Chapter One
The most familiar eleven notes of Chopin’s Funeral March droned from the programmable doorbell’s hidden speakers. Kiley probably should have taken that as a sign.
She was snuggling with Jack on the sofa, watching their favorite TV show, and making fun of the phony ghost hunters’ manufactured fear of static sounds on their digital recorders.
She wasn’t sure how life could be as good as it currently was, but it was damn near perfect. Their ghost busting business was providing the whole gang a steady income, the house was amazing, Lady El was minding her own beeswax (mostly,) and she and Jack were damn near perfect.
Hush, sister. You wanna jinx it?
The house ghost’s face superimposed itself over the TV show, translucent, like a reflection. Tonight, Lady El wore a gold turban, her lashes were a jungle, and her jowls were a little bit saggy.
“Someone’s at the door,” Jack said.
“Yeah, I guessed that by the doorbell. And who added the Funeral March to the repertoire?”
That was me. Lady El, puffed her cigarette, and blew lavender-scented and non-carcinogenic (she promised) smoke at her. Kiley was usually the only one who could smell it, or even see her, which was weird, her being a full-on muggle and Jack being sort of a ghost-whisperer.
Just had a feeling it was called for, Lady El said, or thought or whatever. She didn’t speak aloud, but inside Kiley’s head. Or something.
“So are we going to get the door?” Jack asked.
“Nope.” Kiley snuggled closer. “It’s the business entrance, and business hours are over.”
The ominous notes played once more.
“They aren’t taking no for an answer, though.” Jack self-extracted from the snuggle.
Kiley grumbled but got up, taking her phone with her, as one does, and followed him deeper into the house, past the staircase, to the room that used to be a library and now served as Spook Central HQ. Yes, it was a ridiculous name. But it had been used by the best. Buffy, the Ghostbusters, even the Scoobs. The original ones.
“Maybe we should get a dog,” she said to Jack as she stood beside him at the French doors. A female shape was on the other side of the semi-sheer curtains she’d put up because it was creepy sitting in front of bare glass on a dark night in a place spooks loved. “Better not be another damn ghost. Then again who else would show up at this ungodly hour?” She glanced in passing at the antique mantel clock she’d found in the attic, but it had stopped at 1:13, possibly days ago at 1:13.
Lady El looked back at her from the glass that covered the clock’s face. A copper red curl hung out of her shimmering gold turban, resting artfully across her forehead. It’s called an eight-day clock because that’s how often you have to wind it, Einstein.
Kiley ignored her, and tapped the phone in her hand. 8:38. “Who knocks on a door at 8:38?”
Sister, you’re older than me, and I’m dead!
Jack opened the doors.
The woman who stood on the other side had masses of thick blond hair spilling down past her shoulders and wore a clingy dress with a neckline so low and a hemline so high they nearly met. She reeked of money.
Kiley hated her on sight, and Lady El hissed like a cat or a vampire or something.
The woman at the door flashed a toothpaste commercial smile, breathed Jack’s name, and then she hugged him.
She fucking hugged him.
Kiley cleared her throat. Loudly.
The blonde released him, and he had the good sense to back up until he was standing right beside Kiley. He even took her hand, which made her smugly confident. But he didn’t say anything, and he seemed shocked or worried. He kept looking at her, and then at the woman, and then at her, and then at the woman.
Rolling her eyes, the blonde reached past him and stuck out a hand. “You must be Kiley,” she said. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
Kiley took the bait, so she had a grip on her hand when she went on. “I’m Julie, Jack’s ex.”
“Ex-what?” Kiley didn’t mean to crush her hand, but she must have because Julie winced and twisted it free.
“Wife,” she said. She rubbed her hand, then lowered it to her side, and smiled brightly.
“Oh.” It came out like a squeak. Kiley cleared her throat, squared up and said, “Oh, that Julie.” Because she’d be damned before she would admit that he hadn’t told her. Ex-wife? Ex-wife? What the actual—?
Told you not to jinx it.
Excerpted from FATAL PHANTASM by Maggie Shayne published by Oliver-Herber Books. Copyright © 2023 by Maggie Shayne
The Fatal #4
Jack's ex shows up out of the blue to ask for help with her dearly departed husband—who might not be so departed. Kiley—who didn't even know Jack had an ex, is determined to take the case from the rich widow, who is offering big bucks.
A weekend in paradise seems like a fun break to Maya, except that both Johnny, the guy she's stuck on, and Joe, the guy she's pretending to be stuck on, are coming too.
So the gang head to the private island mansion of the widow, where nothing is as it seems, and soon, they are cut off from civilization with no boat, no phone, and no help on the way, as a hurricane bears down on an island crawling with cultish killers who'll sacrifice anyone who tries to stop them from getting what they want. Immortality.
Romance Suspense | Paranormal Romance [Oliver-Heber Books, On Sale: January 31, 2023, Paperback / e-Book, ISBN: 2940185725481 / eISBN: 1230005914791]
New York Times and USA Today bestselling, RITA® Award winning Author Maggie Shayne published 62 novels and 22 novellas for five major publishers over the course of 22 years. She also spent a year writing top story arcs for CBS’s Guiding Light and As the World Turns and was offered the position of co-head writer of the former. An offer she tearfully (it was lots) turned down. It was scary, turning down an offer that big.
But in March 2014, she did something even scarier. She went indie. And it went so well that by July 2015 she incorporated her business, Thunderfoot Publishing Inc. She’s never enjoyed her job more. This new frontier of publishing is bringing Maggie success like she’s never seen before in two distinct areas of her work.
First, her contemporary western romances, The Texas Brands series and the Oklahoma All-Girl Brands. And secondly her beloved paranormals, including the Wings in the Night series, which has the distinction of being the second vampire romance novel series ever, launching just a year after Lori Herter’s Obsession series created a new genre.
Maggie is also an acclaimed thriller writer with her award winning Brown and de Luca novels, and many more. Maggie Shayne is extremely accessible to her readers, interacting with them daily, via her Facebook pages and twitter accounts.
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