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Don't Dream It's Rover

Adventures in Ghostsitting

The Wild Rose Press

Heat Rating: No Rating
Word Count: 19,840
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Things at the ghostly junkyard have calmed down since Mel Hargrove and her boyfriend, Becker, destroyed a nasty ghost bent on mischief and mayhem. So when Becker brings a stray dog to her house, one that seems to understand far more than it should and might have brought along a ghostly friend, she is not exactly happy. A junkyard full of ghosts is no place for a pet — or for ghosts she can’t see or talk to.

She tries everything she has in her arsenal to get answers, but time is running out when she finally realizes what they’re up against. No amount of hairspray, jelly shoes, or lace gloves is going to get her out of a confrontation that threatens not only her home but possibly her very life.

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Just watching him made her exhausted.

“Becker? BECKER!”

“Sweetie, even the dead can’t miss hearing you when you scream like that. Calm down.” Her mother, dead for over ten years, stuck her head and an arm out of the Victrola on the mahogany table inside the foyer and waggled a finger at Mel.

Mel barely resisted rolling her eyes. She did not need her mother interfering right now, especially if she was going to have to have words with Becker about how she was most definitely not keeping a dog in this house. Especially not a dog who was currently drooling on her best jelly shoes. Ew!

“Mumford, where are you?” she heard Becker call from the back of the house. Mumford? What kind of dog name was that? Becker had better be ready to do some serious explaining. And to take this dog with him when he left after dinner.

“In here,” she yelled. Getting the waggling finger from her mom again was more than worth the release hollering gave her. The dog whipped its head around when Becker came trotting down the hallway. The front-end hydraulics started again, and its tail was wagging so fast it was a blur.

“Oh, hey.” Becker crouched down and gave the pup a vigorous scratching. Fido, or Mumford, as Becker called him, promptly lay on his side and continued with the tail wagging, although now it was thumping on her carpet hard enough to vibrate the floor under her feet.

No kiss for her, no real hello, just a “hey” and scratching for the dog. Maybe they were further along in their relationship than she’d realized.

She waited a few seconds to be introduced. Her mother stuck her head out of the horn attached to the top of the Victrola once more and smiled a smile that told Mel she knew exactly what was going through Mel’s head. Mel turned from her because she did not want to be reminded that she shouldn’t be jealous of a freaking dog.

After another minute of belly scratching and no other ghosts showing up at all, Mel cleared her throat. “So who’s this little furball?”

Becker’s smile was nearly blinding. She knew, of course, how much he loved animals. He’d devoted his whole life to caring for them. But she hadn’t seen that look on his face before. Pure joy, pure love, pure adoration. Okay, now she could officially be jealous of the four-legged critter. Becker had never looked at her like that. Ever.