The moment he walked through the door, I knew he’d be trouble. He stood
for a moment in the doorframe, evidently taking time to decide whether to make
a final step into my domain or not. He was over six foot, maybe six-foot-two,
I’d guess, with dark hair and green eyes. Willowy, just the way I liked my men.
When he saw me, he smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile in return. I liked the
way his lips quirked, as if he was holding something back but wouldn’t object
too much if you found it.
Definitely trouble.
However, what really nailed the trouble category of the man now taking a
hesitant step into my office was the water-imp peering over his left shoulder
and pointing at me.
I didn’t particularly get along with water-imps, though heaven knows I’d
tried hard enough in the past. They were okay up to a point, but the constant
giggling and pointing always got to me in the end. They never had much conversation
and tended to trip you up a lot if they realized you could see them. Neither
quality was a great start to a long-term friendship.
“Hello!” my assistant Miranda piped up from her desk. By dint of being
nearest the door, she was the default reception desk. And by “assistant” I
actually mean “aunt.” I couldn’t afford an assistant, or indeed a receptionist,
so my aunt was the next best thing. “Welcome to the Paranormal Detectives
Agency. Can I help you?”
“Detection, Miranda,” I hissed,
as I stood and stretched out my hand to the demi-god with the water-imp. Well,
nobody’s perfect. “It’s detection,
not detectives. We’re not ghosts
ourselves. But welcome anyway, Mister …”
“Riley.” The demi-god finally spoke, his accent faintly northern. “Aaron
Riley. You must be John Atkinson, the owner.”
“Yes, that’s me.” I confirmed the obvious and shook his hand. “My
friends call me Jack.”
A snort came from the direction of my aunt’s desk, but I ignored it.
“How can we help you?” I said instead to Mr. Riley.
He let go of my hand, sadly, and glanced around, as if checking to see
if the answer to the question might be somewhere in the office. The water-imp
copied his movements in a slightly spooky (no pun intended) way and began to
giggle silently. I stifled a sigh. The pesky beast hadn’t taken long to get
started.
“It’s complicated,” my visitor said at last. “I’m not even sure why I’m
here, if I’m honest. I don’t believe in ghosts.”
This was, almost word for word, exactly what everyone who ever came to ask for help said to me. They never believed in ghosts and it was always complicated ...
This was, almost word for word, exactly what everyone who ever came to ask for help said to me. They never believed in ghosts and it was always complicated ...
Meanwhile, don't forget the really sexy excerpt, courtesy of Amber Allure Press. And there are now only three more days to wait!
Anne Brooke Books
Gay Reads UK
The Gathandrian Fantasy Trilogy (gay-themed)
