Indie Author: Aneesa Price

Check out Aneesa Price's new book, Home for Love on Amazon.com. I had the privilege of reading the first chapter before the book went live on Amazon.  The story pulled me in from the very first page.  I can hardly wait to read the rest of it.  Aneesa's books range from wholesome love to steamy erotica; from the normal to the paranormal. She has something for almost everyone. 

Home for Love is a story about Bree, a woman who left behind her home and her high school sweetheart, Todd, when she finds out she is pregnant with his child. Seven years later she returns to her hometown with her daughter and faces the man she left behind. Todd is shocked to discover that he has a daughter.  Will he be able to let go of his hurt and anger long enough to fall in love with Bree all over again?  You'll have to read the book to find out.

Check it out:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BPWNA5E

A Ghost in the Attic

My great-grandparents fled from Russia to the United States in the early 1900's to escape the new communist government. When I was growing up, my grandfather lived in the house built by my great-grandparents. My great-grandfather literally built the house himself, brick by brick. The house was large and had several bedrooms because my great-grandparents had eight children (however, 2 of the children were infant twins who died). The children slept on the second floor and my great-grandparents slept in the attic.  

My grandfather and I were very close.  My parents and I visited him often, and I absolutely adored him.  I also loved his big house with all the rooms.  Each bedroom had a door connecting it to the next bedroom.  I especially liked to play in my grandfather’s room.   The door to the attic was in his room, but I never paid much attention to it.   One day when I was about 4 or 5, my mom and I stopped to visit my grandfather.  I decided to take my dolls and go play in his room.  I was alone in the room, sitting on the bed, playing with my dolls.  While I was sitting there, I heard the attic door creaking as it slowly opened.  When I looked up, there was a man standing there.  He had dark wavy hair, he was wearing a dark suit, and his feet were bare. I could see him clearly, but it took me a minute to realize something wasn’t right.  Although I could clearly see his image, I could see right through him. As soon as that realization hit me, I grabbed my dolls and ran as fast as I could downstairs to the kitchen where my mom and grandfather were.  I was pretty young at the time, so I can’t remember what I told them about why I was scared.  Whatever it was, it wasn’t the truth about what I saw.  From that day on, I was terrified to go upstairs alone. This was very unfortunate since the bathroom was upstairs.  No one could ever figure out why I was so terrified about going up there alone.  Even as a teenager, I would get to the top of the stairs and make a mad dash for the bathroom while trying not to look toward any of the other rooms. 

One day, when I was in my early 20’s, my mom and I were talking about my grandfather’s house.  She said she never could figure out why I was so terrified to go upstairs alone.  That’s when I finally told her what I saw as a child.  After I told her my story, she said that my great-grandparents always slept in the attic.  I described the man I saw.  She said the person I described was my great-grandfather. He died when my mom was a child and I had never seen a picture of him.  Not long after that I told my mom my story she took me to the cemetery where my great-grandparents were buried.  I had never been there before.   When I looked at their tombstones, each one had their own picture on it.  I pointed to the picture on my great-grandfather’s tombstone and said, “That is the man I saw. His hair was darker and he looked younger when I saw him, but that is the same man. His facial features are the same.”  My mom said he had darker hair when he was younger. 

This wasn't my first experience with ghosts, but it was my most powerful one. 

Holiday Dinners at Grampap's

The holiday season is upon us.  This week is Thanksgiving, the ultimate holiday for gluttony. The official kick-off of the holiday season...at least in my mind.  Now that I am an adult (and I use that term loosely), the holidays are somewhat bittersweet. Don't get me wrong. I love the holidays. I always have. So many happy childhood memories...

When I was a child, no major holiday was complete until we had dinner at my grampap's house. (People sometimes laugh at me because I use the term "grampap." That's what I always called my grandfather.  This is my story, so deal with it.) Now where was I?  Oh yeah....dinner at grampap's. My parents and I would arrive at my grandfather's house; Mom with her lemon meringue pies and Dad...well, I don't know what he was doing. All I know is that mom had pies. Not just any pies...I mean the best lemon meringue pies EVER. Now we're getting off track, so focus!

Anyway...as soon as we opened the door, I ran straight into my grandfather's arms.  He was always there waiting with a big hug just for me. I don't think anyone could love their grandfather as much as I loved mine. I remember the feel of his arms around me, his big booming laugh, the scent of ivory soap on his skin, and the smell of the ham or turkey roasting in the oven... I can still hear the laughter of my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Blissful chaos. It was loud, crazy, and wonderful.

The kitchen bustled with activity. Grampap always made the turkey or the ham. My mom and my aunts would share in the rest of the cooking.  My job was to set the table. I liked to do that because it gave me the first shot at the black olives. Aunt Janie and I always got in trouble for eating all the black olives, but we just couldn't help ourselves.  We always had tons of food.  Turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, turkey gravy, ham gravy (the best thing ever invented), home-made horseradish, corn, a veggie tray with radishes, cucumbers, and green onions, cole-slaw, warm crescent rolls, real butter, pumpkin pie with real whipped cream, lemon meringue pie... The food was the best I've ever had. Maybe it was the cooks or the quality of the ingredients that made the food taste so good...but I think most of all....it was the love we all shared.  No one ever left grampap's house without a full belly or without feeling loved.

Those days are gone now and Grampap is no longer with us, but the memories we made will live in my heart forever.