Marisa Chenery Author

 

 

Marisa Chenery

Marisa Chenery was always a lover of books, but after reading her first historical romance novel she found herself hooked. Having inherited a love for the written word, she soon started writing her own novels.

She now writes young adult books and erotic romances.

Marisa lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, four children, four grandchildren (she’s a young grandma at fifty) and five rabbits.

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Loving a Ghost Title:  Loving a Ghost

ISBN:  978-1-98865-915-2


Jordana’s dream of meeting hunky romance cover model, Grady Timmins, comes to an abrupt end when he dies in a tragic car accident in her city. She’d known she would never meet him in real life, but that didn’t stop her from mourning him, anyway.

Her sorrow all-too-soon changes after Grady appears to her in ghost form, unable to leave her apartment. As love springs between them, Jordana will do anything in her power to keep him at her side.







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Excerpt

She blinked a few times as she fully focused on his face. Once she had a good look, Jordana’s jaw dropped. It couldn’t be. He was dead. It was all over the news and Internet, but the man who stood in her room next to her bed looked exactly like Grady Timmins. They were identical. The same short, chestnut hair and intense blue eyes. The same gorgeous features. Still, it couldn’t be him.

Jordana cleared her throat. “I can see you,” she said in a voice that came out in a squeak. She pushed away the fear that slowly tried to inch to the surface. She had to remain calm and not run, screaming like a banshee. She had to be clearheaded.

He’d straightened while she’d spoken. A look of relief washed over his face. “Thank god. I’d begun to wonder if I would not only be stuck here but left to never be seen by you. I watched you sleep all night, hoping like hell that when you woke up, you’d know I was here.”

“All night?” she squeaked again. That didn’t at all sound creepy. Yeah, right. “Did you break into my apartment?”

He shook his head. “No. It isn’t like that. I just sort of ended up in it.”

“I don’t understand.”

Jordana slowly inched toward the opposite edge of the bed from where he stood, which happened to be closer to the room’s door. Maybe if she was quick enough, she could make it to the living room and phone 9-1-1 before he stopped her. It was too bad the cordless she had in her bedroom was on the nightstand next to him.

“I know this is going to sound crazy, but I died. For some reason, I was brought to your apartment. I can’t leave. Every time I try, I run into a solid obstacle.”

She finally made it to the side of the mattress and carefully got out of bed, not taking the sheets with her. Jordana was almost there. Just a little bit more. To distract him, she said, “You want me to believe you died, and now, as a ghost, you ended up in my apartment.” Keep him talking, Jordana. You can do it.

“I’m telling you the truth. You know who I am. I saw the books on the shelf in the living room. I’m really Grady Timmins.”

“Okay, I’m supposed to believe a well-known model, whom I’ve never met in person, would come to haunt me rather than someone he was much closer to. It not only sounds crazy it doesn’t make any sense.” Jordana took small, backward steps toward the doorway. She was almost there.

The supposed Grady-ghost came around the end of the bed. “I know it doesn’t. I’ve had all night to rack my brain over it. You have to believe me, Jordana.”

“You know my name?” Her question came out tight and high-pitched. She took bigger steps and waved her hand behind her, reaching for the doorframe to let her know she was close to making her escape.

“When I saw you go to your profile page at that big social media website, I realized why I thought you looked familiar. I remember the message you sent me a month ago. Your picture intrigued me. I think it might have been because of my interest in you that I ended up driving to Watkins Glen in the first place.”

Jordana’s fingertips brushed against wood. As she slowly worked her way to the door, the Grady-ghost closed some of the distance between them. She prepared herself to make a run for it to the living room and the phone. She was not going to be a victim. She could be tough and take action when needed. Yeah, right. Who was she kidding?

“Now I really find that hard to believe. The real Grady wouldn’t have given me the time of day. What twenty-six-year-old hunk would be interested in woman who is nine years his senior? Especially when there would be a ton of much better looking twenty-something women around who wouldn’t turn him down. The message he sent in reply was polite and short. It in no way implied anything more than him thanking a fan for taking the time to write him.”

Before Jordana could make a run for it, the supposed Grady-ghost stood directly in front of her. Well over six feet tall, he towered over her five foot six inches.

“You want proof? I’ll give it to you. If I wasn’t a ghost, would I be able to do this?”

A cold sensation that felt as if she were being touched by a piece of ice on her bare skin shot through her left shoulder. Jordana slowly turned her head and looked at it. Her breath froze in her lungs. His hand was inside her and part way up his arm it had lost some of its solidity. It was transparent enough for her to see through it.

She opened her mouth and screamed, completely losing her cool. Jordana jerked away and spun on her heel. She raced toward the living room, not daring to look back to see if he, the ghost, followed her. She didn’t stop until she’d reached the apartment door. Her hands shaking, she fumbled with the locks, more than desperate to escape.

Reviews

3 Stars:  ...the chemistry between Jordana and Grady was undeniable. They were both great conversationalists, and their banter made me eager to see what would happen once they figured out that ghosts can’t touch people or objects the same way a living person can. The anticipation of wanting to see them together but not being sure how it would be possible made it hard for me to stop reading. I simply had to know what would happen to them next.--Astilbe, Long and Short Reviews