Today’s guest blogger, Catherine Wade, and I joined the Samhain family at about the same time, and throughout the past year (where has it gone, Cate?) we’ve exchanged quite a few emails pondering the “huh?” moments of publishing. Yesterday, Cate’s second book, Another Time Around was released as an e-copy (it’ll be released in print next summer.) Like me, she’s surrounded by a houseful of testosterone. Unlike me she actually has musical ability. Like me? She’s seen ghosts….
Have you been haunted? Haunted by a memory, by a mistake, by the ghost of your late husband? Brin’s haunted by all three, and the dead husband’s getting a little out of hand. That’s the subject of my new book, Another Time Around. But the question today isn’t what my book’s about, it’s why I wrote it in the first place.
Since I was a little kid, I’ve been fascinated by the so-called occult. I played with Ouija boards and tarot cards, but nothing really cemented my beliefs until I was in high school and met my sister’s friend. Since I was a small child, I’d always felt just odd in my parents’ basement. Not scared, necessarily, but like something was just off. Then I started having dreams about a man wearing a leather tunic with feathers in his hair. He was never doing anything, just looking at me. Then my sister’s friend came to visit. Our guest room at the time was in the basement, and that’s where she slept. The next morning, she described waking up in the middle of the night to find the exact same man staring at her. Not doing anything, just looking at her.
Want to talk shivers down my spine?
I didn’t know at the time that my sister’s friend was a psychic – she’s made quite a name for herself in certain circles around the Rocky Mountain area – but I knew in that instant what I had felt, the man I had seen, was real.
It explained so much for me. Why in a certain church in town I always felt I was being watched, why my mother just couldn’t go into the sanctuary without getting jumpy, and why I’d see things out of the corner of my eye only to find the room empty.
As I got older, I started researching the paranormal as a hobby. I’ve always found it fascinating, though I admit I don’t buy the whole thing hook, line and sinker. Still, I think there’s something out there which we can’t explain.
So as I stood in the shower one day (is there a better place to get ideas?) my mind wandered to the paranormal. What if a widow was haunted by her late husband? Not the corner-of-the-eye, dream type haunting. A real, life-like man who could touch her, love her, and completely mess up her life just when she’s ready to move on? Sounded like a book to me.
So I’ll ask again – have you ever been haunted? Tell me about it.
Brin Maxwell once lived the ultimate rock-n-roll fantasy as the wife of the frontman for Hell’s Fury. It all ended in a flash—literally—with a lightning bolt that took Max’s life and left hers in suspended animation.
Two years later she’s ready to move on, but there’s a stumbling block: her sanity. Max’s ghost has decided to haunt her, and he’s got a bad habit of showing up at the most inconvenient moments. Like when she’s about to plant a long wet one on event planner David Lyle, the man she hopes will resurrect her love life.
David is real, solid, and makes her heart do the tango. He’s also curiously inept at his job—yet he has certain other talents that leave her wondering just what he’s hiding in his shadowy past.
Then there are the death threats. As they escalate from notes slipped under her door to full-scale, Kodak-moment terror, Brin realizes Max’s return is no coincidence. And that the only one she can turn to is David.
The man with the skills to save her life—unless he’s there to take it…