Monday, December 19, 2011

Do dead guys still want it?

Three sisters, Southern-fried born and bred, and the men ghosts who love them...

Good old Southern fiction humor, a naughty ghost, a hint of mystery, and a smattering of romance. What more could you want?

Yesterday, the launch book in my new series was released. This series is a little different for me, combining a few genres all into one novella. You might think--how can you have a mystery, romance, and a ghost story all wrapped up with a twist of humor? In a novella?

Well, I hope I've pulled it off. I guess my readers will be the judge of that. I'm eager to see. If you read Freshly Dead, let me know what you think, okay?

I'll give you a little taste of the story here.

First, the blurb:

All Mitzi Winston wants is enough money to pay this month's mortgage payment. That's the only reason she even considers the phone sex job. Ever since her husband's disappearance, she's held things together quite nicely--until recently. And now, well, she just needs the money.


So, she bites the bullet and goes for the interview, only to find that the phone sex job isn't real and she's too late--not for the interview, but to save her husband. For there he is, dead on the floor, a bullet to the back of the head. To make matters worse, his ghost is hovering around and chiding her for being late. Not to mention he's horny as hell and trying to cop a feel.


Which only begs the question, "Do dead men still want it?"


And, an excerpt:



“And there he was, standing there all smug and proper looking, freshly dead, with that pasty pale face, and trying to order me around. Men.”
Mitzi took a quick glance around the darkened bar and snatched up the shot glass of liquor the bartender just handed her. She licked the back of her hand, shook on some salt, lapped it clean away, then slammed back the hefty shot of tequila. Instantly, she bit into a slice of lime, shivered and gasped.
Marla, her other sister, the one who liked sex and tequila (thank God she had one sister who was normal), stared at her.
“What?”
“Freshly dead?”
“Yeah, like in just murdered.”
“I think you need to lay off the tequila, sister.”
“I’m tellin’ ya….”
Marla glanced at her watch. “That’s your third shot in…thirty minutes.”
“I’m fine, Marla.”
“Well, just watch it.”
She reached up and grasped her sister’s shirt collar to pull her face closer. “Mar, I just saw a real live freakin’ ghost of an estranged hubby today. Don’t hassle me about the shooters.” She let go, and Marla sank back into her bar stool. “And he tried to kiss me.”
“Ewe!” Marla shook, her face twisted into an oh-that’s-so-gross look. “Crap, Mitzi. That is so wrong.”
“Tell me about it.” She waved toward the bartender. His back was turned. Dammit.
“Mitzi, wait. This was Ken, right? Your alienated husband who left you with a wad of past-due bills, a string of repossessors gracing your doorstep, and who stole our Grandmother’s diamond ring? Ken, whom you have not seen hide nor hair of in almost two years? The Ken the bounty hunters said they couldn’t find to serve him the divorce papers? That Ken? Dead and talking to you from some sort of ghostly form?”
Mitzi bit her lip and glanced away. “Yeah, that Ken, Marla. The stupid klutz. Gone and got himself killed. And right when he was about to give me a job. Damned stiff owed me that, too.”
She looked back into her sister’s face. “Job? You didn’t tell me anything about a job. Why would you want to work for Ken? I’m not getting this….”
“Cripes. Don’t give me that look. There are too many things to get straightened out. The thing is Ken is dead. But I can’t be worried about that right now.”
“What?” Her sister looked stricken with horror.
“Well,” Mitzi countered, “he’s not that bad off if he’s sitting there in the chair and talking to me now, is he? I mean, he argued for, I dunno, an hour it seemed, about me being late for the appointment. Pissed me off.”
Marla shook her head. “I...I’m not getting this, Mitz. Something is dreadfully wrong here.”
“Deadfully.”
“No, I said dreadfully.”
“Damn right, it is.”
“You have a big problem on your hands. What did you do with the body?”
Mitzi arched a brow. “Nothing. It’s still there.”
“What? You didn’t report it to the police?”
She shrugged. “Nooooo, why should I? Ken looked happy as a clam to me. He might be just a spirit, but I don’t think he needs that body any longer.”
Marla grasped Mitzi’s arm. “My darling sister. The man is dead. He was your husband. Least of all, even if he was a slimy, weasel of a bastard, he deserves a proper burial.”
Mitzi jerked her arm away and turned toward the bartender, finally signaling another shot. He nodded her way. “Knock it off, Marla. The man is too nasty to die. He’s got something cooked up. I just know it. He’s faking it. I know, maybe he was a hologram. No, couldn’t be. There was a lot of blood. But that spirit of his lives on. Stubborn son of a bitch.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Do?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not going to do anything but try to figure out how I can get back what Ken owes me, and then I’ve got to find a job. A real one that doesn’t include sex and telephones.”
****

Freshly Dead is available exclusively at Amazon now for your Kindle, at a great price -- $0.99!
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