My dearest friend, Shelia Powell is a raging empath. No, really. She’s like Theresa Caputo. She talks to the dead. We became friends after she read More Than an Echo and thought that I had to be an empath because I nailed it. Spot on.

Alas, I can barely read the newspaper let alone some dead person’s aura.

So when we finally met, I had her do a reading for me.


She asked who the woman was in the BLACK apron.

Now, this might not seem like a big deal to you, but if she was a phony, she would have hedged her bets that MY grandmother was wearing a flowery or pretty apron. Not black. Women in the 50’s and 60’s didn;t reallt wearibf black aprons.

My Non did.

Yeah. She’s that good.

Then she rubbed her hip and said, “What was wrong with your mama’s leg?”

No one…and I mean I tell NO ONE that my mother was crippled. She was missing a hip socket.

Umm…I’m a believer.

When a writer of the paranormal surrounds herself with true supernatural people and experiences, her writing becomes infused with a realism others find hard to match.

Raging empath?

Hell yeah.

Awesome friend in the supernatural world?