Woo hoo! First things first, I wanna share that Mistletoe Magic is officially available for preorder…and for a special price of $.99! I just can’t wait for this to release on December 1st!
Here’s a blurb so you can get just as excited as me!!!
Theresa might not make the best pot of coffee in town, but people still flock to the diner for a cup, even Officer Crowl, who rarely displays a smile since his fiancé died. She’ll never be able to win his heart, but it’s hard to resist him, especially when he kisses her under the mistletoe. Well, on the cheek, but that has to count for something…right?
Staying busy keeps Officer Aiden Crowl sane. Because when he’s idle or alone, he thinks, and nothing good comes from that. Everyone thinks he was the perfect man. They think he’s broken because she’s gone. He is, just not for the reason they believe. Every time he walks into the diner, one sweet smile from Theresa erases some of the pain. He should stay away from her. Far away. But what is he supposed to do when they’re standing under a mistletoe? Kiss her, of course.
*Note: Each book in this series can be read as a standalone.*
And now for Flash Fiction Friday! Kinda super duper loving this storyline so far! Enjoy!
Prompt ~ You’re adorable.
He waited ten days for her. Ten long, agonizing days. When he thought about it, in the grand scheme of things, ten days wasn’t that long.
Decades. A century. Now that was long.
But ten days should be a piece of cake for him.
Instead, it had been the worst ten days of his life as he waited impatiently for her to return to the cemetery. For him to have contact with another person that he hadn’t had in ages.
He still couldn’t believe she saw him. Talked to him. Walked away from him. Of course, he didn’t really blame her one bit for the last one. He would’ve walked away from him, too. What sane person would stick around and talk to a ghost? What sane person could see ghosts?
Better yet, why in the hell was he a ghost?
He died in this town defending it against a gang running havoc around the area, robbing the bank and the townspeople of all their most expensive possessions, which wasn’t that much.
He had been pitted against failure, and yet, he took a stance and tried to defeat them anyway—by himself. No other townsfolk would stand with him. He’d been handy with a gun. Not necessarily a known gunslinger back in the day, but he handled his guns like a seasoned pro. His aim was never off. He managed to take down five of the ten men that came stampeding into town that day before he was gunned down.
Shouldn’t that have hailed him a hero of some sort? A one way ticket to heaven, at least.
Apparently not. Because since that day, he roamed the town as an apparition. Trying to connect with anyone, hoping, wishing, and praying they’d hear him. He watched as the town boomed from a small town to a big city, as the gates to the cemetery where they buried his body grew and expanded. Yet, anytime he tried to pass through the gates, he disappeared and ended right back to his headstone, doomed to roam among the dead, but never to pass on to the other side…to heaven.
And after ten long, suffering days of loneliness, she finally returned. However, he couldn’t seem to move from behind the tree and approach her, to announce his presence. The last time they spoke, she ran as if she had seen a ghost, which she had. He scared her. That was the last thing he wanted to do again.
But he wanted to talk to her. He wanted that human connection he hadn’t had in years. It felt good to banter back and forth, to have a conversation, even if it had been an awkward one.
Figuring he never backed down from anything, and that he refused to start now, he forced himself to step away from the tree and make his way to the grave where she sat on the grass talking to her father.
He had watched her for over a month, coming to the grave, talking as if her father could hear her. It was something he did with lots of people as they visited their loved ones. He had gotten into the habit of talking with them, as if they could hear him, that he nearly fainted when she responded back. And he was not a man prone to fainting. Far from it.
“How did he die?”
The sound of his voice obviously frightened her as she scrambled to her feet and backed away from him. What an idiot he was. He shouldn’t have announced his presence so abruptly, and with such an insensitive question. A simple hi would’ve sufficed.
He tried to produce a friendly smile, afraid it came out creepier than he intended when she took another step back. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”
“I almost didn’t…but…I missed my dad. I miss him.”
He trailed his gaze away from hers to the headstone that read, “Loving husband, father, and brother, who lived passionately and died bravely.”
It would’ve been great if someone wrote something that nice on his headstone. All they did for him was slap his name and date of death upon it. The townsfolk didn’t even know his birthday.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Yeah, he figured it was weird for her to receive sympathy from a ghost. But he was sorry. Losing someone was hard. He had to endure losing his entire family before he finally died, all alone and nobody to care that he was gone.
“I’m sorry about yours.”
He jerked his eyes to hers to see the truth in those words. She looked sad, but also intrigued and a little wondrous. “You’re adorable.” He chuckled. “I’ve been dead a long time. You’re the first to offer any sympathy. Thank you.”
A slow smile lit up her face. If he thought she was pretty before, which he did, she was breathtakingly gorgeous when she smiled.
“How did you die?”
“Gunfight.” He gestured toward the headstone. “Your dad?”
He nodded, unsure of how to respond. This entire encounter was unusual. It’d been a long time since he interacted with someone, it’s as if he forgot how to.
“How come you haven’t…you know…moved on?”
Shrugging, he offered a grin. “I’d love to know just as much as you.”
The gorgeous smile was still on her face. When she sat back down on the grass and patted the spot next to her and he sat down, it grew even larger. He shifted a little to get more comfortable and his thigh brushed hers. He froze, and so did she.
How was that possible? He had walked through trees and headstones, hell, even other people at times. Because he was a ghost.
Yet, here he sat, his thigh touching hers. Actual touching. He could feel her warmth.
He was definitely making his way to hell because he wanted to feel so much more.
His hand reached up and cupped her cheek. Her eyes went round with shock.
“Can you feel that?”
Oh, and happy Friday the 13th! May it be spooky and fun-filled!