Sneak Peek at my reincarnation novel EVERY TIME WE SAY GOODBYE

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NOTE:  To me it's always fun to read excerpts of novels in progress.  Here's less than a page from MY NEW NOVEL "Every Time We Say Goodbye" by Dwight Okita (c) 2015.

FEEL FREE TO READ AND GIVE COMMENTS. THIS COMES FROM THE END OF THE BOOK.


The two men entered Casa de Esperanza, or The House of Hope for dinner. Frank's cell kept ringing through the night, so he put it on vibrate. In fact it wouldn't be till he got home after midnight that he would listen to his voice mails and learn that Trudy had shot herself to death. He would be shocked and saddened. He was just starting to like her, getting to see her more vulnerable side, starting to see her less as an adversary and more as something else.

He would have to write a difficult column about The Death-by-Gun of a Gun Lobbyist. It would be provocative, drawing ire from both peace activists and gun activists alike, how one American grew up to be a statistic. And it would be part cautionary tale, part eulogy.

But since Frank hadn't checked his messages, for these fleeting hours Trudy Loveless was alive and well as far as he knew, still stirring up trouble as gun lobbyist extraordinaire. And so she floated in a kind of limbo between one world and another.

How would her next reincarnated life be different from this one? What lessons would she carry from her past life into the future? Or would she enter her next life empty-handed, having learned nothing, doomed to repeat her mistakes?

Nico and Frank had put in a long week's work and began slurping their Margaritas. The two of them were finally sharing a meal together after all this time, which was a miracle unto itself. They were eager to experience some serious Mexican cuisine, and whatever dangerous, boundary-crossing conversations that might ensue.

Inside the restaurant, a galaxy of star-shaped paper lanterns hung from the ceiling in assorted colors above the two men. Frank thought they might be luminaria but he couldn't say for sure.

Was life magical? Time would tell.
The night was young, and getting younger.

                                                                  # # #

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