If You're Haunted Flaunt It View larger

If You're Haunted Flaunt It by Sharon Saracino

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  • Lucy Ashcroft hasn't considered seeing dead people a problem since she left home. She returns to take care of her eccentric grandmother, expecting an old lady in leather pants and spurs, and finds the ghost of her high school nemesis. Darla Swithers is the tragic victim of an anaphylactic reaction to cosmetic Botox. She wouldn’t be caught dead in Lucy’s company when she was alive. Now, the annoying apparition sticks to her like polyester on a leisure suit.

    However, some things haven’t changed, including Jackson Merritt. Lucy’s former crush, is still the hottest thing this side of Hell. Lucy figures the only thing she and the town mortician have in common is dealing with dead people—except Jackson’s don’t talk back. Can a woman surrounded by ghosts find happiness with a sexy undertaker who doesn’t believe in them? And can she convince Darla to see the light…and go into it?

    Rating: Spicy
    Page Count: 208
    Word Count: 51985
    978-1-5092-1084-8  Paperback
    978-1-5092-1085-5 Digital

    Excerpt

    “Lucy, wake up.” The mattress shook with the ferocity of a magnitude six earthquake. I pressed the pillow more tightly around my head hoping to muffle the intrusive voice. “C’mon, wakey, wakey.”

    “What day is it?” I mumbled irritably.

    “Saturday.”

    “Next Saturday?”

    “No, this Saturday, silly. No one can actually sleep for a whole week.” My leaden limbs and fuzzy head emphatically disagreed. I rolled to the other side of the bed and slapped another pillow over my head. The earthquake increased in intensity.

    “Oh, for the love of marshmallow peeps! Somebody better be dying.” I tossed the pillows to the floor and sat up, knuckling the sleep from my eyes. Gran cleared her throat, and I noticed the old woman in a floral housedress, her hair tightly wound in pink, plastic rollers, perched on the foot of the bed wringing her hands together. “Oops. Sorry, Mrs. Colton. No disrespect intended.”

    “So, the stories are true? You really can see dead people?”

    “Are you dead?”

    “According to the coroner who is currently zipping me into a body bag? Yes. Dead as disco.”

    “Well, then, I guess the stories are true.” I pushed my hair out of my face and threw back the covers. Glancing at the alarm clock on my nightstand, I was disappointed to discover I’d had less than ten hours sleep. I’d totally been counting on at least twelve. Or eighty-seven.

    “Tillie Colton, I can’t believe you rushed right over here to tell Lucy you were dead before I got the chance. You always were such a one-upper.” Then Gran lowered her voice. “She is here, right?”

    “Yes, she’s here. You can’t sense her?” I stuffed my feet into the bedraggled bunny slippers peeking out from under my bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. Gran and the ghost from across the street stayed right on my heels.

    “Well, I sensed someone. I thought it might be that nasty Darla Swithers.”

    “I haven’t seen Darla since last night. And don’t be mean. She’s not so bad.” I stopped at the bathroom door and turned to face them. “I do not require assistance. Or an audience. Wait right here.” I glared at Tillie Colton who I knew was fully capable of passing right through the door, locked or otherwise. “Both of you.”

    I yanked the drawstring at the waist of my scrub pants and sank down on the padded vinyl seat to relieve my aching bladder.

    “Did you mean it?”

    “Peanut Butter Fudge, Darla!” I shrieked at the face peering over the top of the shower curtain. “Stop popping up out of nowhere and scaring the crap out of me.”

    “Fortunately, this time you’re prepared.” She gestured to my porcelain throne. “So, did you mean it?”

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If You're Haunted Flaunt It

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