Gratefully Dead E-Book

Maddie James

• Herausgeber: Sand Dune Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

One more deadly romantic comedy. Meet Mitzi, Molly, and Marla—three sisters, southern-fried born-and-bred, and the ghosts who love them.

Marla Newberry has no interest in dating someone local. She much prefers midnight runs to a biker bar in Shreveport.

Cooter Haines, drummer for a Grateful Dead tribute band called Skull Bone, owns the biker bar called The Deadhead. He also happens to be the only guy who can curl her toes like a sprung guitar string. And while she enjoys surrendering to his toe-curling on occasion, she’s not interested in bringing the long-haired drummer home to daddy-- Until the night Cooter tells him he loves her, and then he comes up missing.

That Saturday night, a rival drummer makes a deal with the devil (aka the Skull Bone’s manager) and steals the drummer job away from Cooter. Cooter angrily speeds off on his bike and doesn’t return. Marla smells a rat.

Later, she wakes up to find a ghostly Cooter sitting at the foot of her bed. Dead isn’t so great, he tells her, and those rumors about Southern Rock bands jamming in Heaven? He’s seen no evidence. Plus, he’s pretty sure someone jacked up something on his Harley making him roll the bike. He needs her help to find out who wanted him dead.

But is Cooter really dead, or was Marla only dreaming? And days later, where is he?

Can she and her sisters solve this final mystery of the men in their lives, and the ghosts(?) who love them?

Leseprobe

GRATEFULLY DEAD

Ghosts of Carrington

Book 3

Maddie James

Sand Dune Books

Contents

GRATEFULLY DEAD

Maddie’s VIP Insider News

Gratefully Dead

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

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GRATEFULLY DEAD

Ghosts of Carrington, Book 3

Maddie James

Gratefully Dead

Copyright © 2023, Maddie James

ISBN: 978-1-62237-526-4

Editorial and Cover Art Design by Jacobs Inc, LLC.

First Edition, August 2023

All rights reserved.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden, without the written permission of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.

Published by Maddie James, Turquoise Morning, LLC, DBA Jacobs Ink, LLC. P.O. Box 20, New Holland, Ohio

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Gratefully Dead

Ghosts of Carrington, Book 3

One more deadly romantic comedy. Meet Mitzi, Molly, and Marla—three sisters, southern-fried born-and-bred, and the ghosts who love them.

Marla Newberry has no interest in dating someone local. She much prefers midnight runs to a biker bar in Shreveport.

Cooter Haines, drummer for a Grateful Dead tribute band called Skull Bone, owns the biker bar called The Deadhead. He also happens to be the only guy who can curl her toes like a sprung guitar string. And while she enjoys surrendering to his toe-curling on occasion, she’s not interested in bringing the long-haired drummer home to daddy.

Until the night Cooter tells him he loves her, and then he comes up missing.

That Saturday night, a rival drummer makes a deal with the devil (aka the Skull Bone’s manager) and steals the drummer job away from Cooter. Cooter angrily speeds off on his bike and doesn’t return. Marla smells a rat.

Later, she wakes up to find a ghostly Cooter sitting at the foot of her bed. Dead isn’t so great, he tells her, and those rumors about Southern Rock bands jamming in Heaven? He’s seen no evidence. Plus, he’s pretty sure someone jacked up something on his Harley making him roll the bike. He needs her help to find out who wanted him dead.

But is Cooter really dead, or was Marla only dreaming? And days later, where is he?

Can she and her sisters solve this final mystery of the men in their lives, and the ghosts(?) who love them?

ChapterOne

Marla Newberry glanced up from her coffee and stared at the yellowed plastic clock on the diner wall. The place smelled of bacon grease, coffee, and the lingering aftermath of someone’s flowery perfume. The counter was empty at this hour, most folks having cleared out after the Saturday morning breakfast rush.

The old clock ticked steadily, its hands sweeping the face in unbroken movement.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Her sisters sat huddled in a corner booth a few feet away, speaking in hushed tones. She’d avoided them ever since they had arrived. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and sat up straighter. They were talking about her.

“Give it up, ladies,” she called out.

Mitzi smirked. “What?”

“You know.”

Molly twisted in her seat. “You gonna mope all day or join us?” Her bright blue eyes flashed with the challenge of her words. Molly was the youngest of the three sisters and never at a loss for words.

Marla stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her faded jeans. “I’m not moping.” She lifted her cup and saucer. She loved that the diner used old-fashioned cups and saucers rather than mugs.

“You’ve been staring into your coffee for an hour,” Mitzi added. “Surprised you even saw us come in. Get over here. We were just talking about the Halloween festival next month. Help us plan.”

Ah yes, the annual small town, Carrington, Louisiana Halloween Festival. Her family had volunteered for years, and this year would be no different. Marla slid into the booth beside Mitzi, her middle sister.

Mitzi’s eyes showed concern, and Marla felt a pang of guilt. Her sisters worried too much.

“Plenty of time for festival planning, you know. I’m sure Mom’s on it.”

“She is, of course,” Molly said. “Dad’s doing the dunking booth again.”

Of course. Dad loved that thing.

“It is September, you know. October is just around the corner,” Mitzi added.

“I know that. School just started.” She definitely knew school had started because she was teaching English this year, and her middle schoolers were already kicking her butt.

“Three weeks ago.” Molly sipped her coffee. “Ewe. This is cold.” She signaled the server behind the counter.

Mitzi widened her eyes, looking directly at Marla. “Distracted much?” She waited for a response, sipping from the straw in her chocolate shake, her cheeks sucking in. “You were lost in thought over there.”

“I’m fine. Just lesson planning in my head. I have a job, you know.”

Molly snorted. “Nice try. We know you’ve been thinking about Cooter.”

The server came and refilled their coffee cups. Heat rose in Marla’s cheeks at the mention of his name. When the young woman left, she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh please,” Mitzi scoffed. “You’ve been wandering around with that confused and pained look on your face for a couple of months now. Ever since you two—”

“Can we talk about something else?” Marla interrupted sharply. She didn’t want to think or talk about Cooter Haines or the memory of his lips on hers, warm and tasting of whiskey.

Molly and Mitzi exchanged a glance, then Mitzi squeezed Marla’s hand. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

The old clock continued its steady beat.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound was barely audible above the din of the traffic outside and voices in the diner, and most people probably didn’t even hear it. But she did. Why was she so focused on it?

Was time running out? For what?

Her heart, however, beat anything but steady. She stared into her coffee again, wishing for the familiar comfort of routine. But since the random and impromptu and decadent and subsequently repetitive encounters with Cooter started a few months ago, nothing was routine anymore.

It wasn’t like her to be so enamored of a man that he occupied her every living and breathing moment, every thought in her brain. She was more of a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of girl. Er, woman. She and Cooter had shared a warm and friendly relationship for a couple of years—it had always been hands and lips off—until it wasn’t.

Until about six months ago.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

At first it had been delicious fun—scrambling off to the storeroom in the back or sneaking up to his apartment over the bar. Neither of them had talked about anything more than an occasional toe-touching romp—easing the tension of the week and having a little whisky-induced fun.

Until the last time, a couple of months ago, and Cooter had gotten serious.

So serious, in fact, he’d mentioned the L-word.

Marla wasn’t ready for the L-word. She made that quite clear that night.

She’d not seen him since.

It wasn’t him.

It was her.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Mitzi patted the table in front of Marla. “Earth to sister. Earth to sister. Goodness, that man has you all swoony and everything.”

Shaking herself, Marla stuck out her tongue. “Does not.” She glanced once more at the clock on the wall, then refused to think about it. Time with Cooter? Running out? Ridiculous.

“Whatever. Hey. I was thinking of going out tonight. Hubby is in New Orleans on business. Want to go to Shreveport?”

Molly grinned. “I do. Brody is off work tonight. I could see him.”

“Good. He hangs out at Deadhead, right?” Mitzi then focused on Marla. “You’re coming too. No excuse.”

Deadhead was Cooter’s bar. Marla shook her head. “No. I’ve… I have other plans.”

Mitzi dismissed that. “I think Skull Bone is playing there tonight. Do you know for sure?”

What the heck was she getting at? Cooter was the drummer for Skull Bone, a Grateful Dead tribute band. He was super awesome with the sticks, one of the best drummers around. They played Deadhead often, so it wasn’t really a big deal. Shrugging, she said, “More than likely.”

“Then go with us.”

She shook her head. “No. Plans, remember?”

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Damn it. Stop.

Molly gestured with a hand. “Oh, pooh. Change them.”

She shouldn’t. But she kind of wanted to. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. Call you later?”

Mitzi stood, grabbing the check. “Just make sure you do, sister. Don’t give us the slip. We’ll be there by nine.”

Marla nodded. “Fine.”

Looking proud and pleased, Mitzi’s grin widened. “I’m picking up your coffee, too. See you later.”

Marla watched them leave. They’d done it to her again.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, Marla went for a hike at Kisatchie National Forest to clear her head, and to keep her from thinking about Cooter and going to Shreveport and the biker bar. She’d willed herself to stop thinking about ticking clocks and time running out. That was all weird, anyway—that old clock.

Instead, she simply wanted to clear her brain and get some exercise to tire out her body.

She could have ridden her bike, her Harley—it was a beautiful afternoon for it—but decided instead to take the jeep. The hike would exhaust her. She didn’t need to ride home on the bike.

Exhaustion was perhaps what she needed right now. She’d not slept well lately and could use a good night’s sleep.

The worn trail stretched before her as she made her way into the woods, sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The sun streamed through the trees, creating a shifting, shimmering layer of light and shadow. Her boots crunched on the pine needle-strewn path, a soothing rhythm that calmed her soul somewhat.

Outside of a warbling bird and an occasional squirrel’s chatter, the forest was quiet—and she felt at peace. She could lose herself in the winding trails and the solitude.