When a sexy psychic foresees her own death, can anyone save her?

EXCERPT

I’m waiting for a friend. Could it get any more lame than that? He, of course,
jumped to the conclusion she was waiting for a boyfriend. She cringed when
she remembered the disappointment on his face. She couldn’t have hurt him
more if she had slapped him.

Too bad her chances of seeing him again were slim to none. But she couldn’t
help fantasizing that Parker was the lover from her vision. She hadn’t seen his
face, so the only way to tell would be to have him fondle her breasts.
And wouldn’t that be fun?

She could almost still feel the tug of the mysterious lover’s mouth on her nipple.
Oh, so wet and soft. And was there just a little bit of a nip in that suckle? She
closed her eyes and sighed, picturing Parker’s face while her fingers teased her
nipples. As she touched herself, she pictured him watching her. His black eyes
shining with lust, and in her fantasy, he’d be wearing nothing more than a wicked grin.

She moaned and sighed, letting her fingers find her wet center. She slid a finger
between her slick folds, pushing it in and out. It just wasn’t enough. Craving release,
she fumbled in her bedside drawer until she found her seldom-used vibrator. As she
slid it in and out, she imagined Parker’s smooth, skin hot against her own. When she
flicked on the power switch, she was rewarded with an intense wave of pleasure.
Oh, so close. She rubbed her thumb over her clit, and the wave crashed over her.
She lay breathless and satisfied as her orgasm ebbed.

And who would have guessed? Her headache was gone, too. 

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