This week I’m pleased to host author, Rosary McQuestion.
Rosary McQuestion was born in Brooklyn, New York, grew up in Wisconsin, and she currently lives in Michigan with her husband and their three cats. Following a long career in advertising and marketing, which included owning her own agency and later becoming director of marketing and creative services for a well-known party goods manufacturer, she now indulges in her love of writing—full time. Her latest novel is:
Once Upon Another Time
Aubrey McCory’s husband died in a tragic accident when she was twenty-eight and pregnant, which ended her happily-ever-after fairytale dream. Six years later, she’s still emotionally damaged with an unhealed heart, and sometimes fantasizes about what it would be like to see her husband one last time, like in her favorite movie “Ghost” when Sam said his final goodbye to Molly. Then five days before the seventh anniversary of his death, a glitch in the universe gives Aubrey the psychic ability to hear what people are thinking. And by all accounts, she seems to also have made a psychic connection with the dearly departed – namely her deceased husband.
As fate would have it, she meets hunky Gavin Donnelly – whom she feels might be the next Mr. Right – and her life becomes topsy-turvy.
Her hippy parents, the Abbie and Anita Hoffman of suburbia, have Aubrey questioning her sanity after they leak a secret that Aunt Millie threw herself off the Brooklyn Bridge after hearing voices. Then there’s the fiasco of Aubrey trying to hold a connection with the dead when her new psychic ability doesn’t come with an instruction manual or tech support. And she can’t lean on her best friend, former debutante Laura Wentworth, who inhabits the heady spheres of society, without looking like a kook.
Aubrey’s life was complicated enough before photos rattled off bookshelves and the sound of wind chimes played in her head. Soon she’s juggling a demanding career, a six-year-old son, a freaky spiritualist, and the belief that her husband’s ghost is trying to tell her something of great importance. All while she tries to reclaim her heart and not lose the next love of her life.
Here is a short excerpt:
On the ride to the restaurant, while the others chatted on about the weather and politics, I kept wondering why Matt would be haunting me. Was it because his death really was my fault like I’d thought all along or was it because I wasn’t in touch with reality? Maybe my OCD was twisting my thoughts making me imagine things. Perhaps something got screwed up in my head after fantasizing for the past six years that one day I’d see Matt and we’d talk and I’d find the answers to what really happened right before his accident. Answers I desperately needed. And because he died shortly after the coast guard helicopter rushed him to the hospital, I never had the chance to say any final words and tell him how much I loved him.
We arrived at the restaurant and I forced myself to stop laboring over my self-inflicted guilt, or even attempt to make sense of just seeing my dead husband suddenly materialize after six years.
“Don’t you just love the décor?” said Laura, while David spoke to the leggy, redheaded hostess about our reservations.
“I suppose,” I said, as Jack, my date, closed in on me so tight that he popped my air space bubble making me feel uncomfortable. I moved away from him to check out the lobby walls that displayed various black and white photos of classic movie stars like Clark Gable, Bette Davis, Maureen O’Sullivan, and a slew of others. The décor seemed reminiscent of the nineteen thirties with a romantic art deco styling. The dimly lit dining area had red-velvet canopies over velvet-lined private booths with candlelit tables, which all seemed a little over the top.
However, for Laura, a former debutante whose teen years were chronicled in the society columns of the Providence Journal, she was right in her element in upper crust restaurants. You know the kind with the “organic, grass fed, cage free, weekly massaged” beef flown in from half way around the world. Whereas, I would have been just as content to stay at home and pop a frozen Lean Cuisine into the microwave.
Once seated at our table, I couldn’t help but notice all the waiters gliding around the dining room so effortlessly taking orders while dressed in full Love Boat regalia. In the center of the room, a pianist tickled the ivories on a black baby grand. Service was fast, as it wasn’t long before my drink order arrived. Emotionally, I was a mess and downed my cosmopolitan like a sailor whose ship had just pulled into port.
While David, Laura, and Jack were still conferring with one another over the wine list, I’d made up my mind about Matt. What I was experiencing had to be real–that seeing Matt was real. Granted, a dead husband trying to relay a message to his wife was hardly a monopoly with the Sylvia Browne’s of the world connecting with the dead at will. However, I was just an ordinary person. I’d always thought of ghosts only in the fictional sense like The Ghosts of Motley Hall and Ghostbusters, and suddenly it was as if I was on some paranormal reality television show.
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