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Angela Panther Mystery, Tome 2: Unbreakable Bonds



Description ajoutée par feedesneige 2017-09-15T01:10:17+02:00

Résumé

When it comes to family, a mother’s choice is always love.

"Be careful what you wish for because karma has a way of biting you in the butt." That's what Angela Panther's mother, Fran always said.

And boy was she was right.

When Angela first discovered her gift to gab with ghosts, she fought it tooth and nail. But the second she decided it wasn't so bad—as long as she kept it from going viral—tragedy hit, and the universe decided to teach her a lesson.

With her psychic service disconnected, Angela discovers spirits still find ways to communicate; she’s just not sure who’s doing what, and why.

When her best friend Mel suspects her husband of cheating, she asks Angela to help her prove it. They concoct the perfect plan, but to make it work, they'll need help from Angela's mother. There's just one tiny little problem—Fran's dead.

As the duo works to catch the cheater, Angela struggles to decipher messages she assumes are from her mother, messages that intensify in their urgency.

Only the messages aren’t from Fran.

Angela finally figures out the messages and knows if she delivers them, she’ll regain her gift, and her secret will go viral. If she doesn’t, her gift is gone forever, and so is her connection to her mother.

Now Angela must choose between the happiness of the spirit’s family and her fears of damaging her own.

In UNBREAKABLE BONDS, AN ANGELA PANTHER MYSTERY, bestselling women's sleuth mystery author Carolyn Ridder Aspenson’s snarky dialog and hilarious banter between psychic medium Angela and her best friend Mel will keep you laughing, and the touching scenes between the living and the dead will tug at your heart strings and bring tears to your eyes.

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extrait

CHAPTER ONE

THE SUN'S BLISTERING HOT RAYS beat down and singed my skin. Rays so hot even the shaded woods and sunscreen didn't stop the burning. I sprinted, sucking in big gulps of air. I needed shelter, and chastised myself for parking my car two miles away. I knew I couldn't keep this pace for two more miles.

Pebbles and rocks pelted me like hail during a Georgia winter storm. They bounced off my head, pinged me on my arms and legs. It would have been funny if it didn't hurt.

Out of energy, I sought shelter under an oak tree. I pressed my back against it and the bark pierced my skin, but it hurt less than the rocks. I bent over, hands on my knees, and drew in air, hoping to catch my breath when another rock clipped me on my right knee. "Knock it off," I yelled.

Another rock dropped through the tree's branches and smacked my head. I rubbed the spot and felt a bump beginning to form. "Ouch, that hurt."

Another rock the size of a small lemon plopped down at my feet, but at least it didn't make contact with my battered body. I picked it up and tossed it between my hands. "This ain't gonna work. I can't hear you, let alone see you. My psychic juju's out of whack so unless you can spell with these rocks, you're screwed. Capiche?"

The rocks stopped but only for a short time.

"Thank God." I hit ‘play’ on my iPhone and ran. Halfway through the first song, another rock smacked me on the head. My face tightened and through pressed lips I said, "Enough already. I can't help you. If I could, don't you think I would, just to stop the darn rock attack?"

A small tree branch cracked me on the arm. "Now that's just rude." One by one, rocks battered my legs. I doubled my pace, feeling the tiredness in my legs kick in. "Boy, you're a testy one, huh?"

The rocks hit me at breakneck speed and no matter how fast I ran I couldn't escape them.

I knew it took copious amounts of energy for ghosts to move objects. Usually they wore out quickly and had to disappear to recoup that energy, so I egged the ghost on, hoping to tire it out enough to make it go away.

My heart pounded. I picked up my pace. "Is that all you got? Come on, Casper. Bring it." I thrust out my chest and sprinted for a full minute, jumping over tree stumps and thrown rocks. I relished my ability to conquer an unseen competitor, and did my best Rocky Balboa imitation, hands in the air and cheering—until I tripped and face-planted it into a pile of animal poop. "Crap."

I pulled off my tee shirt, exposing my workout bra, wiped my face with the shirt and waited. The rocks stopped. I'd worn out the ghost but it one-upped me with the face-plant. "Touché," I said, and sulked the rest of the way to my car.

I'd lost the ability to hear and see ghosts after my father died six months ago but that hadn't stopped them from trying to connect. I understood the desperate need for closure, for a final chance to say I love you or ask for forgiveness. I needed something similar because when I lost my father and my gift, I also lost my connection to my mother, whose spirit had been a constant in my life for almost a year.

All of my efforts to fix my gift had failed, and when a ghost tried to connect, it just left both the ghost and me frustrated and annoyed.

***

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