Seventy-four-year-old Ben Turner is looking for love. Part-time matchmaker Lizzie Chandler is more than willing to help him—until she learns his secret. He’s been married three times, and each of his wives drowned. Ben claims he’s cursed. Lizzie believes he’s a murderer and wants nothing to do with him.
Her boss, Josh Alexander, wants to get to the bottom of the story and reluctantly allows Lizzie to help with his investigation. Finding the truth isn’t easy, even for a top-notch PI like Josh. The more they learn about Ben’s past, the more it looks like he might really be cursed.
As if sleuthing isn’t enough to keep her busy, Lizzie finds herself temporarily caring for a cartoon-watching, man-eating Yorkie named Cannibala. Then she’s ordered by a judge to supervise two pint-sized senior citizens who have an amazing talent for getting into mischief.
Throw in a new matchmaking client who doesn’t want to find her Mr. Right, and a shocking decades-old lie from her mother, and Lizzie’s in for an unplanned adventure…which includes a late night trip to the graveyard to remove a curse she’s not sure exists.
I’d love for my books to be perfect–error free, interesting and fun. With that goal in mind, I’ve spent countless hours proofreading and revising Doesn’t Take a Crystal Ball and A Psychic Couldn’t See It.
I am nowhere near perfection with either book and never will be. I’ve never written a book before. I’d have to be completely delusional to think that I’d produce flawless books. And most days, I’m not delusional.
So why am I constantly editing e-books that are already available on Amazon? I don’t know. It’s not like I’m making big changes to the content.
No matter how many times I proofread the books, I find typos and grammatical errors. If I proof them a hundred times, I’ll find errors a hundred times. Still, I keep proofreading. It’s like an obsession.
While I play around with the first two books, the third one remains incomplete. At the end of book two, there’s a statement about when the third one will be available. If I don’t stop with the editing, I’m never going to get book three online in time.
A new year is right around the corner, and next year things are going to be different. In 2017, I’m going to write a book, put it online and move on. And if I really believe that, this is definitely one of my delusional days!
Image courtesy of iosphere at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
When I first started writing, I was quite clueless. (I still am, to be honest!) With Doesn’t Take a Crystal Ball, I just wrote and wrote. It ended up being a really long book. I had to figure out where to cut some scenes.
I decided to cut out the calls Lizzie received from potential clients. I’m going to post those calls – as well as some new ones – on this blog.
Here is one deleted call:
“Hello.” “Hi. Is this Lizzie?” “Yes, it is.” “My name is Torie. You left a flyer on my windshield.” This was great. Another potential client. Things were looking up. “Hi, Torie. I’m glad you called.” “If I understand your flyer correctly, you’re a psychic. Am I right?” “I do have the ability to sense certain things when it comes to love.” “My situation might be a little different from your usual cases,” Torie said. Lizzie braced herself for what was likely going to be a strange request. “Different can be good,” she told Torie in a cheerful tone. “It adds variety and keeps business from getting boring.” “I want you to help me find a lost love.” “You mean like a missing person?” “Sort of.” Torie’s love was sort of missing. That definitely could be considered different. “Have you contacted the police?” Lizzie asked. “No. I doubt they can help me in a case like this.” “I work for a private investigation agency. Maybe my boss could help.” “I doubt that, too.” “Torie, maybe you should tell me more about your lost love.” “Allen’s a wonderful guy. Handsome, kind, smart. I love him,” Torie gushed. “Well, why did he leave you?” “He didn’t have a choice.” “He’s not in prison, is he? There’s nothing Lizzie’s Love Connections can do in a situation like that.” “Of course not. Allen is not a criminal.” This was really strange. “Torie, since you know so much, how is it you don’t know where Allen is?” “Oh, I know where he is. I just can’t contact him.” “Where exactly is Allen?” Lizzie asked a bit cautiously. “You can find him at the corner of Dargan and Belton.” That location was vaguely familiar. Lizzie thought about it for a few seconds. “Isn’t the corner of Dargan and Belton…” “A cemetery? Yes, it is.” Torie said helpfully. “Oh.” “I told you this was not going to be your usual case.” “Is Allen an undertaker or grave digger?” Lizzie really hoped that he was. “No. Allen’s dead. I need you to conduct a séance so I can talk to him.” “I’m sorry, Torie. I don’t do séances.” “Please. I’m willing to pay extra.” “It’s not that I don’t want to help you.” Actually, that was part of it. Talking to dead people. Was Torie insane? “Contacting the dead is not within the scope of my abilities.” Lizzie was very grateful for that fact. “Do you know anyone that does have that ability? One of your psychic friends maybe?” What did Torie think? That there was this big group of psychics living in Ravenside? Or maybe that Lizzie had a string of psychics on speed dial? “I don’t know anyone who can help you with your situation, Torie. I wish you luck though.” “Thanks anyway,” Torie said and ended the call. Lizzie lowered the phone and stared at the screen in disbelief. When she’d conceived the idea of her business, she never considered the possibility that she’d be asked to hook someone up with the nonliving. Maybe she should’ve done some research.
Image courtesy of iosphere at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Lizzie Chandler, the heroine in my books, is a psychic. While psychics make for great entertainment in books, movies and TV, I’m not sure if there is any more to them than that.
I grew up in the South. I won’t say where, but it’s one of those states that people are a little embarrassed to claim. A few years ago, I moved to another state, but I’m still a Southerner.
We believe some odd things down here. All my life, I’ve been around people who firmly believe in psychics. They believe in ghosts, too. I’m not going into that right now, because ghosts are the topic of my next series of e-books. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself.
So, back to psychics. I’ve always wavered on that subject. I’ve had psychic readings at fairs and flea markets (or swap meets as some people call them). The psychics at those places were pretty bad.
There was one older Native American gentleman doing psychic readings at a flea market. I immediately thought of those wise old Indians in the movies. Not being racist there, but we all know Hollywood plays up that stereotype.
I’m guessing the guy at the flea market was counting on poor suckers believing that Hollywood nonsense. I’m embarrassed to admit I was one of those suckers who forked over ten bucks, or however much he charged me that day.
He started the psychic reading by telling me I’d live to be 45 or 50 years old. As you can probably imagine, things went downhill from there! That’s been ____ years ago, and I still can’t shake that stupid prediction. I’m not going to admit my age, but let’s just say that if the guy was right, the Grim Reaper may be knocking on my door any day now.
Once, I went to a house that had one of those “psychic adviser” signs in the yard. The sign should have had the “for entertainment purposes only” disclaimer on it, because it was the most laughable psychic reading a person could ever have.
Every time that psychic made a statement, she paused and asked if it was right. When I told her no, she said, “Yes, it is.” It was quite entertaining, but probably not in the way that woman meant for it to be.
Before I go on, I’m going to take a moment to offer words of wisdom: never, ever go into a total stranger’s home for a psychic reading (or for any other reason if you can avoid it). There are a lot of crazy people out there! I had my coworker with me, but still, it was beyond stupid for two young females to willingly go into a stranger’s home.
I saw a sign in one yard for “physic” readings. I was smart enough not to stop there. If the person couldn’t see that the sign was wrong, then he or she certainly couldn’t see into my future.
I did go to one psychic who seemed to REALLY know his stuff. I’m not going to say more about that person, because I’m paranoid that he’ll know I’ve been talking about him online. I’m thinking it might be a bad thing to get on the wrong side of a true psychic.
But then again, maybe that guy snowed me, and true psychics don’t even exist. What do you think?
My first e-book, Doesn’t Take a Crystal Ball, is now available on Amazon.
Lizzie Chandler is a gifted psychic matchmaker. In need of extra money, Lizzie puts her skills to use and starts a matchmaking business. If only she could have predicted how crazy her quiet—and frankly, boring—life was about to become.
Her first client, Barb, wants a rich, well-endowed man to become husband number four. Barb goes missing, possibly kidnapped by a man she met through Lizzie. Essie, a newly divorced, seventy-eight-year-old woman, wants to find a younger man for sex. This proves to be a difficult task with Essie’s cranky ex-husband constantly underfoot. Then Lizzie meets Tessa, her first normal client. Or so Lizzie believes. Tessa already has a match in mind. His name is Eric, and Tessa’s been stalking him for months. Lizzie quickly determines that Tessa is never going to win the man of her dreams, because Eric is gay.
Lizzie’s oddball clients constantly test her patience and her sanity. Maybe she should have consulted a crystal ball before hanging that “Open” sign.
If you like the book, please tell your friends about it or leave a review on Amazon. Thanks.