Blind Sight by Pamela Moran
Death plagues Gabe Nicholetti’s dreams, but he can’t save the people who die in his visions. The most he can do is bring their killers to justice. But this time, this victim makes it all personal.
Rily Carrigan is a dead woman, or she will be in a matter of days as her past rushes forward to shatter her carefully constructed world. But Rily doesn’t believe fate is absolute. How is she going to convince the man who’s seen too many die that it’s possible to save her life?
Just outside a small, Oregon town, something malevolent lurks, waiting to seize what was once promised then stolen. Together, Gabe and Rily need to find a way to deny fate and keep Rily alive.
PSI Sentinels: Guardians of the Psychic World
Extraordinary senses in a world full of danger.
Protectors and hunters, PSI agents lay their abilities, sometimes their lives, on the line.
They defend and shield unwary victims against the twisted underside of a
psychic society bent on exploiting an unsuspecting, mundane world.
Gabriel Nicholetti stretched out on the bow of his sailboat. He crossed his bare ankles and linked his fingers behind his head. A shooting star arced across the black, pre-dawn, winter sky.
The gentle lapping of the warm Caribbean water against the hull should have been enough to rock him to sleep.
Under normal circumstances.
That same water should’ve been enough of a barrier to stop the visions plaguing him, disturbing his sleep. Keeping him awake.
Again, under normal circumstances.
The visions of the last three nights had been troubling. Water, a natural deflector and normally his salvation in such times, had failed him. Miserably.
Right. Who was he kidding? Dead bodies were always troubling. Always miserable. He’d seen his share. More than any sane man should see.
This one, though, for whatever damn reason, was different. This one called to him. Stronger than any in the past. The beautiful blonde stretched out at the edge of some forest floor, her lifeless green eyes staring at him. Through him.
Above, the ship’s flag flapped in a sudden gust of balmy wind. Rain was coming, the hint a bare scent in the briny air. In a few hours though, by the time he made it back through customs, the hint would be a full blown, Caribbean winter squall.
He stared up at the American flag, lit by the small mast light. And sighed.
He was heading back to the States.
Whether painting, out on a photo shoot or writing, Pam has always had a bend toward the creative side of life. Her favorite is when she can combine any of those with travel. Places get into her blood and she loves to explore the possibilities, always with characters and a story in mind.
An astrologer for most of her adult life, Pam has been known to see auras & the occasional ghost. Considering she lives in a haunted house in the mountains of southern California, this keeps life interesting.
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