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Felicia Forella Reviews For GHOST OF A CHANCE by Felicia Forella Reading Ghost of a Chance by Felicia
Forella opened my eyes to a new genre - one that will leave glad that
you took the time to read this sensually erotic story. Ghost of a Chance
is woven to entice and captivate you, the reader. One of my favorite
erotic moments in this captivating book was the oh-so-sexy dream that
Bethany had about Nicolas. Was it a dream or was it reality? Which is
it if both Nicolas and Bethany participated and felt the dream? Give
me a hot steamy dream like that and the sheets would catch on fire! "Truly an exciting romance that takes us back in time with these star crossed lovers where nothing can change the bonds of love. Love conquers all even death! Back in time Nick realizes that the real true love of his life is Bethany and she gives him a reason and the strength to live even after he is shot down in Nam. Don't miss this one it's a story that will show how deep the power of love is." Louise Riveiro-Mitchell – The Romance Studio "The story is hot, hot, hot. Nick and Bethany have incredible chemistry and mental sex. When Bethany agrees to help Nick try to discover what has kept him in limbo, the deed he has left undone. Their relationship grows to the point Nick is not sure he wants to leave her for heaven. Primarily set in the mid-60’s Ghost of a Chance is not about the Vietnam War. Rather it is about the lessons one pilot has to learn about being a better human being. At times touching, funny and always engaging, Ms. Forella has done a great job entertaining this reader." Reviewed by Eden Enchanted In Romance 4 1/2 unicorns "Ghost of a Chance is an imaginative story with paranormal elements of time travel and a sexy ghost, but underneath that is a heart-warming, touching romance that made this reader shed a tear or two. With the humor of dealing with two different decades, readers will be pleasantly surprised and smiling from the shock of seeing the changes that have occurred and what existed before. Bethany is a wonderful compliment to Nicholas' character and has a passionate personality that readers will fall in love with. Nicholas was a player, a bachelor for life, but than he met Bethany, a woman that made his body yearn to possess her and who created emotions that he never expected to feel. Whether the chemistry between the two of them is physical or not, it is hot, tantalizing, and riddled with explosive passion. Felicia Forella has done a wonderful job at creating a love story worth spending an evening wrapped up in a cozy blanket in a comfy oversized chair. Ghost of a Chance is a story that I will remember for quite some time and definitely recommended to everyone that loves a breath-taking experience of finding one's soulmate. 5 Angels!" Reviewed by: Shayley 5 Angels Fallen Angel Reviews Sample Chapter For GHOST OF A CHANCE by Felicia Forella Prologue Myrtle Beach, South Carolina War was hell. Not an original thought, Captain Nicolas Giordano mused, but an accurate one. The stomp of his combat boots echoed through the empty halls of the office building, stale air chafed his lungs. His mind raced through the arrangements he’d already made, the steps he still had to take before his squadron shipped off for Vietnam in two weeks. He’d made out his will, packed up everything he wasn’t taking so it could be stored. He’d made the rounds, and said good-bye to everyone who mattered most to him. With one exception. The thought of parting from her—just about brought him to his knees. Of everything Nick had to leave behind when he and his fighter jet, the F-100 “Hun”, made the trip to Southeast Asia, he’d miss her the most. He’d searched for her for years it seemed, looking for his perfect match. They’d only had such a short time together and now he had to prepare to leave her. Dammit! War really was hell. Oh, he’d made all the arrangements to ensure she’d be well taken care of in case his plane got shot down and he never made it back to the States. But all his precautions couldn’t dull the ache that settled in his chest, or the lump in his throat, when he thought of leaving her behind. Would anyone love her like he did? Would they pamper her and tend to her every need? Plans were already made—plans to spend the next two weeks cruising with the top down, maybe take a spin to Pawleys Island or Folly Beach. Spend as much time with her as possible, when he wasn’t perfecting his dog fighting skills in the event one of the fighter bombing runs ran into difficulty. He needed to be inside her, to hold her tight. He longed to run his hands over her sleek curves, to push her to the limits. Exiting the one-story building just off the flight line at Myrtle Beach Air Force Base, he was anxious to see her. The sun hung low on the horizon, a ripe peach preparing to sink into the Atlantic Ocean. Still plenty of time left to cruise up and down Ocean Boulevard. He spotted her immediately, waiting for him right where he’d left her. He swelled with pride. He just swelled, period. In a flight suit, with other jet jockeys still milling around, getting a hard on was not the brightest of ideas. The tang of ocean air lingered in his nostrils as he crossed to her. He trailed his fingers along her side, his blood rushing further south. Tugging his driving gloves out of one of the many pockets in his flight suit, Nick unlocked the door of his candy apple red ’64 Corvette and slid inside, the white leather interior caressing his body. Heart thumping, he backed out of the parking space and turned the sports car in the direction of the front gate. Ocean Boulevard called to him. God, he was going to miss his ’Vette while he was gone.
Shallotte, North Carolina, She’d inherited a haunted car. No two ways about it. Now, Bethany Harris had to decide what to do with the damn thing. If only the haunted vehicle in question wasn’t a candy apple red ’64 Corvette convertible with white leather interior. If only she’d squirreled away enough money to purchase a car of her own, then this car would be more of a nuisance and less of a gift from Heaven. If only something—or someone—didn’t haunt her car. She’d happy danced for two solid days after she’d received the call from the lawyer in Raleigh telling her that her late father’s aunt had willed her the ’Vette. The car had been the answer to her prayers. She could tool around in it for a while, enjoying the classic roadster, then sell it and buy a responsible vehicle. Ahh, the luxury of not being forced to bum rides anymore. With any luck, she’d have enough money left over from the sale of the Corvette and the purchase of a practical car to put a security deposit on an apartment so she could move out of her mother’s house. One week ago, as a result of that call, she’d hitched a ride to the state capital with a friend to pick up her four-wheeled ticket to freedom. What she hadn’t counted on was picking up some decidedly weird vibes on the three-hour drive back home to Shallotte. Every time she plopped her butt in the driver’s seat, strange sensations rumbled through her, causing the hair on the back of her neck to bristle and goose bumps to pop, making her feel as if she were about to hurl. She felt someone sitting beside her. She felt someone coaxing her on how to handle the vehicle. One short week after claiming ownership, even though she hadn’t planned to fall in love with the damn car, she had, weird vibes and all. She stroked her hand over the dashboard, snuggled into the smooth leather passenger seat as she sat in her driveway. One obstacle at a time, she admonished herself. First, she needed to prove to herself she wasn’t losing her mind, and then learn more about whatever was haunting her car. Then she’d deal with her newfound attachment issues, so she could sell the candy apple red sports coupe to someone who would love her as much as she did. As much as I did. Bethany heard the deep masculine voice loud and clear, rumbling in her ears. Darting her eyes back and forth, she looked for a logical explanation, even though she knew she wouldn’t find one. “Great,” she sighed, “Now the freaking car is talking to me.” Could it get any weirder? Opening the glove box, she yanked out the contents, determined to keep her mind occupied. Then maybe, just maybe, her imagination would be forced to behave. Yeah, right. You’re just imagining the car is haunted. Keep thinking that, Cleopatra, Queen of Denial. She sorted through a pile that contained leather driving gloves, breath mints, a little black book, and three condoms. Eww, what kind of man owned this car? She tossed old records, receipts, and everything else on the driver’s seat, items to be thrown away to make room for the new records and receipts. An old, yellowed envelope caught her attention. When she flicked her wrist to add the paper to the pile of trash, something clutched at her hand, preventing the gesture. Instead, the envelope sailed into her lap. Heart pounding in her throat and stomach churning, she stared at the strange packet. She inhaled deeply, to gather her rapidly deserting courage. With jittery fingers, she lifted the letter closer, revealing a faded pencil scrawl; To her new owner. She slipped the tip of her manicured nail under the flap, the old glue giving way without a fight. As the folded sheet of paper wavered in her hands, Bethany struggled to read the words. My name is Capt. Nicholas Giordano, 354th TFW. If you’re reading this, I never made it home from Vietnam. Take good care of my girl for me. She’s made me very happy in the short time I’ve had her. I wish I could cruise with her forever, but the gods of war have decided otherwise. The brief note ended with a bold slashing “NG”. Shaken, Bethany knew she’d found her answer. Her heart reaffirmed her suspicion, as the air surrounding her crackled with electricity. “Boo!” Bethany’s heart slammed against her rib cage. “Geez, holy fu—” she gulped in a breath of air. “Sandy! Don’t ever sneak up on me like that again.” She clutched at the paper in her hand, crumpling it. Opening the glove compartment, she shoved the aged letter inside before her actions destroyed it permanently. “Good grief, girlfriend, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You have absolutely no idea. Bethany met her friend Sandy’s gaze. “You startled me, that’s all.” “I didn’t mean to. I thought for sure you’d heard the old clunker pull up.” Sandy slid behind the wheel of the Corvette. She fiddled with the buttons on the radio and the steering wheel. The air surrounding Bethany sizzled and popped with agitation, setting her nerves on edge. “So, can I take this puppy out for a spin?” The atmosphere inside the vehicle took on an ominous feel. So, Nicholas Giordano—if that’s who is indeed haunting this car—doesn’t want anyone but me driving his baby, does he? “I’m still feeling possessive about her. How about I take you for a spin?” The tension dissolved, confirming her suspicions. “If you insist.” Sandy got out and trudged around to the passenger side, none too pleased. Nicholas seemed to insist, even if she didn’t. Bethany knew better than to voice her suspicions quite yet. Sandy’s very conservative, very religious upbringing might not make her open to the possibility of ghosts. Heck, she still hadn’t quite come to terms with her otherworldly company. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Bethany backed out of the driveway and headed for the beach, the warm early summer evening perfect for tooling around with the top down. As they cruised, Sandy chatted on about end of the year activities at the elementary school where she worked as a reading specialist and had gotten Bethany a job as a secretary when she’d relocated over the Christmas holiday. As she drove, Bethany attempted to focus in on the sensations surrounding her, her belief in ghosts, and the reservations she still harbored. Her acceptance of Nicholas Giordano’s presence grew with each passing minute, but a part of her resisted giving complete credence to the concept of a ghost. An air of calm blanketed her as they crested the arch of the causeway leading to Ocean Isle Beach. She drew deep breaths of the salt tinged air into her lungs, as her heart rate slowed a beat or two. The tranquility didn’t only come from inside, the normal sense of peace she felt when she looked out over the ocean. It enveloped her, providing her with a camaraderie she didn’t feel even with Sandy. Whatever else she learned about her ghost in the future, she knew they apparently shared a love of the beach. The traffic and Sandy’s incessant chatter distracted her from delving any further into her bodiless companion. She turned left at the end of the causeway, creeping along thanks to the speed limit and cyclists. Occasional glimpses of the ocean teased, until she needed to quench her desire to wiggle her toes in the surf. She pulled off into the first public access parking spot with a space. Kicking off her shoes, Bethany encouraged Sandy to join her as she crossed the wide expanse of beach to the shoreline. She felt lonely without her ghost and wondered why he hadn’t come with her, when she’d obviously felt his love of the ocean. Was she losing her mind? She wasn’t completely sure she believed in spirits, yet here she was, concerned about his feelings. If what she felt was indeed the spirit of Nicholas Giordano. “What is it about you and your constant need to get your feet wet?” Sandy kicked at a piece of driftwood banging around her toes. “I’m guessing that’s a rhetorical question, San.” “Well, duh,” flinching as a splash of chilled water sprayed her shins. “You only drag me down to play in the surf every chance you get. Your mom will never admit it, but I think you were conceived on a beach. Like ‘From Here to Eternity’.” Sandy waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Bethany shuddered. “I hope she never does admit it, because I really don’t want to hear it.” “That’s only because by the time you were old enough to admit that your parents had sex your father was gone.” “Can we change the subject?” Talking about her father didn’t make her uncomfortable, but the thought of her parents having sex most certainly did. “Only if we can head back to the car and drive some more. Did you notice the way the stud muffins in front of the pier smiled at us as we drove by? I have got to talk you into keeping this car. It’s a hunk magnet.” She grinned wickedly. “Why don’t I just sell it to you?” Sand clung to her feet as she trudged through the soft dunes. “Are you nuts? I don’t have that kind of money.” Bethany shot Sandy a now-you-realize-why-I-want-to-sell-this-puppy look. But did she really? Sandy flopped against the back bumper of the car and brushed her feet off before slipping on her sandals. “I still don’t see why you have to sell the car. What’s so bad about living with your mom for the summer? Aside from not being able to bring a guy home for the night?” All of a sudden, the air molecules collided with each other, sparking chain reactions that vibrated the air. Bethany cast a quick glance in Sandy’s direction to see if her friend felt the air pulsating around them, buffeting her. Sandy seemed oblivious to the sensations. What has Nick’s knickers in a twist now? “I’m used to being on my own.” Bethany hadn’t been forced to “run home to mommy” when she’d found her boyfriend in their bed with a mutual co-worker. However, she had decided to teach the two-timing cad a lesson he’d never forget. So, she’d moved out of their condo, leaving him with a mortgage he couldn’t afford alone, and with a few, well placed comments, she’d made sure the condo board wouldn’t approve of his request for a new roommate who could help him meet the expenses. She’d quit her job as his executive assistant at the pharmaceutical company, since he couldn’t add two plus two without her, let alone do any serious marketing. Teaching him what it really meant to be screwed. With very little savings and no job, she’d moved from Charlotte and back home with her mother, who welcomed her unconditionally. That didn’t mean she had to milk it for all its worth. She was thirty-three years old, for Pete’s sake. The Corvette provided her with the opportunity to get back on her feet. “Selling the car will allow me to stand on my own two feet again.” She knew she didn’t sound as convinced now, as she did when she first learned about the Corvette. She had to stop this damn attachment before she did something stupid, like keep the car. * * * * Sell the ’Vette? She wanted to sell his car? If she thought he’d let her get away with that, she was fucking nuts. Nicholas Giordano had played it slow and easy since he realized that his car’s owner could sense his presence. Which meant he might even be able to communicate with her. He had bided his time just like the “ghostly gurus” encouraged. After all, he didn’t want to scare her off. In the almost forty years since he’d been trapped in his beloved car for some unknown reason, he’d been unable to make the slightest contact with anyone. Not his brother-in-law, not his sister, not the idiot brother his brother-in-law gave the Corvette to. No one. And he’d certainly tried. He’d tried everything short of dressing up like Jacob Marley and rattling his chains. Others stuck in Limbo like he was, managed to communicate with anyone and everyone in the living world. Not him. Then, surprisingly, he realized Bethany knew he existed. The way she stared at the passenger seat when he sat in it, the way she turned her head in his direction when he spoke, the way her skin goose bumped when he gazed at her. Hope flared. She might be the one. The one to help him cross over from this middle land of disembodied spirits—as they’d taken to calling themselves—to Heaven. He suffered from no delusions when it came to his first chance since his death to move on—he’d grab it with both hands and hang on tight. So, if she harbored any ideas about taking that away from him by selling the car to someone who might not hear him, the record needed to be set straight. He and the car were one and the same. If she sold the car, he went with it—and out of her life. It would kill him to wait for just the right moment, but he couldn’t blow it now, not when paradise loomed so close. Too bad he’d never been known to have an overabundance of patience and what little he’d saved up over the years, he’d exhausted waiting for the right opportunity to make contact. Time’s up. Whether she knew it or not, Bethany had a big surprise in store for her. As soon as her loony friend got her butt out of the passenger seat and went home. But how? How did he go about convincing her that he existed and was not a figment of her imagination? How did he prove to her she wasn’t crazy? How did he go about convincing her that he needed her help? Forty years ago, a lifetime ago, he’d have known exactly how to persuade a woman to do his bidding. He’d been a master of seduction. The trouser rat swelled against the zipper of his flight suit at the mere thought of coaxing Bethany to his bed. If it had been possible to give himself a high-five, he would have. The damn thing hadn’t so much as stirred since he’d died, and he was immensely relieved that it still worked. Two small roadblocks prevented him from relying on previous methods of coercion—no bed or body. Both made it more than a little bit difficult to fuck a woman into submission. Oh, but wouldn’t fucking Bethany into submission be amazing. The woman had a body made for sin. She looked to be almost as tall as his own five foot ten inch frame. All vital parts would line up perfectly. With enough curves to make travel dangerous, to take it slow and easy. All the old desires flooded back, along with all the criteria he and his buddies used to evaluate good-looking women. He’d bet her breasts would spill out over his hands if he attempted to cover them. And her hips, those hips. Fleshy enough to wiggle when she walked, sturdy enough to grasp as he sank between her thighs and rammed his cock home. He’d hang on to those hips as he drove them both to heaven. Heaven. He needed her help to get there. But first, he had to get rid of this damn hard on. And she couldn’t help him with that. Nick figured returning to the Never-Never Land where the other spirits hung out, might just be the one sure-fire way to get rid of the tent gracing the front of his flight suit. He shouldn’t complain, not really. At least he could pop out of Limbo when the mood struck—not that a tarp covered Corvette had been much of an improvement some days. Some of the other poor schmucks found themselves trapped, unable to go anywhere but the giant, auditorium-like space that made up the place called Limbo. The enormous space contained groupings of tables and chairs, along with windows to view the living world, and not much more. Definitely not a warm or hospitable place. A “plane”, some liked to call it. Not Nick. A plane had a cockpit, wings, and enough sheer thrust in the engines to propel it right up off the ground. Now that was a plane. According to the other spirits, and regardless of what anyone called it, he was stuck in this place until he figured out what he’d left undone when he died, and finish it. Then and only then could he move on to Heaven. The disembodied souls may not have been able to tell him much, but they did know that at least. This brought his thoughts right back to Bethany again. And just when he’d gotten his dick under control. She had to be the key. That had to be the reason why she was aware of his presence. She held the solution to his dilemma. Between the two of them, they’d be able to discover what kept him from crossing over. And after forty years of shuffling from nowhere to nowhere and back again, he’d get to go to Heaven. “Okay, Sandy, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at school.” The slam of the passenger door dragged Nick from his musings. He quit hovering over the trunk of the car and slid into the now vacant seat. Showtime. He glanced over as Bethany flopped her head back against the seat. Her dark blonde hair escaped from the ponytail she’d put it in before the drive. Wispy strands brushed against her high cheekbones. Thick lashes fringed her chocolate-brown eyes. She waved a gnat away from her pert nose, which was almost too small for her face. A rose tinted tongue darted out to moisten plump, kissable lips. Oh, he had to stop this jet engine from gaining any thrust or he’d end up with another hard on. Not exactly the image he wanted to project the first time he tried to make himself visible to her. Bethany stretched and reached for the glove box, sticking her hand through his side. She snatched her hand back, gawking at it as if she’d just pulled it from some nasty goop. Interesting. She leaned forward and went for the compartment again. Whether she admitted it to herself or not, she knew. When she again pulled out the letter he’d written before shipping out to Vietnam, he felt the moment was at hand. He was trembling almost as much as she was. “I love your car, Captain Nicholas Giordano. She’s amazing.” “Not half as amazing as you.” Her half yelp echoed on the evening air. “I didn’t hear that. I did not hear that.” She rocked back and forth, clutching the letter to her chest. He hoped he hadn’t misjudged her readiness to make this leap of faith. Now that he’d started, he didn’t want to go back. Couldn’t go back. “You know you heard me, Bethany. Just as you’ve felt me for the past week. You even figured out who I am. Like I said, amazing.” “But ghosts aren’t really real. Are they?” She shook her head; she rubbed at her eyes. “Are you real?” “As real as this car we’re sitting in.” With that, she turned her upper body to look at the passenger seat. He must have accomplished his mission to make himself visible to her. Her face went so pale, it looked like she might faint. “Don’t pass out on me, honey. I can’t exactly give you mouth to mouth.” “Cap…Cap…tain Nicholas Giordano?” Her voice trembled as she glanced warily back and forth between the passenger seat and the letter gripped in her hand. “One and the same, Bethany. I can’t tell you how dam…dang happy I am to meet you.” Now that was forty years worth of understatement. “I thought, but I didn’t really think…I mean…and yet, here you are. But how can that be? I’ve never met a ghost before.” She sounded so cute and so confused. “And now you have.” Slow and steady wins the race, the words of one of his ghostly buddies rang in his ears. To hell with that, peace through superior firepower, part of him argued. Since rushing in got him in this mess to begin with, Nick decided to take his toys and go home for the day. Content in the knowledge that Bethany did hear him and could communicate with him. The rest would follow. |