The first rule of being a ghost whisperer: Don't tell anyone. Seriously. Don't.
Sure, it might sound harmless. A fun party trick, even. I assure you, it's not.
How do I know? Well, let's just say that I've had a lot of experience with this sort of thing, and nine times out of ten, it turns into an all-consuming disaster.
There's never a good time for a ghost crisis.
However, it's particularly inconvenient while I'm trying to tackle my first wedding season. Between twelve hour days, an assistant with a case of butter fingers (not the chocolate kind), and the flood of tourists in town, I'm struggling to keep a grip on my sanity.
Vacation goals . . .
I have them. Real life is not cooperating.
I don't require poolside margaritas under a fancy cabana to have a good time. All I wanted was ten ghost-free days to enjoy sightseeing New Orleans with my boyfriend, to admire art galleries, listen to live music, and eat as many beignets as I can before my pants stop buttoning.
Nothing puts a damper on a romantic Hawaiian honeymoon quite like a dead body.
A reality dating show is filming next door to our rental digs, and besides the giggly pool parties and late night soirées, things are tolerable. At least, until a contestants goes belly—and fabulous ball gown—up in the pool. Suddenly, our vacation suddenly takes a... Read more »