Thursday, 27 March 2014

Book Spotlight & Excerpt ~ Reset by C. A. St James

A Psychic Couple, Second Sight, and MurderReset

Genre: Paranormal Mystery (Psychic Investigator)

George Chambers is a psychic who makes a practice of helping earthbounds; ‘liberating ghosts’ is how he puts it. Normally it’s quite low key, a simple matter of astral contacts and inner balance. But not this time. He and Erin Rinaldi have bumped into a murder investigation, and the spotlight has turned towards them. George and Erin were already off balance, their hearts set spinning when mutual benefits became more than either of them had bargained for. They have some big decisions to make. Now they have to decide their future while they struggle to dodge the cops, solve a marijuana grower's murder, and free the victim's ghost.

Buy: Amazon | B&N

Erin’s stomach tightened as the black-and-white rolled by. Not ten minutes earlier, the same cop had driven past from the other direction.

The patrol car pulled to the curb opposite a large, tree-shaded bungalow at the end of the block and she closed the book she’d been pretending to read. The cop seemed to be using his radio, but the reflected dazzle of the morning sun made it hard to tell for sure. Dropping the visor, she checked her face. Then she leaned back, took a measured breath, and waited.

An unmarked car with two stony-faced men in jacket and tie pulled up behind the. Erin set the rear-view camera to record and grabbed her hat. When she got out she pressed a button on the fob and the doors of the Lincoln sedan responded with a reassuring thunk.

Sensing apprehension, she smiled, adjusted the tilt of her grey chauffeur cap, and carefully kept her hands in view as she walked back to their car. She'd been irritated when George had wanted her to wear a uniform this trip. Now she appreciated the cover. "What's up, officer?" she asked the driver through his open window.

"That's my line, miss. What are you doing here?"

She raised her brows. "Going about my lawful business?"

"Normally that would work, but not at a murder scene. I need to see your license and registration."

"Sure," she said with studied nonchalance. Erin took out the papers she had ready in her pocket.

He passed the papers to his partner, his eyes never leaving hers. "I need your proof of insurance, too." He opened his door, forcing her to step back.

"You already have it." He was out of the car, now, towering over her. Shit, this guy's big.

"Why are you trying to keep us away from the car?"

"Just delay, officer. I'm trying to give my passenger some time."

The man’s eyes flicked to the car, its rear window almost as black as the shiny paint.

The other cop stood next to them now. He was an inch or two shorter, smoother, and just as menacing. "She's clean," he said to his partner. "Here are your papers, Miss Rinaldi." He paused for effect: "You don't have a chauffeur license."

"I drive for a private employer, sir, so the law doesn't require one."

"There's someone in the back," the first cop told the other. They exchanged a look and the big one turned towards the Lincoln.

"Please wait," Erin said, adding a carefully modulated note of entreaty to her voice. "He'll be out in a minute."

"Can you tell me why I should?"

"I drive for a psychic, officer. He's in a trance. If you bring him out of it too abruptly he could have a heart attack."

The big man scowled.

"Have you ever been wakened by a loud noise," she hurried on, "like a door slamming? Wake up with your heart jumping out of your chest? It’s like that, only more extreme."

"If he's in a trance, how will he know we're here?"

"I really don't understand how it works, sir, but he'll know. He always comes back if I get out of the car."

The passenger door opened, and all eyes turned.

About the Author
I was born psychic. One of my earliest memories, from when I was still wearing baby mittens so I couldn’t scratch my eyes, was the overwhelming recollection of myself as the yogi I’d been two lives before. I was also telepathic, and since people responded to my thoughts, I thought all adults could hear me. But the conversations were subconscious on the other side, as most telepathy is, with everyone except my mother. She could hear me clearly until just after I turned three.

My mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother were all somewhat psychic ― mainly astral projection, talking to the newly dead, and seeing nature spirits ― but these things were always whispered. We were descended from generations of Calvinist clergy and New Age topics caused alarm. My powers became subconscious around the time I started school. I didn’t begin to recover my abilities until I was psychically attacked by a black magician when I was twenty-three.
The occult and metaphysical content in my novel isn’t fantasy; the concrete examples are all my own experiences dressed up as fiction. The ‘weird stuff’ is neither a rehash of my library nor made up out of whole cloth.


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