Amanda Ashby - You Had Me at Halo

I started writing this book three weeks after my dad died, and while he might not be here anymore, I’m certain, that in typical fatherly fashion, he’s up there pulling a few strings.

I would like to thank my critique partners, Pat Posner, Sara Hantz and Christina Phillips. Their knowledge of when to crack the whip and when to administer chocolate is unerring.

I would also like to say a big thank you to Jenny Bent, who is quite simply the best agent a girl could have and who is so gentle with my dreams.

To Anne Bohner and everyone at NAL, I still can’t believe how lucky I am so thank you all for your patience and hard work.

Of course, I can’t forget Penny Jordan, Susan Stephens, Amanda Grange and everyone else from my local RNA chapter in England. Not only are you all great writers, but you have the most excellent taste in pudding as well.

To Pam, who despite having a daughter who refused to get a real job, has been a great support. To Kay, who is nothing like the stepmother in this book and to Nick and Liz, for never laughing apart from when they were meant to. Also, to all my other family, friends and writing pals spread out across the world, yes, you are expected to buy it, read it and answer questions. Sorry, but that’s the rules.

Finally, to Barry, Molly and Arthur, I quite simply couldn’t have done it without you.

“Unbelievable.” Holly Evans shook her head as she peered down through the glass window to the scene below.

That was the problem with an open casket. It meant everyone’s last memories of her would be with a white puffy face, the wrong color lipstick and a dreadful polyester dress. They always said the camera added five pounds, but no one ever talked about how fattening embalming fluid was.

“Sssshhh.”

“What?” Holly kept her eyes focused on the service. “Oh, sorry. It’s just it’s hard to be quiet when I have to look at myself getting buried in that outfit. I’m only twenty-two. So much to live for, yet there I am. Dead. You know I don’t like to kick up a stink, but I most certainly didn’t die of natural causes.”

There was another angry hiss from behind her, which Holly ignored. She’d been ignoring a lot of things since she’d died two weeks ago. And it had to be said that heaven wasn’t nearly as much fun as she had been led to believe. All the rules for a start.

Where were the fluffy clouds and peeled grapes? To be honest the place looked more like Terminal Two at LAX than a celestial paradise. She pressed her nose up to the glass again. Here came the speeches.

Holly sniffed as she listened to Gemma’s glowing tribute. Of course she knew her best friend would come through for her. “And look at how everyone is crying,” she said to no one in particular. “I’m really touched. Perhaps the dress wasn’t such a bad choice after all?”

Now it was Todd’s turn to speak and if she didn’t know better, she would say his eyes looked a bit moist as well.

They had been dating almost a year and he hadn’t even shed a tear when he broke his leg in three places while playing football. Yet here he was crying over her.

It just made Holly feel even worse about their stupid fight. Todd had wanted to propose to her in front of everyone at the annual Baker Colwell ball, while Holly had wanted it to be a more private affair. He had refused to budge on the issue and after three days of not speaking, Holly had finally come to realize what a fool she was. If he wanted to show his love for her in front of the entire company, well it was hardly something she should argue about. Especially since she had “accidentally” found the ring at the bottom of his closet a week earlier.

It was beautiful. And so big. And if only she hadn’t died, then she would’ve been able to apologize to him before the ball and by the end of the night it would’ve been hers. It wasn’t fair. Especially when she thought of how much she’d spent on the pink bra and panties to complete her apology. Not that she had resented the cost, since it wasn’t everyday a girl got engaged. Besides, Todd had once said how gorgeous pink looked against her dusty brown curls and huge sloe-shaped eyes. Okay so he hadn’t used those words exactly, since he was more of a salesman than a poet. But Holly just knew he had been thinking it on the inside.

Still, there was no use crying over spilt milk, or diamonds as big as her knuckle. She was in heaven now and she just had to forget about how much better the death notice would’ve looked if only it said, loving fiancé, Todd Harman.

“But,” she said with one final sniff, “there’s no denying it would’ve been a beautiful wedding.”

“I told you. No talking during a funeral.”

“And I told you that since I’m only going to die once, I might as well make the most of it,” Holly retorted to the person behind her. “Besides, how often do you get all of Baker Colwell’s head office to turn up to your funeral? That includes the notoriously stuck up corporate affairs guys from fifth floor . Look, they’ve even spelt my name out in bright red roses and white carnations. What a nice gesture.”

“Miss Evans,” someone else said and Holly reluctantly spun around to where Tyrone, her first level tutor, was standing. He was tall and bald with a beaky nose, and when Holly had first arrived in heaven, she had been under the mistaken impression that he was God.

The fact that he had laughed hysterically at her mistake hadn’t made Holly warm to him much. And besides, from what she gathered, no one really got a good look at the big man, so who was to say he didn’t look like Tyrone? It was possible.

“Yes?”

“There have been complaints.”

“Complaints?”

“Yes, Miss Evans. Complaints. About the talking. It’s got to stop.”

“I’ve hardly said anything,” she protested. “Honestly I haven’t. It’s just that some people around here jump down your throat for even breathing…well, not that we actually breathe anymore. But still, they really should try and relax a bit. Anyway, it’s easy for them to sit there looking smug since most of them got to see the right side of seventy.”

Tyrone gave her a patient smile. “Remember, I explained these feelings are just temporary and as soon as they’re purged you’ll be left with an overwhelming sense of joy.”

Holly grunted by way of an answer, since the longer she was dead, the less joyful she was becoming. It wasn’t that she wanted to cause a fuss, but she was still grappling with what had happened.

She had her whole perfect life in front of her: a great new promotion with the eleventh-most-benefit-friendly employer in the country, a heap of friends and a potential fiancé who was drop dead gorgeous. Oh yes, she had it all to live for, all right. But around here that didn’t seem to matter.

“Look, Miss Evans. This will get easier as you go along. You just need to stick to the rules and do as you’re told.”

Holly was becoming more and more frustrated. She wasn’t usually quite so petulant, but then she wasn’t usually dead either. “What are they going to do? Kill me? Oh, wait, that’s right. I’m already dead.”

“Actually…” Tyrone cleared his throat. “I think you’ll find there are quite a few fates worse than death.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Holly was stung into replying. “I’ve got to say it’s a pretty disorganized up here. All I keep hearing is, ‘Of course you can’t see your parents yet, Miss Evans; you need to wait until you’re at Level Three for that…No, Miss Evans you can’t go and haunt someone just because they took credit for one of your ideas last month…’”