Cover Artist: Gwen Phifer
See scenes and inspirations on my Pinterest board for Spirits' Rest: http://www.pinterest.com/barbarascottink/spirits-book-three-spirits-rest/
Buy Links: http://www.desertbreezepublishing.com/spirits-book-three-spirits-rest-epub/
Description: Psychic Muriel Badenne has repaired the damages to Murphy House after the climactic fire that almost destroyed it. Rechristened "Spirits' Rest," a haven for New Age philosophy and free spirits of all kinds, surely Deanna and Anthony can enjoy a peaceful eternity there.
When an ill-conceived seance brings the spirit of their old enemy, Aloysius Murphy, Deanna sets out to confront him herself, hoping to banish him forever. Her plans go awry, casting her back into the Civil War past to possess the body of Priscilla Turner, protege spy, whore, and murderess, who is controlled by Murphy.
With Muriel's help, Anthony is able to send himself back to Deanna's rescue, it is to Priscilla/Deanna's bed that he comes, there to encounter Murphy's mad scheme for revenge.
There are certain bad habits ghosts fall into naturally.
Eavesdropping is one, though certainly not the worst. When Deanna Butterworth was living, eavesdropping was a discourtesy she avoided religiously, too easy to get one's feelings hurt. She'd learned early on that catty comments, descriptions of parties you were not invited to, or the open discussion of your most embarrassing problems were the too likely products of overheard conversations.
While Deanna was as interested in gossip as the next person, she'd always been far too self-conscious not to assume every overheard rude remark was not directed at her. So sensitive in her early teen years, she couldn't walk through a crowded theater lobby or shopping mall without gathering imagined insults, barbs, and disapproving looks like a hike through a field collects cockleburs.
Even at the end of her life, at the presumably mature age of twenty-three, Deanna had been unable to endure the hushed voices of the nurses as they worked to remove the now useless tubing and machinery and assumed she was beyond hearing.
"She's probably better off. That so-called fiancé of hers has made no secret of his other interests."
"I don't understand. I've only seen him kind and attentive with her."
"In here, yes. In the ten minute limit of an ICU visit. In the waiting room, it's another story. Let me just say that string of women he's hosted out there have more than comfort on their minds, and he does nothing to discourage them."
When death at last claimed her, Deanna had fled from their judgment to this house where she thought she would have peace, where she thought she would never have to listen to another whisper ever. It was ironic that now, little more than a year later, she had lapsed into frequent, full-blown eavesdropping as if she'd never learned a lesson about its dangers in her life.
It must be a failing indigenous to the spirit life, she reasoned with herself. There was no way else to explain it. After all, here she was invisible to all but the most psychically gifted mortals. No one saw her standing by to hear all their life's secrets, but she could hardly help that, could she? Was she expected to moan or drag chains to announce her presence or something?
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