Infinity

Infinity
An Anti Valentine's Day novella
20754 words
Published: January 19, 2012
ISBN: 978-1-4661-1592-7

Blurb:

It's a Valentine's Day like no other when three people - the witchy mistress, the scorned wife, and the heartbroken best friend - deal with the death of Tampa weatherman Eddie Grant.

Tessa just wants to be reunited with her beloved. If she gets her way, and she usually does, even in death will they not be parted.

 Lucy is struggling with her husband's betrayal and looking for love in all the wrong places. At least until a blond haired, blue eyed baby steals her heart.

After losing his wife and then his best friend, Wayne Colton's not really looking for anything other than a stiff drink. He's got a kid that's not his, the responsibility of dealing with a whacked out witch, and maybe - just maybe - a ghost of a chance of getting his life back.

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POV Characters:
Lucy Grant - the scorned wife
Tessa - the witchy mistress
Wayne Colton - the dead guy's best friend

Excerpt:

"Oh, fudge, sludge, mud." Lucy slammed on the breaks of her mint green Jaguar, narrowly avoiding a collision with an errant U-Haul that slid through the light just as it turned red.

Twenty-four years and five boy children had taught her to temper her language, but in the privacy of her car she couldn't resist flipping the driver a belated middle finger. The FU symbol pretty much summed up her life.

She couldn't really blame that driver from wanting to get the hell out of Tampa and all this damn rain. It was as if the heavens had opened up and cried non stop since her husband's not so unfortunate death.

Lucy once again slammed on her breaks, narrowly avoiding rear ending a silver Mercedes that looked an awful lot like the car her husband had supposedly sold after she had gotten him a shiny new red one on his forty birthday five years ago.

The box that contained his ashes sailed to the floor and she held her breath, hoping he wasn't going to pop out and nasty up the plush interior of her brand new Jag. It would have been just like him to try to destroy anything she'd actually gave a damn about.

He'd certainly gone out with a bang, putting a pistol to his temple right in the middle of their king sized bed. Eddie's gory brain matter had ruined the new bedding their daughter-in-law had gotten them for Christmas. Not to even mention killing the resale value of their million dollar home.

The realtor had gotten plenty of curious walk-throughs, but no one had any intention of making an offer on the house where Eddie Grant, Tampa's most beloved weatherman had taken his own life.

"This is all your fault." She glared at that shiny black box after finally finding a parking place. "You've got some nerve having your lawyer schedule this meeting on Valentine's Day."

Bile rose in her throat remembering how she'd opened the door that morning to find some pimply kid from the florist holding a spray of red roses. Ever the unoriginal anal Capricorn, Eddie had a standing order to send her a dozen red roses every Valentine's day, birthday, anniversary, and whatever.

Never once had he noticed that she hated the stench of those damn flowers, and red at that. He couldn't have made it any more cliché. That inept lawyer of theirs should have put a stop to Eddie's reckless spending as soon as he'd gone over their financial records.

Red roses from a ghost... happy freaking Valentine's Day!