Guest Post & #Giveaway: Through Her Eyes by Deborah Camp @authordebcamp



You Won’t Believe This, But . . .
By Deborah Camp
Since my Mind’s Eye series deals with psychics and spirits, I’m often asked if I really believe in ghosts. I can tell you, in no uncertain terms, that I do. Mainly because of what I’ve experienced at the Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, AR.
During one weekend there, my friends and I heard about a room that the hotel wasn’t renting out because everyone who had stayed in that room awakened to find that the doorknob had been removed from the inside. The hotel staff would come to the rescue and open the door for them and replace the doorknob, which was often found by housekeeping under the bed or in the closet. We speculated that guests were pulling pranks to bolster all the ghost stories surrounding the hotel. However, we decided to find the room in question.
After midnight, we went to the designated floor and crept down the hall. The room was at the far end of it. Halfway down the corridor, all the lights went out. It wasn’t pitch-black. We could make out each other in the dim light cast from the moonlight streaming through the window. Giggling, we were making “ooooh-aahhhh” noises to each other when we realized it was getting very, very cold! So cold that we could see our breath fogging the air. I remember shivering and wondering, What the heck?!
My girlfriends and I stared at each other, round-eyed and quivering, as realization dawned. Was there a spirit near us? I could hear my pulse booming in my ears and I hugged myself to ward off the chills and sudden fear.
Then, with a soft pop, the lights all came back on and the area instantly began warming up. Within a minute, it was all back to normal.
Except we weren’t.
Like the chickens we were, we ran down that hallway and couldn’t wait to get into our room a floor below. We sat up most of the night jabbering about our experience and asking ourselves over and over again, “Did that just happen?”
That’s only one odd experience I’ve had in Eureka Springs. Don’t even get me started about the café table that rose up and floated!


Through Her Eyes
The Mind’s Eye Series
Book Four
Deborah Camp

Genre: Romantic Suspense/Paranormal Romance

Date of Publication: July 24, 2017

ASIN: B071KC41NB

Number of pages: 415
Word Count: 92418

Cover Artist: Patricia Schmitt

Tagline: She can see evil and evil can see her

Book Description:

Psychic detectives Levi Wolfe and Trudy Tucker comb the streets of New Orleans in search of a serial killer who has claimed 19 lives and counting.

The suspect was in an accident almost two years ago that left him paralyzed in a wheel chair, but the murders continue. Is he faking it or has he enlisted a protégé to continue his reign of terror?

As Levi and Trudy draw closer to the truth, Trudy discovers new and unsettling psychic abilities in herself.

Excerpt:

“So, tell me about your experience,” Trudy said, sitting next to Levi.
“It was strange. Very strange. I was contacted – during a business meeting, mind you – by the dead son of the new contractor I was speaking with in my office. This kid – a salvage yard murder victim – popped into my head and started yelling at me. I tried to shut him out, but I couldn’t. I had to actually stop the damned meeting and tell the man that his deceased son was demanding an audience. Gonzo thought I’d lost my noodle.”
“Good Lord!” She covered her parted lips with her hand. “I’d say that was a heck of a coincidence, but . . .it seems to be so much more than that.”
“Yeah, right.” He sat back and drummed his fingers on the table for a few seconds. “Anyway, the kid – Clayton Nelson – was hitchhiking in New Orleans when a guy in a pickup stopped for him. He couldn’t see much of the man’s face because he wore a ball cap and sunglasses. He had a mustache that looked fake to me. He used the ploy of something being wrong with his truck to get the kid to look under the hood and then he knocked him out with a blow to the head. Clay came to in a basement, his wrists and ankles bound with plastic ties and chains.” He shuttered his gaze from her. “That’s where he was murdered.” A few seconds ticked by before his lashes lifted to reveal his dark blue eyes that never missed much. “You’ve been in contact with the murderer already, haven’t you?”
Her heart jolted. He was uncanny. “I was in contact with someone who’s warped. I don’t know if it was the salvage yard killer.”
“Was he murdering someone?”
“Something. A cat.”
Levi’s upper lip lifted in disgust. “Jesus.”
“Yeah. He was practicing, I think.” She shuddered and blocked out the memory.
“The kid in my head showed me a compass and pointed to the N on it.”
She gasped at the reference. “Your true north?”
“Bingo. His way of telling me that you were already part of this.”
She reached for her glass of juice. They must be destined to examine this case. How else could she explain what happened to Levi and what she’d already experienced?



About the Author:

Deborah Camp is the author of more than 50 romances, both contemporary and historical. She received the first Janet Dailey Award (given to a romance novel that best addressed a social problem). "My Wild Rose" dealt with battered women and children.

A bestselling author, Deborah's books have been praised by reviewers, bloggers, and readers who love complex characters and clever plotting. She always mixes in a bit of humor, even in her romantic suspense novels.
Communicating with readers and other writers is something she enjoys, so don't be shy about visiting her online. If you post a review of her books, you'll probably receive a personal "thanks" even if the review isn't entirely favorable!

Deborah lives in Tulsa, OK where she is continually inspired by real cowboys, real Indians, and real heroes and heroines.








1 comment:

  1. Thanks for spotlighting my book today! If your followers haven't read the first book in my Mind's Eye series -- Through His Eyes -- I'd be pleased to send it to them FREE. Just join my readers group on my website (www.deborah-camp.com) and I'll send it to you for your Kindle or ereader.

    ReplyDelete

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