QSFer Terry Poole has a new paranormal book out:
As the only witness to the murder of a police detective Max Cooke never thought the dead detective’s ghost would appear at the foot of his bed two days later. Not only does Max have to deal with the often ridiculous fallout of being bonded to a ghost, he ends up falling in love with the dead man haunting him.
Instead of wings and a harp Detective Nick Horvath ends up with a writer of romance stories, a sweet lonely man who brings out all his protective instincts.
When the murderer comes for looking for Max, Nick has to find a way to stop him. But if Nick succeeds, he may be forced to leave the man he loves. If he fails, Max could become the killer’s next victim.
When Max finally awoke late in the day, he didn’t have the energy to do anything more than take care of Alfred’s needs. He e-mailed the picture from his phone to the number on the detective’s card, then forced himself to eat some tasteless microwave dinner from the freezer. Everything tasted like sawdust.
Alfred hopped onto the couch beside him and put a paw on Max’s lap before giving Max a questioning glance. Max inclined his head, granting him permission. Alfred delicately climbed into his lap, curled into a ball, and began to purr. Max absently stroked him as he turned on something mindless on the television. He watched it for hours in a haze without registering a single thing until he fell into an exhausted sleep on the couch.
The next day, Max rose just in time to shower quickly and grab a cab to the police station. He had been tired to begin with because of the emotional toll, but with the dead detective haunting his dreams all night long, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all. To top it off, his neck twinged from the awkward position he had been twisted in, and he could feel a headache threatening on the edges of his consciousness.
Thankfully, Detective James had coffee ready for Max, and not police coffee but the real deal from a well-known coffee shop. Max would have kissed the detective’s feet for the caffeine, but that probably wouldn’t have gone over too well with either the detective or the rest of the police officers.
Detective James was very pleased with the clear photo print of the picture on Max’s phone. Max was asked to repeat once more what had happened to the detective’s partner, but instead of taking notes the detective had him speak into a voice recorder. Reliving it was just as hellish now as it had been in the hospital. Time had not dimmed the memory at all.
Afterward it took almost two hours for the police sketch artist to draw Max’s description of the men involved, but Max was impressed with how accurately the artist rendered the likenesses. Detective James had left the two of them working in an office when an anguished cry from the hallway several minutes later had them both turning toward the sound.
A man was crying loudly in grief, the sound absolutely heartbreaking. Max looked at the artist, who shrugged. Detective James slowly moved past the open doorway, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a man who sobbed into his chest. The detective’s face was twisted in sorrow as he held the other man, and Max suspected it was about Detective James’s partner, the dead detective. Maybe the distraught man was family or a lover? Either way, Max felt a deep pang for the other men’s misery. He swallowed down the intense urge to join them and howl his own agony to the air.
Then to top it off when he got home, he had a message from Jackie on his answering machine, reminding him that his deadline was fast approaching. He’d better get his ass in gear and finish his current book. Damn it. He hadn’t written a word in two days and had absolutely no urge to boot up his computer now. Neither his head nor his heart was in it.
How did she honestly expect him to write after everything that happened? Oh, wait. Jackie didn’t know. Damn it. The last thing Max wanted to do was call and tell her about it. He didn’t want to go through it all over again.
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Nestled between the two massive lakes that bisect Manitoba, Terry lives with her three fur children, her hubby, and her three human children (this number varies depending on who is home at the time).. Her first book was a sci-fi fantasy using stick figures drawn on a roll of adding machine paper when she was five. She loves suspense, sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal, and of course, erotic romance. When Terry isn’t writing, she can be found crocheting, making handmade soap or hanging out on Facebook. Terry is often heard complaining that she has more stories in her head than she will ever be able to get down on paper. Currently, she is working on a paranormal ghost story.