Valentine's Ghost
By Alice Gaines
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About this ebook
Agnes claims to be Phyllis’s Fairy ghostmother, and she’s going to take Phyllis to Valentines past, present, and future. Will one of the visions turn out to be a keeper?
Alice Gaines
Alice Gaines likes her fiction hot, hot, hot. Alice has a PhD from the University of California at Berkeley. She shares a house in Oakland, California, with her pet corn snake and a stray cat that lives in her yard. When Alice isn't making up stories in her head, she spends her time cooking, gardening, and listening to her favorite band, Tower of Power.
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Book preview
Valentine's Ghost - Alice Gaines
keeper?
Chapter One
Shit, would the guy from the next apartment ever come so she could get some sleep?
Phyllis Green turned on the lamp beside her bed and looked at the alarm clock. Midnight, and she had to get to the studio first thing in the morning. Her neighbor and his date had been going at it all night. Staying power was one thing, but weren’t guys supposed to report erections lasting more than four hours?
Fuck me, Howie,
the woman hollered. Fuck me, fuck me!
I’ll fuck you,
Phyllis muttered as she climbed out of bed. Show your face around me and you’ll get royally fucked.
The noise didn’t abate. Instead, the sound of his headboard crashing against the wall joined in the chorus of lust. Great. Just great.
Phyllis walked through the dark hallway to the kitchen and switched on the overhead light. Eventually, he would peter out, no pun intended. What goes up must come down and all that. Maybe some warm milk would relax her enough to get right to sleep once he did. After pulling a saucepan down from its hook and setting it on a burner, she opened the fridge and searched around for the milk.
When she found it, she pulled it out and gave it a good sniff. The sell-by date had passed, but not by too much. Should still be good. After pouring some into the pan and turning on the burner, she waited for it to come up to temperature.
Hey, wait a minute. A picture of a gray-haired little old lady stared back at her from the milk carton. Didn’t they put missing kids on there?
The picture’s mouth opened. Phyllliiisss.
Shit. Phyllis dropped the carton, and milk puddled on the floor. Who’s there?
Phyllliiisss.
This time from the toaster. First, her food. Now, the appliances.
The same face appeared there, but kind of spread out to fit the surface. Phyllis ran her hands over her eyes. This was all some dream. If she went into her bedroom, she’d find herself sleeping soundly. The guy next door wasn’t fucking some woman’s brains out, and the toaster didn’t have a face on it.
On the stove, the saucepan