Prism Book Alliance would like to thank Rhys Ford for taking the time to talk with us today.
Title: Duck Duck Ghost
Author: Rhys Ford
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Rhys Ford
Hey! I am Rhys Ford… speaking to you in my own… okay that doesn’t work. Does anyone else remember Don Carnage!? He’s speaking at you in his own voice! Ah, the esoteric memories. You’ll probably want to skip this part during the next few…coffs…okay, a dozen blogs as I parcel out a short tale featuring Wolf and Tristan!
Welcome to a Hellsinger Investigation!
There will be prizes and giveaways. Be sure to hit up each blog for an update on the investigation. I have brought in for this tale of ghosts and shenanigans two special prizes (well many of them…but two!). You might have seen them already; a pair of cuddly alpaca and a braided leather Wolf sigil bracelet. You’ll be able to win one or both at each stop with a Grand Prize to be given away at the end of the tour.
The giveaway for this spot is: a Wolf Sigil Bracelet.
Leave a comment or… if the blog is so inclined, ping their contest widget… to be entered to win!
Residence: Hazel Maplethorn-Bocker Paranormal Activity: Objects Relocating Location: Eureka, CA
The residence is occupied by Ms. M-B and ten cats. Client is retired school-teacher and has no history of psychic or paranormal activity either personal or in residence. Residence is 1940s bungalow with no recorded deaths. Land cleared of any prior paranormal activity; formerly undeveloped acreage. No structures or causalities reported at location. Cannot discount native population or transitory inhabitants prior to establishment of city boundaries.
Team: Gidget and Matt
Consultant: Tristan Pryce
Unlike Eureka, Miss Hazel Maplethorn-Bocker was exactly as Tristan imagined. The town was…eclectic. The time they’d spent driving was mostly spent hunting down the purported haunted house through surprisingly tree-barren streets. A left turn brought them past a baseball field and a burst of wealds, more in line with what he’d thought Eureka would look like. Then a few twists later and Wolf turned onto a circular street ubiquitously dubbed a drive then pulled up in front of a slope-roofed, ivory white house.
An off-centered A-line, the green shingled roof was brighter than the forest jutting up behind it. The house’s terracotta trim and broad windows were inviting and one of the two white brick fireplaces stretching up to the grey sky puffed cheery lines of smoke. The lawn was pristine, ruthlessly contained into a sweeping arch with riverstone pavers cutting a broad swath to a large half-moon cement landing leading to the front door. Window boxes groaned under the weight of vivid blooms, their startling purple, pink and yellow hues echoed in the flower beds framing a concrete driveway. A newspaper wrapped in plastic lay a few feet away from the flowers, nearly touching the wheel of a giant black Cadillac squatting on the drive. If Tristan guessed right, the car wasn’t only old enough to buy booze but possibly even have driven Tristan’s grandmother to the hospital so she could give birth to his father.
“Well, this is a disappointment.” Gidget muttered to Matt as they climbed out of the SUV. “It’s all suburban and pretty. Guess the Carson House would have been too much to ask.”
“You were hoping for cobwebs and flying monkeys?” Tristan asked, studying the manicured lawn with its matching topiary bushes positioned on either side of the green front door. “It’s nice. Very… sturdy. Like whoever lives here bakes those tuna casserole in braided bread things.”
“Okay, that’s scarier than flying monkeys.” Matt shuddered. “I’m going to have nightmares about pimento loaf and salmon Jell-O now. Thanks for that.”
“The monkeys would have been too much but we could have at least gotten a couple of bats. Something to add atmosphere.” She tossed her hair back, her waterfall of wee banana earrings jangling as she moved. They’d all dressed for comfort, knowing the drive would be hours long and unlike Tristan’s rumpled Whiskey and Wry tour shirt and faded creased jeans, Gidget’s pedal pushers and crisp cherry-red top looked freshly pressed. “Not like the Grange. I mean you pull up in front of your place, and you know shit’s going to go down there. All it needs is an evil house soundtrack playing out of speakers hidden in the bushes and it would be perfect.”
“The Grange isn’t evil—” Tristan protested.
“Nope, pretty sure with that relative of yours, if it wasn’t before, it is now,” Wolf cut in, handing Tristan a rolling carry-on. “Here. Grab this. I’m right behind you. Gidge, grab portables for right now and Matt, I want a full spectrum filter on your lens. Let’s see if we can’t break this down fast. If there’s something here, I want to know about it before afternoon hits. That’ll give us time to set up and settle in here. Hazel’s retired so she said we can go round the clock if we want to.”
“We’re not going to a hotel?” Tristan let the crack about the Grange and his relatives slide. Wolf gave him a telling look and Tristan sighed. “Of course not, that would be silly because you’re going to be up all night watching cameras and little white bouncing dots.”
“Babe, unless an entire line of French can-can girl ghosts comes waltzing out of the pantry, then yeah, this is going to take a while.” Hefting a duffel bag over his shoulder, Wolf turned around to grab a hard case out of the SUV.”
“I don’t think that will be the case,” A sweet faced pudge of a woman toddled down the drive, her floral cotton housedress clearly chosen for their resemblance to the house’s flower beds. An enormous grey cat stalked her steps, its large paws darting out to catch at the backs of her terrycloth baby blue house slippers. Nearly the size of a Sheltie, the cat gave Tristan a baleful, yellow-eyed glare before attacking the plastic-wrapped newspaper.
“So definitely no can-can girls?” Wolf’s smooth charm and simmering sexuality oozed over the woman and Tristan sighed, wondering why his lover only seemed to be suave and entrancing when on the job… and not after they discovered Wolf’s mother inadvertently got them stoned out of their gourds. “Miss Maplethorn-Bocker, I presume?”
“Oh yes but please, just call me Hazel. Those can-can girls would be lovely now wouldn’t it? My girlfriend would be so jealous.” The late morning sun broke through for a second, gilding platinum on Hazel’s silvery curls before disappearing back behind the clouds. Reaching down to pick up her behemoth feline, Hazel remarked off-handedly. “Sadly, no. There shall be no re-enactment of Moulin Rouge here tonight. You see, I believe my ghosties are actually Wyiot Indians…and they’ve come back to have their revenge.”
Duck Duck Ghost by Rhys Ford
Paranormal investigator Wolf Kincaid knows what his foot tastes like.
Mostly because he stuck it firmly in his mouth when his lover, Tristan Pryce, accidentally drugged him with a batch of psychotropic baklava. Needing to patch things up between them, Wolf drags Tristan to San Luis Obispo, hoping Tristan’s medium ability can help evict a troublesome spirit haunting an old farmhouse.
With Wolf’s sister handling Hoxne Grange’s spectral visitors, Tristan finds himself in the unique position of being able to leave home for the first time in forever, but Wolf’s roughshod treatment is the least of his worries. Tristan’s ad-hoc portal for passing spirits seems to be getting fewer and fewer guests, and despite his concern he’s broken his home, Tristan agrees to help Wolf’s cousin, Sey, kick her poltergeist to the proverbial curb.
San Luis Obispo brings its own bushel of troubles. Tristan’s ghost whispering skill is challenged not only by a terrorizing haunting but also by Wolf’s skeptical older cousin, Cin. Bookended by a pair of aggressive Kincaids, Tristan soon finds himself in a spectral battle that threatens not only his sanity but also his relationship with Wolf, the first man he’s ever loved.
Available from Dreamspinner on Sept 8. (http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5409)
Prism recently reviewed Duck Duck Ghost. You can find the review here.
About the Author:
Rhys admits to sharing the house with three cats of varying degrees of black fur and a ginger cairn terrorist. Rhys is also enslaved to the upkeep a 1979 Pontiac Firebird, a Toshiba laptop, and an overworked red coffee maker.
My Blog: www.rhysford.com
And at the Starbucks down the street. No really, they’re 24/7. And a drive-thru. It’s like heaven.
My books can be purchased, folded and first chapters read at Dreamspinner Press. http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Love Bytes: http://lovebytesreviews.com/
Prism Alliance: http://www.prismbookalliance.com/
Smoocher’s Voice: http://www.smoochersvoice.com/
On Top Down Under Book Reviews: http://ontopdownunderbookreviews.com/
Fiction Vixen: http://fictionvixen.com/
Boy meets Boy: http://boymeetsboyreviews.blogspot.com/
Three Chicks after Dark: www.3chicksafterdark.com
Ndulgent Bloggers: http://guiltyindulgencebookclub.blogspot.com
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Rainbow Gold Reviews: http://rainbowgoldreviews.wordpress.com/
Joyfully Jay: http://joyfullyjay.com/
The Blogger Girls http://thebloggergirls.com/
The Novel Approach: http://thenovelapproachreviews.com/[/gravityforms]
Rhys Ford has kindly offered a Wolf Sigil Bracelet to 1 lucky commenter
Contest will end 7 days from original posting date (or as stated on the Rafflecopter) at 8pm CDT. Must be 18 or older to enter, void where prohibited.
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.
Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,
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