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 Hartβs βirresistible cozy sleuthβ* is
backβgood-hearted ghost Bailey Ruth Raeburn just canβt say
no to an earthly rescue, even when maybe she shouldβ¦
Bailey Ruth loves to return to earth as an emissary
from Heavenβs Department of Good Intentions. Problem is,
sheβs a bit of a loose cannon as far as ghosts goβforgetting
to remain invisible, alarming earthly creaturesβso sheβs far
from the top of department head Wigginsβs go-to list for
assignments.
Thatβs why sheβs 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 needβdrum lessons? But when a window cracks and a rifle
barrel is thrust inside, only Bailey Ruthβs hasty
intervention saves Nick Magruder from taking a bullet. When
she materializes to reassure him, she finds she canβt go
back to vanishing. What gives?
It turns out
sheβs been tricked by Nickβs late auntβDelilah Delahunt
Duvallβto come to the young manβs rescue, which means she
isnβt back on earth in service of the department. Wiggins
has no idea where she isβand now she may be trapped in
Adelaide forever. Unless she can help Aunt Dee snare the
person who wants her nephew deadβ¦
EXCERPT
I passed Julia Childβs 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, βCome dance with me,β
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
Leviβs when out on an oil rig. As we say in Adelaide, he
cleans up real nice.
Do I sense bewilderment? Heaven? Julia Childβs kitchen? A
tango in the moonlight? Adelaide? Oh yes, all of that and
more. If we havenβt met before, Iβll 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. Thatβs why, delightful as Heaven is, I
revel in returning to earth as a special emissary from the
Department of Good Intentions.
Iβve 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 didnβt 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? Iβm not talking about cool, damp
particles of mist. Heavenβs clouds are silky soft, as
luxurious to touch as fluff from a cottonwood. Iβve always
loved cottonwoods, and they are everywhere in Oklahoma . . .
I reined in my thoughts. Cottonwoods were all well and goodβ
and Iβm sure it is of interest to realize there is nothing
chilling and wet should you plunge into a glorious white
columnβbut 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 donβts.
Truth to tellβand Heaven always expects truthβIβm 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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