Date with the Dead: Ripsters, #1

By Chris Myers

Semi-finalist of Amazon Breakthrough Novel

Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Gold Contest Finalist for Ripsters

…And one of the most appealing aspects of this novel is the author’s ability to create suspense as Jolie and her friends come closer to solving the mystery behind Distal’s murder. Well–crafted characters fill the pages of the swift–moving plot which culminates in an explosive finale. Publishers Weekly Review

…THERE HAS TO BE A SECOND!!!! Seriously!!! The Read-a-holic Blog

…Read this incredibly funny fast paced suspense story! A Diary of a Book Addict

…What I liked most about Date with the Dead is that it wasn't quite like anything else that I had been reading. It was unique. And that was really refreshing to see. I can't wait to see what RIPSTERS will be up to next! Book Briefs

…Only a very good author can write a mystery story where the reader keeps on guessing what the suspense is gonna be till the end and still gets it wrong. Hats off to the author for writing that part so well! If you like a YA supernatural book with kick-ass characters and a great mystery, the Date with the Dead is definitely for you. Reading 24X7

…I recommend this book to everyone!!! I absolutely loved it!!! Ever and Ever Sight

…What a wonderful and fresh story. Tammy Ann Books

…This was an action packed mystery filled with the paranormal element and creepy factor I love along with a sweet budding romance that will bound to please everyone… I will be picking up future releases in the series for sure. My Guilty Obsession

…At times, I felt like Hansel & Gretel being fed crumb after crumb--a total hook. Writers Ally

…It was unique. And that was really refreshing to see. I can't wait to see what RIPSTERS will be up to next! Book Briefs

…Without reservation, I would absolutely recommend this book to young adult and adult readers alike. Rolo Polo Book Blog

Sixteen-year-old Jolie Livingston’s closest and only friend Drew is this really hot dead guy, and it bites that the self-absorbed princesses at school cannot even see him. That’s right she can communicate with the dead. It’s the living she has trouble with. She and her mom inherited this awesome crib in Plymouth, MA. It’s quite a step-up from the homeless shelter in New Orleans, but there’s a catch. They can’t afford the past due mortgage, so Jolie’s working on that.

She starts a ghost hunting business called Ripsters. Somehow she’s managed to recruit Brittany, a glamour self-absorbed princess (SAP) smothered in pink, and a techie allergic to ghosts. Brit actually thinks he resembles the R&B singer Chris Brown. All that pink has clouded her vision. They both have special talents Jolie’s hoping will be useful to their venture. Right now, they’re working for a family in need of major therapy due to a dead guy with a hole in his head.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books on the Edge
• Release date: Nov 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9780985716905

Book preview

SUMMARY

Summary: Paranormal Teen Mystery

Sixteen-year-old Jolie Livingston’s closest and only friend Drew is this really hot dead guy, and it bites that the self-absorbed princesses at school cannot even see him. That’s right she can communicate with the dead. It’s the living she has trouble with. She and her mom inherited this awesome crib in Plymouth, MA. It’s quite a step-up from the homeless shelter in New Orleans, but there’s a catch. They can’t afford the past due mortgage, so Jolie’s working on that.

She starts a ghost hunting business called Ripsters. Somehow she’s managed to recruit Brittany, a glamour SAP smothered in pink, and a techie allergic to ghosts. Brit actually thinks he resembles the R&B singer Chris Brown. All that pink has clouded her vision. They both have special talents Jolie’s hoping will be useful to their venture. Right now, they’re working for a family in need of major therapy due to a dead guy with a hole in his head.

1. Young Adult Mystery & Teen Mystery (Children's Mystery)— Juvenile fiction. 2. High schools —Fiction. 3. Social Anxiety (Social Issues) 4. Pop Culture 5. Paranormal 6. Mystery 7. Teen Literature

AWARDS

Semi-finalist of 2009 Amazon Breakthrough Novel

2008 Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Gold Contest Finalist for Ripsters

Publishers Weekly Review

Plymouth, Massachusetts, is the perfect setting for this tale of ghostly hauntings and murder. High–school student Jolie offers a first person account of her life as a ghost hunter. Working together with cohorts Reese, Hayden, Brittany and Drew ( a ghost ) , Jolie seeks to solve the haunting of a home by John Distal, a man who was most likely murdered. As Jolie gets closer to uncovering the identity of Distal’s murderer , she is pursued by an unknown assailant driving an SUV. A subplot involving a dead soldier haunting Brittany provides some light–hearted relief to the intensity of the mystery as the ghost hunters forge through Burial Hill to help the soldier find his lost love. And one of the most appealing aspects of this novel is the author’s ability to create suspense as Jolie and her friends come closer to solving the mystery behind Distal’s murder. Well–crafted characters fill the pages of the swift–moving plot which culminates in an explosive finale.

The characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. All characters, except historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination and should not be construed as real. In the case of historical and public figures, the situations, events, and dialogues of those people are fictional and do not depict actual events. In all other respects, any similarity to real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2012 by Chris Myers

All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

Cover photo: Shutterstock

Cover design: Books on the Edge

www.chrismyersfiction.com

ISBN 978-0-9857169-0-5

Published by Books on the Edge

This book is dedicated to my mother for her constant encouragement and to my daughter Dakota for being the joy of my life.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Acknowledgements

Author's Note

Chapter 1

If it isn’t bad enough that I’m the new girl at Plymouth High, my closest and only friend is this really hot dead guy. No one else can see him except me, but it would be so nice for the other girls to trip in their Jimmy Choos while he holds my hand.

Drew, the dead guy, chatters more than the self-absorbed princesses at school—better known as SAPs. It’s like having a leaky faucet you can’t turn off, and sometimes like now, I just lose it.

Shut up! I scream, slamming my locker shut.

Drew feigns a pitiful hurt expression that I’m not falling for this time. His dreamy, espresso eyes search mine. He sweeps thick hair, the color of a newborn fawn, from his handsome face. I’m sure he made girls fall over dead when he was alive.

Then I notice the other kids. They’ve stopped and are staring at me as if I’m holding a butcher knife in a scary movie—kind of the way adults look at my mom. My skin turns paler than my dead friend’s.

Drew pretends to direct the rubber-neckers like a traffic cop. Show’s over. Keep moving. They walk through him, oblivious to his presence.

I draw the rim of my beaded top hat down over my eyes. Why couldn’t I have gotten a low maintenance ghost instead of Mr. Personality? And is it too much to ask for one living friend who understands me—the freaky girl chatting with the dead?

Drew interlocks his arm with mine. He toys with the red fishnet gauntlet on my wrist. His touch sends goose bumps up my arm and not the good kind. He’s as icy as I imagine Barrow, Alaska to be during its thirty days of night. He grins at me with his Oscar-winning smile. He seems so lifelike. I often forget that he isn’t.

I can’t help but crack a smile as we stroll arm-in-arm into pre-calc. It’s weird that he can touch me. When I reach for him, my hand goes right through, clawing only air. My grandmother says crossing the plane of existence is an acquired skill that I just need to practice.

Drew flicks my hair.

I turn toward him and mutter, Don’t.

What? a smoky voice rumbles.

I slam into the brick wall the sexy voice belongs to. My scrawny frame goes splat onto the linoleum while books go flying. I gaze up at a guy built like the Terminator with wide shoulders, blond hair—kissed by the sun—and blueberry eyes swimming in a sea of red from what looks like crying. What makes a guy like him cry? Certainly not me running into him.

A blush heats my cheeks as he catches me staring. It’s hard not to.

You can stick your tongue back in your mouth, Drew says.

I’d feel guilty if Drew wasn’t so unavailable and so annoying.

The in-crowd and the dweebs sitting in their seats laugh at me.

The teacher taps his toe because the bell is ringing, and he’s ready to start class. Your hat.

A girl at school can dress like she’s hustling on Bourbon Street yet I can’t wear a stupid hat. I remove it while gathering my books. This is so not my day.

A Pretty in Pink SAP, floating in a cloud of faux fur in her signature color, bats her lashes at the guy. Are you hurt, Hayden? she trills.

Unlike me, Hayden is still standing, completely intact. Balloon-head, I say under my breath.

Drew leans down for the assist. I shake my head at Drew to stop, like that’s going to help, and it doesn’t.

Drew shoves Hayden gathering my scattered belongings. Hey, that’s my job. Drew’s a bit possessive. We’ve never discussed that or his version of how he died. I’ve learned the young don’t understand how permanent death is until it’s too late.

Hayden doesn’t budge but shivers for a brief moment while retrieving my pencils. Are you okay, Jolie?

He hasn’t been here all week, because I would’ve noticed him, so how does he know my name? This could be good or really bad.

I snatch my pencils away from him and groan, I’ll live.

Hayden stands and without asking grasps my hand. With one swift movement, he lifts me up one-handed. God, he’s strong. Or am I that much of a lightweight?

You’re welcome, Jolie, he says in that deep, hypnotic voice that makes me dizzy.

You should’ve at least said, ‘Thank you,’ Drew says.

He’s right. Embarrassed, I shuffle to the back where I hope to fly under the radar. I need to catch some much needed Zs after the late night spent consoling a dead woman searching for her missing pendant.  

The teacher starts his drone, so my mind wanders to the swirling leaves outside. I don’t need to pay attention anyway. I could sleep on a book and learn math through osmosis—one of my few talents.

Drew says, See ya. He shakes like a wet dog, preparing himself to walk through the wall and go outside.

I rest my chin in my hands, wishing I could join him. He kicks and tumbles in the barrage of colored leaves. Since we both grew up in New Orleans, this is the first time we’ve seen autumn. I’m in absolute awe, even though I miss the bayou, especially our home that drowned thanks to Katrina.

We moved to Plymouth, Massachusetts after Aunt Ophelia disappeared while sailing in Cape Cod Bay. My mom and I inherited her business and the attached home. Mom claims all the stars were aligned for our move, but she easily forgets our own personal storm cloud and the creepy man stalking us.

Regardless of our past misfortunes, I’m betting this place could work out for us. With the witch trials and nearby battlefields, this should be a great location for me to set up shop. There are lots of spirits dying to be laid to rest plus Massachusetts is supposedly the home of the underground Paranormal Guild, a very secret society. I’ve heard it’s really pricey and you have to be invited to join, so I’m not counting on my golden ticket any time soon.

I steal a glance at Hayden. He stares outside with vacant eyes. He turns toward me. I avert my gaze, another heatstroke working its way up my neck. He probably belongs to some mindless cheerleader. I spot just the type glaring at me.

I mouth, Take a picture. It lasts longer.

She rolls her eyes then gazes longingly at Hayden. I am always so right.

Jolene, Teach says.

My head jerks up. It’s Jolie.

He ignores my response and asks, How would you solve this problem? He points to a triangle on the board.

I love it when a teacher thinks he’s caught me unaware. I stand, go to the board, and write the cosine of the angle. That was difficult.

The teacher grimaces at my attitude, which is all I’ve got going for me. Very good, Jolene.

Touché, I mutter, heading back to my seat.

Hayden focuses on my clothing with those beautiful blue eyes of his. Mine are the color of dirt. I can imagine what he’s thinking, since his mother dresses him like some Ivy Leaguer. My outfit consists of black on black—lacy leggings, mini, and a cami under an artistically shredded AC/DC T-shirt to cover spaghetti straps, which aren’t allowed at school. Lips painted red and cat-eye eyeliner. It’s very edgy Goth.

His lips turn up. Is he smiling at me? Who am I kidding? As soon as he sees me talking to ghosts, he’ll be as cold to me as the dead guys. 

The bell finally rings. I’m free to run home and check the ghost-hunting ad I ran in the newspaper. Mom and I really need the money. I’ve learned to live with being broke. Since Mom sucks at finances and doesn’t make much as a psychic, I do what I can to help out. I scurry from my desk and squeeze through the door beside the pink SAP.

Excuse me, she says in a haughty tone, her blond hair flouncing perfectly like the girls in the shampoo commercials.

I tug at my dark mop highlighted with a single magenta lock. Whatever, I say.

Don’t give Hayden such a hard time. She nods in his direction. He lost his mom.

Everyone loses someone. That’s why I’m in business, and at least he had a parent to lose. I’m referring to my non-existent dad whom I’ve never met. Look. I don’t need the town history. Well, I do. Just not hers or Hayden’s, though I’d like to know if he has a serious girlfriend. Every girl fantasizes about meeting her rock star, and I wouldn’t even care if Hayden sang off-key.

Pink SAP scowls at me. Goth is so out.

You’re one to talk. You’re so pink, you could blind someone.

Good one, Drew says, reaching for a high-five that I almost fall for.

She spins on the balls of her feet then sashays down the hall like a runway model. With those practiced moves, she’s probably a pageant queen.

Drew catches me staring at her. Don’t listen to her. She has nothing on you.

That’s not why I’m looking at her. It’s the dead soldier hobbling on a single crutch beside her that has snagged my attention. He’s about our age, barefoot, and is missing a leg. He wears a tattered blue uniform with a rifle slung over one shoulder. I rub my eyes, knowing full well black eyeliner smudges easily.

Drew taps my shoulder and nods in her direction. Day-Glo Girl has a haunt.

You know we’ll have to help her, I say.

Drew leans on my shoulder and laughs. I don’t think you can rework her lack of fashion sense.

That would be a challenge, but we still have to get rid of her deadbeat.

Chapter 2

The marquee outside my dead aunt’s two-story Cape Cod says, We deal in the future. The dingy awning framing the storefront and the windows need a good washing. I mentally put them on my to-do list because it will help the business. The house is quite a step-up from the cardboard box we lived in New Orleans. My late aunt must’ve done well to get this place. We even have a view of Plymouth Harbor.

I hop onto the wide porch and wander into the shop. A customer waits while my mom does a reading in the parlor. Mom deals a Tarot card, speaking in a low voice to a client who leans toward my mother with obvious fascination and a tinge of worry. Everybody fears the unknown, and the future holds plenty of that.

The small store contains a varied collection of amulets, candles, healing ointments, medicinal herbs, and books ranging from astrology to Kabala. They’re leftover stock from my aunt. My mom normally doesn’t deal in holistic medicine, though it may prove a profitable side business for us.

Is that all you need? I ask the woman holding dried herbs and incense.

After I ring her up, I jog upstairs after Drew. For once, Mom and I each have our own bedroom in addition to a separate kitchen and family area. When I open the door to the upstairs, Oscar, our black cat, hisses at Drew and me. Our cat is named after the cheerful disposition of the Muppet who lives in the trashcan on Sesame Street. They have much in common.

The house smells a little musty. I stride past Oscar to open the windows. He rubs against my leg, changing his approach.  

Where would we be without our mascot to the underworld? I say, scratching behind his ears. Hungry? 

He meows. I toss my book bag on the sofa then turn on the home remodeling channel.

Not again, Drew moans.

He grew up in a really nice house while I didn’t, and I want to make the best of this one. Drew goes into my bedroom, returning with my guitar. He strums a few chords, singing a song I wrote. Songs spew from me when I’m feeling down. Needless to say, I’ve generated a stockpile.

Our first week went well, Drew says, laughing.

It’s not over with yet. I throw a sofa pillow at his head. It goes right through him, landing on the floor next to Oscar who yowls and leaps away. You might keep quiet so I don’t look like a nutcase chatting it up with thin air.

It’s a new school. I have lots of important commentary.

Important to you. Despite our sparring, I care for Drew. He’s the closest friend I’ve ever had. He’s also my only friend if I don’t count the children of voodoo swamp witches I grew up with in Louisiana. Most kids are leery of me talking with what appear to be voices in my head, but who can blame them?

Drew plays a mournful ballad, traipsing behind me and crooning. He does this often to calm my surly moods.

My bad. When I grin, he goes into the Best of Both Worlds. I’m more into bands like Evanescence, but I sing with him anyway while rummaging through the fridge. It’s mostly empty, so I grab peanut butter and stale crackers from the cupboard and tuna for Oscar. I’m immediately put on Oscar’s A-list. He’s purring louder than a motorboat chugging in the harbor.

The Old Colony Memorial lies on the table where I left it this morning. A red circle highlights my ad for Ghost Removal listed with my phone number. The answering machine, hidden underneath a pile of clutter, is flashing. My first customer in need of a ghost hunter has left a message. I scratch down the number she recorded before opening my laptop, a going-away present from the ghost hunters in New Orleans. I search the airwaves for unprotected Wi-Fi. I do love the technically challenged. After some quick research on my customer’s address, I punch the number left on the machine into the phone.

This is Ripsters, Inc, I say, trying hard not to smack the peanut butter stuck to the roof of my mouth.

Who?

I swallow the cracker whole. It catches in my throat. Rest In Peace Sophisticated Technology for Efficient Removal of Spirits, I say, spitting crumbs. It’s kind of lame, but it was the best I could come up with on such short notice. We put your spirits to rest, ma’am.

What makes you so sure? Her voice sounds skeptical.

For a nonbeliever to call a ghost hunter, she must be on the brink of desperation. It will still be a tough sell. I just moved here from New Orleans where I worked for reputable ghost hunters for two years. My gang in New Orleans has a reputation, so folks sought out our services, but it took a while to get there.

Really? How much do you charge?

Two hundred dollars. That’s three hundred lower than what the group charges in New Orleans, but I’m starting from scratch and have to work my way up.

The woman’s breath hitches. That’s a lot.

You don’t have to pay until we either remove the spirit or calm it.

What do you mean?

Sometimes spirits don’t want to leave. We placate them so they can coexist with the family. You’ll hardly know it’s there.

We want it gone, she snaps.

I’m losing her. I researched your home. You had one person die in your house almost three hundred years ago. Sarah Witherspoon hanged herself when she was charged with practicing witchcraft. More recently, the previous owner John Distal disappeared under mysterious circumstances and is assumed dead. Both are potential candidates for your haunting.

How do you know this? She sounds mildly impressed.

I went online and reversed your phone number to find the address, then I went to the Historic Register. Your house is listed. I’ve set the hook, and I’m reeling her in.

How many times have you done this before?

We’ve successfully eliminated thirty-three ghosts. That’s a slight exaggeration. I count Drew when I shouldn’t.

Impressive. When can you come?

I’ll be there at dusk to set up, I say before hanging up. This will be hard to do, since I sold most of the ghost hunting gear I’d accumulated over the past two years to help us move.

Mom walks in the door, shuffling through the mail in her hands. What’s for dinner?

I recall the meager contents of the cupboard. Mac-n-cheese. We don’t have much, but my mom works hard and loves what she does. I admire her for that.

Mom lays the mail on the table. Sounds good. She sets a place for Drew. Even though she can’t see or hear him, she knows he’s there and wants him to feel at home. We almost always eat dinner together.

I boil noodles and nuke freezer-burnt veggies.

How was school? Mom asks.

Good. It upsets Mom when I complain, especially about our financial situation. Sometimes she’s too hard on herself. That’s when she offers to get a real job. I’m all against that. People should do what they are passionate about. I have a date with the dead tonight. Can I borrow the car?

Mom looks at me. I’m sorry, honey. I booked a séance across town. Can I drop you off?

That’s okay. I’ll take Aunt Ophelia’s bike. It’s only two miles, and it’s greener. I won’t be too late.

Mom digs into her smock and pulls out money. Here’s money for the bus. You can use the rack on it.

But Mom. It’ll be tough to get by the first month. It always is. I’m also pretty sure that Plymouth doesn’t have a local public bus system like New Orleans. I don’t want her to worry, so I don’t mention this. It’s better to ask for forgiveness later.

I don’t want you riding home in the dark. Mom sits down and opens a certified letter. She spoons a mouthful of Mac-n-cheese. It’s good, baby.

She reads the letter. Her spoon clatters to the table, her mouth turns down, and her eyes brim with moisture.

What’s wrong? I ask. My stomach’s already working itself into knots.

Mom blinks tears away and says, It’s nothing for you to worry about.

From the look on her face, I know that it is.

Chapter 3

After dinner, Drew flies alongside the bike I’m riding. What do you think is in the letter? he asks, his brow creased with concern.

Don’t know, I say, though I can almost smell the torrential rain coming our way.

Your mom looked really upset, Drew adds.

My mom doesn’t need any more stress with the sudden death of her sister. I can’t imagine what the letter contains.

I could take a peek for you.

That’s okay. I’ll do it later. No sense both of us getting into trouble.  

I pedal nonstop uphill, taking in gulps of air because the computer and recorders weigh down my backpack.

Drew pushes the bike forward from behind. He’s a big help—sometimes.

We approach the white clapboard house with black shuttered windows overlooking Plymouth Harbor and Long Beach. Sea mist snakes around the house, and the ocean batters the shoreline below. The bog’s rotting odor and salty dampness linger in the air. It reminds me of the bayou except colder.

A van that has had a bite taken out of its rear quarter panel pulls up to the curb in front of my first assignment. A black kid with Drew Carey glasses and a short fro steps from the van. His pants are so baggy his boxers show.

What the heck is he doing here?

He goes around back and opens the van. It has been gutted of its rear seats and is chock-full of ghost hunting equipment including cables and video. I snap my tongue back into my mouth before drool dribbles out.

I march up to him. Who are you?

He turns toward me while yanking out gear. Reese Denton. He eyes my Gothic attire with obvious disapproval. His gaze lingers on my top hat. You’re that new girl.

And what’s that supposed to mean?

Nothing. Reese continues hauling out his equipment. He sets a digital thermometer off to the side.

When he turns his back, Drew palms the thermometer and sets it on the opposite side of the van. Reese sneezes, and his eyes water.

"Gesundheit. I press my knuckles against my hips. Now hold on. This is my gig."

No, it’s not, Reese says adamantly. Standing up straight, he towers over my meager five-two. I’ve always dreamed of being tall, but since it’s not in the genes, I’m guessing this is as good as it gets.

Drew steps between us. Why don’t you go home and read your physics book, snot boy.

It’s actually good that Reese can’t hear Drew’s sophomoric comments.

Achoo. Reese digs in his pocket for Kleenex.

Ew, Drew says, backing away from Reese.

Cover your mouth, I say as I wipe spray from my face. Unfortunately, Drew doesn’t block the incoming.

Sorry. The family called me two days ago to set this up.

I spoke with Mrs. Caldwell tonight and she told me to come.

No way. Reese stops what he’s doing. He searches a moment for the thermometer Drew moved.

Drew snickers. At least he’s enjoying himself.

What the? Reese spins back around, clearly dumbfounded. Look, we can split the fifty bucks.

Is that all?

How much do you get?

Normally five hundred, but I gave her a discount. I only asked for two hundred until I get my rep here going.

Reese’s mouth drops open. Five hundred up front?

No. I only get paid if I get rid of their ghost or debunk their claim. If it’s debunked, I only charge fifty for my time.

I get mine up front.

Somehow I don’t believe him. Always?

Reese screws up his lip and leans against the van. This is my first time, but I’ve been studying how to hunt ghosts.

Great. An amateur.

Drew sits on the rear bumper of the van,

Reviews for Date with the Dead

[christinaeleven · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

While I don't believe in ghosts and such, I do find the subject fascinating which is probably why this book intrigued me.Until now, I haven't read a lot of fiction but I thought this book was definitely worth reading. It kept me so interested that I read it in a short period of time (even when I should have been writing a paper). I loved the choice of Plymouth as a setting; I think it was perfect for this type of story - even the aunt's manner of death was very true to life.I really enjoyed the relationship between Jolie and Drew, sad but sweet at the same time. At times I wanted Drew to be human again so that he and Jolie could be together. It was great that someone like Jolie became friends with someone like Brit, who would normally be "out of her league". It was also fun to watch Brit's true self develop as the book went on, and her war ghost was hilarious. The tension between the characters was believable and I like that you learned more about all of them throughout the book. There was nothing predictable about any of them. While you pretty much knew that they would solve the case, it was still interesting to follow along in their adventures. I look forward to reading the next book.

[digilormo · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Great book, I look forward to reading more

[mcdenis-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jolie, a high schooler who doesn’t fit in, is a ghost hunter with special gifts. Her suspenseful adventures and friends make for a hilarious romp through the paranormal. Great read for the young adult.

[arthistorychick · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

4½ stars out of 5Jolie Livingston has some pretty cool super powers. She can see the dead, talk to the dead, and help the dead cross over into the afterlife. The down side? Currently, her best and only friend is a ghost named Drew, she and her mom are so poor they are on the verge of being homeless yet again, and, last but not least, Jolie has caught the not-so-wanted attention of the Self-Absorbed Princesses or the SAPs. It’s tough being in high school!What I liked:1.The plot. Not only does Jolie need to get rid of a ghost, but she also has a murder to solve and a little girl’s life to save. Myers manages to weave all of these elements into one cohesive and massive plot that has a great tempo with lots of action and very little angst. Angst sucks.2.The major characters. Jolie is a pretty tough cookie who, because of circumstances beyond her control, has had to mature quickly. She carries a lot of weight and worry on her shoulders, but only occasionally allows herself a smallish pity party. For the most part, Jolie is smart and determined and often jumps into action rather than allowing herself to wallow in worry and self-doubt. Drew is a tortured hotty with a penchant for causing trouble. However, when the chips are down, and Jolie is in trouble, Drew is there and ready to help.3.The minor characters. The cast of minor characters is one of the novels’ absolute highlights. Here’s the rundown: Reese: the ultra-smart, ultra-rich newest member of Ripsters. Although Reese has no supernatural abilities (or does he?), he has a desire to help Jolie and hunt ghosts. Although he is surly and often a bit timid, Reese’s heart is in the right place. Hayden: hello, not-dead hotty! This football player is so sad and so perfect, all at once. Hayden has recently lost his mother, has a huge secret that he thinks only Jolie will understand, and is one of the most dependable guys in Jolie’s newly-populated life. I love that Hayden doesn’t let his sadness define him. When he’s needed and/or called on, Hayden is there and ready to roll. Brittany: I LOVE HER! By far, Brittany is my favorite character in this book. She is a SAP who wears way too much pink, is ridiculously wealthy, and willing to risk her social status by crossing the line into enemy territory when she begins to work with Jolie and Reese. For Brittany, it’s personal; she has a Revolutionary War soldier’s ghost that won’t leave her side and is desperate to get rid of him. Seriously, the guy follows her to the bathroom ☺ While Brittany is often the butt of the group’s jokes (Pink, Day-Glo Pink, Pink Barbie . . .), she is resilient, funny, smart, and tenacious. I adore Brittany and really hope to see her appear in later installments of this series.What I didn’t like:1.Reese’s attitude: Overall, I like Reese and know he will be a major factor in later books, but he has got to get the multiple chips off of his shoulder. Seriously, he has a bag of Lay’s on should right now. 2.Jolie’s dad: I know, I know, Dad is one of the major hooks to keep the reader coming back for more, but this book had just too little of him to make much of a difference.The bottom line: this book doesn’t have much that I don’t like, and I am very much looking forward to the second installment in the series. I like the humor, the detailed and intriguing plot, and the characters, who are quite fun and just quirky enough to keep me wanting more. Without reservation, I would absolutely recommend this book to young adult and adult readers alike.

[lcsdr60 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Jolie is a young seer, someone who easily speaks with the souls of the dead. Her best friend and confidant, Drew, is a young teen that died many years ago and refuses to leave her. When Jolie and her mom move to Plymouth, Massachusetts from New Orleans, Louisiana things change a lot. Seeing ghosts though well known about in both places is not as easily accepted in Plymouth. Jolie used to be part of a ghost hunting group but now has to find a way to help her mom make enough money to keep her aunts business going and to keep the house. Jolie starts talking to local ghosts to help rid them in the area or send them on their way but as usual nothing is going to go right for Jolie. Very good read recommended for ages 12 and up! Can’t wait to see what is next!