Free Ghost Writer (Raven Maxim Book 1) by Tiana Laveen Page A

YouTube. And who the hell, if they were dead, would want to still roam the Earth and hang around here ?” He huffed. “This place isn’t some prize. I thought the afterlife was supposed to be full of harps ’nd shit?” He smirked.
    “Who… are … you?!”
    “Your father, that’s who, and this is what I believe, okay? You’re an adult now. I no longer have to save face for you or your sister regarding these matters. Santa Claus isn’t real, and I can say so. I think these ideas of life after death are ridiculous.”
    “You believe in nothing then.” The boy looked truly speechless as his mouth hung open and his eyes glossed over with crushed reality.
    “…I’m just a shell of a man,” Sloan taunted as agitation set deep within him. He jested with the child, tried to soften the mood, but on some level he understood his words were true. He was a shell of a man, a mere sliver of a human being. His soul was barricaded, and that’s how he planned to keep it. Besides, if there were truly anything supernatural to believe in, why didn’t it show mercy on the motherfuckers walking the Earth trying to do the right thing? It didn’t, so he had absolutely no damn use for it.
    End of story…

CHAPTER FOUR
    Tall Drink of Fine as Hell Wine
    “I s this any good?” Emerald whispered to herself as if she were her own best friend. She held the bottle of Ravenswood red wine, turning it about in her palm while eyeing it like a connoisseur. She didn’t know much about wine, only knew what she liked, what titillated her taste buds and made her palate sing. And here she was yet again on another of those times at two in the morning, on the search for something savory, inexpensive, and a cure-all for a bout of insomnia. The twenty-four hour Whole Foods was fairly empty, a welcome change.
    Typically, people would be still in here, mulling about like zombies, cackling in the cereal aisle, high on something illegal—or like her, trying to avoid human contact as much as possible while searching for nourishment. As she continued to languidly lament over the selections, wishing to be certain that this was the best choice Whole Foods had to offer at such an ungodly hour, something with broad shoulders, oak tree height, and commanding steps gathered her attention and held tight. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the very attractive man with a smidgen of shimmery gray at his temples holding a nearly empty basket. All that seemed to be inside of it was a cylindrical tin of peanuts, perhaps salted.
    He walked leisurely, yet with purpose. The man’s pants fit on his body like a partially pulled down curtain from a hanging rod. Dark beige with large cargo pockets, the things were a bit too big, baggy in all the wrong places. And his olive eyes, albeit alluring, looked tired. She turned away from him and placed the bottle back on the shelf to continue her liquor inquisition, hoping to soon make a final choice. But then, he reached out, his hand massive with thick, winding veins and a dusting of dark hair, fingernails carefully cut. The giant plucked a sleek Cline Cashmere bottle from the shelf and placed it quite delicately into his basket. Leaning slightly closer to check out his selection, smiling.
    Yeah. Those are Planters Peanuts… salted.
    “Is that any good?” she asked, appreciating the bottle’s simple design.
    “I think so.” He placed his palm up to his chest, over his heart, as if pledging an oath. “Are you tryin’ to find something new?” His well-shaped lips curved in a welcoming grin, a bit too welcoming…
    “Yeah,” she beamed. “But I really don’t know much about this stuff.”
    “All right.” Stepping toward her, invading her personal space and taking her off guard, he reached past her to grab a bottle from an upper shelf completely out of her reach, one that would have required a step stool and a prayer for her to obtain. “Let me help ya out here.”
    “Thank you.” She rocked back on her heels as