I’m crazy excited about this story. I broke all my rules to do this one. Let’s just say that if my writing schedule were a person, I’d be dead and buried in my backyard. That’s how angry he (she?) would be. Or maybe I’d be a pile of ash spread across my overgrown yard. Either way, you get the picture 🙂

Cover to come, but for now, here’s a little snip for you.

***Introducing Geoff & Clarence… (Stay Tuned for Title & Cover!)***

“You need to get rid of that guy. He’s seriously cramping my style.”

The bobcat’s mouth didn’t move, but the voice was his. Unlike the ghosts that whispered in my ear—or the one in my living room right now who was taunting me—anyone could hear Clarence. A problem, because he wasn’t the most discreet of creatures, and he happened to be my responsibility.

“What style is that?”

He stretched, his huge paws pushed straight out in front of him, his bobtailed butt high in the air. Then he flopped over on his side, diving cheek first. Once he was comfortably situated, he lifted his back leg in the air and—

“Stop. You know the rules: no cleaning your junk in mixed company.”

Clarence grumbled.

“What were you saying about style?” I redirected him to his previous rant in hopes of avoiding the you’d-do-it-if-you-could-reach speech.

Sprawling, but more circumspectly now, he said, “That ghost has to go.” Except he didn’t sound that concerned.

Boo!

I ignored it.

“You know, you’re just a shade away from a ghost. I’m surprised you don’t have more sympathy.”

Clarence sneezed. When he was done getting cat snot all over my stained concrete floor, he said, “A shade, that’s cute. But I ask you this: am I corporeal?” He didn’t wait for a response. His whiskers twitched, then he said, “If I have a body, I’m not a ghost. Simple math, bozo.”

I crossed my arms. “Your ghostly self stole that body, and if I had to guess, got stuck.”

Not that I knew. No one knew exactly how Clarence had ended as he had, a human ghost in the physical body of a wild cat.

He rolled around on my bobcat-snot-covered floors trying to scratch his back. He seemed happy enough, so it was hard to say if he was stuck and stayed by choice.

“Quit it.” I snatched a tuft of hair floating through air. “You’re getting hair everywhere and stinking up the place.”

He purred. “You know you love it.”

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