Love, Like Ghosts (Mojo Mysteries Book 1)

Truth. Lies. A century-old mystery. What a tangled web… At age eleven, Adrian Broussard accidentally used his mind to open a portal to another dimension. Now, ten years later, he’s successfully harnessed his strong psychokinetic abilities. In the process, he’s learned the lessons which have become the guiding principles of his life. Absolute truth. Absolute control. Always. Sticking to his personal code of ethics has never been a problem, until two chance meetings—one with a hundred-year-old ghost, one with a handsome, living man—turn his orderly existence upside down. Having grown up in a family of paranormal investigators, Adrian is intrigued by the spirit of Lyndon Groome and determined to solve the mystery of his death. Greg Woodhall, however, affects Adrian in unpredictable ways. His touch challenges Adrian’s hard-won control over his abilities, and his company becomes a light in Adrian’s lonely life. As the mystery surrounding Lyndon’s death turns sinister, Adrian’s relationship with Greg deepens into something serious. Something Adrian wants to keep. But intimacy isn’t as easy as honesty, and when the heart’s involved, the line between right and wrong becomes as vague as a ghost.

About the Author

Hello, readers. Ally here, with some quick notes to give credit to a couple of poets whose works I’ve referenced in Love, Like Ghosts. In the scene where Adrian and Greg are walking down Franklin Street, headed for Pita Pit (a real place, by the way, with great pitas) and Adrian is thinking to himself how uncomfortable he is with PDA, the line “I have known the eyes already, known them all” goes through his head. That line is from the poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot, © copyright 1995 The Oxford Companion to American Literature. Many of you might already be familiar with that one thanks to English Lit classes in college. If not, Google it and read it, it is awesome! In the epilogue, the last stanza of a poem is read at Lyndon’s memorial service. That poem is “Black Marigolds”, by E. Powys Mathers, © copyright renewed 2004 Margaret Gibson and Lucy L. Painter for the estate of E. Powys Mathers. I guess this one’s not quite as famous as old Prufrock, but it’s a beautiful, amazing work. Definitely look it up and read it in its entirety. One other thing I’d like to mention, because I always get questions about it. If you ever read a scene in this book—or any of my books, actually—and think to yourself, “Hm, would the moon really be out that early?” or other such moon-related questions, the answer is “yes”. I refer you to my favorite website on the whole entire internet, the U.S. Naval Oceanography portal’s site for complete sun and moon data for any one day anywhere in the world: http://aa.usno.navy.mil/data/docs/RS_OneDay.php Yes, I’m a dork.

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