Somebody dies, they are murdered, so, who is better placed to identify the killer than the victim. What if the victim can return from the afterlife and continue their mortal life. This is what happens to Poppy Appleton. She quickly finds she is not alone, four other victims are identified after their remains are recovered from a Yorkshire lake. One man is responsible for killing them all . Can those others be transitioned back to who they were before their lives were brutally cut short? Can they now join forces and bring this man to justice? Tellingly, is law made over the centuries, ready for those already pronouned dead to return and become an accuser?
Amongst the gloom there is happiness and relationships are formed. Not only is normal life restored but hot sexual passions too!
An excerpt from Sycamore Cottage, a tale of ghostly transition and hot steamy romance!
We are lying there, staring into each other’s eyes. Our lips are so close yet so far apart. She wants to, I want to, but we both know an invisible presence is creating that unseen barrier. I know if Nadia was here the storm raging outside would be as nothing to the one in here. Fiona knows that almost as well as I do. She wants to engage but fears rejection later when inevitably I will choose Nadia over her. Even so, I can tell from her breathing and her swollen lips, those flared nostrils she just wants sex, hot and dirty, the sort that just goes on and on until we both flop down spent and exhausted. So, the battle lines are drawn. It’ll just take a simple kiss to start the fire and soon it will blaze into life and despite our exhaustion from all those miles we have both driven, our reserve tanks will create the fuel to keep those flames alive.
‘Well, one of us has to start this.’ I conceded finally.
‘I agree but which one of us is going to strike that match.’ She replied.
‘It depends upon who needs it most.’
‘It’s your bed, it was mine last time, remember.’
‘How can I forget, although I’m sure it was you who came onto me.’
‘In that case it follows you should start this time.’ A large flash of lightning lit up the room displaying terror on her face and in her eyes.
‘You need to confront your fear.’ I suggested.
‘How, it’s so hard for me, I’ve always been terrified of lightning and the following crash of thunder.’ Fiona asked. I just turned my head and looked out into the night. ‘You’re joking’
‘Nadia and I do it a lot.’
‘I’m not Nadia, although I wish I was.’ I knew that and those regrets hurt at times. I slid out of bed easing my feet into trainers. ‘You’re mad Daisy.’ I knew that too
‘I know – are you coming?’
We quietly left. I could sense fear in Fiona, a tension in her body which I held close to mine. We were both soaked not to the skin but on our skin itself, water dripping down our faces from our drenched hair. The cottage led straight onto sand and without a care in the world we walked down towards the raging surf, waves like wild horses rearing up and crashing down. More lightning lit up the sky, I heard Fiona whimper like a child seeking her mother. It was incredible that a woman of such strength could be reduced to a quivering wreck by the power only nature could produce. I had a child with me now who needed her mother, so I took on that role and stood behind her, folding my arms around her breasts and tightening my grip. My head rested on her shoulder. ‘Don’t cry sweetheart, mummy is here, she’ll protect you.’ We stood for some while and watched the display some unseen powerful god had put on for our private viewing. We had a front seat which we shared. We watched the performance in its total magnificence - all its actors now on the stage. ‘Remember this moment Fiona, every time you see a storm coming just think about the here and now. Your fears will melt away because you’ll sense my presence and instead of tears of fright, they will be those of joy.’
‘I hate the thought we will part tomorrow, and I’ll never share moments like this again.’ Fiona spoke emotionally.
‘Didn’t Alfred Lord Tennyson once write that it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?’ I whispered in her ear.
‘Thing is though Daisy, I think I do love you; I always have since we met, I can’t bear losing you.’ I screwed my eyes shut, I was torn too, but I dare not concede I still had feelings for Nadia. We’d often stood together very close to this very spot, looking at a show of great similarity. We’d spoken of being struck by lightning; our mortal remains blasted to a pile of blackened dust by natures incinerator. We’d then be welded together as one and our ghostly form would be a concentrated mix of our entities.
‘Let’s go back, dry ourselves and say au revoir in the time-honoured way.’ I bit her shoulder which made her cry out in pain.
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