Monday, November 26, 2018

A Gift List for Your Sixty-Something Mom Who’s Not Slowing Down One Bit by Aletta Thorne


THE GHOST OF HER EX is a paranormal romance with a strong mother/daughter subplot. The book’s populated by a cast of old baby boomers who are done with being respectable. They may be church employees, but there’s drinking, smoking, and cussing—and plenty of “fuckity fuck fuck!” So with the holidays fast approaching, here’s…
  

A Gift List for Your Sixty-Something Mom Who’s Not Slowing Down One Bit


1.     If you’re the world-beater daughter of a baby-boomer mom (like Emily Rauch) who put her classical music career on hold to raise you, the least you can do is replace her Uggs. Yeah, they’re basic you-know-what but your mom’s house is haunted, girl, and ghosts do bring icy drafts along with them.  Shop around online.  As of this writing, Sak’s actually had a good price.  Emily likes the plain old black short ones, but the tall ones with the buttons going up the side are actually rather fetching.  There’s a blizzard coming!


2.     Amazon had The Echo for a good price, so we bet you already bought her one. Okay, fine.  But understand right now that the thing is going to puzzle her.  She’ll figure out how to use it for music and then go back to her vinyl LP’s, worrying that Alexa is listening in on her.  She may be. (But so are two ghosts!) Plus your mom likes classical music and Alexa’s not that big a fan of the stuff.  So be ready for some issues.  Have you ever asked Alexa if she gets lonely?

3.     Just because she has a closet full of black velvet clothes, that doesn’t mean Mom’s a Goth and wants more of the stuff.  Black velvet is what classical musicians wear when they’re not playing in churches and have to hide their fashion under vestments.  Your mom actually likes the same Tasha Polizzi boho chic stuff that you do.  Mom used to be a (gasp!) hippie.  Yeah, the Polizzi stuff’s hella pricey.   Country Outfitters has it online, but if you’re anywhere near the Berkshires in Massachusetts, it’s worth the drive to Great Barrington to hit the bargain basement at Tasha’s shop, TP Saddleblankets.  Marshalls-like prices are the reward for showing up in person--and  amazing clothes.


4.     Your mother may prefer the classical organ music, but she is a member of her generation.  She still loves Harry Nilsson, and mourns his death almost as much as she misses your dad.  Nilsson Schmilsson has been available on vinyl again for a few years, and since your mom’s copy is all beat up from her putting it on every time her heart got broken, you might consider replacing it.  Harry had a voice as good as anyone who ever stood on stage at the Met Opera, and this is a perfect record: witty, mostly Beatles-esque rock, with one ballad that’ll make you swoon—Harry’s big hit, “Without You.”  Available at Discogs and Barnes and Noble.  Or you could shop around for a vintage copy that’s in better shape than Mom’s.

5.     Of course, there’s always chardonnay, your mom’s tipple of choice.  Q Collection from California’s Russian River Valley is delicious.  If you can get hold of it, she could certainly use a few bottles—or a whole case if that new project of yours took off as well as it sounds like it did.  Not that she expects you to spend a ton of money…

BUT MOSTLY: Just show up.  Bring some sushi with you.  Mom likes sushi.  And she misses you!  Maybe she’ll tell you a ghost story or three…



The Ghost of Her Ex
Aletta Thorne

Genre: Paranormal Romance, Romance, Ghost Stories

Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Date of Publication: October 23, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-77339-829-7
ASIN: B07JLRLR45

Number of pages: 193
Word Count: 56,000

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Tagline:  What happens when the ghost of your ex just can’t leave you alone?

Book Description:

Just because she’s sixty-three, cynical, and a church musician, Emily Rauch is hardly done with life—or love. 

Now that she’s traded in her old barn of a place for a tiny house in the hills, Emily’s ready for a new start. 

Throw in one enormous pipe organ, two ghosts, a pot dealer named Santa Claus, the reappearance of Emily’s bad-boy college squeeze, and a blizzard...what could possibly go wrong?

Excerpt:  

“…You are a woman of … appetites, Em. You like to eat and drink and…”
“…and fuck.” Emily shocked herself by saying that. Dropping an f-bomb when you were just randomly turning the air blue was one thing. But this was no fuckity-fuck-fuck. This meant actually doing the deed…
But she hadn’t shocked Al. “Indeed. And fuck.” He nodded, his lips tight. “I left you in the lurch.”
Emily sighed. “Yup. Yup. Guess you did. But we talked that stuff to death two decades ago. Shit, Al! It’s just … just … I don’t know what it is. Alexa, play Widor organ music.”
“I don’t know any songs by Widor,” said Alexa.
“Alexa, argh!” Emily made neck-choking gestures toward the black cylinder on her counter.
“Bee-boop,” said Alexa. Her illuminated blue ring danced and turned itself off.
“I know our lovely and talented daughter meant well with that thing,” said Al. “But The Echo sucks at classical music unless you get lucky. Works better just to ask for radio stations.”
“You’re too good at that. Do you haunt many Echo owners?”
“Just Gordon.” Al laughed ruefully. “That young fella of his bought an Alexa for him. Alexa, play WQXR.”
“Playing WQXR.” Alexa provided them with the middle of Respighi’s “Ancient Airs and Dances.”
“Not bad,” said Emily. “No static. It barely comes in up here on the FM. And they’re a public station now, so no more pre-need funeral ads, I guess. God, funerals!”
“Yeah. That. I gather you had a spectacularly bad day…”
“Do you get special ghost email about that or something? Ghost Facebook?”
Al’s laugh, again, was rueful. “Hard to explain. It doesn’t work like that. I never really thought of you as a femme fatale, Em.”
“I wasn’t the one who fatale-ed him! I honestly didn’t intend to have anything else to do with him! Or not much else, anyway. Look, I was being a sex-positive, independent woman caring for her own needs. He went home to his girlfriend, tried for a little more of the old slap and tickle … and crumped.”
“And now you’re playing his funeral. And he came to the organ loft today to bother you.”
Emily began to laugh, too—a bit too hard. There was nothing else left to do. “Oh, fuckity fuck!”
“What?”
Then there were tears in her eyes again. She laughed until she ran out of air. “I never even unblocked him on my phone. I never even friended him on … Facebook! It was supposed to be a nothing. A one-off. A…”
“I sort of remember Brad. He was at the reception when you played in Brooklyn, right? Was he a good organist?”
Emily wiped her eyes. “He was terrific. But loud and flashy—at least when we were kids. A show-off. I don’t think I’ve actually listened to him play since before I met you. He loved boat races as much as he loved music. Not to mention chasing women. I used to regard that as a challenge when I was in school: break the womanizing horn-dog’s heart and win the Battle of the Sexes. Ah, Al, we’re so nuts when we’re young.”
Al took Emily’s hands. “‘Nuts’ is harsh. I think we’re young when we’re young. You know?”
“I do know.”
“Em, I’ll tell you this… Brad’s going to be … around. Womanizer or no, he probably liked you a lot more than you thought. I get that. Plus, he doesn’t know he’s dead, right?”
“He seems a bit unclear about that. He’s got to know I’m practicing for his funeral. You never seemed unsure about being…”
“Being dead. I had lots of warning. I was sick for a long time.”
Emily nodded. “That sucked. You sure didn’t deserve it.”
Al pecked her cheek with his usual hurried and dry kiss. “No one deserves it. Your friend clearly has unfinished business,” he said. And then he disappeared.




About the Author:

Aletta Thorne believes in ghosts.  When she’s not making up ghost stories for grownups, she is a choral singer, a poet, and a DJ.  But she’s happiest in front of a glowing screen, giving voice to whatever it was that got her two cats all riled up at three AM.  Her house is quite seriously haunted—even scared the ghost investigator who came to check it out!   After all, she lives just across the Hudson River from Sleepy Hollow. Aletta Thorne is also the author of The Chef and the Ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins.




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2 comments:

James Robert said...

Thanks so much for bringing to our attention another great book out there to read. I appreciate hearing about them since I have so many readers in my family.

Onyinye Elochukwu said...

This sounds interesting and I’ll love to read.

 
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