Experiences of the
Paranormal... Or Not
I love writing paranormal fiction, and more than once I've worked on
stories where characters attempt to investigate paranormal occurrences. So I
thought it was only fair that I try this out in real life.
However, I'm too chicken to attempt these things in my own house, so
I booked myself in with a paranormal investigative company who sets up events
people can join. All safe, surrounded by organisers who know what they're
doing, right?
It didn't start off too well, as my satnav got confused and dumped
me in the middle of a scary-looking council estate. One quick knock on
someone's door later I found myself at the location, which had accidentally had
its heating left on and was skin-meltingly hot. I was hoping a ghost would turn
up just to cool the place down. Even a spooky breeze would have helped.
After a quick session with the resident medium - who had a lot more
luck on Most Haunted than he did here - we began some table-tipping. And here
came the problems. We had a group of four girls who had been whispering and
giggling throughout - I had a sneaking suspicion they had only come so they
could try and fake something. They surrounded the table and, a few minutes
later, it zigzagged across the carpeted floor.
Either that was real or they had planned it, because if one of them
had pushed the table on their own it would have fallen over. My guess is they
did it as a group, because when other people - myself included - took over the
table it immediately stopped working. Rather a disappointment.
Which was a theme for most of the night, unfortunately. We tried
moving a glass - nothing. A few people went into a side room to try scrying and
got nowhere. And then they pulled out the ouija board.
I've used these a few times in stories, but had never used one myself.
To be honest, I don't like them. But anything for literary research. We
gathered around the board - me, a friend I had brought along for support, and
three of the four girls I mentioned earlier - and asked "Can you move the
planchette to the first letter of your name?"
It moved to NO.
"Are you attached to the house?"
NO.
"Are you connected to one of us?"
NO.
"Would you like us to leave?"
YES.
Oh well. I suppose if someone came into my house and started asking
me silly questions I'd want them to go away too.
So my own attempt at paranormal investigation wasn't exactly a
success. Fortunately these things are a lot more fun to write than they are to
do, so my heroine will have a much more exciting time talking to the vardoger
than I had talking to my Bradford ghost...
Echoes of Love
Tanith Davenport
Genre: Paranormal erotic romance
Publisher: Totally Bound
Date of Publication: 18 July 2017
ISBN: 978-1-78686-218-1
Number of pages: 52
Word Count: 13,845
Cover Artist: Posh Gosh
Tagline: Kala wants to catch a ghost. The ghost wants to catch her. What does Tor want?
Book Description:
Paranormal writer Kala Westenra, staying with her best friend Vika in Norway, is hunting for a new subject for an article, and finds it when she hears footsteps in the hall twenty minutes before Vika's hot brother Tor Viitanen arrives home. This, Vika tells her, is the vardoger - a Norwegian ghost, a future echo which always precedes a person's arrival.
Kala plans to stake out the hallway to catch the vardoger in the act - and is shocked when, on its arrival, it kisses her. Her feelings for Tor have been hidden ever since she first met him two years ago; could it be that the vardoger is acting on Tor's secret desire for her?
As Kala and Tor work together to understand what is happening with the spirit, their longing for each other begins to overtake them - but the vardoger has more to show them than they expected...
Excerpt:
Tor reached over
the arm of the sofa, pulled up a cushion and threw it at her. Vika threw it
back, knocking over her wineglass at the same time.
“Here, let me
get you a refill.” Kala reached for the bottle, but it was empty. Vika stood
and made for the door, picking up her jacket from the hook on the back on her
way past.
“I’ll
run out and get another one. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Kala launched
the cushion after her, hitting the door instead.
“I can see why
you and my sister get on so well.” Tor raised an eyebrow. “You’re both drunks.”
“Oh, shut up.
I’m still technically a student. I can drink if I like.”
“Soon to be a
writer and they drink a lot, too, I’ve heard.”
Kala laughed. “I
don’t know about journalists, though. Although I’d quite like to be a writer,
too—novels or something. I don’t know what kind yet.”
“I’ll keep my
eyes open for your hot new release.”
Ooh.
Kala held his
gaze, her insides stirring strangely. Maybe it was the alcohol, but there was
something in the words hot release that made a rush of heat flow through her
body, her skin tingling.
After a long moment,
Tor spoke again. “So, Vika thinks you need a man.”
“I don’t need a
man. I may want a man.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Something flickered across Tor’s face, his eyes glowing. He shifted onto his
knees, leaning over the arm of the sofa, his face close to hers. “What sort of
man do you want?”
“Oh, you know.
We hotshot journalists don’t like to be tied down.” Kala gave him a taunting
look, leaning closer to him so that their faces were almost touching. “Tall,
dark, commitment-phobic. That’ll do me.”
“I can help you
there.”
A sudden rush of
movement and Tor’s mouth was on hers.
This is a bad
idea. He’s Vika’s brother.
But somehow she
no longer cared and Tor was right here and he was moving, moving over the arm
of the sofa as they were still kissing, then his body was pressing down onto
hers and they were still—
To hell with it,
she thought and arched up against him, tangling her fingers in his hair.
She felt his
hard cock through his jeans as it brushed against her leg, sending a dart of
wet heat straight to her cunt. His hands ran down, caressing her neck, her
shoulders, cupping her breasts and rolling his thumbs over her nipples through
her bra.
Oh, God—
Then the sound
of the lock clicking.
Immediately, Tor
rolled off her and onto the floor, twisting round to position himself back at
the side of the sofa. Kala sat up and ran a hand through her hair.
Shit, that was
close.
“Here's the
wine,” Vika announced as she came through the door, shopping bag in hand. “I
got back as fast as I could.”
About the Author:
Tanith Davenport began writing erotica at the age of 27 by way of the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Scheme. Her debut novel "The Hand He Dealt" was released by Total-e-Bound in June 2011 and was shortlisted for the Joan Hessayon Award for 2012.
Tanith has had short stories published by Naughty Nights Press and House of Erotica. She loves to travel and dreams of one day taking a driving tour of the United States, preferably in a classic 1950s pink Cadillac Eldorado.
Tanith's idea of heaven is an Indian head massage with a Mojito at her side.
Thanks for having me on here!
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