Tags: #romance, #thriller, #suspense, #history, #paranormal, #young adult, #teen, #ghost, #series, #modern
Shadow of a Life
by Tifani Clark
Jamie Peters plans to spend the summer before
her junior year with her nose stuck in a book—not saving lost
souls. Usually the girl that blends into the crowd, Jamie’s world
is turned upside down when a mysterious ghost begins to follow
But Sophia isn’t just any ghost
A hundred years earlier, Sophia’s
disappearance sparked a national unsolved mystery. Jamie knew the
legends surrounding Sophia’s disappearance, but never dreamed she'd
find out what really happened . . . or that
something to do with Sophia’s disappearance.
Determined to set Sophia free, Jamie blows
the dust off her family’s past and unearths clues that will save
Sophia’s soul. She enlists the help of childhood friend—and secret
crush—Peter Ashby as she sets off on a dangerous quest to find a
missing map. Spending the night in a graveyard, crawling through a
dilapidated barn, and staring down the barrel of a gun aren’t
enough to deter Jamie. But can she find the answers she needs
before another ghost gets revenge on her and Sophia?
Clark brings an old maritime mystery to life in this haunting,
paranormal tale of love, loss, regret, and unfinished business. I'm
so glad I read it! It's one of my better reads this year and I
highly recommend it. If you are on the fence about reading Shadow
of a Life, just jump over that fence and do it. You won't be
Holly Kelly, author
Clark has re-imagined ghosts and made them her own. I am excited to
see what more she can do.”
Nathan Huffaker, author
PLEASE HELP STOP PIRACY. PIRACY IS ILLEGAL
AND IMMORAL! IF YOU’VE RECEIVED THIS COPY
PAYING FOR IT
(excepting if you received it from the
publisher or the author) THEN YOU ARE READING A STOLEN COPY. PLEASE
DELETE AND PURCHASE YOUR OWN COPY THROUGH THE PROPER CHANNELS.
Dedicated to the real Sophia Briggs and her
family, wherever you are.
eyes popped open and I stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, heart
pounding. Something had pulled me out of a deep
I’d definitely heard a noise. I lay motionless, listening for any
sign of movement, but the only sounds I heard were the faint
tick-tick-tick of my watch and my own heart thumping in my ears.
The room was dark except for a thin stream of light extending from
the crescent moon outside my open window
What made that noise? Is someone in my room?
Come on, Jamie. Don’t be a
baby,” I whispered to myself. My heart raced faster and faster as I
forced myself to turn my head and look into the shadowy corners of
My alarm clock flashed 12:00 a.m. I’d
fallen asleep during a spring rain shower, and the storm must have
knocked the power out at some point during the night. I fumbled for
my cell phone on the nightstand and checked the time. 3:48 a.m. I
sighed and sat up, turning on my lamp as I did so. The sudden burst
of light blinded me for a few seconds, and I rubbed my eyes to
relieve the blurriness before reaching to reset my
And then I smelled it. A floral
scent—rose, with a hint of lavender—and it was strong. My heart
began to pound again. Something wasn’t right. I swung my legs over
the side of the bed and stood on trembling legs. Cautiously, I
stepped toward my window just as a gust of wind blew my pale green
curtains, whipping them against my dresser.
.” Something hard mangled my foot. I looked down and saw the
metal lid of a perfume bottle.
Ahh . . . it all made sense.
The wind blew my curtains into the bottle and knocked it off the
top of my dresser. That would explain the noise
the smell. I bent down and
grabbed the overturned bottle, hoping to save some of the contents
before it all leaked onto my antique hardwood floors. No such luck.
I sighed again. The smell would be in my room forever, or at least
until I was well into my college years. I slammed my window shut
and climbed back into bed.
It wasn’t the first time something
like that had happened. In the previous few weeks I’d had more
experiences than I cared to admit where I found myself feeling like
something wasn’t right—or that I was being watched—when I knew for
sure that I was the only one home.
I worried that I might be developing
anxiety problems. Or worse, that I’d lost my mind. I was Jamie
Peters—the tough one. The one that let bad things roll off her back
without thinking twice. The one that nothing exciting ever happened
to. I didn’t want to tell my dad about my problem. He had enough on
his mind without me adding childish fears to it.
I knew myself well enough to
know that I wasn’t going to fall asleep again. I reached for the
latest novel I was working my way through and began to read, hoping
to lose myself in another world—a world where people
Hey,” I yelled after
crashing headfirst into someone in front of me.
Maybe you should try
looking up once in a while,” the figure responded
I did look up—and saw a stunningly
As if my morning hadn’t already been
off to a bad enough start, the textbooks and papers I’d been so
carefully holding as I walked to the bus stop were now scattered
haphazardly across the sidewalk. I guess it served me right for not
taking the time to stuff everything into my backpack. I bent to
retrieve my things and the girl I’d just barreled into stooped to
Thanks,” I said, looking up
The blonde-haired, blue-eyed
girl didn’t say anything, but she gave me a fleeting smile before
continuing on her way. I watched her retreating figure as she
disappeared around the corner and wondered how my life would be
different if I looked like her. I wasn’t ugly—at least, I
was—but I definitely wasn’t gorgeous like the blonde girl. With
plain brown hair that fell just below my shoulders, brown eyes, and
average height, there was nothing to make me stand out from the
crowd. Sometimes I would attempt to style my hair or wear a little
makeup, but I always felt like someone trying to cover up a botched
plastic surgery. I’m sure most of the problem was that I had no
clue what to do when it came to makeup and hairstyles. My dad was
raising me alone and it wasn’t like
could give me beauty
I zipped my quilted jacket as high as
it could go, pulled its hood over my hair, and tucked my free hand
into my pocket as I trudged the rest of the way to the bus stop. I
could see my breath and I lowered my head—this time with my eyes
facing forward— to block some of the bitter cold wind from my
already reddened face. The weather was frustratingly cold
considering it was late May. I’d lived in Massachusetts all my life
and was used to crazy weather, but that was just
The school bus was already at the curb
when I arrived and I got in line with the rest of the students
waiting for a ride to Old Rochester Regional High School. “I wish I
was still in bed,” I muttered under my breath.
Huh?” the boy in front of
me, Peter Ashby, asked as he pulled buds from his ears and looked
at me expectantly.
Nothing.” I blushed. I
hoped my face was already too red from the wind for anyone to
Jamie, there you are.” My
best friend, Camille Spencer, waved from the back of the bus. I
pushed my way through students and backpacks and climbed over
mountains of feet in the aisle as I worked my way to the seat next
What took you so long?
You’re usually first in line at the bus stop,” she pointed
I couldn’t sleep last night
and I had a hard time dragging myself out of bed this morning.” I
sighed. “And, to top it all off, I ran into an
Camille raised her eyebrows. “A
An Aphrodite. You know, a
girl that’s really pretty and . . . never mind.”
Camille didn’t question me any further
and I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t usually have anything interesting
to talk about. She, on the other hand, had a mind that worked a
mile a minute and could change subjects faster than I could
Jamie, did you hear about
Anthony Dewitt? He got caught smoking pot behind the school and now
they aren’t going to let him graduate. Everybody’s talking about it
this morning. You didn’t notice my new shoes, by the way. Mom got
them for me yesterday. Want a bite?”
I glanced at Camille’s outstretched
hand clutching a half-eaten Pop-Tart. “No thanks.”
Camille and I had been best friends
since elementary school and lived only a few blocks apart. Her
looks more than made up for my plainness. Her green eyes had actual
sparkles in them. Of course, she sometimes wore glitter on her
eyelids—that probably helped the effect. And did I mention that she
was a flirt?
I’d always been the
sidekick. The number two. The tagalong. The “other one.” Maybe I
wouldn’t be the “other one” and maybe I wouldn’t blend into the
background if my best friend wasn’t so pretty.
I should find ugly friends.
Heads up,” a voice called
from somewhere in front of us.
My reaction time was slow and I didn’t
look up until it was too late to do anything about the football
arcing its way toward me. It landed in my lap. For the second time
that morning I was yanked from my thoughts by my pile of books
scattering—that time all over the nasty bus floor. I jerked my head
up to glare at the culprit, but Camille smiled and batted her
eyelashes, emitting a giggle that I couldn’t replicate even if I