Ghosted on Thanksgiving

By Hannah Altagracia

They advertised it as a standard hotel. But boy, was that a lie. 

 

I never thought that ghosts actually existed. But this wasn't a prank or my drunk mind playing tricks on me. No, this was a real ghost in my hotel room...and he wanted to have his way with my body. 

 

I want him. 

He wants me.

And my post-breakup mind is screaming, yes, yes, yes!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hannah Altagracia
• Release date: Nov 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215956342

Book preview

Chapter

One

Ishould have known by the twinkle in his eye when he handed me the key. Or maybe that too-white smile flashing at me beneath the fluorescent light. Possibly though, my biggest tip-off should have been when I looked over my shoulder to ask him how to get to my room, and he was gone.

But no. My inebriated brain, which had convinced me that I should blow my week’s salary on a fancy hotel room instead of just calling a Lyft, did not catch on to any of that. Not even a, huh, that was odd, could be spared. Nope, my only focus was to get to my room and fall asleep.

Okay, maybe a shower first to wash off the smell of aftershave from strangers and the dried sweat beneath my yellow sundress.

Now that I’d said it out loud, I most definitely needed a shower first!

Then I would relish in the sure to be oh-so-soft bed with too many pillows.

Room service would be nice. Did a hotel like this have room service? They better have room service for $375 a night, plus tax. How many nights had I bought? Two? Three? God, I was really going to regret this.

My phone dinged, and when I pulled it out of my pocket, all I could think to do for a full minute was to stare at it stupidly. This rectangular box in my hand served a purpose, didn’t it? It dinged again, but my blurred vision couldn’t make out what was on the bright screen. 

Did I wear glasses? Yes, yes, I did. Cute red frames which complimented my black hair and caramel skin complexion.

Where were those glasses currently? I sighed because I really didn’t want to answer that question myself. Surely all of this would make sense in the morning. I just had to find my room.

I turned back to the desk, but no, the charming man with the swishy brown hair and the calf muscles of a properly