Today we have Deanna Chase, author of Haunted on Bourbon Street. Happy reading!
When you're home alone, do you ever feel like...well, you're not alone? I'm rarely alone since my hubby and I are both self-employed and each have our home offices. During the day I never get that weird vibe. You know the one. When all the sudden you feel another presence in your space.
It's pretty hard for the hubby to sneak up on me. First of all we have a hundred-year-old house and no matter how quiet you are, the wood floors are going to give you away. Even if one did develop super-human, stealthy spy moves that rendered them a silent walker, the dogs would give them away in a heartbeat. They're the type that have to follow you everywhere you go even when you tell them to stay.
Things change after ten p.m. The hubby goes to bed, and I settle in at the computer. I've found nighttime is when I get most of my writing done. Hubby is sleeping, his TV is turned off, regular business is done for the day, and the dogs are crashed out at my feet.
Silence is golden.
Except when it's not. With all that silence I hear every creak of my old house, the wind rambling the windows, rain on my metal roof. Actually all of these things are comfort sounds, and I welcome them. Everything except the footsteps.
I know what it sounds like when someone is walking through my house. It isn't just the house settling, or pipes making noise. It's weighted footsteps. The kind that make me get out of my chair to go make sure no one has broken into my house. And I've done this more than a few times. I know it isn't the hubby getting up for a drink or to use the restroom. It'd be hard to do that while snoring. (Sorry hubs). I can hear him in the next room. It's like white noise.
I never find anything that leads to the mysterious night-walker. I'm left with the only conclusion I can dream up. The house is haunted.
The mysterious night-walkings aren't the only clue though. It appears our ghost may occasionally enjoy a cigar and quite possibly a bit of the Mary Jane. The two distinct aromas are hard to dismiss, especially since this is a strict non-smoking household. I know I'm not smoking. And the hubby is asthmatic. His indulgence of choice is a high quality margarita.
It must be the ghost.
We used to believe we had a ghost dog. Right after we moved in our golden retriever used to stand in the hallway and bark at nothing. She wasn't much of a barker, so her behavior was pretty odd. She'd do it randomly at weird times for no obvious reason. Immediately we assumed we had a ghost dog. You see, she loved people and almost never barked at them. A ghost dog was the logical choice.
Now I'm not so sure. The footsteps at night don't sounds like a dog. My gut says it's a person. Probably a man. Luckily our ghost has done nothing to scare me or freak me out other than make me wonder who was sharing my space. I could also live without the funny smoke smells, but hey, live and let live...or die.
Do you think ghostly second-hand smoke is harmful to ones health? If so I'm gonna have to order him outside for that kind of behavior. What about you? Are you haunted or sharing your space with an uninvited being?
The funny thing is I noticed all of this stuff while working on my book, Haunted on Bourbon Street. Weird right?
Jade loves her new apartment--until a ghost joins her in the shower.
When empath Jade Calhoun moves into an apartment above a strip bar on Bourbon Street, she expects life to get interesting. What she doesn't count on is making friends with an exotic dancer, attracting a powerful spirit, and developing feelings for Kane, her sexy landlord.
Being an empath has never been easy on Jade's relationships. It's no wonder she keeps her gift a secret. But when the ghost moves from spooking Jade to terrorizing Pyper, the dancer, it's up to Jade to use her unique ability to save her. Except she'll need Kane's help--and he's betrayed her with a secret of his own--to do it. Can she find a way to trust him and herself before Pyper is lost?
To learn more about Deanna visit her website at www.DeannaChase.com.