This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Loni will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B&N gift card (winner’s choice) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Comment on the other tour stops to increase your chance of winning!
July 15: The Eternal Scribe
July 16: Andi’s Book Reviews
July 17: Straight from the Library
July 18: Dawn’s Reading Nook Blog
July 19: Punya Reviews…
July 22: Romance on a Budget
July 23: Storm Goddess Book Reviews and More
July 23: STOP 2 Queen of All She Reads
July 24: Lisa Haselton’s Reviews and Interviews
July 25: Long and Short Reviews
July 26: Susana’s Morning Room
James Addison talks about his role in my debut paranormal romance, Wanted: One Ghost from Crescent Moon Press, a paranormal/fantasy romance with some romantic spice and ghostly intrigue:
Loni Lynne: Thank you for being here today, James. I love your costume. It’s so Americana.
James: Actually, this is my normal clothing. I’m most comfortable in breeches and linen shirts. I’m having tea with the Friends of Kings Mill, Maryland Ladies Auxiliary later today. I’m part of the festivities for Kings Mill Days these next few weeks. Dr. Freelane from the historical society thought I would make a perfect ‘James Addison’.
Loni Lynne: Well, she was right. Who better to play you than—‘you’.
James: My thoughts exactly! So, what would you like to know?
Loni Lynne: Your character—
James: I have superb character! (He preens and smiles.) It was a joke.
Loni Lynne: Of course. As I was saying, your character is unique. You are over two hundred and fifty years old?
James: Nearly 271 years of age actually. I was born December 16 in the year of our Lord, 1742 in England.
Loni Lynne: Wait a minute! You don’t look a day over thirty-five.
James: (Laughing) Actually I was killed at the age of thirty and two. I’ve been haunting Kings Mill, Maryland since. I think in whatever realm I was in, there is no sense of time.
Loni Lynne: So you’ve been here since 1774?
James: As a spirit…yes. It wasn’t until Dr. April Branford rescued me from my hellish wanderings a few days ago that I was able to interact with others. It’s rather odd really. I’ve been here, seen the changes in time, and yet have not been able to interact at all. I was as shocked as she to realize she could see me, much less communicate with me.
Loni Lynne: Dr. Branford, tell me about her.
James: Ah yes! She’s saucy and sweet, and as intelligent as I’ve ever known a person to be—and has this unusual gift for being able to touch things and tell their past. She calls it psychometry. In my day she might have been considered a witch.
Loni Lynne: You were a ghost when she met you?
James: It was a ghost tour, really. She actually thought I was one of the tour guides. I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. It might have frightened her. So when we met up again at the cemetery on All Hallows Eve, I didn’t think anything about it until—(he grins and shakes his head)
Loni Lynne: Until what?
James: I’ll let you all read that scene for yourselves:
The roots of the firs were tangled and exposed in areas, moss and lichen grew around the bottom of the obelisk grave marker, a layer of dead branches and fan-like fir needles surrounded the base. April could read the month and year of his death but the date was a bit obscure.
She buried her nose into a fresh tissue as she held back a sneeze so she didn’t alert the rest of the group of her whereabouts.
Wiping her nose she knelt in front of the tombstone and placed the end of the flashlight between her teeth to give her direct light on what she was doing. The soggy ground soaked into the knees of her jeans. She could hear the faint voices of the group from just over the rise, yet she felt a prickling of unease. Glancing around, she didn’t see anything.
She wiped moisture from the front of the headstone with her scarf, revealing the blackened embossing on the aged marble. Angling the paper over part of the intricate design, she fumbled with the pencil in her gloved hand. The cumbersome gloves had to go. Removing the offending obstacles and tossing them to the side, April rubbed her pencil over the markings, steadying herself against the marble with her other hand.
A jolt of heat coursed from her palm to her shoulder and she jerked back. Falling onto her bottom, she dropped the pencil and paper. Nearly choking on the flashlight, she threw the light to the side and fought to catch her breath. Still tingling from the shock, she shook her arm to relieve the pain.
She picked up the flashlight again and slowly approached the gravestone. Her heart thudded in her ears. Reaching out for the paper and pencil she had dropped, she kept her eye on the stone as if waiting for it to move. Cautiously, she leaned forward and touched it. The marble was as cold and even-surfaced as an old tombstone in late October should be.
Confused, she inched away on her knees, backing away from the headstone, a frightening wariness settling over her as she slowly stood up and continued moving cautiously away from the monument.
“Henry Samuel is not worthy of your fascination, Dr. Branford.”
April gasped and whirled, shining the flashlight into the night. There, mere inches in front of her, stood her mysterious tour guide. A moment of relief caused her to catch her breath before the toe of her boot caught on a loose tree root, sending her falling through a chilly mist of air. She landed on her hands and knees.
Quickly, she turned over and stared up at her re-enactor, who stood between her and Henry Samuel’s grave. So close she should have fallen into him. And then the truth of the situation hit her. She crab crawled away from him and the tombstone, her eyes wide with horror.
She couldn’t think. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Her voice shook with the only words she could say.
He smiled down at her, tilting his tricorne back on his head, revealing those damn hypnotic eyes.
“I haven’t heard a lady say that to me for some time. Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch,” he preened.
“You’re…not…real,” April gasped, holding her chest as she tried desperately to find her footing. “You’re…a…ghost. You really are a ghost!”
He shrugged. “I suppose so. No one has told me any differently. But then no one has been able to talk to me in two hundred and thirty-eight years. You’re the first.” With an elegant flourish, he bowed to her.
“Oh my God!” She was shaking so badly she couldn’t move. Her muscles had frozen. The seat of her jeans was wet but she wasn’t sure if she had peed herself or the damp ground had soaked into them.
He extended his hand in a gentlemanly fashion to help her up, but she only stared at the proffered limb. He sighed.
“Of course. It would do me no good to try and help you up since I’m…”
“…not real. You’re not real. This isn’t happening to me.” April closed her eyes and tried to repeat the mantra over and over again, hoping her mental state would finally sort out the situation and thrust her back into reality. She opened her eyes. He was still there, his infuriatingly charming smile, just short of a laugh, etched into one devilishly handsome face.
Scrambling for purchase she grabbed her articles, keeping a close eye on her specter and quickly walked backwards down the knoll until she was on the cobblestone path. She had to get out of here. Where was the damn exit!
Loni Lynne: But you’re not a ghost now.
James: No. That is something April will have to explain but I’m not sure she knows all the details either. I still think it has to do with Fate. I’ve been dead for 238 years but never went beyond the boundaries of Kings Mill’s historical district or what I knew of my time on Earth. Then suddenly, I meet her, a historical researcher with a unique gift and I’m born anew.
Loni Lynne: What is next for James Addison and April Branford?
James: (Looking at his pocket watch) Oh dear! Look at the time…I really must be going. I shouldn’t let the ladies auxiliary down now, should I?
Loni Lynne: I get it…you can’t say.
James: Let’s just say, tell me how the story ends. I’m anxious to know what happens, myself.
Loni Lynne: James, thank you for taking time out and talking with us today. I look forward to seeing what takes place between you and April.
James: (Placing his tri-corne on his head and winks) As do I. I would love to have readers from your interview leave me notes. It has been such a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to associate with proper society, it would be grand if they could suggest some modern day activities that I might enjoy. I do love to read but April has introduced me to a typing machine that is connected to the world—no clue what to do with it. There is something called a tely-vision in which I can see various performances without leaving my home? I’m looking for plays that may interest me. All comments would be welcome and appreciated.
Loni Lynne: I’ll make sure we have viewers leave suggestions for you. There are many great books and shows that might interest you.
Please, leave a suggestion for a book or television show that you think James Addison might like to enjoy. He would love to hear from you. Remember, there is a $15 Gift Card to be raffled off during this tour. Be sure to leave a comment to be entered.
You may purchase Wanted: One Ghost from these fine distributors:
About Wanted: One Ghost
Stuck in ghostly limbo for 238 years, James Addison can’t move on to an afterlife. After being falsely accused of treason and executed, fate’s cursed him to remain an earth-bound specter until he meets a historian sent to research his past.
Distrustful of fate, Dr. April Branford wants to be taken seriously, but her unique ability to divine history by touching objects seriously compromises her credibility. Her latest assignment? James Addison, a legendary colonial ladies’ man with a shadowy past. Without much to go on, she doesn’t hold out much hope to discover the man behind the legend until the day she accidentally touches him and brings him back to life.
With the help of family and ghosts from James’s past, they unravel the truth. But after falling in love and with time running out, it’s hard for April to believe in fate and a future where forever is now.
Excerpt #3
April’s digital camera came to life and she switched the setting to playback, scrolling through the photos. She’d taken a bevy of pictures, ones of the hanging tree, the colonial storefronts and historical houses, the front and back of the courthouse. She came across the last picture, the one she’d taken right outside, and then it went back to her older photos. Everything was there but the picture of her guide. She gasped and thumbed frantically through the pictures again.
“What’s wrong, April dear?” Her aunt got up from the chair and came over to her, bringing her cup of tea with her.
“It was here…I mean, the picture is here but he isn’t.” The photo showed part of the lamp post she’d had her guide stand in front of. There was a bright, fuzzy ball of light obscuring part of the gaslight. Could it be a possible reflection off the light and her flash? She’d captured him in the frame, she was positive!
Her aunt looked over her arm at the frame revealing the street along with the courthouse. April didn’t like the knowing smile and twinkle to her aunt’s eye. “Oh, he’s there,” she said, peering up from over her tea cup.
“What do you mean?” She was almost afraid to ask.
“You’ve managed to capture what we call residual paranormal energy. See the spot of fuzzy light in the middle of the picture? You’ve captured an image of a paranormal orb. Welcome to the family, April. You’ve seen your first ghost.”
About the Author
Loni Lynne is a stay at home mom, domestic goddess, U.S. Navy Veteran and lover of all things vintage/shabby-chic/Victorian and antique. From china cups and tea sets to lace doilies crocheted by hand (her grandmother made the best) she believes a touch of femininity never goes out of style.
Growing up all over the country she’s been blessed with experiencing a good deal of culture and lifestyles. Much like her personality, she has eclectic tastes in what she likes to read and write. There is no ‘one’ genre in which she settles for.
God and fate have been big influences in her life. Both have taken her to places she never thought she’d be, both in the physical sense and in the spiritual. She wrote brief stories and snippets of life as it happened to her in her youth, and encouraged by her teachers, continued to write. Blessed with a loving supportive family growing up, she was able to explore her options which at times have been put into use in her stories. The Navy–and fate, afforded her the opportunity to meet her Army, “Annapolis-native” husband and team up with him to parent two beautiful daughters.
Years later, her husband gave her the best birthday present ever–a laptop, a membership to Romance Writers of America and a goal to complete a manuscript for submission by her next birthday. She did it. A few years later she was blessed with one of those novels, Wanted: One Ghost, as her debut novel.
Believe in Fate.
Contacts
Susana's Morning Room 