Genre: Paranormal Humor
Publisher: Red Hot Publishing
Date of Publication: Oct. 2013
ISBN: e-book – 9781938601118
Print – 9781938601125
Number of pages:250
Word Count: 60K
What do you get when you cross a hockey mom with the grim reaper? Me, Lisa Carron.
If being a depressed, frumpy, widowed mother of three wasn’t bad enough, I just discovered I’m a grim reaper. I know what you’re thinking. Wow, that’s kind of sexy and full of awesomeness. Hardly. Oh, and my clients? Stupid people. Like I don’t get enough of that from the living.
Since Alaska is big and angels of death are few, I’ve been partnered with reaper extraordinaire, Nate Cramer. He’s strong, silent, and way too good looking for my recently widowed state. Oh, and he reaps violent criminals, so that should be interesting.
Forget the danger and the hours of self-analysis it will take for me to find my reaper mojo. My biggest problem? Hiding it all from my overly attentive family and nosy neighbors. Now that’s going to take a miracle.
As a bestselling author, Boone Brux’s books range from high fantasy to humorous paranormal.
A former nanny, Boone has lived all over the world, finally settling in the icy region of Alaska, where she writes full time. Always looking for the next adventure, it’s not unusual to find her traversing the remotest parts of the Alaskan bush. No person or escapade is off limits when it comes to weaving real life experiences into her books or blogs.
I suppose you’re wondering who the heck I am. Well, that is no simple answer, but I’ll try. I’m Lisa Carron, widow, mother of three, and the newest grim reaper at GRS. (Grim Reaper Services)
You might be saying, “Grim reaper? That’s pretty neat. Tell me more.” Well, it might be neat if I hadn’t been assigned to reaping people who die in stupid ways. You know, the frat boy who jumps into the pool from the second story and misses the water. Or the woman who keeps so many cats they suffocate her in her sleep. Yeah, those are my clients. Neat, eh? Like I don’t have enough stupid people in my life already.
Anyway, being a reaper isn’t all that supernatural. You’d think we’d get some perks like everlasting beauty or the powers of invisibility. Nope. I can attest to the fact that I’m just as fluffy and ordinary now as I was the day I accidently slid into my reaper mojo. Thankfully, my best friend has helped me exchange my motherly frump for a more reaperesque look.
Oh, and I have a partner. Lucky me. Nate Cramer, he reaps violent criminals, which is always fun. Can you believe he doesn’t think I can do the job? Obviously he’s never seen me wield a weed wacker. I’ll make a frickin’ awesome reaper—or die trying.
And that’s another thing about this job. We’re not immortal. I got this gig because another Angel of Death died. Ironically it was my husband. Not that I ever knew that tidbit of information. I’m still a little miffed about that.
So, not only do I have to reap souls that don’t really want to be reaped, but I can’t tell anyone.
Juggling motherhood and this death gig is getting tricky. A lot of the inconveniences are to be expected. Talking to dead people that nobody else can see. Having to dash out on an assignment at a moment’s notice. These I can handle. It’s the weird stuff that starts to take its toll. Like the raven that follows me everywhere and my transvestite porter. My porter is who I deliver souls to. I’m not sure but I suspect he’s a demon. Just to be safe I keep a good ten feet between us. No unnecessary touching.
So that’s me. I just wanted to pop in and say hi, and let you guys know that I’ll be around. Please be safe and don’t do anything stupid. I really don’t want to have to come and reap you. But I will if I have to—because that’s what I do—and I’m awesome at it. Despite what Nate thinks.
This was really such a cool post and I like it a lot. Good luck with your novel ‘To Catch Her Death, Boone.