recently.

At the sink, I turned on the faucet to wash the icky feeling off my hands. I wanted to get home and have a shower. Being in this house for even a few minutes had left my skin feeling filthy and downright gross.

I waited a moment to let the water warm since the pipes thumped indicating trouble stirred, and just as I placed my hands under the water, a voice startled me. “Why are you in my house?”

I looked over my shoulder and spotted a middle-aged ghost dressed in a double-breasted black coat, white dress shirt, and fitted tanned breeches.

“I beg your pardon,” I snapped. “But I don’t deserve to be glared at—or spoken to in that nasty tone—when I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You can hear me?” His eyes widened. “You can see me?”

“Yes I can.” I returned the glower he not-so-kindly offered me. “Why are you so rude?”

“I-I-I…”

“Classic.” I snorted. “The ghost is beside himself. Isn’t it supposed to be the live person who is shocked when they see a ghost?”

“You’re alive?”

Now he was being just downright mean. I shut off the faucet, and with the water dripping off my fingertips, I turned to face him. “Do I look dead to you?”

He gave me a once over with an expression that left something to be desired. “No, but why are you glowing?”

“Yes, well,” I wiped my damp hands on my skinny jeans, “that’s my ability.”

He examined my gold hue—or so I’d been told that is how it appeared—and by his huge eyes this revelation stunned him. “And this ability is how you can see me?”

I wasn’t in any mood to get into this with him. A change in topic was in order. “Have you seen a young girl around here?”

“No,” he responded without haste.

I nibbled my lip, considering that. “Not ever, or not lately?”

“Never.”

If Lizbeth died in misery, it made no sense that her ghost wasn’t here. Ghosts always lingered and needed help to cross over. Someone who committed suicide wouldn’t be a settled soul. And most of the ghosts I’d met returned to a place that had meant something to them. Considering Lizbeth was young when she died, I had assumed she’d come home. Where else would she have gone?

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“I have no idea.” He paused, thoughtful, then said, “I think it’s been quite some time.”

His response didn’t surprise me. Ghosts never remembered much except what they needed to, to move on. Seeing that this ghost would lead me nowhere, I figured I might as well try and help one ghost today. “Do you want to cross over?”

He scowled. “Are you threatening me?”

“Good God. You’re foul. I’m asking to be nice. I can help you, if you’d like.”

“This is my house. I don’t want to leave. I want you to.”

I grunted. “Trust me, I want the same damn thing.”

He gestured toward the door in what might have seemed like a bow of respect, if his tight features hadn’t thoroughly flipped me off. “Best you see yourself out.”

I had just about enough of his bad attitude. I pointed at him. “You better not go scaring Anna. She’s been through enough.”

“I don’t scare her.” He scoffed. “She’s a lovely woman and I don’t mind her sharing the home with me.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but if I find out you’re frightening her, I will Ghostbuster your ass. Got it, jacko?” I flicked my hair over my shoulder, not waiting for him to respond because frankly, I didn’t give a shit.

I exited the bathroom, heard him grumbling something after me. I really couldn’t blame him, though. If I’d been dead since the eighteen hundreds, from the looks of his clothing, I’d be pissy too.

Once on the front porch, I spotted Zach and Anna. They talked down by a creek that was completely overgrown with weeds, rocks lining the shore.

On my approach, Zach glimpsed at me. I shook my head to indicate I hadn’t found Lizbeth in the house.

He visibly sighed, turning to Anna. “Now that Tess has arrived, would you please tell us what happened?”

I took a moment to scan the area, and listened hard to see if I could hear anything, but only the sound of rushing water and chirping birds filled my ears.

The air around the home smelled so fresh, and thrived with nature, it was a wonderful contrast to the dust and mold inside the house.

Anna drew in a long, deep breath. “It was a spooky evening that night. The fog settled above the water and the full moon provided a lot of light.” Her eyes glazed over, lost in memory. “I heard Lizbeth leave the house, so I went over to my bedroom window.”

I glanced at the house. One lone window faced the creek.

“I saw Lizbeth walking out to the water. She wore just her white nighty, and she was so frail.” Anna rubbed her arms. “She was all skin and bones.”

“She came out here alone?” I asked.

Anna nodded. “I didn’t see anyone with her, at the time. She stood by the water’s edge and was so pretty.”

I had a hard time imagining anyone as pretty in the way Anna had described. But I wasn’t about to bring up that point and merely listened as she went on.

“Lizbeth looked over her shoulder, and I’m still not sure how she knew I was watching her, but she smiled one of the coldest smiles I’d ever seen.” Anna hugged herself. “I’m sure that smile will haunt me forever.”

I gulped, a sudden nervousness wrapped around me and icy fingertips ran up my spine.

“What did she do after that?” Zach asked.

Anna inhaled sharply, clearly pulling herself away from the horrifying memory. “She turned toward the water, walked in, and killed herself.”

Had I heard her right? “Are you saying she drowned herself?”

“I know that’s hard to believe, but the second I saw her walk into the creek, she submerged herself into the water. That’s when I ran out after her.”

“What happened when you reached her?”

“She was floating, head first, and so I pulled her out.” A tear slid along her cheek, and she wiped it away. “I tried to do CPR, but it didn’t matter, she was already gone.”

Silence drifted around us. I welcomed it. This story needed some time to process, and even after a minute or so, I still came up empty.

Anna gazed out at the water, as she cried. I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to be here, staring at this water, and remembering what happened. How did she continue to live in that house?

A nudge on my arm had me glancing over at Zach. He mouthed the words, “Is she here?”

I shook my head.

His brow puckered.

Lizbeth’s lack of appearance seemed unusual even to me, but I hoped Kipp had better luck.

Zach cleared his throat breaking the silence. “After you pulled Lizbeth out of the water, what happened?”

Anna wiped her damp cheeks. “My mother and father came down and chaos erupted. They yelled, wanting to know what happened to her. When I told them, it was no surprise they didn’t believe me.”

She brought up a good point. “Where are you parents now?”

“Both, long dead.”

Insert foot into mouth! “I’m sorry.”

Anna sighed. “It’s for the best. Lizbeth’s death hit both of them very hard. My mother was never the same and my father became an alcoholic.”

Saddest thing I’d ever heard.

“I can’t find her outside.”

I glanced over my shoulder and Kipp approached, lips pressed into a thin line. Seeing that I couldn’t answer him with Anna here, I simply gave a short nod to show I understood his defeat.

“At what point did you see Hector?” Zach asked.

I gasped, unable to hide my shock. “Someone else saw her in the water?”

Zach nodded. “He’d been the main suspect in her death but—”

“My statement ruled him out,” Anna interjected. “He probably would’ve been found guilty of her murder since he’d been the only other person present at the time of her death. But I said it then, and I’ll say it now, he didn’t kill her. I saw Lizbeth walk into the water and drown herself. I couldn’t make up what I saw.”

“Ask her how she can be so sure,” Kipp said to me.

I shook my head, which I tried to hide by shifting my stance. There was no way I would argue with Anna. Kipp hadn’t heard the rest of the conversation and I believed every word she said.

Instead, I pressed on. “Did you know he was there when you first came out of the house?”

“No,” Anna replied. “He showed up out of nowhere. I hadn’t seen him near the house at all and his arrival startled me. But I’ll tell you one thing, his eyes were exactly like Lizbeth’s.”

My heart did that full skip-a-beat thing, indicating whatever she meant by that, scared me shitless. “They were?”

“When Lizbeth smiled at me, Hector did the exact same thing when he approached. To say it was creepy is really putting it mildly, but it was as if I stared at Lizbeth again—or what Lizbeth had turned into.”

The side of my temple hurt. I zeroed in on Zach. “So after they questioned Hector, they released him?”

“That’s right. But he’s now serving time for an unrelated crime he committed a month after Lizbeth’s death.”

I gave Zach and Kipp a knowing look, and they returned it. As much as Anna was sure of what she saw, I suspected she was wrong. A person in a state of shock might not be able to think straight. I surmised that’s exactly what happened.

“I know what y’all are thinking, but I know what I saw,” Anna said, adamantly. “Lizbeth walked into the water and killed herself. Trust me, I’ll never be able to forget it.” Sadness gone. Determination risen. “No matter how much everyone wanted me to retract my statement and pin it on Hector, I wouldn’t send an innocent man to jail for something he didn’t do.”

Innocent, my ass!

Zach inclined his head, as if he agreed with her, but I knew better. “Is there anything else you can tell us, Anna, that could help us?”

“I’m sorry. That’s all I know.”

“Thank you for talking to us.” I smiled, reached out for her hand and squeezed it. “We’ll do what we can to find out what happened to her.”

Anna returned the smile, but on her, it was despaired. “I appreciate y’all working on this case again. I do hope that you’ll discover what truly happened to Lizbeth. If it’s all right, I’d like to go into the house now.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your time.” Zach shook Anna’s hand, and then she started toward the house.

“This is by far the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in,” I whispered to Kipp. “I’ve never experienced a missing ghost before.”

“Quite unusual, to say the least,” he grumbled. “Let’s go to the station and fill Max in on what we’ve discovered.” He sighed. “Or not discovered.”

Without hesitation since I was more than happy to leave, I headed to the truck with the boys following. Anna climbed the steps of her porch, and I remembered there was something I needed to tell her. “Anna,” I called.

She turned.

“You have a very grumpy old ghost in your house, but don’t worry, he likes you.”

She didn’t appear nearly as surprised as I’d expected. Maybe she already suspected a ghost lived with her. Maybe not. But my job was done.

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DARK SIDE OF PURGATORY by L.J. Hadaway

DARK SIDE OF PURGATORY by L.J. Hadaway

Everyone knows Jaxon Slater. He's the life-of-the-party guy. He's the fun guy we want to invite to our outdoor barbeques but not marry our daughters. He is our nephew, the next-door neighbor who drinks too much, a friend of a friend that overdosed on heroin. He's the class clown in high school that was always in trouble from drinking and driving.

Jaxon Slater has 'pushed the envelope' and tried to scam his way through most of his life. He's charismatic and good-looking. Many things come easy to Jaxon. Sobriety isn't one of them. He's tried staying clean numerous times but always falls into a relapse, using one more time. His long time sponsor had warned him plenty. His last use of heroin landed him dead--in Purgatory.
Jaxon believes he is having a terrible nightmare until he finds an old friend and recalls how he died. Reality sets in and Jaxon begins to learn the rules of the strange land. He runs into a mean bunch of guys and an unlikely guide. To have a chance at saving himself, he must complete a quest: find a certain young woman and steer her away from the highway of destruction that killed him.

Old temptations linger, and dark forces shadow his path.

Can Jaxon survive the abyss of his deepest fears to find redemption?

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An Excerpt from: Dark Side of Purgatory
Copyright © 2011 L.J. Hadaway

All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.

Chapter One
A sharp, piercing pain to his head and strong inhale woke him. Jaxon Slater’s eyes flew open and shut tight, as if hoping it would dull the headache, which turned to a heavy pounding. He envisioned tiny men with ball-peen hammers beating railroad spikes into his brain. The thought would have made him grin if he’d not been in so much agony. He placed his hand to his forehead and pushed the palm hard against the spot between his eyes. The simple act seemed to relieve some of the intensity. He squeezed his eyes in a small gesture to will the pain away.

“God, why did I have to get loaded last night?” Why? How many times have I sworn I would never do this again?

The throbbing doesn’t seem quite so bad now, Jaxon thought with a small sense of relief. He recalled some words of advice given to him once: if he pinched the area between his thumb and first finger, it could make a headache go away. The trouble was that he didn’t know if it would work and did not want to remove his hand from his head for even a second to try.

Jaxon opened his eyes to blurred, dark spots. He blinked several times in an attempt to focus. Despite the pain, Jaxon tried to remember…. Where am I? His thoughts were sluggish and slow to respond. “What did I do last night?” A few memories floated just beyond his reach. A young woman’s face flashed in his mind. “Candy…. She drove us here….”

He recalled the front of the old house. Candy’s laughter sounded in his head, fresh in his memory. She had shot up the heroin first. It didn’t take him long to join in. Even the memory gave him a slight rush, thinking about the needle, sticking it in his arm. He opened his eyes again and found the ceiling of an abandoned house. Some of the tiles had rotted away, perhaps from water leaking through the roof. Decayed, the tiles littered the old linoleum floor. Water spots discolored other areas of the ceiling, giving off a weird tie-dye effect.

Wallpaper peeled off in layers, as if the room was in a slow process of discarding its covering, like a snake shedding its old skin. Jaxon struggled to sit up but fell back onto the stained, bare mattress.

“You dumb fuck!” He slammed his fist on the floor. The realization of his relapse brought self-loathing. Guilt and shame knotted an angry, hot coal in his gut. He remembered what his old sponsor, John B., warned him to watch out for.

“You need to watch the threes.”

“Threes?”

“Three days, thirty days, three years.”

Thirty days clean and sober.

Just two nights ago, he’d hooked up with a cute little number. Only he’d overslept and was late to work. His boss fired him on the spot. Dammit. His boss knew he was one of the hardest working guys on the crew.

“I can’t have you showing up late all the time, Jaxon,” his boss spouted, shaking his head and appearing to feel bad about letting him go.

Jaxon thought about his boss’s comment. All the time, hell. Just the third time I was late. Another three.

After being fired, he decided to go to a bar. He’d planned to have a soda and play a couple games of pool. The woman, Candy, came into the pub. She’d plopped right down on the barstool beside him. “Gimme a beer,” she ordered loudly to the bartender.

Pretty little thing. Blonde, petite, and a laugh so sexy you just knew she’d give good head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he must have known he was headed for relapse, otherwise he wouldn’t have driven to the bar after being fired. He knew better. Later on, she’d kissed him; the tang of brew teased up fond memories of wild women and good beer.

Candy glanced toward the back of the room. “I bet you a drink I can kick your ass in pool.”

“You’re on.”

She won the damn game and sauntered back to the bar.

“Hey, he’s buying me a drink, and I’m having 151 rum.”

Jaxon, his ego bruised from losing to a woman, decided not to be outdone. “I’ll have the same.”

Candy took her shot glass, lifted it, and drank it in one swallow. Jaxon grinned, picked up a lighter next to a pack of cigarettes, lit the alcohol in his glass, and threw the flaming liquid to the back of his throat.

She laughed and kissed him again.

His younger sister, Merilee, always told him he was too handsome for his own good. She’d be wondering what happened to him by now. I better get to a phone and call her. Jaxon lay on the mattress, and broken shards of the night before clicked through his head. He recalled drinking a few more shots. The rest seemed beyond him, hiding behind a secret door in his mind. A few flashes: Candy’s sexy smile, the needle, the rush. One more blackout. Candy must have wanted something stronger, or he did, to end up here.

A cunning and baffling disease, he’d heard John B. say a hundred times. Everyone called him John B. because there were other men in the A.A. home group with the first name of John and because last names were not used in the meetings. John B. told him, “You don’t even know you’re in a relapse. It’s why you call me before you get into trouble.”

John had been dead for years now. Still, his voice often rang loud and clear in Jaxon’s mind. He pulled himself up to a sitting position. There was...something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Jaxon stood up and tucked in his T-shirt. He glanced down at his worn Levi’s 501 button fly. His belt was unfastened and hung from the loops. He pulled it tight, notching it at his thirty-two-inch waist. His leather cowboy boots lay next to the old, stained mattress. Jaxon shook involuntary at the thought of sleeping there all night. “Nasty!” His voice was full of disgust. “How did I go downhill so damn fast?”

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DREAMSCAPE by Rose Anderson

DREAMSCAPE by Rose Anderson

Unable to deny his own translucence, Dr. Jason Bowen determines his lack of physical substance could only mean one thing - he's a ghost. Murdered more than a century before, Jason haunts his house and ponders the treachery that took his life.

When Lanie O'Keefe arrives with plans to renovate her newly purchased Victorian mansion, Jason discovers, ghost or not, he's still very much a man.

Despite its derelict condition and haunted reputation, Lanie couldn't be happier with her new home, but then she has no idea a spirit follows her every move throughout the day and shares her captivating warmth at night. Jason soon discovers he can travel through Lanie's dreams and finds himself reliving the days before his murder with Lanie by his side.

It took one hundred and twenty years for love to find them, but there's that insurmountable little matter of Jason being dead.

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~ADULT EXCERPT~

“I’ve a mind to taste you again.”

Thrilling to those desire-laden words, Lanie waited breathlessly. The full-body tremor had returned and with it the low unfurling in her belly. Surrendering to the wanton feelings, her trembling legs widened in offer.

Her glistening invitation displayed so provocatively in the moonlight, Jason feared his heart would burst from wanting her. Helpless to do otherwise, he fell between those silken thighs and wrapped his arms around her hips.

Needing to rein in his passions, he rested his head against her thigh in an attempt to still the firestorm raging in his balls. It had been years since he’d lain with a woman and never with one who had so thoroughly stolen his heart and soul like this lovely creature had. He so wanted this first time, hers and theirs, to be everything it could be. She needed to know how wondrous it was for a man and a woman to share this most intimate act. If Cathy had taught him anything, it was how important this intimacy was. Before his death he’d tried everything to break through that frigid, albeit deceitful, wall. He pushed thoughts of Cathy from his mind. She wouldn’t steal this precious moment like she had upstairs.

Drawing Lanie closer, he showered her inner thighs with occasional kisses interspersed with warm, flat licks. Higher now, he nibbled her lips, grazed with his teeth and sucked them, and when he felt the diamond nub hard against his tongue, he dwelled there even longer, teasing her flesh with slow persistent circles. One finger followed and found her slick and hot inside.

Shifting his body to accommodate his now overly hard and throbbing cock, Jason eased another finger into her heat and curled along the slippery ridges within. Her muscles clenched around his fingers. The incredibly hot tightness made him groan in anticipation of his cock following his fingers’ path. He shifted again, bending his knee to make room for the ache in his balls. He hoped he could last. He had to. Looking up past her belly and breast to read her face, Jason saw for himself Lanie was as mindless as he.

The sight of her lying there, head turning from side to side in her pleasure, her breasts heaving as she panted, made his cock feel like he’d explode with want of her. Pressing his groin hard into the mattress to maintain his control, he resumed pleasuring her with his tongue. Before long he felt her building release, and worked his fingers fast, each thrust and withdrawal widening and stretching in cadence with his tongue’s warm, rapid licks. He murmured hotly against her flesh between passes with his tongue, “Yes my love, you crave this as much as I.”

“Yes, Jason, oh yes,” came her breathy reply. Jason was creating more pleasure than Lanie ever thought possible. The vibration began in her legs and unfurled along her spine. Her hands released their tangle in his hair. Afraid of making a sound as the pleasure stole her senses, she gathered the pillow on either side of her head to muffle the sounds attempting to tear from her throat.

The pillow muted an animalistic groan that turned Jason’s blood to molten steel. Wanting to delay this first release, he stopped his focused attentions to travel up along her body laying kisses along the way. Pressing belly to belly with her, Jason pulled the pillow-clutching hands away. His weight pressed her into the bed and his thrumming cock and balls rested against the steaming wetness he’d left behind. Cupping her face with both hands, his eyes searched hers. Seeing she was ready, he kissed her deeply.

Lanie returned Jason’s kiss wildly. The moment was primal, her scent was all over his face, and she could taste herself on his lips. Reaching down, her fingers closed on his cock and, stroking now, she murmured his own words at his lips, “I’ve a mind to taste you…”

He could clearly see the hot determination lighting her eyes, and abandoning himself to the moment, Jason rolled over on his back to let her have her way. Her hair fanned out over his thighs as she nuzzled her cheek along his cock. When she kissed the head, his hands wound themselves in the midnight silk. Her questing tongue lapped the full length of rigid steel, and reacting to tentative licks, his seed dribbled over them both. He heard her maidenly gasp of surprise, the sound followed by soft sounds as she opened her mouth to draw him in. It was too exquisite to wait any longer. Their time had come.

Feeling Jason pull at her hips, she stopped her ministrations to follow where he led.

Jason drew her to him and kissed her again. He whispered at the corner of her lips, “Are you ready, my love?”

Lanie nodded breathlessly. She was ready for something, and she instinctively knew with Jason it would be glorious.

Jason maneuvered himself between her open thighs and found her flesh hot like a firebrand. He ran the tip of his cock up and down over her slit to wet him as he parted her for his entry. Yes, it was time. She was hot, swollen with desire, and slick, very slick. He pressed into her. His body pushed forward as her legs pulled back and she stretched to accommodate his access. He groaned against her neck as he sheathed himself fully in her wondrous fire.

Perfect. Jason held her tight and allowed her body to mold around him. He whispered softly, “You’re so tight around me, love, so warm.” It had been ages since heat like this warmed his blood fully, ages since he’d felt such exquisite perfection engulfing him. At first he didn’t want to move, but soon the grip of her desire compelled him. Pulling out nearly all the way, he eased back in with the same delicate slowness. He planned to go slow. He planned to hold himself in check. But he didn’t plan on the depth of her desire.

Lanie began to meet each thrust with a rising tempo of her own. The sensation of gliding cock meeting each delectable ridge was exquisite. Lifting her hips each time he pressed forward, she sheathed him to his root.

Before long their steady cadence increased, and Lanie’s pleasure mounted as his balls slapped against her flesh in a bold and rhythmic tempo.

Bathed in a moonlit sheen of exertion, Lanie’s back arched, and in that moment Jason could feel her mind—her focused pursuit, the blissful abandon, and the surety that this was meant to be.

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SUPERNATURALLY KISSED by Stacey Kennedy

SUPERNATURALLY KISSED by Stacey Kennedy

Ghosts harass and annoy Tess Jennings to save their souls. Sometimes she helps them. Other times she ignores them. But one ghost will give her no choice.

Kipp McGowen, a cop with the Memphis Police Department, will stop at nothing to gain her help, including using his ghostly charms to seduce her.

Tess must help solve the five year old cold case of Hannah Reid, because solving the case will save Kipp. But a bigger problem presents itself. Tess is falling in love with a ghost. Now she must decide. Keep Kipp forever or find the killer…

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An Excerpt From: SUPERNATURALLY KISSED

Copyright © STACEY KENNEDY, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

An icy wisp of air swept in behind me, causing my heel to twist as I stumbled. To the other pedestrians striding along the downtown Memphis street, the sensation would be brushed off as a cold breeze.

They were wrong. A spirit lingered here.

“Can you hear me?”

From the intrigue rolling in his voice, he hadn’t expected me to acknowledge him. Shit! I’d already given myself away. A mistake I’d rectify.

Without hesitation, I righted my stance and strode forward with purpose, forcing myself to remain deaf to the voice. If I ignored ghosts long enough, they moved on and searched out someone else who held the same irritating ability, whom I had yet to meet.

Much to my annoyance, the ghost stayed right on my heels and his presence remained strong behind me. The cold air at my back remained a contrast to the warm morning air in front of me. Every hair on my neck stood up and goose bumps pimpled a trail along my skin. If only I could rub them away, but I didn’t dare. Ignoring him would make him go away.

“You can hear me, can’t you?” the ghost asked again.

Spirits were typically harmless, but annoying. I’m dead, what’s going on, why am I a ghost—yada, yada, yada. I quickened my steps and made my way down Peabody Place in hopes he’d leave me alone.

“Wait.”

He sounded desperate, which meant a big headache for me. If I hadn’t worn my damn slingbacks, I would’ve tried to run and hide. But the three-inch Manolos and the tight, tailored gray skirt restrained my movements.

I passed Miss Polly’s Soul Food Café, and the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs drifted along the air. My empty stomach complained. My only thought after I woke had been caffeine. Now I wished I’d grabbed a muffin with my latté at Starbucks. With ten minutes to get to my desk, I couldn’t worry about such things.

My boss, Event Manager Dylan Cobb, would hand me my ass if I stepped into the office a minute late. Sadly, there’d never been a day I didn’t cater to his every need.

I approached Beale Street and sighed in relief, relishing the warmth surrounding me. Not only from the sun above—the spirit’s cold presence at my back had vanished. Pleased my dodge of him had worked, I took a sip of my energy in a cup and smiled. Coffee’s fantastic, the ghost is gone—life is good.

Another block passed under my heels before I reached the historical red-brick building. Randall Marketing, written in black block letters, decorated the striped green-and-white awning.

I opened the door to the office and strode in, greeted by a bubbly voice. “Good morning, Tess.”

“Mornin’.”

“Give me a moment here.” Doris shuffled paperwork around her desk, her auburn curls bouncing on her shoulders. The receptionist had always been messy, yet somehow organized. “There were a few messages on the voicemail for you.” She raised her head and held out the pink slips of paper. “A lovely day today, is it not?”

“Sure is.” So I lied. The ghost hadn’t kicked off my day on a high note. Not as if I’d tell her about my interaction with spirits. My ability to converse with spirits remained on a need-to-know basis, and as far as it concerned me, no one needed to know. I grabbed the messages from her hand. “Did your weekend treat you good?”

“I spent the entire weekend knee-deep in my garden.” Her cocoa-colored eyes lit up. “My best year ever, I’m hoping. You’ll have to come out and have a look-see.”

“I’d love to.” Doris treasured her gardens, so I tried to appear interested, even though my green thumb looked black.

Her smile brightened, but when the phone rang, she waved a goodbye and answered the call. “It’s another beautiful day here at Randall Marketing, how may I direct your call?”

Leaving her behind, I strode down the hall toward my office and sipped my coffee. The warmth slid down my throat and provided an immediate rush to my energy levels. At the third door on the right, I entered my bleak workspace with its pale-blue walls, closed the door behind me and approached the desk. I dropped down into the black leather chair and flipped through the messages. None were urgent enough to worry about now.

I powered up my computer, but a knock at the door had me glancing up. Before I got a word out, the door swished open and I cringed, fully aware of the looming trouble.

Caley, the officer manager and my best friend since the age of four, looked like a typical Barbie. Perfect skin, long flowing blonde hair and a body men drooled over. I might have been jealous of her perfection since I couldn’t pull off her looks even with a makeover—so maybe a little envious—but her appearance had always been a front. She was the devil in disguise.

She scowled, shutting the door behind her with a slam. “Do you mind explaining where you were all weekend?”

“At home.” I batted my lashes. “Why? Did you try to call me?”

She pointed her finger, narrowing her eyes at me. “Don’t you try that shit on me. I called you all weekend and your phone went straight to voicemail.”

“Hmm…” I pretended to ponder. “The battery must have died.” She had enough gall to just come over, but the little hint had been a subtle way of telling Caley to leave me alone.

“Liar.” She plopped down in the seat across from my desk. “Where were you? I wanted to go out.”

“Nowhere. Honestly, I vegged on the couch.”

Caley snorted. “You lead such an exciting life.”

My mouth parted to offer a snappy retort, but a cold wisp of air brushed across my skin, causing my lips to snap shut. Damn! I thought I’d got rid of him.

“Hello.” Caley snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Leave the aliens behind and return to Mother Earth.”

I blinked, trying to force my attention back to her, yet failing. The ghost knelt right beside Caley—not kneeling, of course; more like floating, since ghosts were never able to obtain physical contact with the world around them—and my focus held strong on him, unable to stop myself from ogling. He stared intently, with one crystal-blue eye, while the other was a chocolate color. His strong jaw, the muscles clenching along his cheeks, all spoke of power. But as he ran his hand through his untidy sandy-colored hair, his expression showed playfulness. His black tank top left his arms exposed and muscles upon muscles layered those arms.

“Anyways,” she said, dragging my gaze back to her. “I had to go out with Susanne because you left me high and dry.”

I laughed. Caley’s horny, twenty-year-old stepsister had the body that men chased after. “You did have the option to stay home, you know.”

Her eyes widened. “On a Saturday night?”

“Yeah, you know, get some popcorn, watch a movie and relax.”

She frowned. “If you don’t stop your grandma behavior, your va-jay-jay is going to shrivel up and die.”

The ghost chuckled.

His smooth laugh hit me like a cup of warm cocoa, causing my insides to melt. Nothing amused me. First off, Caley had been so wrong—maybe a little right—but I’d never admit to her accuracy aloud. Second, reacting in such a heated way to a ghost definitely didn’t hit my to-do list today.

“Excuse me.” I spoke not only to Caley, but also to the irritating ghost. “My va-jay-jay is just fine.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve still got some spunk.” She stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Because we’ve got a double date tonight.”

“A what?” Dear God!

She grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, my dearest Grammy, we’re going out.”

“With who?”

“Two guys I met on Saturday night. You’re coming with me, either willingly or unwillingly, so suck up your hesitations, babe, because saying no isn’t an option.”

“But it’s a Monday night.” Not saying a date didn’t sound like fun. A month had passed since my last attempt at dating—which failed miserably—but a man Caley chose while drunk? No thanks. My sex life might have been as dead as the sexy ghost in front of me, but I’d still search for a way out. “I have to work tomorrow.”

She wagged her finger in classic Caley fashion. “You’re a grandma.”

Most times, I respected her persistent personality. She never backed down, always dreamed big and went for the gold, but her grit hadn’t been all rays of sunshine. Her determination made her annoyingly tenacious. I had to agree or she’d never give up, and getting her out of my office sounded all too good. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, stop looking so pissy. We’ll have fun. Promise. I’ll come to your place at eight.” She opened the door, glanced over her shoulder and winked. “Leave the granny panties at home.”

* * * * *

The day came and went. My head pounded, not because my boss had been as demanding as any two-year-old, which he did often, but because the ghost hadn’t shut up. The past hours, even after I returned home to get ready for tonight,he’d tried his best to gain my attention. Good thing I’m great at tuning people—ghosts—out, or I would’ve caved after hour two.

“I’m not leaving until you admit you can hear me,” the ghost said.

With a flick of my shag-cut brown hair—that actually didn’t give me any trouble tonight—to dismiss him, I strode next to Caley, heading back toward the downtown core. Dressed in my low-riding, dark wash jeans and blue plaid three-quarter-length-sleeve top, tied to leave my midriff exposed, at least I looked half decent while I suffered through the embarrassing blind date.

The ghost’s tone came a little louder and more abrupt. “Dammit, woman! Will you stop ignoring me? It’s annoying.”

I’m annoying him? I nearly laughed at the ridiculous notion, but did not intend to give myself away. I’d held strong for nine hours. Soon, he’d catch the drift and piss off.

Caley knocked my arm. “Will you stop looking so tight assed?”

I glanced away from the sidewalk and smiled at her. “My ass is tight.” Okay, not eighteen-year-old tight, but only twenty-five now, I worked hard to keep things tight.

She chuckled. “You’re…”

“Damn right, you do, sweet cheeks,” the ghost said.

Caley stopped dead in her tracks, which caused me to stumble. “What’s got you blushing?”

I righted my stance, raised my hand to my face and, to my horror, my cheeks were warm. “I’m not blushing. I‑I‑I’m hot.”

“Unless you somehow turned into a lesbian and have fallen for your best friend,you’re acting weird.”

“I do love you.” At her widened eyes, I laughed. “But I don’t want you in the sack. Seriously, I’m just hot.”

The ghost’s voice deepened. “Ah, a way to grab your attention, I see.”

The little purr hanging off his tone made my stomach flip-flop. Clearly, I craved some attention and needed to get some in a bad way if I reacted in such a heated way to a non-living person.

I shoved the ridiculous reaction away and focused back on Caley, falling into stride with her. “Who’s the guy I’m hooking up with tonight?”

“He’s just your type.” She wiggled her brows. “You’re going to thank me later.”

“What do you mean my type?” I liked men, all types of them, and I’d never confine my options into a little box. Caley had apparently taped the box shut and shipped the package.

“He’s a pro baseball player and is home visiting his family for a couple days.”

“A pro, huh?” Maybe I had fooled myself into believing I didn’t have a type, because hearing baseball player made my interest rise. Images of skintight white pants and a scrumptious ass filled my mind.

“Yeah, he’s got the looks too.” She nudged her shoulder into mine. “And the money.”

“Women,” the ghost muttered.

I ignored the ghost like the ghost he was, turned onto Beale Street and Coyote Ugly Saloon appeared. A line of people outside meant an hour of waiting. Not as if I thought we’d have to wait. I had Caley with me, after all.

She snatched up my hand, yanking me forward, and hurried her steps. “Brandon,” she called out.

Two men turned toward her, and evidently, Caley knew my type better than I did, since either of the men would have fallen into the fantasy category.

“I’m so glad y’all came,” Brandon said.

Caley gave one of her pageant smiles. “We’re glad you asked us to come.”

“You must be Tess.”

I glanced toward hunk number two. He held the typical all-American look—brown hair, blue-eyed, charming smile, and with his dimple, I suspected he could woo his way into anyone’s bed. Maybe even mine if he played his cards right tonight.

“I’m Trent.”

“Nice to meet you.” I ogled his trim body and handsome face and caught sight of the big white D on his navy-blue hat. “You play for Detroit?”

He nodded. “Both Brandon and I do. We were lucky enough to get a little time off to see the family.”

“Figures, Detroit sucks,” the ghost said.

I smiled, keeping my focus on Trent, ignoring the annoyingly sexy voice by my ear.

“Come on, let’s go get a drink.” Caley wrapped her arm in Brandon’s and approached the bouncer. If one good thing came from her charismatic pushy attitude, she’d always been quite the social butterfly. No one, including me, ever said no to her.

“Did you grow up here in Memphis?” I asked Trent.

“Born and raised.”

Seemed as if he wanted to say more, but Caley interrupted with her typical impatient yell. “Come on, y’all.”

I glanced over my shoulder to find her waving her hands. “We’ve been summoned.”

Trent chuckled.

I strode past the irritated crowd, who didn’t have a Caley in their group to push their way through. Entering the bar, loud country music, accompanied by hoots and hollers, rang out around me. The stench of sweat made my nose crinkle. Caley pointed to a table across the way and I maneuvered through the partygoers, following her.

At the table, Trent held out a stool and gestured for me to sit. He sure played his cards right to a royal flush. I slid onto the stool, and he asked, “What’s your drink?”

“A cold beer sounds great.”

He winked. “My kind of lady.”

The boys headed to the bar. I glanced over at Caley, who bounced up and down on her seat in excitement. “I did good, right?”

I nodded, not at all ashamed to give her props for her choice. “He’s not only sexy as sin, but a gentleman too. You did great.”

The ghost snorted.

I’d forgotten all about him and had hoped he wouldn’t follow me into the bar. Nothing would ruin my excitement now. A long time had passed since I’d met anyone worth meeting. The ghost wouldn’t put a damper on my fun.

Within minutes, Trent and Brandon returned to the table with four beers in hand. I claimed a bottle, took a long sip and sighed in happiness. After the day I had, the beer comforted me. The alcohol refreshed the senses, revived the mood and removed the tension sitting heavy on my shoulders.

Trent grinned. “Looks like you needed a drink.”

I licked the dribble of beer from my lips. “I’ve been craving a beer all day long.” I set the bottle onto the table. “So, tell me, what’s it like to play baseball as a pro?”

I’ve never regretted saying words more in my life. One question led to a twenty-minute conversation I wished I’d never instigated. Caley, the traitor, had vanished onto the dance floor with Brandon, which left me with the pompous stud.

“I’ve grown as a player…” Trent went on.

“This guy is a fucking joke,” the ghost said.

I almost turned my head to nod, but of course refrained. I continued to listen to Trent’s words without truly hearing what he had to say. I merely muttered “yeah” or “cool” when appropriate.

“If I were him, I would’ve skipped the conversation all together and had you back in my bed the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He did not just say that! My stomach leapt up into my throat and my body warmed in places that shouldn’t from a ghost. He’d only said words—not used soft touches to entice me—but the way his voice carried into my soul, the effect had been similar to sweet caresses. “The coach has been pleased…”

The ghost’s tone dropped an octave. “I wouldn’t have wasted the time with small talk. I would’ve used my mouth to learn my way around your luscious curves and used your responses to tell me about the woman you are.”

I squirmed on the stool in an attempt to ignore the soft purr of his voice sending shivers down my spine. I even leaned in further toward Trent and tried to concentrate on his boring conversation.

“After I tasted your sweet skin and saw your desperation for more, I would kiss your mouth until your lips were rosy and swollen. I’d deepen the kiss by tangling my fingers through your hair and holding you close to feel all of me.”

I gulped, crossed my legs and squeezed them tight. He’s a ghost! Nothing that involved him should arouse me. But the pulse between my thighs declared he held the power to make me undone.

“I’d kiss my way along your jaw while I lowered my hand to trail along your stomach. Then I would seek to discover all those little places that make you squirm.”

He ran his finger from below my ear all the way to my nape. His touch forced my eyes closed. A cold shiver danced along my skin to leave goose bumps in its wake. Wild sensations stole my logical mind. My will to ignore him plummeted.

“Tess,” Caley shouted.

I opened my eyes, and after taking a moment to focus, I discovered not only Caley staring at me, but Trent and Brandon too.

She frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

I shook my head and released the breath stuck in my throat, which came out in a slow wisp of air. “Nothing—I’m fine.”

“I’d lower myself between those luscious legs of yours, tempting you and teasing you. I’d stare into those pretty green eyes of yours until they widened in pleasure.”

“You’re not fine,” Caley retorted. “Your face is bright red.”

“I’d wait until your hips arched toward me and begged me to take you. Then, and only then, would I give you what you desire.”

I grabbed my beer, took a big swig and a couple more. All eyes stared at me with blatant confusion. Part of me wanted to move away, while the other needed to hear more.

“Ah, Tess,” Caley whispered. “Seriously, are you okay?”

I paid my obvious inappropriate behavior no attention. The fantasy the ghost built in my mind needed to have a conclusion. “Yes. Yes. I’m good.”

“I would thrust against you, demanding you react to my intentions. You’d scream out and I would echo the sound with a moan of my own, as I used all my strength to satisfy you.”

Caley chuckled nervously.

I gripped the edge of the table in front of me and held on tight.

“You’d come into your orgasm because I’d leave you with no other choice. But I wouldn’t stop there.” He ran his finger along my exposed lower back and the coldness against my hot skin made me shiver. “Without giving you the chance to recover, I’d flip you over on your knees,” his tone dipped lower, “and fuck you senseless.”

I shot up from my seat, which caused the stool to slam back into the person behind me, who swore in return. “I have to go.”

Caley nodded. “Ah yeah, I think you do.”

Without another word—or a goodbye to the living men or the dead one who had got me all hot and bothered—I bolted from the bar and ran so hard my calves burned, reminding me of the three-inch heels strapped to my feet.

The ghost didn’t follow me and nothing pleased me more. I needed some space, time to return to reality or to pleasure the need out of me—either would do.

Within only a few minutes, I arrived at my condominium, which appeared more like an old textile factory, but inside were renovated modern apartments. The arousal burning inside me hadn’t vanished. The wetness between my thighs was a constant reminder of the ghost’s words.

I ran up the stairs while I took my keys out from my back pocket. At the thick mahogany wooden door, I raised my key pass to the scanner, grabbed the chrome door handle and swung it open.

Just three doors down, I opened the door to my condo before slamming it closed behind me. I didn’t bother to lock the door and did the only thing I thought of now. I sprinted to the bedroom, stripped out of my clothes and finished the fantasy the ghost had built in my mind.

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