Join Cinderella, P. I., twenty years, three
kids, and a few extra pounds after the ball, as she travels from the castle to
the deep dark woods and to several other spots around the world. Along the way
you will encounter a Prince Charming (or two), a boy on the cusp of
adolescence, a fairy godmother, a witch, a Muse, a windy demi-god, and many
more, all brought to life by Alyx Morgan’s delightful voice characterizations. If
you enjoyed fairy tales when you were young, you’re sure to love the mystery, the
adventure, and the little touch of romance in these eight fairy tale mystery stories
for grown-ups.
PRAISE FOR THE
CINDERELLA, P. I. FAIRY TALE MYSTERIES FOR GROWN-UPS
“Charming series . . . a
highly entertaining and delightful read . . .
smart plotting and whimsical adventures”
“a fun romp through a fairy
tale”
“Cinderella isn’t just a
pretty face. She is a good detective as well”
“a delightful little tale . .
. a quick, funny read”
“clever update of some fairy
tale characters”
“snappy dialogue and new
twists on familiar fairy tale figures”
“a very readable, enjoyable, entertaining
story”
“If you grew up loving fairy tales,
you're going to love these
stories of Cinderella turned detective.”
“If you are looking for a fun book to listen
to while driving around town, then I recommend this one. The reader, Alyx
Morgan, is excellent. She gives all the characters distinct voices. She also
has a good sense of timing with the comedy scenes. Juliet Kincaid has made the
old Cinderella come alive for us older folks who were lost back in time with
the Disney version. This Cinderella is a character you can relate to. She has a
family and in-laws to deal with while solving mysteries in the kingdom. Many
times these stories just make you laugh out loud!”
CINDERELLA, P. I. AND OTHER FAIRY TALE MYSTERY STORIES
Join Cinderella, P. I. twenty years, three kids, and a few extra pounds after the ball as she investigates TWELVE cases. These include the award-winning “Cinderella, P. I.,” the story that started the series. Adventure into the woods with our heroine and meet a big bad wolf in the slightly salacious “Cinderella, Undercover.” Get to know our heroine’s charming husband in “Prince C and the Near Miss” and “The Prince C Letters.” Follow Cinderella and her fairy godmother Tammy as they search for the fashion maven’s fabulous makeover wand, missing again in “Cinderella and the Usual Suspects.” Expect fun and surprises in all twelve stories because you never know who will show up in Juliet Kincaid’s fairy tale mysteries for grown-ups.
PRAISE FOR JULIET KINCAID’S
CINDERELLA, P. I. MYSTERY STORIES
“a must for anyone who loved fairy tales as a child and wants a more adult version of favorite . . . characters”
“plenty of smiles and giggles at all the witty references”
“charming series . . . a highly entertaining and delightful read . . . smart plotting and whimsical adventures”
Billionaire Harold Hopewell traveled the world, encountering people and
letting their stories touch him. In death, he is giving back, leaving an
unusual will filled with life-altering bequests to the people he met
along the way. Read the Inheritance Series, and let their stories touch
you.
Rancher Josh Callahan is astonished when he learns he has inherited
the two Corgis he once returned to their owner Harold Hopewell, as well
as a truckload of cash—and an interior designer. Designer Abby Palmer is
excited about making over Josh's beautiful old farmhouse, whether the
stubborn cowboy likes it or not. Between the dogs, the debris and the
designer, Josh is in over his head—and his heart.
All of the stories in the Texas Two-Step romantic comedy series are
sweet, charming and emotional contemporary romance. Each story stands
alone, but all Texas Two-Step novels and novellas feature love stories
about members of the Nelson, Murphy or Palmer families — and sometimes,
more than one!
Excerpt:
Abby
Palmer glanced around the tiny living/dining room belonging to her
thesis committee advisor and mentor. The room was crowded with
graduates, professors and
their assistants. The party Professor Adams was throwing for the masters
graduates was in full swing, and no one would be the wiser that Abby's
pockets had been stuffed with contraband.
Abby
teetered around the buffet table, kissed Professor Adams on the cheek
and thanked her for everything. She exited quickly and started tottering
toward the Performing
Arts Center, where she was due for the graduation ceremony and photos in
forty-five minutes.
She had plenty of time to make the ten-minute walk. As she skirted the corner from West 27th Street
to 11th Avenue, she noticed a commotion ahead, and the sound of yipping dogs. Was it a dogfight?
Before she
knew it, she was in the center of the uproar, created by two small,
barking dogs. They circled, then launched themselves at her, and she
reassessed—two
small hellhounds.
Everything
would have been okay if it hadn't been for the crack in the sidewalk,
or her stilettos—or if she'd stayed in bed that morning with the
comforter drawn
over her head.
But she
took a step back from the dogs, her stiletto's tiny heel landing in said
concrete crack, sending her flying backward onto the hard sidewalk. The
tumble
knocked the breath out of her. "Omph."
The dogs
sprang into frenzied action, apparently pleased by the turn of events.
Abby threw her hands over her face and curled into a ball as they sprang
at her.
Then came the yipping, chomping, tearing, ripping—and drooling.
Enlightenment penetrated. They weren't after her, they were after her contraband! "No, you nasty hellions. No! Those are my
wienies."
Someone grabbed the Hounds of the Baskervilles, and pulled them away from her.
Abby
glanced up to thank her rescuer, but the words died on her lips as her
gaze met his. Her eyes widened, as if they needed the extra light to
take in the sight
before her. The man had to be the handsomest cowboy she'd ever laid orbs
on.
He gave her a cocky grin. "Your wienies?"
She flushed. "Cocktail wienies. From the party."
He glanced down at the sidewalk beside her. "I see."
She could
tell he was holding back a laugh and not bothering, thank goodness, to
call the question of why she was toting pocketsful of the party staple.
He reached out a hand to take hers, to pull her to her feet.
At the
contact of his hand on hers, though, the last thing she wanted was to
stand. She yanked and pulled him down toward the concrete beside her.
It almost worked, but he found his footing. His darn cowboy boots were a lot steadier than her chosen footwear.
"Whoa," the cowboy said.
Now her
flush turned into a full-fledged blush. What was she thinking? The last
thing she needed was a man right now, no matter how much she admired the
way his
checkered shirt highlighted his strong arms and the breadth of his
shoulders. She gave herself a mental shake, then pushed herself into a
sitting position. "Sorry."
He tugged
gently on her hand and she regained her footing. Sort of. One leg was
now taller than the other. One glance down showed her the reason. One of
the stilettos
no longer had a letto—the heel had separated completely. She wouldn't
have expected it with such expensive shoes.
With a sigh, she began brushing down her graduation gown.
Her brows drew together.
To be more accurate, she tried to smooth what was left of her graduation gown. The entire bottom hem was in tatters.
She raised
her hand to her mouth to smother the scream that was due to commence in
about ten seconds—and that's when she realized her hair had come out of
its bun.
The bun she'd worked so hard to perfect that morning.
At least she hadn't been wearing her graduation cap along with the gown, but really?
Broken
shoes, her graduation gown torn and her hair all in her face? Not to
mention being covered in doggy slobber. She checked the time. She was
due for graduation
photos in half an hour. What was she going to do?
The cowboy
leaned forward and started brushing at her thighs with his free hand,
the other still holding onto the Corgis' leashes, as if brushing her
graduation
gown would repair the tears and remove the drool. And it occurred to
her—the cowhunk was getting a little too personal with his pats.
She batted at his hand. "Hold it right there, cowboy."
"Just
trying to help." He held up his hand and the two dogs yipped toward her,
but he maintained control of them, thank heavens. No telling what
they'd destroy
on her next.
"I'm fine.
Perfectly fine." Abby bit her lip to keep from yelling at him. "As for
you, Devil Spawn—" she pointed at the female dog "—and you, Were Demon—"
she pointed
at the male dog "—stay back."
"I'm sorry for my dogs—"
"Just keep better control of them in the future."
"But, can't I…"
"Nope," Abby cut him off.
"But…"
"I'm
good." She yanked off her damaged shoe, scooped up the broken heel, then
up-and-down stalked off, one heel high and the other flat, toward the
photo and graduation
venue, her long auburn hair snarled and trailing down her back, and her
graduation gown tatters flapping like an old flag in the wind.
Yup. She'd truly believed it was going to be the best day of her life.
Maddie's hoping for a little holiday magic with her sexy neighbor Noah...
For the last year, Maddie's been trying to get Noah's attention, but
to no avail. Until a busted light bulb, a broken ladder and a
concussion lend a hand. Now with the holidays right around the corner,
she's hopeful that she'll finally get her wish to kiss her sexy neighbor
as way to kick off the new year.
Excerpt:
Maddie
frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Noah was big. And
tall. He easily towered over her by nearly a foot and he was built
like a linebacker, but she wasn’t easily intimidated. “First of
all, there’s nothing wrong with my ladder. And secondly, I avoided
the bad step. I need to see out here, and no one at the management
office is taking me seriously. It’s been three months.” She
shrugged. “I was handling it just fine until you scared me.”
“I
saw you trembling from the parking lot, Maddie. Don’t bullshit
me.”
Okay,
fine. So heights weren’t her thing, but if Noah hadn’t shown up,
she would have gotten through it and changed the bulb. Rather than
respond, she continued to stand defiantly and watch him.
“Look,
I highly doubt you saw any trembling,” she said, trying to sound
confident, “I was doing fine. I’m annoyed that I have to be
doing this when I’ve asked repeatedly for it to be taken care of.”
Then she studied him for a moment. “Doesn’t it bother you? You
come up these stairs to get to your apartment. Isn’t it annoying
that things have been let go for so long? I mean, we pay rent –
not cheap rent either – and no one maintains the property!”
“I
really didn’t notice.”
She
rolled her eyes. It figured. The man was up and out the door at the
crack of dawn and normally came home late. A normal person would
notice the lack of light or the creak of a broken step, but not Noah.
Granted there were only three steps and they weren’t very large so
chances were he probably skipped over them with his long legs.
Unable to help herself, she snuck a glance at him and then slowly let
her gaze go over him until she was looking him in the eyes.
And
saw what could only be described as a smirk.
Busted!
“Well,
I notice,” she said, doing her best to ignore what he was probably
thinking about her for checking him out. “I had a friend here
earlier and when I walked her out, it suddenly seemed like too much.
I had the bulb, I had the ladder…” She shrugged. When Noah
didn’t respond in any way, Maddie began to wonder if her babbling
had been too much for him.
“Give
me the bulb and I’ll change it,” he finally said after a long,
awkward moment.
“It’s
not necessary,” Maddie said, not liking the way Noah was glaring at
her.
His
only response was to hold his hand out.
“Fine,”
she mumbled and put the bulb in his hand. Stepping back, she watched
as he dropped his duffle bag on the ground – must have been at the
gym – and then moved the step ladder into position. It was on the
tip of her tongue to mention that maybe he should grab his own ladder
since he thought hers was so flimsy, but she held her tongue.
Actually,
she imagined how at Noah’s height, he almost didn’t need a ladder
at all. But as she watched him, she realized the light was higher up
than she thought. She had to be on the top step and even then she
was stretching. Noah was on the second step and seemed to be at the
perfect height.
While
he was busy, Maddie let her gaze linger on him again. He was
perfection. So perfect she almost sighed with appreciation. Tonight
he was in his standard attire – sweatpants, a hoodie and sneakers.
That’s how she knew he was at the gym. In the mornings he left in
normal street clothes but every night, he came home dressed like
this. She almost kicked herself for knowing these details. Watching
the man through the blinds definitely put her in weird, stalker-girl
territory and it wasn’t a place she was proud to be.
“Here,
take this,” Noah mumbled as he handed the burned out bulb to her.
Maddie took it and then took a step back.
In
an instant, the porch area was flooded with light. She let out a
little cheer and clapped, and for a second, it seemed like everything
was fine. The next thing she heard was a loud snap, and watched in
horror as the ladder seemed to crumble and Noah fell backwards onto
the concrete walkway.
"My Journey Through War and Peace: Explorations of a Young Filmmaker,
Feminist and Spiritual Seeker" is based on Melissa Burch's experiences
as a war journalist for BBC, CBS, and other networks. Her team was one
of the first documentary crews allowed in the Soviet Union at the height
of the Cold War, and she was featured in a New York Times story about
her time in Afghanistan. She was just in her twenties when she traveled
with the mujahideen, filmed an attack on a Soviet convoy, slept with an
Afghan commander, and climbed 14,000-foot mountains in the Hindu Kush.
"My Journey Through War and Peace" examines how, through outward
action and inward exploration, life can unfold in mysterious ways, far
beyond cultural and family expectations. In looking back at this
momentous decade, Burch shares why she pursued such dangerous and
difficult circumstances at such a young age and continued to live on the
edge. She now understands that she was seeking self-discovery, a
connection to something greater, and ultimately inner peace. This
exciting memoir will resonate with fans of "Eat Pray Love," "Wild," and
other popular memoirs that describe extraordinary inner and outer
journeys.
Kasey Phillips thinks her biggest problem is deciding whether to
photograph Cody Tuggle’s honky-tonkin’ tour, until an accident on Route
58 claims the life of her husband.
In a desperate race against
time as a hurricane threatens the eastern seaboard, they search for her
three-year-old son who is missing from the wreckage.
A community and friends rally to help, but someone knows more than they are telling.
Don't miss Pecan Pie and Deadly Lies, Cody Tuggle's story and the next in this series!
Excerpt:
Chapter
One
Kasey
Phillips snapped off three more pictures of the country singer
straddling seven hundred pounds of sleek American-made motorcycle.
Cody Tuggle looked more rugged than the Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains
that swelled in the background.
At
her command, Tuggle leaned forward across the wide chrome handlebars.
Even with the bandanna tied around his head like a do-rag, a look
she’d never found appealing, there was no denying this guy was
sizzling hot and all man.
Kasey’s
eyes narrowed as she leaned to get a unique angle. The estate was the
perfect setting for this magazine shoot. It belonged to Cody’s
agent, Arty Max. From the looks of the place, Tuggle’s fame had
paid off big for everyone.
Band
members and roadies lined the perimeter, but she stayed focused on
her subject. Curious onlookers were one of the biggest obstacles at
an outdoor shoot, but it was easy to tune them out when the subject
was someone with such star quality.
Working
with the light and shadows, she repositioned to find the right
interplay to intensify the image. The camera clicked at a fast clip,
and then not at all, as she considered the next best opportunity.
Click.
Click. Click-click-click.
“I
thought this was supposed to be hard work,” Cody said, pulling her
out of her zone. “Those bikini models are always complaining about
it on TV.” Laughter laced his voice. “Y’know, that fanny duster
job, dusting the sand off those cuties’ hind ends. Now that looks
like a right sweet gig. Got any connections?”
Kasey
lowered her camera. “You mean, in case the singing thing doesn’t
work out for you?” She gave him a scolding look. As the mom of a
three-year old, she’d pretty much perfected it. “If you keep
talking I’ll catch you with your mouth wide open, and you’ll look
dopey. Shhhsh.”
“That
must be why I always look drunk in those tabloids.” Cody flashed a
devilish smile. “Anybody ever tell you, you’re kinda bossy?”
“I
got both of those shots,” she warned. “Those weekly gossip rags
pay big bucks for celeb uglies. The uglier they are, the more they
pay. They’d pay top dollar for those last two pictures.”
“You
wouldn’t.”
“You’re
right.” She raised her hand in front of her like a traffic cop.
“Stay still. Yeah. Right there.” A perfect shot. The candy-apple
red Harley was only feet away from the black fence that surrounded
the estate. Light swept through a stand of birch trees in the
distance, their thin white-barked trunks made the colors appear more
vibrant and crisp. The forest displayed a myriad of green shades now.
Those leaves would boast orange, yellow, reds and purples in the fall
as the chlorophyll faded and autumn arrived—an awesome display to
capture on film.
Cody
spoke to someone just behind her.
She
shot him thelook.
“What?
It’s hard to sit still this long and not say a word.” Cody
rewarded her with a natural smile. She took advantage of it, snapping
the image.
Kasey
enjoyed the gentle sparring. “What’s the problem? You got ants in
your pants? You said this modeling stuff was so easy, but all I’ve
heard for the past thirty minutes is a bunch of girly complaining.”
“Hey
now, be nice. Girly? Me? You’re gonna hurt my feelin’s.”
The
roadies and band members nudged one another.
“Somehow
I doubt that.” Kasey watched the star’s smile fade into an
exaggerated pout. He might be used to women falling at his feet, but
she wasn’t one of his groupies. “Did I bruise your frail ego?”
What a ham.
“Maybe it’s that silly rag on your head makin’ you all girly.”
She
couldn’t help herself. The man in front of her was huge, at least
six foot four, with shoulders so broad the wide-set handlebars on the
motorcycle didn’t look nearly as impressive. This guy could wear a
pink tutu and look masculine.
The
band members and roadies seemed to enjoy the banter, but she wasn’t
sure whom they were rooting for—Cody or her.
Cody
sat up straight on the bike, his smile gone. He pulled the bandanna
off and ran his fingers through his flattened mass of blonde hair.
She
took in a quick breath. Maybe
that last comment had
crossed a line. She
knew the do-rag was symbolic to the band, but then if her jab got him
to quit mugging around, it would be worth it. She’d get the best
shots of the day.
His
hair bounced back into its usual tangle of waves, softening his
chiseled look. He stuffed the slip of fabric into his back pocket
with a half grin, maybe just short of a smirk.
Kasey
clicked like mad. “Now we’re talking.”
Cody
tugged open the snaps of his western shirt.
She
switched cameras and gave him a nod of encouragement. Tuggle’s PR
guys had left last night. She called the shots now. Just the way she
liked it. This was all Cody.
His
tan accentuated his chest. Flawless. He didn’t have a soft,
white-collar body. This was the body of a guy who enjoyed getting
physical.
“Looking
right manly now, Mr. Tuggle.” Her heart and soul belonged to Nick,
but staring at Cody Tuggle for hours at a time was no punishment.
“Mr.
Tuggle? Why is it the less I’m wearin’ the more business you
get?” He stepped off the motorcycle in one easy movement and took a
step in her direction.
“Quit
it, you big flirt.” She took another picture. “I’m married.”
She wiggled her ring finger in his direction.
Kasey
glanced at her watch. It was almost nine. “Let’s take five.”
She walked to a table nearby, pulled her phone from her hip and
dialed home. Every day on the road, at nine o’clock sharp each
morning, there was nothing more important than checking in with Nick
and Jake. She loved her work, but they were the light of each day,
and three days in a row of not being with them was torture.
With
her back to Cody and the others, she talked to Nick. He caught her up
on their plan for the day. She checked her watch again, then forced
herself to wrap up the call. “Love, love, love you boys.”
“I
love you ten and five, Mom.” Jake’s tiny voice made her heart
bubble. Ten and five was the biggest number in the world to him.
“Love
you, babe. See you at the other end of the day,” Nick said and hung
up.
A
familiar surge of happiness consumed her. She couldn’t wait to be
home with them. She and Nick had wed just a few months after they’d
met. It was a marriage made in heaven, and Jake was the icing on the
wedding cake. That little angel was the best thing she’d ever done
in her life.
She
snapped her phone shut and headed back to the shoot. “Let’s go,
guys.”
Tuggle
turned his attention back to her. “Call home to check in with Mr.
Phillips?”
“Not
exactly. Phillips is my maiden name.” She switched to her digital
camera for the final run. “But yes. I was checking in at home.”
“That
dude’s one lucky guy.”
“Two,
actually.”
Cody
leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Two? I bet number one
doesn’t think much of that.”
“Funny.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Husband and son.”
“You
had me worried there for a minute.”
She
lowered the camera. “Nick and Jake. Jake’s three, and the most
adorable child. Not that I’m biased.”
“Got
his momma’s good looks, did he?” Cody smiled a perfect smile, the
kind he wasn’t good at performing on demand. “You know I’m just
playing around, right?”
Kasey
captured one last shot, ignoring the remark. “You’re done.” She
lifted the camera strap over her head and wiped her palms on her
jeans. “I’ve got what I need.”
“I
was just getting into it.” He struck an Egyptian pose. Everyone
howled and cheered.
This book is a collection of my poetry that, more often than not, came
from the inspiration of my family, my friends, holidays and special
events; or simply the urge to put the pen to the paper and write,
Dr. Sadie Rollins is a well-respected college professor with a serious
obsession. She’s in love with a pop star who doesn't even know she
exists. It’s the kind of obsession that keeps her up at night. The
kind that has her friends and family seeking medical help for her. But
it’s the kind that Sadie knows she has to get out her system before it
takes over her life. So, how can she do that? Believing that it will
turn her dull, boring life into a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, Sadie
throws caution to the wind and decides to follow her very own 12-Step
Plan that she is convinced will lead her to love in the limelight. The
question is, will the plan lead her to the love of her life, or would
she have been better off just enjoying the fantasy from afar?
Growing up, Elli Eversol spent nearly every summer in Sand Dollar Cove
at her grandparents’ beach house, working at their shops on the old
fishing pier. After a hurricane and a Nor’easter damage the pier and the
shops nearly beyond repair, Elli returns to town to help rebuild. She
even launches the Buy-A-Board campaign to raise funds for the plight.
Holden Moore is back in Sand Dollar Cove, too. He broke Elli’s heart
years ago, but he’s pulling every Romeo trick in the book to win her
back now. Yet there’s more to Holden’s agenda, and it doesn’t include
saving the pier.
Brody Rankin is eager to scout the location for
his company’s new mega-warehouse near a quaint North Carolina beach
town. The online request for handyman assistance for the Buy-A-Board
campaign in Sand Dollar Cove gives him the perfect reason to head to the
east coast, check out the area, and contribute to a good cause. He’d
only have to leave half of his playboy-surfer lifestyle behind for a
little while—there are plenty of waves in the Atlantic. But when he
meets Elli Eversol, she really gets the surf up, and he’s tempted to
toss his playboy ways out with the tide.
CHAPTER
ONE
As soon as Elli
Eversol pushed her toes into the gritty sand on the beach, wonderful
memories swept away the stress she’d carried on the five-hour drive
from Charlotte. Temperatures were already hovering in the sixties,
unseasonably warm for March on the North Carolina coast, especially
for this early in the morning. With her shoes and socks in hand, she
walked down to the pier, her footsteps leaving clear imprints in the
crusted top layer of sand.
Filling
her lungs with ocean air, the only thing missing from her memories of
the beach was the scent of suntan lotion, but summer was just a few
months away.
Sand
Dollar Cove still held a special place in her heart. Every summer for
as long as she could remember, she’d stayed here with Nana and Pops
at their beach house. The Sol~Mate had been her home away from home
on summer breaks until she’d gone away to college. Her plan had
been to move here once she graduated, but Dad had made her promise
that she’d work in a city for two years before making a decision to
settle in Sand Dollar Cove. He’d grown up here and, according to
Nana and Pops, Daddy couldn’t wait to get out of the small beach
town. She’d never understood it, but he must’ve been onto
something: Even though she’d moved to Charlotte with the plan to
get some experience under her belt just to make him happy, she’d
been there ever since. Two years turned into five, and she stayed so
busy she hadn’t even had the time to think about moving since.
Waves
crashed against the pier, filling the air with a misty spray. The
seagulls above seemed to laugh at some inside joke between them. At
least at this time of the year the sand was cool. In the summer there
were days you were forced to use your towel and shirt as stepping
stones to get back to the parking lot or else burn your feet. After a
winter of closed-toe shoes, it sure felt good to walk the beach
again.
A
young couple stood under the pier. The water lapped at their ankles
as the guy leaned in, probably promising her the world. She’d been
that girl once. The crash of the waves dulling her sensibilities and
drowning out her voice of reason. It was a long time ago, but her
chest ached at the memory of the heartbreak of that summer.
Elli
silently wished the girl under the pier better luck than she’d had.
Between those broken promises and then losing Pops just a few weeks
later, that summer had been the worst of her life. Maybe work wasn’t
the only reason her trips back to Sand Dollar Cove had become more
infrequent over the years. Maybe these memories had a little to do
with it too.
As
she got closer to the pier, the No Trespassing signs and yellow
caution tape caught her off-guard. The insurance company probably
demanded they mark it to keep from being held liable, should someone
try to fish before the repairs were complete. But still, it was
unsettling.
The
recent nor’easter had done even more damage to the pier, sweeping a
huge gap right out of the center of the remaining pilings. Seeing it
for the first time in person, it was a lot worse than she’d
realized. The pier looked like a snaggle-toothed jack-o’-lantern
about two weeks after Halloween. A swirl of concern swept through
her. If the town didn’t get busy on repairs they could miss one of
the biggest moneymakers of the summer tourist season, Memorial Day
weekend.
Her
bright mood faded. Pops had built those shops on the pier nearly
fifty years ago. When the hurricane damaged them, Elli had started an
online fundraiser to repair them. The Buy A Board campaign had been
more successful than she’d ever dreamed; the donations more than
doubling her initial goal in only a few weeks. For a $250 donation,
donors could opt to have their names displayed on one of the boards
used to make the repairs. That had been the most popular option, and
the smaller donations had added up quickly too.
When
Nana mentioned that she hadn’t been able to renew her license for
the shops, Elli had assumed Nana just hadn’t gotten around to it.
Now she wondered if perhaps the town was stalling on issuing them
because they’d fallen behind on this project. Fallen
behind was being kind. It looked
like no one had done a thing.
She
glanced at her watch. Right now she was due at the Carolina By The
Sea Resort and Spa. Breaking into a jog, she got back to her car and
used her socks to swat the damp sand off her feet, then put her shoes
back on.
It
was a short ride to the spa from here. Elli pulled her car into the
last parking spot at the far end of the resort near the restaurant.
March
could be desolate, and many of the businesses chose to shut down
completely until Memorial Day. But Pam seemed to be doing a big
business, if the parking lot was any indication.
Inside,
the place was bustling. Filled nearly to capacity in the shoulder
seasons, pre- and post-summer, was a big deal in a small beach town
such as this.
“You
made good time,” Pam said, rushing to Elli and pulling her into a
big hug.
“It’s
so good to see you.” Elli pulled back from the hug. She still
thought of Pam as her teenaged beach buddy. Practically twins, except
Pam had dark hair and brown eyes, so whenever they got together and
Pam was pulled together, all business, it always took her by
surprise. “You look great.”
Pam
struck a pose. “Spa living suits me.”
“Apparently.
I could hardly sleep last night knowing I’d be seeing you today.”
“Some
things never change. Welcome back.” Pam motioned her to follow.
“You should have just driven down last night.”
They
settled in a corner booth, and a waiter dropped off menus and took
their drink orders. “True, but I’d promised Bob I’d take care
of some things before I left town. We’ve got a big open house
today. So I did all the prep for that last night.”
“Y’all
staying busy?”
“Very
busy,” Elli said. “Bob and I are a good team. We have different
specialties, so between us we have a steady workload no matter what
the economy is doing. That’s a blessing in the real estate market
right now.”
“And
there’s still nothing between you two? I swear if I had a Realtor
as good-looking as he is, I might never settle on a house to buy. I’d
just look and look and look.”
“He
is cute, but no. He’s so
not my type. Nothing but business between the two of us.” Elli
thanked the waiter for her cup of tea and glanced over the menu as
she spoke. “And frankly, that’s good for business. Besides, now
that I know him so well I can see that I’d never be his type
either. He likes those high-maintenance girls who stroke his ego day
and night. Not exactly my style if you know what I mean.”
“I
know the type. But hey, as long as he’s selling houses it’s all
good, right?”
“My
thoughts exactly.”
“Every
once in a while a customer will talk about buying a place here. Are
you still licensed to sell here in the cove?”
Elli
took a sip of her tea. “Sure am. I’ve kept that up to date. Never
know when it’ll come in handy.”
“Next
time someone goes all gaga for Sand Dollar Cove, I’ll give them
your name.”
“That
would be great. It would give me a reason to come more often too.”
She closed the menu and set it aside. “I’ve got to be better
about that. Nana is not getting any younger, and I feel so awful for
letting so much time slip by between visits. I don’t know how I let
that happen.”
“Well,
you’re here now.”
“It
was good timing. That pier is looking right pitiful.”
“Yeah.
It’s not good. I’m so glad you were able to raise money to help
fix the shops,” Pam said. “They’re part of the tradition around
here.”
“One
quick mention on social media that I needed someone good with a
router to help engrave the planks in exchange for room and board
here, I had no less than half a dozen responses.”
“I’m
not surprised. I’m using social media for a big part of my
marketing campaign for the resort, and it’s paying off big time.”
“I
thought I’d end up with someone local, but the guy who is coming is
from California. He’ll be here this week to start personalizing the
boards in exchange for room and board at Sol~Mate.”
“Your
grandmother will be in seventh heaven with someone to dote on.”
“Nana
loves fussing over people.”
Pam
nodded. “You know she’s been canceling some of her hair
appointments. I’m not complaining, but it’s not like her. It’s
probably good that you’re here to check in on her.”
“That
really isn’t like her. Thanks for mentioning that.” As if she
didn’t already feel guilty for being away so long, if something
were wrong with Nana, she’d never forgive herself. “That worries
me.”
“She
seems fine when she comes. Maybe she’s just slowing down,” Pam
said. “How old is she?”
“Seventy-five.
It’s hard to believe though. She’s so active I never think of her
as getting old.” She had to do a better job of making the time in
her schedule to come visit.
“We’re
all getting older.”
“Yeah,
so let’s quit talking about age. That’s just depressing.”
“Women
fighting the battle against aging keep my spa full. I’m not ever
going to complain about getting older.”
Joy
filled Elli’s heart at her friend’s success. No college. Just
great business sense. The girl could make anything work. “Good
point. I’m thinking that the beach and pedicures is a real
money-making racket too. One quick walk on the beach on my way here
and I pretty much ruined mine.”
“Well,
you and Nana should come Monday. My treat.”
“That’ll
be great. We’ll take you up on that if Nana doesn’t have plans.”
“Good.”
Pam pulled out her phone, and her fingers swept across the screen
“All set. Gosh, Elli, it’s really good to see you. I’ve really
missed you. I’d been counting the days to your visit next month.
It’s such a treat to have you here sooner. I was surprised when I
got your text.”
“Brody,
my California volunteer, said he had to be out on this coast for
something else, and if I’d move up the date he’d cover his own
travel. So instead of next month, he’s coming this week.”
“Perfect.”
“Exactly.
Now I can use that money for some other upgrade. That Buy A Board
campaign was an awesome idea. We’ll be able to get those shops in
shipshape. Thank you so much for coming up with that idea. Your ideas
always come through.” The waiter filled Elli’s cup with tea.
“Thank you.” Pam lifted her glass to Elli’s, and they giggled
as though they were sixteen again.
High
school. That was when Elli met Pam, over summer break while Elli was
staying with her grandparents at Sol~Mate. They hit it off and looked
forward to every summer break and family visit after that.
When
Elli had taken up her grandparents' offer to use part of their shop
on the pier to start a summer business, it was Pam who’d helped
Elli put the plan to paper for her homemade ice pop business. She’d
made enough money that first summer to pay for her books and classes
for two semesters. Her parents had been so pleased that they’d
matched her penny for penny. It had made it a no-brainer to focus
just on studies, then take each summer off to replenish her funds.
Besides, she’d always loved this town, and hanging out on the beach
in the sun was good work if you could get it. Working here was like
play.
Elli
said, “I was thinking maybe I could take you and Jack down to Nags
Head to get those crab cakes we love. Think he could get an afternoon
off while I’m in town?”
“About
that.” Pam took a long swig of her mimosa. Her expression stilled
and grew serious.
Elli
sat back. “What? You’re giving me a bad vibe.”
“We’re
separated.”
“You’re
what?” Elli put her teacup down. “What happened? Y’all were
perfect together. Are you kidding me?”
“Not
kidding.”
Elli’s
throat tightened. “What did he do? Are you okay?”
“Nothing.
Relax. We just started moving in different directions.”
“When
did this happen?” She felt suddenly very left out. “Doesn’t the
maid of honor have some kind of right to be in the loop on this kind
of stuff?”
“It’s
not that big of a deal. Things here at the spa are finally really
taking off. His career is too. Only that meant a promotion that would
relocate him to Texas. I didn’t want to hold him back, and he
didn’t want to ask me to give up the spa. Besides, closing Carolina
By The Sea would be very bad for this town. You know we don’t have
that many businesses here to start with. It’s my hometown. I want
to do my part, and I don’t want to live anywhere else. Really it’s
for the best.”
“And
it’s amicable?”
“Completely.
That’s why it seemed so weird to call and say, ‘Hey, Elli, guess
what, I’m getting a divorce.’ There wasn’t anything anybody you
or anyone else could do.”
“You’re
not sad at all?”
She
shrugged. “Not really. Things were good, but they were mostly
comfortable. It’s for the best.”
“If
you say so.” Sadness swept over Elli. For some reason Jack and Pam
not making it felt like less hope for her to find a lasting
relationship.
Do you believe in ghosts? A recent poll
in the States found 42% of people believed in ghosts while a similar
poll in the UK found 52% of people there did too. I'm part of that
52%. So writing a series about a college girl who sees ghosts wasn't
fantasy to me.
Greyworld came into existence
when I was wondering what I'd write next. I'd just completed a series
and had the feeling most of us get when something comes to an end. I
call it the blahs. Really, I should have started on a new
story before I finished the series, to avoid that state. But I
didn't. So there I was, with a massive case of the blahs and no idea
what I wanted to do about it.
I sat down in front of my keyboard and
let my muse play. I call her my muse, but I actually think she's a
collective on the other side who feed me fodder for my books. I just
act as secretary and write their stories down.
So there I was – fingers at the
ready, mind as blank as a whiteboard on the first day of the school
term. Then the first sentence came through. 'Don't believe what they
tell you in movies and on TV, ghosts don't haunt people.'
To say I was floored would be playing
my reaction down. I believed in ghosts. I'd seen ghosts, for
Pete's sake! Now my muse was telling me they didn't exist? That it
was all in my imagination?
Wait, no, that wasn't what it said. It
said ghosts don't haunt people, not that they didn't exist. So, after
picking myself up off the metaphorical floor, I put my fingers on the
keyboard again and waited for clarification. It came quickly. 'Don't
get me wrong, I'm not saying ghost don't exist, I'm just saying they
don't haunt people. Because basically they don't know we're here.'
A little more mollified, and a lot
curious, I waited for more. This was totally new terrain for me. The
ghosts I'd come in contact with always knew I was there. Not that
there were a lot. But enough. Especially since coming to live in
England. There's a reason why more than half the population believe
in ghosts here. This place is a mecca for them. I guess that happens
when people have lived and died by the millions on this little island
over the millennia. Not like Australia where I come from. It's a
percentage game. More dead people; more possible ghosts; and more
sensitive people to see them.
I decided to let my muse have her say,
even if I wasn't sure she was telling me the truth. As I did so an
amazing new perspective on earth-bound spirits started to reveal
itself. And I decided to stick with the first person narrative form,
and the info dump as the start of the novel, because Beth's character
came through so clearly in it. I wanted her to hook the reader as
she'd hooked me, and then let her test her theories against the
'reality' of meeting someone who didn't fit her world view. Give her
a little of her own medicine.
And Greyworld, one of the most
'realistic' romances I have even written, was born. Now, as the last
on the four-part series is about to be released, I look back at the
day I sat with the blahs and think, Wow, what a rollercoaster ride!
So now I'm daring you to test you
theories of reality against Beth's, to decide whether there really
are things out there that don't go bump in the night.
Nyhs Glover is doing a $10 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway! All you need to do to enter is to leave a comment below on what you think about ghosts and Glover's new book.
AUTHOR BIO
After
a lifetime of teaching others to appreciate the written word, Aussie
author Nhys Glover finally decided to make the most of the Indie Book
Revolution to get her own written word out to the world. Now, with
over 100,000 of her ebooks downloaded internationally and a winner of
2013 SFR Galaxy Award for 'The Titan Drowns', Nhys finds her words,
too, are being appreciated.
At
home in the beautiful Yorkshire Dales of England, Nhys these days
spends most of her time "living the dream" by looking out
over the moors from her window as she writes the kind of novels she
loves to read. The ones that are a little bit steamy, a little bit
different and wholly romantic.
You
can find out more about Nhys and her books by visit
www.nhysglover.com
Excerpt from Greyworld
1:The Anomaly
"What do I look like to you? I
assume there's some reason you think I'm a ghost," her voice
went up at the end as a question, and her pale eyebrows lifted too.
Was she making fun of me?
I decided two could play at that game.
"Is this where I'm supposed to say you're pretty?"
She laughed and shook her head. "I'm
not my sister. I have no illusions about my looks. And if you said I
was pretty I wouldn't believe you. So, no. I want to know why you
call me a ghost."
I sobered up and decided to address the
elephant in the park directly. "I can see through you. You
aren't solid and colourful like the rest of us. Like the tree behind
us." I hated to break it to her. After all, she said she wasn't
dead, and yet she obviously was. How was someone supposed to break
something like that to a ghost?
She looked at her own hand, as if
trying to see it as I did. Of course, she wouldn't.
"It's okay. You can go to the
Light or whatever. They say it's great on the other side," I
found myself muttering stupidly. Crap, this was not as easy as it
seemed on TV.
She looked up at me, her eyes filled
with compassion and empathy. "So they say. Do you want to know
what I see when I look at you?"
I hadn't thought about that. Wouldn't
she see me like the rest of the people around us? I mean, we're the
living, after all.
Her eyes became even more sympathetic
and I began to feel like an idiot who was missing the point somehow.
I could see she was fighting not to reach out and comfort me with a
touch.
"You're transparent to me, too. I
call you Greys. And there aren't fifty shades of you. You're all just
one transparent grey."
It was my turn to look at my hand. It
was as solid as it always was. Maybe she was just saying that to get
even with me for breaking the news to her so badly?
"I'm as solid as those people
sitting over there," I nodded with my head to the three co-eds
and one guy sitting on the grass no more than ten feet away. Already
they'd looked my way a couple of times, clearly wondering who I was
talking to.
"There's nobody there. I can see
two guys about to sit down to our right. But it's too cold for most
people to be out today. Spring seems to have deserted us."
"It's not spring. It's September
and this is an Indian summer," I choked out. Things were
deteriorating fast. She must have died in spring and was stuck in
that time forever. Always chilly, never to enjoy the pleasures of
summer again.
For a moment she just stared at me.
That's when it hit me. She thought I was dead. She thought I was the
ghost. This was getting seriously screwed up.
