Talk Dead To Me

Talk Dead To Me

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación sáb, abr 17, 2021
My name is Micah D'Amour and I could see and talk to dead people... Call it a sixth sense if you will but Haley Joel Osment didn't star in my reality. I couldn't remember a time where I didn't have "the gift." More like a curse that I had no control over. At least I wasn't the only one, the only medium yeah, but the gifted existed. We lived side by side with who the psychics referred to as "the CFs", otherwise known as the normal human beings who were born without abilities. People have come a long way in the past 60 or so years in accepting those with the gift but there were still people out there who refused to accept us. I was a 29 year old gay bestselling author who used my experiences with the afterlife to help me write my novels. At least they were good for something. Now a murder victim was seeking me out to help catch her killer and here enters the cliché Boston Irish detective that walked straight out of one my mystery novels. Only this time, it wasn't fiction.
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She's dead by the third chapter. Okay, it's a bit more complicated than that. Okay, it's A LOT more complicated than that. Renata wants nothing more than to pay her bills through her mildly boring office job and figure out whether she is still in love with her best friend. The latter half of that desire is just a sneak peak into her messy life-and it's only getting messier. Considering the paranormal world she is about to dive head first into, she will come to realize that figuring out her heart may just be the easiest part of this journey. Well, the endless supply of supernatural hotness in this story may beg to differ-but that's besides the point. Either way, it's gonna be a killer time ;) EXCERPT Chicken tacos it is. Right as Renata grabbed the ingredients, she turned to put them next to the stove, where a clean, plastic cutting board awaited. But as she moved, she was confronted by a stranger, an intruder, standing mere inches from her. Before she could scream, he was on her, slamming her against the fridge. Her back flashed with sharp pain. Her eyes pricked with fear as she drank in his uncovered face. Deeply tanned skin. Ruby red eyes-ruby red eyes? Thick, slashing eyebrows. Flat, broad nose. Buzzcut. Handsome. That was as far as she would go in complimenting him considering this guy held a knife to her throat. When he spoke, his voice came out like thunder. It held a thousand threats and a thousand secrets. It held promise of pain if provoked. "If you scream," he warned, mouth pulled in a slight snarl, "this ends quickly." She didn't dare nod against the blade. He noticed and amusement lit up for just a second in those devilish eyes. Oh, whoever the fuck this was, she already hated him. Considering her predicament, panic was the most prominent emotion coursing through her at the moment. "Good." He removed his hand "Now you're going to answer my questions." °°MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT OF ALL KINDS, AND I MEAN ALL KINDS°

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