Happy Thursday, fishy friends!
Today there are two things I want to share with you and I just can’t decide which topic to blog about. After much deliberation, I’m taking the easy route and going with BOTH!
Firstly, it’s the Giving Season, and there’s this very special lady out there who is one of those people. You know, the kind who give and give and give but never want any attention brought to their generosity. And you try your very hardest to respect their wishes but eventually you just can’t take it any longer! This lady this past year for me has been the incomparable Dianna Love. I don’t even know where to start, to be honest. Do I tell you about her fabulous books? They’re out of this world, crazy good and I am salivating to crack open my copy of Demon Storm, Book 5 of the Belador series. So. Good.
Or how she is…
Read the Rest…
Eight years ago, I went to a Depeche Mode concert. I know, surprising. And then we all lived happily ever after. The End.
But wait, there’s more. I loved their opening act, a band called She Wants Revenge. Loved them so much that I caught one of their headlining shows, where I had the unforgettable experience of taking in She Wants Revenge’s opening act. A band so unique, I’ll never forget them. They were called Ima Robot. I can still see the words “Ima Robot” written in blood on their t-shirts while they did all kinds of jumpy things I’d never seen done on stage before. Eight years ago! Branded forever in my brain. Check out that energy…
I sit here and I wonder what it would feel like to be a member of an Opening Act? I imagine it’s exciting and takes a special kind of dedication. I imagine you’d be very close with your bandmates. Are you…
Read the Rest…
Beware you’re not alone in the Waterworld Mermaid lagoon.
Ghostly whispers in the dark.
Good thing we have just the giveaway to satisfy your sweet tooth and keep you entertained throughout this All Hallow’s Eve and beyond. Read the Ghosts in Mermaid Lagoon stories here and then enter to win the Waterworld Mermaid trick or treat bag filled with books, candy, swag and a $25 gift certificate.
Missed one of the great stories? Visit the Waterworld Mermaids Free Read page for a listing of all the stories included in the Ghosts in Mermaid Lagoon free read.
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I expected to see denial in his expression. Maybe a bit of skepticism. What I didn’t expect was the excitement and hopeful expression. And my heart skips in response.
An axe-murderer might be excited to get rid of some clue. But he wouldn’t have that hopeful look plastered on his rugged, handsome face. I glance down at the picture of him with his arm around his sister, and I have a moment’s hesitation. Would a murderer be that protective of a younger sister?
“So, who is it?” I ask, point-blank.
Armoires shouldn’t be used as a mode of transportation for the dead.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I stare at the antique mahogany armoire I purchased for an insane amount of money at the auction house last month.
I’ve spent my life not believing in anything that can’t be seen or touched. That includes God, the afterlife, soul mates and the Tooth Fairy. But, lately, I’ve had to reevaluate that belief since a ghost hitched a ride to my condo in an armoire.
“Hey gorgeous.” Annabel turned to find Jack leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned up in a perfect curve, dark eyes heating. He reached up between his shoulder blades and tugged his navy blue t-shirt off over his head. “Baby’s down, house is locked up and you’re looking mighty fine in that towel.”
She giggled, pushing the long ropes of wet hair out of her face. God, how did she get so lucky? He was perfect. From his bare feet to the short dark hair that was always deliciously messy from running his hands through it. His t-shirt dangled from his left hand, showing off his sculpted chest and six-pack abs. He was leaner than he had been when he left. Her eyes were automatically drawn to the happy trail of dark hair that disappeared down the front of his low-slung jeans. He popped the top button and slowly sauntered into the room.
Annabel stopped at the guard shack and handed over her military ID to the Marine on duty. He examined the ID, then returned it. “Have a nice day,” she said.
“Uh-Rah! You too ma’am.”
Jeremy bounced up and down in his car seat, “Uh-Rah! Uh-Rah! Uh-Rah!”
Annabel laughed. “Settle down back there. I know you like the Uh-Rah people, but you don’t have to burst mommy’s eardrums. Are you going to help mommy put your new big boy bed together when we get home?”
“Yep. Yep. Yep.”
Spring was beautiful in coastal North Carolina, peaceful. Annabel loved the slower pace of life. Of course, after attending college and working in Washington D.C. almost any place would seem slow-paced, she thought, turning onto Eden Street.
The neighborhood was cute, much better than the cave of an apartment they’d been living in, where the neighbors partied every weekend. She understood Marines’ wanting to blow off a little steam, but it was hard enough raising a baby by herself without doing it in the middle of a frat party. With Jack gone another five months, she was looking forward to the safety and quiet of their new home on base.
She opened her mouth and then clamped it shut. How dare he ask her that? “We don’t talk about those things,” she said. In the waiting room, you didn’t talk about what had happened before. “Once you’re dead, and a ghost, it doesn’t matter how you got here.”
He didn’t flinch. He kept staring at her. Then, back still braced against the wall, he slid down into a squat, comfortable, as if he intended to be there for a while. “If you tell me how you died, maybe you can help me.”
Help him how, why, with what? Ghosts didn’t help ghosts, but oh, that’s right, he wasn’t a ghost. Damn. This wasn’t the way her job worked.
Glaring at him, she chewed her lower lip, chomping on it like it was gum, but it didn’t help. She could feel her anger slipping. His eyes looked sad and beautiful and perfect like the morning sky on a summer day.
Read the Rest…
Poppy Green hadn’t thought about men in that way since before she was killed, but here she was, thinking about them. Well, not them, just one, and she sure wished it wasn’t true. She remembered how silly and reckless those thoughts used to make her, and she didn’t think she ought to be that way now. After all, being a ghost wasn’t an excuse for being sloppy or forgetful.
Sitting in the waiting room, midnight, the rain pounding against the windows, Poppy shifted in her seat as Henry Taylor walked through the double doors. Heading for the vending machines, he didn’t look her way, as always. He went straight to the section of wall between the machines. It was like his perch, or his piece of the rock.
Sighing, Poppy stared at the tile floor. There was no reason under this moon or any other to want Henry Taylor. Yeah, he was a ghost like her, but also a…
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