Where One Goes by B N Toler [Release Blitz]

Title: Where One Goes

Author: B N Toler

Editor: Marilyn from Eagle Eye Reads
Copy Line Editor:  Rae from 77 Peaches for Proof

Published:March 18, 2015

I was never one to believe in spirits—until six years ago, when a bone-chilling accident changed my life…forever.

My name is Charlotte, but most people call me Char…and I have a special gift. 
 

I talk to the dead. 

Make no mistake, I can’t summon them. I’m only able to see and speak to the spirits that linger when they’re unable to crossover. They’re somehow weighted to the world with unfinished affairs. And for the last six years, I’ve relentlessly used my gift to help their lost souls.

But it’s come at a price. My life is dark. Feeling despondent, I’ve begun to give up. And in helping the dead, I’ve realized I haven’t allowed myself to live. With no money, no place to go, and most importantly… no hope, I’ve decided there is only one option—to end it all.

But fate is a funny thing. One minute, I’m about to leap to my death, and the next, I’m saved by Ike McDermott. The strong, striking soldier stopped me from putting an end to my despair. He’s the kind of man that smiles and brightens an entire room. Sweet and gentle.

He is my savior. 

And he’s dead.

We’ve made an agreement. He’ll help me find a place to stay and a new job if I’ll help him with his unfinished business so that he may crossover.

Ike’s unfinished matter involves his twin brother, George. George has been falling apart since Ike’s death and Ike has not been able to compel himself to crossover in peace until he knows George will be okay.

When I agreed to help, little did I know that I’d fall in love with the charming folks of Bath County, and…Ike and George McDermott.

Now, as both brothers own equal parts of my heart, I am faced with a cruel and unfair predicament. In saving George, I must let go of Ike. 
 

But how does one let go of half of their heart?

Ike and Charlotte

It’s nine in the morning and Charlotte is still sleeping. She looks different with dry hair in the light of day. Her dark hair is shiny and soft, fanned out over the pillows. Her lips are now pink, not blue as they were last night. She’s on her stomach, the blanket just barely covering her ass. Her skin looks so smooth and creamy, I’d give anything to touch it. I know I shouldn’t be staring at her like this, but I can’t help it. I may be dead, but I’m still a man—I like to look at beautiful women.

I have to get her up. She needs to get to her truck, and we need to get her a job immediately.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” I yell, and clap my hands in front of her face. She jolts up, her eyes frantic. I get a great shot of her breasts, and dear God, they are beautiful, I mean, call me an asshole, but I have no shame in staring at her before she jerks the blanket up, covering herself. Man, I miss the feel of a woman. Their softness, their warmness.

“I’m going to kill you!” she shouts.

“Little late for that, babe,” I reply and jerk my chin. She tosses a pillow at me. It goes right through me and lands on the floor.

I yawn. “Ouch.”

“Don’t wake me up like that ever again!” she shouts. “I don’t have any clothes on!”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I mock confusion.

“Asshole!”

“My, my, we’re grumpy in the morning,” I chuckle as she stands, wrapping the blanket around her. The dead can still get hard-ons. I have to turn from her, so she doesn’t see mine as I mentally lick her long, lean body. Damn!

She grabs her bag and scurries into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Apparently, mornings are not her forte. When she exits the bathroom, she’s wearing worn jeans with holes all over and a black tank top. Her dark hair is down and she’s put on a little makeup. Although she still looks tired and frail, she looks refreshed, and that makes me happy. I don’t know her well, but I hope when all is said and done, I can help her find some happiness.

“How much did you see?” she asks as she zips her backpack up.

“Not much.” I shrug and she sighs with relief. “Just your breasts,” I add nonchalantly, and she throws a hair brush at me, which zips right through me and hits the wall.

“Thought we already established that won’t work.”

“You suck,” she huffs and flings her backpack over her shoulder.

“They were really nice, Charlotte.” I compliment her and she blushes, but she can’t help but smile.

“You’re lucky my gift is limited to seeing and hearing you. If I could touch you, you’d be talking in soprano right now.”

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Author Bio

B N Toler lives in Virginia. When she's not reading or writing, she's thinking about reading or writing. Before she became a self-proclaimed writer, she worked as a real estate agent and as an orthodontic technician. **She will notice your teeth before your eyes or hair or anything.**
She enjoys shopping (way too much) and is on a first name basis with several employees at the local Target in her town.
She loves music,(bluegrass, country, 80's, actually she loves most music ~her favorite song is American Pie by Don McLean and she worships anything that is Elvis and Johnny Cash and Eric Church) dancing, (even though she sucks at it)reading, writing, eating (too much) sleeping late, (which she rarely gets to do) and laughing. If you can make her laugh, she will love you forever.