Maybe my expectations for honesty are too high.

...in some ways I relied on that- someone to keep me thinking, keep me striving to do better, keep me from burying my head and praying it all worked out.

He was trying to tell me something.' Derek snorted. 'Aren’t they all? Must be a rule in the ghost handbook—if in danger of evaporating, make sure you’re in the middle of a dire pronouncement.

He had a newspaper rolled in his hand, bearing down on me like a puppy that had piddled on the carpet. "Bad Chloe,” I muttered. "What?” I’d forgotten his bionic hearing. “Bad Chloe.” I gestured at the rolled-up paper and put out my hand. “Get it over with.

This is what I wanted. This guy. This life. This me. I was never getting my old life back, and I didn't care. I was happy. I was safe. I was right where I wanted to be.

He was tall and scrawny with a face that could be mistaken with Keith Richards on a bad day.

This is the first adventure I’ve survived without being kidnapped, attacked, knocked unconscious or possessed by evil spirits. A ripped blouse? Ruined skirt? Bad hair? I’d call this progress. ~Jaime Vegas