Starsight,
Volume I, II, epic fantasy, (Amazon)
The
Centurion & The Queen, Book I in the Centurion Series, historical
romance (Amazon)
The
Edge of Honor, historical romance, Book II in the Centurion Series
(Amazon)
The
Gladiator Prince, historical romance, Book III in the Centurion
Series (Amazon)
A
Ghost of a Chance, paranormal romantic comedy, Book I in the Ghost
Series (Amazon)
The
Belle Stalker, urban fantasy thriller (Amazon)
Nogero,
alternate universe fantasy (Amazon Kindle Villa)
Phantom
Hearts, paranormal romantic comedy, a Ghost Series Book (Amazon
Kindle
Villa)
Coming
Soon:
The
Pirate Prince, historical romance, Book IV (Amazon) 2023
Haunted
Hearts, Book III in the Ghost Series, paranormal romantic comedy
(Amazon) 2023
Wy'East,
urban fantasy thriller (TBD) 2023
Argeggios
in the Dark, sci-fi 2023
Wy'East,
Book II, urban fantasy thriller 2024
Starsight,
The God Wars (prequel), epic fantasy - 2024
Starsight,
The Restless Seed (sequel), epic fantasy - 2025
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GUEST POST
DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?
by Minnette Meador
As he passed through, twenty or so ghosts littered his living room
watching the last few minutes of the news. Keenan pulled air into his
lungs before picking up the remote.
They were costing him a fortune. The TV, the radio, and even his
computer were always on. Lights went off and on constantly. The
heat would soar to eighty degrees in the middle of the summer and
then plunge to fifty when the winter freeze set in. He couldn’t keep
any pets; the instant they came into the house they hissed or yelped
in terror and ran away. The neighborhood was full of cats that had
once belonged to Keenan.
He couldn’t keep girlfriends either. The closer they got, the more
convinced they were that he was on drugs, a serial killer, or
terminally cracked. He hadn’t had a girl at his house in years; for
some reason they got all heebie-jeebie on him when things started
flying around or cold blasts of air unexpectedly lifted their skirts.
One girl even had her panties removed, but not by Keenan. He was
in the kitchen at the time. – A GHOST OF A CHANCE (JUNE 2011)
I’ve always been a fan of ghosts. Ghost stories, movies about ghosts, ghostly TV shows, and I’m
even a member of the Ghost Hunters’ fan club. Let’s face it, I’m a devout ghostie
In my new book, A Ghost of a Chance, Keenan Swanson sees literally hundreds of ghosts. In
fact, they make his life interesting (in a Chinese Curse sort of way). While I was researching and
writing the book, it reminded me of my own experiences with ghosts.
When I was six, my family moved into a sprawling three-story house in NE Portland. It had plate
glass leaded windows, a dumb waiter, even built in cabinets and shelves. There were four
bedrooms and two bathrooms, just enough space for the seven of us. The night we moved in, my
brother and I had to sleep in the same bed; the other stuff hadn’t arrived yet.
That night something very strange happened. I woke up in the middle of the night. Opposite the
bed was a closet with the door open because of boxes. In the second story window inside that
closet, I saw a very strange white face. It just hung there looking at us.
“Pat, do you see that?” I whispered to my brother.
“Yes,” he hissed back to me.
We both pulled the covers over our heads and shivered until we got up enough nerve to run to
sleep in my parent’s bed. I know it was real: we saw it no less than six other times.
The second ghost I saw in that house was when I was there alone several years later. I must have
been about 9 or 10 and sleeping in the downstairs bedroom. My sister had gone on a date and I
was in bed sleeping. A noise woke me up and I thought it was Teri coming home. When I
opened my bedroom door, there by the stairs in the shadows was a little girl. I could see the light
from the top of the stairs shining in her eyes, her shoes, her dress. My reaction was almost the
same as when I was six; I calmly closed the door, got back into bed, and pulled the covers over
my head until Teri really did come home. I think I slept with her that night.
There were many other incidents in the house, but, though I was terrified, I later learned that
there was really nothing to harm us. I did find out later that a car hit a little girl, who died out on
the street in front of our house many years before, and that a painter had shot himself in the
house.
A GHOST OF A CHANCE
EXCERPTS
Keenan Swanson is your typical, everyday graphic designer. Well except for the hundreds
of pesky, prank-loving poltergeists that make his life interesting (in a Chinese curse sort of
way). He finds his situation precarious yet manageable--- Until witty, smoking-hot coworker,
Isabella enters the scene and Keenan decides he wants her all for himself…
CHAPTER ONE – LIVING WITH STRANGERS
“Isabella, isn’t it?” Keenan hadn’t seen a ring on her finger, around her neck, or a Love
John Forever tattoo any place noticeable, so he assumed she was available.
“Right. You’re Keenan. We met the other day.”
“Right.”
Usually he didn’t have problems talking to girls, but now it was harder than it had ever
been. A hundred witty comebacks crowded his brain for attention, but not one of them could
make it past the lump in his throat. His growing cock wasn’t going to be much help either; all it
wanted him to do was blurt out, “Ya wanna?”
Bracing himself against possible rejection, and telling his cock to shut the fuck up,
Keenan gathered his courage and charged into the fray. “Say listen, if you’re not…”
The elevator jarred to a halt and the doors burst open in front of them. At least fifteen
people piled into the box, disregarding the “maximum occupancy” sign.
Keenan hit his back hard against the railing and suddenly found his arms full of warm,
healthy girl.
The sounds around him came to a crashing halt when he fixated on those gorgeous
almond eyes and full red lips. The urge to devour that mouth was irresistible. He felt like he was
home. Her balmy scent marinated his brain, clouding out everything else. The velvet skin of her
naked arms made his palms tingle.
A sudden terror seized him when he realized his rod stood at full attention, shouting,
“Yippee!” Since the crowd had crushed Isabella against him, she must have felt it jumping like
an excited dog against her stomach. To Keenan’s amazement, she didn’t say a word and smiled
sweetly up at him. Her expression was almost pleased. It boggled his mind.
“Sorry,” he managed after a few precious seconds.
He let go and fully expected her to scrunch as far away from him as possible, a murmured
“pervert” escaping her lips. Instead, she slid up next to him and stayed attached to his shoulder,
turning her lovely breasts to the doors.
Keenan had a hard time keeping his eyes off them, noting with interest that both nipples
were little rocks against the black fabric. He forced himself to focus on the bald spot on the head
of the guy in front of him. He hoped to God the man wasn’t pushed back; in Keenan’s current
state, it might be difficult to explain what rested against the man’s ass.
…with a horny succubus who has other ideas…
CHAPTER TWO – NIGHT VISITOR
The dream was so real.
Hands slithered over Keenan’s body, but they were detached somehow. It was hard to
describe. Starting on his scalp, the hot tickling sensation sent tendrils of pleasure down his gut
and directly into his cock. It was painfully erect, aching for a good hard squeeze, but he couldn’t
reach down to touch it.
A weight pressed down on his body, holding him to the bed. Keenan could actually feel
his body sinking into the mattress. Something heavy, like invisible clay, pressed against his face.
He couldn’t move. He wasn’t scared at all…just horny as hell.
The hands massaging his scalp moved down to his face, pressing his eyes closed with
what he could only assume must have been thumbs. They moved down his face and found his
lips, parted them, and thrust a slender finger into his mouth. There was no taste, but the soft,
warm texture electrified his senses. He sucked on it instinctively. It was deeply sexual and made
his cock throb in anticipation. To his utter dismay the finger slipped from his mouth and trailed
down his chin.
Keenan opened his eyes. Light from an outside streetlamp illuminated the foot of his bed
and half his dresser. When she appeared in a wisp at his feet, he had to struggle to lift his head
enough to see her.
Naked heaving breasts came into view; the nipples were long, slate hard, and the areolas
black against dark skin. Her waist and hips were slim. Stretched fingers pinched the nipples,
making them longer, more rigid. The triangle of her pussy was bald, the slit dark and inviting.
Hazy clouds covered her face, making it soft and featureless, but billowing tendrils of black hair
twisted out from around it, flowing in a wind Keenan couldn’t hear. It moved in a watery dance.
The covers glided slowly down his body. The soft touch of the silk made his cock twinge
in agony and he gritted his teeth to hiss his pleasure. Electric shocks ignited the nerves in his
neck, shoulders, and arms. When Keenan was completely exposed, he wasn’t cold. His cock
sprang into ready position. The hair on his arms and legs snapped with static.
Keenan follows his ghostly friend down to the corner bar to talk about his nightly visitor...
CHAPTER THREE – INBIBING SPIRITS
It dawned on Keenan as he followed Reggie out to the living room that the familiar
disembodied noise was back. Arguments, low conversations, whispers, and even a little song
flitted in and out of the air around him. It was reassuring.
The group of visible ghosts was light: three screamers Keenan couldn’t see very clearly, a
Hindi named Nihar who was standing on his head amongst fake flowers on the windowsill, and a
crowd of loggers dancing on the kitchen table. Three of them were swilling pale mugs of beer.
The stringent smell of faded incense and warm beer made Keenan’s eyes water.
Keenan searched the room. “Constance?”
Reggie spun around and gave him a ghostly wink. “Sorry, old chap. Not here tonight.
Besides…” He floated over to the door and made a grand gesture with his arm. “…for this,
you’ll need a gentleman’s perspective, I think.”
“What do you…”
“I’ll explain all of it after you’ve had a drink or two. Off we go.”
Keenan’s head throbbed enough to make him not care where he was going. He lifted one
numb leg after the other. When the front door slammed behind him, it sent a cartoon sound wave
that should have caved in his skull. It must have been very cold outside…he could see his breath
come out in solid clouds…but he was warm. Thank God for small favors.
He stumbled after Reggie who was whistling a happy tune just to torture him.
The haze around Keenan’s brain didn’t get any better the further down the block Reggie
led him. He wondered what time it was; would the bar be open this late?
When they rounded the corner, the neon blue and red Taps blinked in and out, boring into
the headache under Keenan’s right eyebrow. The white OPEN sign underneath looked misty in
the late night fog. The heat that blasted his face when he opened the door smelled of cigarettes
and humanity. It was one of his favorite sensations; nothing better in his mind than local color
mixed with cold micro-brew. The flashing Terminator Stout signs always reminded him of
happier days.
Once inside, Patrick eyeballed him briefly without comment and went back to chatting
with the drunk at the end of the bar. Patrick had been here when Keenan moved in years before,
but Keenan still didn’t know if he was owner or just the bartender. They were on a casual head-
bobbing basis.
Keenan didn’t feel like lively conversation, so he just pointed to the tap. Patrick nodded
once, yanked a glass from the stack behind him, and filled it. Keenan disregarded the twenty or
so incorporeal customers that Patrick didn’t see. The chatter from the group was smoky,
bouncing dully from the dark oak rafters.
It was only then that Keenan realized he was naked under the long coat.
No pants.
No shorts.
No wallet.
He froze and sweat followed the jolt of realization down his armpits.
Can anyone say flasher?
Cramming his hand into his coat pocket without hope, he touched the soft crumpled
surface of a bill and several coins. When he pulled the ten out, the sight sent momentary relief
through the tight muscles in his neck, followed by a chill that rippled just under his skin. He slid
it over the bar and took his beer, hoping to God that the two men staring at him didn’t notice his
bare legs. Neither said a thing when Patrick passed the change to him and went back to cleaning
glasses behind the high bar.
The dead patrons laughed their asses off.
...when she shows up for a second night in a row, the succubus chases Keenan through the
streets of northeast Portland…
CHAPTER SIX – A HAUNTING REFRAIN
Keenan headed down Thirty-second Street, turned left onto Hawthorn, and ran like an
antelope with a lion biting his tail.
When he hit the crowd outside Taps at full speed, he came to a crashing halt and sailed to
the ground, taking down two brawny beer drinkers, their respective girlfriends, and an innocent
table that was sitting there minding its own business. Four obviously filled pints of stout flew
through the air and the contents rained down on the struggling quintet in a dark brown shower,
soaking all of them. Two of the empty pints hit Keenan squarely on the back of the head, one
after the other.
The tangled pile of human beings and beer began to disentangle itself, but Keenan’s head
was spinning wildly. So wildly, in fact, that he didn’t feel himself roughly yanked to his feet and
then off of them, or see the swollen fist appear out of thin air until it was too late. All he heard
was a distant son of a bitch and the sound of meaty flesh striking cheekbone.
The sparklers that gleamed in front of his eyes reminded him of the Fourth of July on the
coast. He found himself down on the ground again.
“…you stupid prick!” The words soaked into his stupor and he squinted up to see six-
foot-six of angry male mountain, a pleading red head attached to the man’s arm.
Not that it would have stopped another blow, but Keenan forced his hands into the
submissive position and tried to find his voice. “Oh, man…” he said to the mountain. “I’m really
sorry. Are you all right?”
That seemed to do the trick. The man stopped and dislodged the girl from his arm. “What
the fuck?”
“I didn’t see you,” Keenan said. “I was running from…” He feebly motioned down the
street and the guy leaned against one leg, folding his arms.
“What?” he said.
“Some guys hijacked my car about five minutes ago.” It was feasible. There had been a
rash of car thefts in the neighborhood. The mountain’s face softened. He looked concerned and
then greedy. Keenan took the opportunity to struggle to his feet. His spinning head was talking to
his stomach, and not in a kind way.
“Really? Where?” The words were a little too anxious.
At a guess, the man and his buddy had probably been drinking since eight, so Keenan did
the math: a pint of beer, say, every half hour for four hours…eight beers. Yah, pretty drunk. It
looked like they were both pitching for a fight. Keenan gladly diverted their ambitions away
from himself.
“Down on Twenty-ninth, just south of Hawthorn. I was at a stop sign and the sons of
bitches broke my window and pulled me out of the car. I was trying to find a phone. It sounded
like they couldn’t get the car started again. There’s a trick to it. They may still be there.”
The other man stood shoulder to shoulder with his buddy and rubbed his knuckles. “You
girls stay here. We’ll be right back.”
A dark shadow appeared behind them and Keenan took a step back.
The two men took off down the street and Keenan ran the other way, the protests of the
two women mingling with the wind in his ears.
…A very sexy TRUTH OR DARE…
CHAPTER SEVEN – SPIRITED AWAY
This time, Isabella didn’t even hesitate. “Dare,” she said firmly.
Keenan really wanted to know what this incredible woman could have possibly done to
get her in so deep she couldn’t recover. After all, she was perfect. There was a kind of injustice
when perfect people got in the headlights of bad news. Especially ones this charming.
“Well?” The coquettish lilt to her voice was playing handball with his heart.
“Give me a second. I want to savor my victory before delivering the fatal blow.” He
knew what he wanted to ask her to do, but it was probably too soon and he didn’t want to lose
her. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming. “All right, I dare you to take off your jacket.”
Apparently, Isabella knew what Keenan really wanted too, since she sniffed, “Wuss,” and
then gave him a wicked laugh.
Without preamble, she unzipped her jogging jacket and stripped it off. Underneath was a
baby blue running halter that looked tantalizing against her dark skin. Dark mounds of flesh
peeked over the top and the deep cleavage was almost black. The exhibition made Keenan’s
mountain gorilla instincts come out. He wanted to pound victory against his chest.
“Wow,” was all he could say.
“Eyes up here, buddy,” she said pointing.
Keenan obliged by putting one elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand, and
staring into her eyes. “No place I’d rather be.”
“Oh, my. He’s charming too. My turn, hot shot.” She pushed her lips to one side and
closed one eye in concentration. Her face lit up. “Truth or dare? What happened right after you
saw that ghost?”
He knew that was coming and hoped the dare wouldn’t be something that could get him
thrown back into jail. He wouldn’t put it past her. Pulling a sigh into his lungs and giving up to
the inevitable, he gave her a plaintive, “Dare.”
A look of pure evil came over her face when she placed her napkin on the table. Standing
up, she sidled along the end of the table and leaned against the bench seat. “All you have to do is
hold still.”
Before he could say anything, she was on top of him, straddling his lap, with her arms
wrapped around his neck. That heavenly scent clouded out just about everything else. He
instinctively placed his arms around her very slim waist and pulled her closer. His cock was
doing what it did best when she sat down hard and brought her face within inches of his.
“Pucker up, big boy.”
Isabella leaned into him and gently pulled out his upper lip with her teeth. She ran her
tongue along it once, shutting down most of his reality receptors. The initial touch of her lips was
so soft he could only feel the heat at first. He gladly let her play. Moving slowly, she increased
the pressure until she had him in an expertly executed lip lock; it was obvious she had done this
before.
A childhood memory of the first time he flew…
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - THE SPIRIT OF THE DEAD
When Keenan was very small, he had a babysitter (or maybe one of his mom’s
boyfriends) who loved to juggle: fruit, balls, toys, dishes, shoes, anything he could get his hands
on. One hot summer afternoon, apparently bored and not too bright, this young man decided it
might be a hoot to juggle the baby. Young Keenan, barely walking at the time, scooted out of the
danger zone as quick as his chubby little legs could carry him. Unfortunately, due to the nature
of an eighteen month old body, the exercise was one of futility; a hand the size of a basketball (or
so it seemed to the infant Keenan) scooped him up by the bottom and balanced him in midair,
while the other hand filled with some kind of fishbowl squished together with a very angry
kitten.
Keenan had to admit the initial attempt was an astonishing accomplishment; he flew over
the tall man’s head and plopped down onto the opposite hand at the same time the bowl plopped
down into the other and the cat remained, for the moment, suspended in the air above the man’s
face. Regrettably, inertia and the jumbled contortions of the unfortunate feline were apparently
something the skilled acrobat had not contemplated before attempting the feat. With a loud
meow and a resounding un-kitten like hiss, the cat lodged itself squarely on the young man’s
face, wherein he attempted to dislodge it. The bowl flew up out of his hands to shatter an
expensive looking chandelier, and Keenan, for the first time in his life, knew what it was to fly…
if only for a moment.
