The difference between a curse and a gift is only a matter of perspective.
Debra lives in Southwest Arizona, and has been married to Mike for 36 years. She’s the mother of two awesome sons, who married their forever loves, and she’s a grandmother to three beautiful grandchildren with one more on the way.
Debra wrote her first novella thirteen years ago just for grins. That brief taste into the world of an author started an undeniable writing obsession rivaling only her love of chocolate. She’s an award-winning fine artist, and loves traveling with her husband.”
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CIA courier Lucy James never gets used to seeing innocent people killed, but she copes with it—every day. Cursed with the ability to glimpse into the future when a death is about to happen, she has a short window of time to interfere—risking her life in order to change it. No one knows about her curse, until she saves a handsome Los Angeles firefighter trapped between her and foreign operatives hell-bent on intercepting her current assignment.
Lucy gasped as a phantom, icy wind swept across her face, leaving gooseflesh skittering down her arms in its ghostly wake. She knew the sickly cold sensation went unfelt by anyone except her. It was a precursor to a phenomenon she’d known since she was a young child—a warning that someone was about to be killed.
“It’s happening!” a quiet voice in Lucy’s head whispered.
Her surroundings faded to the ominous dark grays, blacks, and slippery silvers she’d grown used to over the years. Just as quickly, the din of the busy lobby below disappeared, as if some unseen hand muted the sound. All motion stood still, lifeless, except for the four firefighters and one woman walking up toward her. They were draped in vivid, surrealistic color and still moving. It was as if a huge, frameless window encased them, and Lucy could peer into it to see their promised deaths.
Two of those men were in conversation with the young woman, making her laugh. Another man listened on his cell phone. The fourth firefighter still smiled up at Lucy. Movement from below drew her stare past him. A big man, dressed in a gray, three-piece suit, stepped into the window and was instantly bathed in intense color. Lucy watched him, fearing his importance to what was about to happen. He had his hand tucked inside his jacket, reaching for something as he began his climb up the winding stairs. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored Ray-Ban sunglasses, but his face pointed up in her direction.
The man’s movements were swift. With every step, his countenance changed. His mouth pulled into a hard, flat line, with the corners lifting in a perverse smile, as he moved his hand out from under his jacket. Lucy caught sight of the gun in his fist before the bodies of the five people between them blocked it from view. In deadly silence, one after another, the unsuspecting civilians received a bullet in their back, sending them face down onto the steps in front of her. When the man lifted the gun toward Lucy—the window disappeared.
Everything that was once in black and white rebounded in color. The sound returned. Time was short and precious if she wanted to change what she’d just witnessed. The five people who were heartlessly cut down in front of her were alive again—or, rather, hadn’t been killed.
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