From the Other Side

From the Other Side

Lorelei Buckley

Price: $5.95


 Newlyweds Lydia and Chase Tanner, along with their cat Feodora, move into an old house in Darling, Ohio. Lydia's eager to start a family, but her womb isn't cooperating. Furthermore, her house is haunted, and something indignant is rifling through her memories.

Simultaneously, a spirit over a century old researches Lydia. The ghost's repressive era and strict upbringing prevented her from exploring the world, so from her new vantage point, she studies the living. She's learned to penetrate cellular memories and experience the life of her host, with one catch--they exchange memories.

Initially both women find comfort in each other's pasts, mending emotional fractures and escaping in one another's unfolding stories. But when secrets surge that anger the ghost, Lydia finds herself on an unpaved road of no return.

PUBLISHED BY: Wild Child Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-935013-75-4
CATEGORIES: Romantic Fiction, Contemporary, Mystery/Suspense, Paranormal
KEYWORDS: paranormal, sweet romance, suspense

EBOOKS BY Wild Child Publishing

EBOOKS BY Lorelei Buckley

COPYRIGHT Lorelei Buckley/2009

 Lydia inhaled the night air and smiled. Their campsite nestled in the greenery with importance, as if Mother Earth cradled a flawless gem.

"Are you hungry?" Chase said.

"Starving." She kneeled onto the blanket and leaned forward, exaggerating her cleavage. "Not necessarily for food."

Chase grinned. "Wait. One more thing." He flicked a switch near the willow's trunk.

Tiny lights illuminated the brush and branches above her, duplicating a spray of stars. She felt overwhelmed by the night's magnificence, by Chase's creativity. But once his tongue touched her earlobe, she remembered why they belonged together.

Chase's firm body enveloped her, and he gently kissed her breasts, stomach and abdomen, lingered awhile between her thighs--brought her somewhere euphoric.

* * * *

Sometimes people can see me. I've been described as a shadow, a blur, a fog, a glimmer, an obscure pattern in the air and most displeasing, a hallucination. These terms do not explain me. I exist yet I have no physical proof.

My land bears few remnants of its history. The pond my family chipped ice from throughout winter has reduced. Our henhouse, once bustling with chickens and roosters, now shelters automobiles. And Miss Effie's fertile vegetable garden sprouts a variety of plants, none fit for consumption. I see Miss Effie's sturdy disposition within each strong stem; I am her guardian.

Normally, the color of love is bright pink with shards of pastel blue. Add lust and the blood of grapes, and it becomes thick veins of clear reds, magentas and cobalt, tangling along with flesh, as they do now, below.

Wedded bliss--I wouldn't know. They talk and laugh, and she braces on her back, hoping to convince the seed of her lover to swell her womb. She has broad ambitions. We both do.


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