QSFer Elizabeth Andre has a new lesbian supernatural adventure out, book three in the “Paranormal Grievance Committee” series: “The Soul of WBVR.”
A voice from the past. A deejay at the pinnacle of her career.
Call-in radio shows are fun until a ghost calls. Popular soul music deejay Joyce Barkley thinks someone is pulling a prank when the voice of her dead girlfriend comes through clear as day during a call-in segment on her Saturday afternoon show. But it is no prank. The woman, who has been dead since a tragic accident in the mid-1960s, is back. Her voice is forcing Joyce to confront her decision to hide her true self and the truth of what really happened on that dark night.
With help from Maya and Julie, lead investigators with the Paranormal Grievance Committee, Joyce has to figure out how to soothe Natasha’s restless spirit. If she doesn’t, Joyce’s career will be over, and her heart will stay closed to love that could be hers.
The Soul of WBVR is the third novel in the Paranormal Grievance Committee Chronicles series, but each book can stand alone.
“Hello, dear. You’re on the air with Joyce. Tell me what’s going on in your world, dear.”
At first, there wasn’t a reply. Joyce was about to end the call when the voice, a female voice, came through. The connection was not good, but she knew that voice. She hadn’t heard it in many years.
“Hey, girl. Been a long time.” The voice was as warm, cheerful, and inviting as she remembered it. “How are you?”
Joyce had been a popular radio personality for decades. Callers did not flummox her. This one did. She recognized the voice, but it wasn’t possible that she could be hearing it now.
“Nat? Natasha? Is that really you?”
The voice on the phone laughed a little. “Of course, it’s me. Who else could it be, Joyce? You didn’t forget about me, did you?”
There probably wasn’t a day that went by that Joyce didn’t think of Natasha at some point, didn’t remember how her eyes sparkled when she smiled, didn’t remember what her lips felt like when they kissed. Remembering Natasha had become such a habit ever since she’d died.
Then it occurred to Joyce that this could be a prank. Why someone would do something like that she couldn’t fathom. She wasn’t even sure how many people remembered Natasha had existed. She’d been gone for so long, but it didn’t matter. She went from being stunned to angry.
“Who is this? Really. Who is this? How dare you! How dare you do this! Natasha doesn’t deserve this perversion of her memory.”
Someone started knocking on the glass partition separating the deejay booth from the engineering booth. Joyce glanced up quickly. Vanessa was knocking on the glass. Ben stood next to her waving his arms and shouting, ineffectively. He waved and shouted ineffectively a lot. At least whatever was upsetting Ben had gotten him to stop twisting locks of his hair this way and that. Joyce didn’t think anything could get him to stop playing with his hair. He did it nearly constantly. He was fastidious about his hair, which he had styled in a high skin fade on the sides with curly twists bleached to a yellowish gold at the tips. Vanessa looked puzzled. Ben looked panicked. Joyce refocused her attention on the caller.
“You know who I am. You know I am who I say I am, Joyce. Why do you doubt me?” That voice. It cut right through Joyce’s heart.
“Stop it. Stop it. Please stop it,” Joyce yelled. She squeezed her hands into fists and relaxed them again. This action made her arthritic hands hurt, but she didn’t think about the pain. She did it a few more times in an attempt to pull herself together. “You’re cruel. You’re not real.” She disconnected the call and shifted into autopilot so she could get on with the rest of the show.
“Here’s a little Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell to brighten your afternoon,” she said.
Once the song started playing, Vanessa and Ben came into the booth.
“What was that?” Ben asked. He had moved from panic to anger.
Elizabeth Andre writes fun and diverse lesbian fiction. She is a lesbian in an interracial same-sex marriage living in the Midwest. She hopes you enjoy her stories. She certainly loves writing them.