Liza's kitten knocked me off my blog slot so she could give Sheri Fredricks a plaque, so Liza is giving me more time.
I’m Cass. I’m an eighty-year old woman who dies and inexplicably awakens in a seventeen-year-old, troubled teen’s body.
Don’t share that with anyone. The truth could get me locked up in an asylum for life.
First time I looked in the mirror…well let me share the excerpt:
Upon settling down on the toilet, Cass noticed the floor to ceiling mirror facing her and screamed at the sight of the creature within it. Short black hair spouted about its head, black circles surrounded both eyes and fell like triangular knives down the cheeks. Black lips, stretched in horror as if in a nightmare.
Pulling up her pants, she moved closer to the mirror.
She was a ghoul, an honest to God ghoul!
The door crashed open and her father stared at her, fear and panic clear in his eyes.
She touched her face. “Please tell me these aren’t permanent.”
His panic remained a second longer as her words filtered into his brain and then he pulled her into his arms. “Don’t worry, we will get them removed—if you want to…”
“If? Oh, I definitely want them removed,” she said.
How can I turn around my life if I look like the walking dead from a low-grade monster movie?
Making my turnaround even harder are several issues. First, there's my prior self’s destructive tendencies.
"See this from my point of view. I wake up to parents I don’t know and a past I can’t remember. I keep discovering stuff, horrible stuff, but it’s like it happened to someone else, someone I feel sorry for. Someone whom I’d like to yell at because I have to clean up the mess…like this face! But it’s still not me, and quite frankly I don’t want it to be me, so don’t even think about sending me to a shrink so I can reconnect with my old self, because it’s not happening. I am not Old Casey. I am turning this life around and no one is going to stop me.”
Then there's my environment:
When they arrived at a gated estate the size of a small country, her dad pointed to a giant white mass on a hill about a mile or two away. “That’s your mother’s family estate.”
All this wealth hit home with a sickening thud. God help her; she was a trust fund baby. No wonder Casey seemed so screwed up.
How could any girl find her self-worth when they owned billions at birth? How do you ask for a job at McDonalds when you can buy the whole damn franchise?
Then there’s my parents:
Dad’s a workaholic.
And Mother's an Alcoholic.
Thus all my parenting come from the grumpy butler, Thornton.The old guy keeps surprising me with his sarcasm. Here’s two excerpts:
“How do I get these walls repainted?” Cass asked. If she stayed here, she’d be ready to commit suicide. Again.
“The request will require approval from your father.”
“Do you have guest rooms?”
“Twenty-four of them.”
“May I stay in one of them until I get these rooms changed?”
“That would also be your father’s say.”
“Are there forms to fill out?” she asked, finding it ridiculous everything had to go through her father.
“I will bring you the forms within the hour.”
She choked. “Are you kidding? You actually have forms?”
A faint smile came to his lips. “No, miss. I returned your sarcasm.”
She burst out with a hearty laugh. She never expected the expressionless old butler to make a go at humor. “Well, done, Thornton. Well done, indeed.” She held out her hand for him to shake and after several seconds of hesitation, he grasped her hand, then examined his palm before escaping Batman’s Cave.
He pointed to a door. “You may use the computer in the library. If you dare mark any book in there, they will never find your body.”
“I have reformed…and since when do butlers threaten to kill the people they serve?”
The turn of his lips hinted of a smile. Had he just made a joke?
“Oh. I get it. The butler did it. Very funny. But rest assured; I have reformed.” She headed to the library thinking Thornton needed to work on his sense of humor even more than she did.
Trying to understand the prior Casey, I started investigating her past.
I soon crossed off Dad as trustworthy. He sold out Old Casey for a promotion, and he’ll no doubt do the same to me one day.
Uh-oh, turns out someone is trying to kill me…
I lived 80 years in my prior life and never found anyone that I wanted to go through life with.
Now I return as a 17-yr-old, and within a month I meet my soul mate. He fits me perfectly except for one thing:
I’m in a 17 year old body and he’s 30.
Will nothing go right in this life?
If that isn't bad enough, turns out getting rid of these tats will take years and a great deal of pain. But it has to be done. I can’t turn this life around with this face.
If you look like trouble, people treat you like trouble. The truth is immaterial.
It doesn’t take me long to realize I’m not going to survive my new life unless I get help. But who can I trust?
- My father who sold old Casey out for a promotion?
- My mother who blames me for her social ruin?
- The butler who sees me as nothing but trouble?
- Or Troy, who ultimately works for the man whose son wants me dead.
With no memories of old Casey, I've no idea who I can rely upon, nor make sense of why this nightmare ever began.
There are so many turns and twists.
So much I don't know.
But I do know I can’t go it alone,
so I’ve got to decide
who I can trust, and who I can’t.
If you want to come along with me on this journey, I'd appreciate the assist.
SAVING CASEY BY LIZA O'CONNOR IS AVAILABLE AT THESE SITES
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LIZA O'CONNOR &
Liza lives in Denville, NJ with her dog, Jess. They hike in fabulous woods every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels. She loves to create interesting characters, set them loose, and scribe what happens.