Number of pages: 225
Word Count: 83,000
Cover Artist: Exquisite Ebook Creations
Most people don't travel to another universe to get a new job, house and boyfriend but psychic investigator Caitlin Diggs did.
Now she's living the life of her alternate self, working for the FBI's Preternatural Division where her first case just happens to include chasing a genetically engineered man hell bent on stealing souls. Well, there had to be consequences.
Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfDfl2lxZhU
About the Author:
Gary Starta is a former journalist who writes paranormal fiction with a blend of SCI FI, Fantasy, Mystery and Romance.
Excerpt from Demon Inhibitions:
Grant’s ruggedness gave me strength. The notion that I would beflying in a single engine plane brought back the wave of nausea I hadexperienced when I first experienced my cold symptoms. Only the coldsymptoms were gone, along with any dizziness one might feel whenimbibing a cup of murky green cold medicine. I couldn’t explain this. Icouldn’t explain a lot of things. Yet an eyeful of Grant gave me courage,even inspiration. Robust and bright eyed, Grant possessed a pair of broadshoulders and a six-foot three-inch frame, nicely packaged in a graypinstriped designer suit. Sea green eyes peered at me, hungry, curious foranswers. Carter must have laid it on thick concerning my psychic skills. Didthis man have every confidence in my clairvoyant abilities, or did he justwant to jump my bones? Hard to tell, I thought, staring out a window at themurky brownish colored sea below us that was nothing as effervescent oralluring as Charles Grant’s eyes. Yes. It had been a long time since I dated.And my horizontal dance with incubus boy didn’t count. Youth is nice butthis man could be a walking definition of the “whole” package.Charming as well, he comforted me straight away as we lifted off.“Don’t worry Ms. Diggs, the Cessna 400 is the most reliable single enginepiston powered-plane on the market.” I smiled with the alacrity of a mentalpatient when he accentuated the words “piston powered.” Yes, much too longwithout the company of a man. I unconsciously began to fan myself althoughthe cabin temperature had been cool enough, in fact quite a welcome relief tothe ninety degree plus weather outside.So he could immediately pick up on my worries and needs. Maybejust a coincidence, I told myself, still foolishly fanning myself with a Chinesetakeout flyer I had dug out of my purse. And merely coincidental I found himirresistibly attractive. No, this isn’t about falling in love at first sight. Nooo…Then he put his hand on my knee, and I felt my heart thump.“You know,” he began, “if you need privacy to conjure up yourvision or dream state, I can go sit with the pilot.”“Oh, no.” I nearly screamed it. His eyes told me he either realized myphobia of flying in small aircraft had been a ploy to garner his attention orperhaps a real deep seated fear, one which might invite a panic attack.“Okay, then,” he said. His voice became gentle and lilting in reactionto my squawk. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s just that it’s imperative we geta lead, any kind of lead to stop Mollini.”“Yes,” I said staring into his sea green eyes. “I know what it meansto be desperate… I… uh, mean, desperate for a break on a case.”“Now do you?”I wondered how Grant could not recognize me. Surely, he must haveat least heard my name. I had had the best arrest/conviction rate in theBureau. But I realized it would be best if he continued to think of me as acivilian—which I now was. The Bureau hadn’t been kind to me lately. And Ihad left in large part because I believed they would never accept my gift; orhow I had come to acquire it.“Oh, I just watch a lot detective shows,” I said.He laughed, hopefully swallowing my lame-assed explanation.So he possessed an open mind, at least when it came to crunch time.That point in a case where you would rub a bald man’s head for luck if itbrought you any closer to apprehending the perp.“Then we probably realize we’ve got to make a stand.”I could tell by the way he said it that even he didn’t give it muchchance of success. And his gaze fell away, distant, probably counting thenumber of colleagues who would be fitted for body bags.“Have you thought about an alternative?” I blurted out.“I’m open to suggestion.” His eyes rejoined mine. Again, I couldliterally hear my heart beat.“I suppose following protocol would be best,” I said half heartedly,my eyes fighting to disengage from his.“I don’t want to pressure you. But do you have any inkling? Any hintwhere Mollini might be ultimately headed?”Shit, I thought. I sure as hell did. And now I couldn’t share with thisman, something my physical self desperately desired. And as I wallowed inguilt, I began to question my sudden attraction to this man, the irresistibleurge to bare all with this man-damn it—the near uncontrollable urge tounfasten the waist ties on my halter and bare more than just the truth. Whatwas happening to me? I thought about it for a few seconds.Perhaps Grant believed I had fallen into a psychic trance. If so, thatwould buy some time. I stared, pensive, eyes trained on the floor, playing thestereotyped crystal gazing psychic to the hilt. And I realized that along withmy vision, came my ability to read people. My empathic gift had come backas well. Possibly this power seemed so overwhelming to me because I hadspent the last few weeks living as a shut-in. As if black clouds suddenlyrolled away exposing a radiant, blinding golden blast of sunshine, I couldread the goodness of this man, not only see his aura but also feel it.Intoxicated, I realized the reconnection to my feelings and emotions hadcaused sensory overload. Maybe that’s why I had nearly succumbed toinfatuation when I should have been plotting how to stop Mollini.But first things first, I had to misdirect Grant. It would be for hisgood. And mine as well, from a selfish standpoint. Whether my lust had beenorganically or paranormally stimulated, I genuinely perceived Grant to be anhonest and caring man. I could not lead him to his slaughter. And with thatrealization, came baggage. I also could honestly say that one part of mereally didn’t care if a butt load of FBI agents went down fighting. That partof me, the self-righteous, self-absorbed portion, would say they had itcoming, foolishly attempting to combat a supernatural power withconventional weapons, and in the process only making the perpetratorstronger. I only cared about Grant’s safety—his sea green eyes, melt-me-inhis-mouth kind of safety… Shut up, I told myself, trying to disconnect theimagery. I had to quell that voice. That would be the voice of pridespeaking—and possibly the voice of lust as well. And while I was in full selfdiagnosis mode, it was a voice that needed to feel justified for leaving myFBI career. A voice that said they would regret allowing me to resign. Shutup, I said again, more forcefully. Who am I kidding? I am replaceable. Eventhis wonderful agent doesn’t recognize me.Time to get a grip, Caitlin, it’s time to do your job. You didn’t jointhe Bureau for glory, I told myself. You did it because you had no otherchoice; the job was already part of you—it never needed to become part ofyou. You and the job were already symbiotic. Okay, so now it’s time to dothe job. Despite the fact I was no longer FBI, I would think like I was.Unconventional, that’s how I solved the lion’s share of my cases. I would usemy paranormal abilities to combat Mollini’s. It all sounded so simple, intheory. I would stick to the plan. I let my eyelids flutter as if the vision wereending. And I spoke.“I think I have a lead. I see where Mollini will make his stand.”As Grant’s eyes bore into me for detail, I glanced away for a second,to catch the time.“Where are we now?” I asked.“Somewhere at the end of New England, and the beginning of the tristatearea.”“That’s good. You’ll continue on—without me—to this address.” Irummaged through my cluttered purse, amazingly pulling both a pad of paperand pen in my first attempt. I wrote the address down, tore off the sheet fromthe pad and handed it to Grant.“That’s where you can get Mollini. He’ll need to replenish himselfthere.” Grant stared at me. “Yes, with souls from living bodies,” I said inreply to his polemic gesturing. “He’ll need a mass killing. But he’ll bevulnerable for a window of time. You and an attack team might be able totake him down, even without firing a weapon, possibly in hand-to-handcombat. Although,” I quickly added, “I wouldn’t recommend that.” And eventhough I knew this encounter would most likely never happen, I couldn’t bear to seeAgent Grant get caught in Mollini’s demonic grip.