Ghost Girl by Karen Michelle Nutt
I have quite a few ghost stories I could conjure up for Halloween. It must be why I love the paranormal so much—it feels like home.
Today, I'd like to tell you about my family's ghost girl. Everyone in my family has seen her at one time or another, and she wasn't shy about revealing herself to friends.
This sighting took place when I was a teen. It was late at night, and my mother and I were the only ones still up. At this time, my father worked the graveyard and wasn't home. My siblings were sleeping.
I was working on a report for school in the kitchen. My mother was in the bathroom taking a bath. She kept the door slightly ajar so we could chat.
As the minutes ticked by, I began to get this prickly feeling at the base of my neck, and I swear the fine hairs on my arm stood at attention. This feeling happened every time the little girl would make her ghostly appearance, and I knew it was about to happen again. I stood near the dining room table, my gaze locked on the dark archway leading to our den. Any second, I was sure she'd materialize. Usually, she was a fleeing figure in a light-colored dress. Her long hair was a pale blonde, and it would whip behind her as she darted away.
While I was concentrating on the endless black void that led to our den, my mother ran the water in the bathtub. "Who's up with you?" she called to me.
Of course, no one was with me, or so I believe. "No one's up, Mom," I gladly inform her.
"I said, who's up with you?" my mother repeated the question, but now her voice held an edge.
She couldn't hear that I answered her over the running water. My heart was already pounding in my ears with fright, and her question of 'Who's up with you?' sent me toward panic mode. My mother could see someone in the kitchen with me, someone I couldn't see. I backed up a few paces before I sprinted to the bathroom as if this ghostly presence was chasing me.
"No one is up with me!" And I do believe I did a little fright dance, and my voice became a high-pitched shrill.
My mother's brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? I saw a hand reaching for you."
She had been sure that one of my siblings had slipped out of bed. However, they were all fast asleep.
Even though I didn't see the presence, I believe it was our resident ghost girl, who had appeared off and on throughout the years. She was the only consistent resident ghost at my parents' home, but we've had others over the years, too. I sometimes wonder if she invites them over, telling them, "Hey, they're a cool family. Come hang out with them for a while."
The Gryphon and His Thief Karen Michelle Nutt
Genre: paranormal/ shifter romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Date of Publication: June 15, 2022
ISBN: 978-1509241774
ASIN: B09VZS3LLZ
Number of pages: 220
Word Count: 57k
Cover Artist: Kristian Norris
Tagline: A gryphon shifter cursed for centuries encounters a thief who unearths his secret identity.
Book Description:
Darrien Andros, a gryphon sworn to protect humans is cursed to live forever, safeguarding the items in the Museum of Cursed Antiquities. His mundane life between the world of the living and turning to stone as the sun rises is disrupted when a thief attempts to steal Hecate's Stone. He cannot eliminate her for her thieving ways. Not when she resembles his dead wife.
Cali Angelis, a thief for hire, needs Hecate's stone for her client. Only Darrien makes her question her client's motives. She'd like to think Darrien delusional, but she's seen the unbelievable.
Will they unravel the mysteries behind the stone before history repeats itself?
“Get a grip,”
she warned herself. The gryphon didn’t blink his eyes. Yep, and it didn’t fly
from the back room and station itself at the door, either. She gulped and
leveled the beam of the flashlight on the statue once more. Only what stood
there now was a man, a large man with dark hair, a beard neat and trim…and eyes
that glowed like the gryphon’s eyes had.
“You cannot take
the item from the museum,” the man’s deep voice boomed with authority meant to
intimidate, and his words were flavored with a Greek accent. “You must return
it immediately,” he finished the threat. Sure there had been no threat voiced,
but she all but heard the ‘or else’ just as clearly as if the words had been
spoken.
“Who are you?”
she countered, even though she had no right to inquire. Obviously, this man
must be the night guardsman. Her gaze slid over his attire and frowned. He wore
garments she’d only seen painted on Greek vases and paintings—an intricately
designed tunic, a dark colored cloak, and gold sandals adorned his feet. Her
one eyebrow lifted. Perhaps he was a thief who liked theatrics. She had an
uncle who liked to dress like a caped superhero when he went on his jobs.
She straightened
her back and met the guy’s gaze head on. “I think you need to leave, or I’ll
call the cops.” She pulled out her cell phone and lit up the screen to prove
her point. The guy didn’t have to know she was bluffing. She didn’t want the
cops here anymore than he probably did.
He didn’t quite
react the way she thought he would. Oh no, he had the audacity to laugh, a deep
guttural laugh. “You amuse me human woman,” he told her.
“Human woman?”
Okay, this nut-job was off his meds. “Fine, you stay here, and this human woman
will say good evening. It’s been a long day. I need to head back to my
spaceship before E.T. calls home and tells Mom and Dad I’m late.”
The man’s brows
furrowed, deep creases marring his forehead. Maybe she loaded on the crapola a
little thick. It was best to end this conversation and get out of Africa—as her
father would say—and make like a cheetah on the hunt. She took a few cautious
steps toward the front door.
“You will halt,”
he demanded with his palm up as if his stance alone could stop her.
Well, yep it
did, for a full three seconds. She knew some self-defense moves, but this guy
was built like he lifted weights in his sleep just so his bulk didn’t decrease
in the middle of the night. It didn’t appear like the front door was an option,
but… her gaze latched onto the window next to it. “Oh, hell.” She charged and
prayed this old building hadn’t been refurbished with safety glass.
Otherwise, this
stunt was really going to hurt.
About
the Author:
Karen Michelle Nutt resides in California with her husband. Though her three
children are grown and starting their own adventures, she still has a houseful
of demanding pets.
When she's not time traveling, fighting outlaws, or otherworldly creatures, she
creates book covers at Gillian's Book Covers, "Judge Your Book By Its
Cover".
Whether your reading fancy is paranormal, time travel or contemporary romances,
all her stories capture the rich array of emotions that accompany the most
fabulous human phenomena—falling in love.
Visit the author at her website: http://www.kmnbooks.com
Blog: http://kmnbooks.blogspot.com
Gillian’s Book Covers, “Judge Your Book By Its Cover”
http://judgeyourbookbyitscover.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorkarenmichellenutt
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KMNbooks
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/karenmnutt
Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/Karen-Michelle-Nutt/e/B002BLLBPE
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kmn_books
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/karen-michelle-nutt
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/karenmichellenutt
Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/karenmichellenutt
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/kmnbooks
IMDb: https://tinyurl.com/yy27qubr
a Rafflecopter giveaway
HTML Visit with a Psychic
Spirits
from the Other Side by Karen Michelle Nutt
A couple of years ago, my friends and I went to see AJ Barrera, a
psychic-medium.
There were about 158 people there
for the event, so my expectations of having a reading were pretty slim.
Barrera explained that his communication with the other side was more like
impressions, not actually chatting with the spirit in a way we have
conversations. So, as he revealed the impressions and if it sounded like it
could be one of our loved ones, he wanted us to stand. There was always a
possibility of similarities, but as he continued to receive the impressions, it
should eventually become clear who the spirit was trying to reach.
For the first reading, Barrera started by saying he felt the spirit was looking
for someone in a particular area of the room, which so happened to be where my
friends and I were seated. Then Barrera said the spirit's name, which was my
father's. He then mentioned the spirit's complications with his health right
before he died. That was my father's ailments. I couldn't believe it. Was it
really my dad?
When Barrera named my mother and my siblings, my two friends kept nudging me
and telling me the spirit wanted to connect with me. Stand up!
Don't get me wrong, I genuinely wanted to believe we could communicate with our
loved ones, but there was that nagging feeling in the back of my mind wondering
if this was all a sham, but yes, I finally stood.
However, as Barrera revealed other impressions he received, I couldn't help but
feel overwhelmed with the possibility this reading was all too real. He knew my
father's personality, physical appearance, and what he would say to us. Perhaps
the psychic could find some of this online, but there were other things he
could not have known or located with a Google search. My father passed away
before cell phones with video cameras and social media were around to broadcast
our every move. A primitive Myspace was the popular platform when my father passed
away. So, there weren't any recordings of his voice or him talking anywhere
online.
What proved even stranger— as if this wasn't already extraordinary— was the two
people I thought about before I left home to go to this event were the very
souls that came through the strongest. My father, for one, and of course, you
could easily assume I'd want to speak to my father, but the other spirit was
even a surprise to me. I've lost many family members I was close to, so there
was no reason for me to think of my father-in-law. The man passed away before I
met my husband, but for some reason, impressions of this man popped into my
mind right before I left the house. So even if the psychic could have somehow
found out information about my family, he wouldn't have known about the two
people I hoped would come through for the reading? According to Barrera, my
father wanted to introduce me to my father-in-law. Crazy, I know. According to
Barrera, my father had quite a few souls with him, which I found comforting.
Family and friends surrounded him.
Everything considered I found the reading eerily fascinating. All I can say: It
was an experience like none other.
The Gryphon and His Thief Karen Michelle Nutt
Genre: paranormal/ shifter romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Date of Publication: June 15, 2022
ISBN: 978-1509241774
ASIN: B09VZS3LLZ
Number of pages: 220
Word Count: 57k
Cover Artist: Kristian Norris
Tagline: A gryphon shifter cursed for centuries encounters a thief who unearths his secret identity.
Book Description:
Darrien Andros, a gryphon sworn to protect humans is cursed to live forever, safeguarding the items in the Museum of Cursed Antiquities. His mundane life between the world of the living and turning to stone as the sun rises is disrupted when a thief attempts to steal Hecate's Stone. He cannot eliminate her for her thieving ways. Not when she resembles his dead wife.
Cali Angelis, a thief for hire, needs Hecate's stone for her client. Only Darrien makes her question her client's motives. She'd like to think Darrien delusional, but she's seen the unbelievable.
Will they unravel the mysteries behind the stone before history repeats itself?
“Get a grip,”
she warned herself. The gryphon didn’t blink his eyes. Yep, and it didn’t fly
from the back room and station itself at the door, either. She gulped and
leveled the beam of the flashlight on the statue once more. Only what stood
there now was a man, a large man with dark hair, a beard neat and trim…and eyes
that glowed like the gryphon’s eyes had.
“You cannot take
the item from the museum,” the man’s deep voice boomed with authority meant to
intimidate, and his words were flavored with a Greek accent. “You must return
it immediately,” he finished the threat. Sure there had been no threat voiced,
but she all but heard the ‘or else’ just as clearly as if the words had been
spoken.
“Who are you?”
she countered, even though she had no right to inquire. Obviously, this man
must be the night guardsman. Her gaze slid over his attire and frowned. He wore
garments she’d only seen painted on Greek vases and paintings—an intricately
designed tunic, a dark colored cloak, and gold sandals adorned his feet. Her
one eyebrow lifted. Perhaps he was a thief who liked theatrics. She had an
uncle who liked to dress like a caped superhero when he went on his jobs.
She straightened
her back and met the guy’s gaze head on. “I think you need to leave, or I’ll
call the cops.” She pulled out her cell phone and lit up the screen to prove
her point. The guy didn’t have to know she was bluffing. She didn’t want the
cops here anymore than he probably did.
He didn’t quite
react the way she thought he would. Oh no, he had the audacity to laugh, a deep
guttural laugh. “You amuse me human woman,” he told her.
“Human woman?”
Okay, this nut-job was off his meds. “Fine, you stay here, and this human woman
will say good evening. It’s been a long day. I need to head back to my
spaceship before E.T. calls home and tells Mom and Dad I’m late.”
The man’s brows
furrowed, deep creases marring his forehead. Maybe she loaded on the crapola a
little thick. It was best to end this conversation and get out of Africa—as her
father would say—and make like a cheetah on the hunt. She took a few cautious
steps toward the front door.
“You will halt,”
he demanded with his palm up as if his stance alone could stop her.
Well, yep it
did, for a full three seconds. She knew some self-defense moves, but this guy
was built like he lifted weights in his sleep just so his bulk didn’t decrease
in the middle of the night. It didn’t appear like the front door was an option,
but… her gaze latched onto the window next to it. “Oh, hell.” She charged and
prayed this old building hadn’t been refurbished with safety glass.
Otherwise, this
stunt was really going to hurt.
About
the Author:
Karen Michelle Nutt resides in California with her husband. Though her three
children are grown and starting their own adventures, she still has a houseful
of demanding pets.
When she's not time traveling, fighting outlaws, or otherworldly creatures, she
creates book covers at Gillian's Book Covers, "Judge Your Book By Its
Cover".
Whether your reading fancy is paranormal, time travel or contemporary romances,
all her stories capture the rich array of emotions that accompany the most
fabulous human phenomena—falling in love.
Visit the author at her website: http://www.kmnbooks.com
Blog: http://kmnbooks.blogspot.com
Gillian’s Book Covers, “Judge Your Book By Its Cover”
http://judgeyourbookbyitscover.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorkarenmichellenutt
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KMNbooks
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/karenmnutt
Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/Karen-Michelle-Nutt/e/B002BLLBPE
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kmn_books
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/karen-michelle-nutt
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/karenmichellenutt
Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/karenmichellenutt
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/kmnbooks
IMDb: https://tinyurl.com/yy27qubr
a Rafflecopter giveaway
