Bailey Ruth died along with her husband, Bobby Mac, when
their boat,
Serendipity, was lost in a storm in the Gulf. Now, in GHOST
GONE WILD,
she is a special emissary from Heaven's Department of Good
Intentions,
charged with lending a helping hand to someone on earth.
When a woman
on a black horse rides up, hands Bailey Ruth a ticket to the
Rescue
Express, and insists a young man needs help, Bailey Ruth
assumes
Wiggins, the stationmaster, has a new assistant. Bailey
stumbles into
trouble when she leaves heaven to help out a ghost's nephew,
Nick
Magruder. Unbeknownst to Bailey, this heavenly mission is
not approved by
Wiggins, and she is stranded on earth trying to protect Nick
from murder.
Bailey makes herself visible while in Nick's house to keep
him from getting
shot. Then when she tries to make herself invisible again,
she can't and
thus begins a twisted tale or blackmail and murder. Along
the way Bailey
figures out that she was not sent to Adelaide and Nick
Magruder by the
Department but, by Nick's dead Aunt Dee. Nick's attitude and
actions do
not make Bailey like him but, she will not leave him in
harm's way. Bailey
Ruth is trapped on earth, with no money, no ID, and worst of
all, in her
opinion, no change of wardrobe.
In GHOST GONE WILD Bailey is stuck
with an angry young man who returned to his hometown to get
revenge.
But someone is determined to cause trouble for Nick, and his
long-running
feud with a former high school enemy can only end up in
tragedy. Bailey
Ruth has to rely on her her own ingenuity, although
sometimes Dee is a
reluctant assistant. Nick may be obnoxious at times, but he
doesn't deserve
to be framed.
Author Carolyn Hart has done her usual in writing another
fun-filled story of
suspense, murder, humor and spirits. The characters are
always so real,
including Bailey Ruth, to the point that you actually feel
that you know them
as neighbors. If you like a puzzle, the pieces are all
there in GHOST
GONE WILD.
GHOST GONE WILD is a mystery where the main
character can't die because she's already is an interesting
concept. Carolyn Hart does a good job with saucy
Southern belles who solve crimes. These two just happen to
be ghosts sent
from Heaven to help out a friend. GHOST GONE WILD is really
funny and
well written.
Carolyn Hart’s “irresistible cozy sleuth”* is
back—good-hearted ghost Bailey Ruth Raeburn just can’t say
no to an earthly rescue, even when maybe she should…
Bailey Ruth loves to return to earth as an emissary
from Heaven’s Department of Good Intentions. Problem is,
she’s a bit of a loose cannon as far as ghosts go—forgetting
to remain invisible, alarming earthly creatures—so she’s far
from the top of department head Wiggins’s go-to list for
assignments.
That’s why she’s surprised when the
Heaven-sent Rescue Express drops her off at a frame house on
the outskirts of her old hometown, Adelaide, Oklahoma, where
a young man is playing the drums. What kind of rescuing does
he need—drum lessons? But when a window cracks and a rifle
barrel is thrust inside, only Bailey Ruth’s hasty
intervention saves Nick Magruder from taking a bullet. When
she materializes to reassure him, she finds she can’t go
back to vanishing. What gives?
It turns out
she’s been tricked by Nick’s late aunt—Delilah Delahunt
Duvall—to come to the young man’s rescue, which means she
isn’t back on earth in service of the department. Wiggins
has no idea where she is—and now she may be trapped in
Adelaide forever. Unless she can help Aunt Dee snare the
person who wants her nephew dead…
Excerpt
I passed Julia Child’s kitchen and breathed deeply. The
aromas were Heavenly. Julia still loves butter. I was in a
rambling mood on another golden day in paradise. As my
thoughts flitted, so did my presence. Heaven makes joyful
pursuits quite easy. If I envision a place or activity, I am
there, everything from white-water rafting to a romantic
tango in the moonlight. When I murmur, “Come dance with me,”
to Bobby Mac, we move in unison to the pulsing music, his
hand warm against my back. I savor the beat and Bobby Mac
and my filmy dress of sea green chiffon. Bobby Mac is
gorgeous in a white Guayabera shirt and black trousers,
quite a change from his usual cream polo and khaki shorts
when fishing from Serendipity or his blue work shirt and
Levi’s when out on an oil rig. As we say in Adelaide, he
cleans up real nice.
Do I sense bewilderment? Heaven? Julia Child’s kitchen? A
tango in the moonlight? Adelaide? Oh yes, all of that and
more. If we haven’t met before, I’ll introduce myself. I am
Bailey Ruth Raeburn, late of Adelaide, Oklahoma. Bobby Mac
and I arrived in Heaven when our cabin cruiser, the faithful
Serendipity, sank during a storm in the Gulf. Bobby Mac has
been my man ever since high school, when he was a darkly
handsome senior and I was a redheaded sophomore. We lived a
happy life, which has only been better since arriving in
Heaven.
Heaven is, I assure you, quite Heavenly. Everything good,
everything honorable, everything beautiful is here. Earth,
as we all know, is beset with sin and strife, which is why I
sometimes yearn to return.
Not that I wish to dabble in sin.
Heaven forbid. Instead, I like to lend a helping hand to
those in trouble. I remember well that I received boosts,
some surprising, some unaccountable, that got me past rough
patches in my life. That’s why, delightful as Heaven is, I
revel in returning to earth as a special emissary from the
Department of Good Intentions.
I’ve been honored to serve as an emissary three times.
However, eager as I was to serve once again, my steps
slowed.
Just around the curve of a golden-hued cloud, a small train
station nestled against a green hill. The station served as
the headquarters of the department under the kindly
direction of Wiggins, who had been a stationmaster on earth.
I sighed and stopped. I didn’t quite have the courage to
swing around the cloud and see the small red-brick station
with silver rails that ran into the sky.
I studied the intervening cloud, made glorious by
incandescent streaks of gold and rose. Have I ever described
the majestic puffs of cloud that delineate a change from one
destination to another? I’m not talking about cool, damp
particles of mist. Heaven’s clouds are silky soft, as
luxurious to touch as fluff from a cottonwood. I’ve always
loved cottonwoods, and they are everywhere in Oklahoma . . .
I reined in my thoughts. Cottonwoods were all well and good—
and I’m sure it is of interest to realize there is nothing
chilling and wet should you plunge into a glorious white
column—but there was a time and place for memories of
cottonwoods. I was pondering clouds to avoid an approach to
the department, even though Wiggins would welcome me warmly.
Wiggins has a smile as reassuring as the dancing flames in a
winter fireplace, but he is rather a stickler for following
rules. His emissaries have a list of strict dos and don’ts.
Truth to tell—and Heaven always expects truth—I’m not
awfully good at rules. Some might say I am a bit impetuous.
Oh, all right. I think fast, move fast, and sometimes I
leave rules in my dust.
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