Opening the Veil (New Sight Book 1)
by C.L. Clark
Release Date: 03/21/15
177 pages
Summary from Goodreads:
When Cassie agrees to go on a date with her gorgeous new neighbor, she doesn’t expect the night to end with a glimpse into eternity. Within twenty-four hours she discovers not only are young women being brutally murdered around her beloved town, but an ancient evil is using her new neighbor like a puppet to do the killing.
Knowing the police won’t believe her without solid proof, she makes it her mission to find the evidence they need. Add to that how her cat has started talking to her, along with seeing ghosts around town, and it’s no surprise that she’s beginning to question her sanity.
This is the first book in the New Sight Series - paranormal series about a young woman whose eyes are opened to the hidden world around her and her compulsion to help the dead seek answers and justice.
Imaginatively entertaining with light humor and a quickening pace, C. L. Clark’s interesting new twist on paranormal fantasy is a book series that readers will not want to pass up.
This is the first book in the New Sight Series - paranormal series about a young woman whose eyes are opened to the hidden world around her and her compulsion to help the dead seek answers and justice.
Imaginatively entertaining with light humor and a quickening pace, C. L. Clark’s interesting new twist on paranormal fantasy is a book series that readers will not want to pass up.
Excerpt
I suppose I was more
than a little distracted when my new neighbor started chatting me up
and I didn’t, at first, even realize he was talking to me. I heard
him talking as I was grabbing my purse and fumbling with my key fob
to engage the lock and alarm, but for some reason I was sure he was
chatting up someone in the car next to me. Of course, that was only
until I turned and realized that he was not just standing in my way
to the complex, but facing me with a questioning look on his
incredibly handsome face. Literally, that was the first thing that
went through my mind, “Wow, he’s like model gorgeous”. Thank
heavens I didn’t say that out loud or the entire embarrassing
exchange would have been mortifying on a much grander scale.
“I’m sorry,” I
said, unable to stop myself from grinning, because the child-like
questioning look he had was completely out of place on a face where I
am certain was usually held smoldering looks on Calvin Klein
underwear ads. “Were you talking to me?” I could not escape the
feeling that I was coming across like a total idiot.
“Um, yeah,” he
replied with sudden doubt and uncertainty; it was obvious he didn’t
get that sort of response from women very often. “I was just
introducing myself and, um, yeah.” He recovered quickly and slid
back into what I guessed was his usual aplomb and then stuck his hand
out at me.
The strangeness of
my entire day accumulated at that one moment, leaving me staring at
his hand hovering right in front of me for a full five seconds before
it even occurred to me that he wanted to shake my hand. Feeling like
the complete and utter fool that I was presenting myself to be, I
slid my hand into his as I looked back into his eyes and knew that he
could see the red glow warming my cheeks by the change in the grin on
his face. Yeah, this he was used to from women. Could this day be any
worse?!?
“Hi, I’m Scott.”
He was all confidence and control now. “I just moved in beneath you
and thought I’d introduce myself.”
Wait for it. . .
“You’re beneath
me?” Yup, I said that. In most normal circumstances I can handle my
side of a conversation. I can even sound like I’m not a complete
basket case and on occasion impress the opposite sex with my witty
repartee. Not this time. “Oh. Wait a minute. I didn’t mean . . .”
See, normal is light years away from this day.
“No, it’s cool.”
This guy was totally in his element as a languid smile melted over
his face which, under different circumstances, would have had me
melting at the knees. However, this time I just wanted to run for my
apartment and drown myself in my bathtub. “I know what you meant.”
Flash of that smile again.
I let go of his hand
then, realizing too late that I had held on entirely too long. If I
were made of metal, the sudden sound of my eyelids crashing together
and the rest of my face scrunching up would have echoed like a
massive wreck in the parking lot. Not unlike my ego at that very
moment. I sighed and shook my head. There was no recovering at this
point, there was only accepting defeat and removing myself with as
much haste as possible.
“Wow, I’m
obviously not ready for prime time. So, on that note,” I started to
edge around him, “welcome to the neighborhood.” I slipped the
rest of the way past him without making eye contact and made a
beeline for my apartment.
No
joke, I was never a more consummate airhead in all my life. I have
never swooned at the sight of a guy before and certainly never right
in his face like that. I was beside myself with shame and, quite
frankly, sheer amazement. Mind you, it’s not like I was looking for
Mr. Right or even considering the notion of jumping back into the
dating pool at that particular juncture in my life. I needed to get
myself better established before I risked swimming in the deep end,
so it wasn’t the idea of blowing any chance I might have dreamed of
having with the guy. No, it was sheer mortification at the way I
lost, no, more like willfully flung, my dignity, grace, and ability
to appear like a calm, cool, and collected young woman of business
smack dab in that guy’s face
C. L. Clark has been a lifetime resident of the Twilight Zone – seeing every day occurrences and banal objects through slightly skewed, dark, and creepy glasses. The question usually on her mind is “What if?” followed by any number of strange ideas which quickly become stories that must be shared.
When asked about where her story ideas come from, she usually smiles mischievously and remarks, “My fingers have a mind of their own.” Often found peeking under rocks, wandering through graveyards, and poking her nose into abandoned haunted houses, she has a particular love for black cats, breaking mirrors, and running with scissors.
When asked about where her story ideas come from, she usually smiles mischievously and remarks, “My fingers have a mind of their own.” Often found peeking under rocks, wandering through graveyards, and poking her nose into abandoned haunted houses, she has a particular love for black cats, breaking mirrors, and running with scissors.
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