Twelve. Twelve of the deadliest beasts ever forged in the fires of hell have escaped onto our plane, and they want nothing more than to rip out the jugular of Charley Davidson and serve her lifeless, mangled body to Satan for dinner. So there’s that. But Charley has more on her plate than a mob of testy hellhounds. For one thing, her father has disappeared, and the more she retraces his last steps, the more she learns he was conducting an investigation of his own, one that has Charley questioning everything she’s ever known about him. Add to that an ex-BFF who is haunting her night and day, a rash of suicides that has authorities baffled, and a drop-dead sexy fiancé who has attracted the attentions of a local celebrity, and Charley is not having the best week of her life.
A tad north of hell, a hop, skip, and a jump past the realm of eternity, is a little place called Earth, and Charley Davidson, grim reaper extraordinaire, is determined to do everything in her power to protect it.
NYTimes and USA Today Bestselling Author Darynda Jones has won numerous awards for her work, including a prestigious Golden Heart®, a Rebecca, two Hold Medallions, a RITA ®, and a Daphne du Maurier, and she has received stellar reviews from dozens of publications including starred reviews from Publisher’s Weekly, Booklist, and the Library Journal. As a born storyteller, Darynda grew up spinning tales of dashing damsels and heroes in distress for any unfortunate soul who happened by, annoying man and beast alike, and she is ever so grateful for the opportunity to carry on that tradition. She currently has two series with St. Martin’s Press: The Charley Davidson Series and the Darklight Trilogy. She lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband of almost 30 years and two beautiful sons, the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys. She can be found at www.daryndajones.com.
When I stepped past the threshold of our room, our beds still butted up against each other, since he’d taken the wall separating our rooms out a couple of weeks ago, I was struck by the picture that met me. Reyes lay across both beds, propped up on several pillows, shirtless with only his dark lounge pants, his legs stretched out in front of him, his feet bare, a drink in one hand, and a book in the other. It was like one of those “at home” photos with models that looked like movie stars.
I almost came at the sight. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. And I’d seen a lot of sexy lately. Would I ever get used to just having him? To just being able to look upon him and know he was mine? Know that I didn’t have to share him unless I got really kinky as I got older and decided to get into threesomes. But I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to share the man before me. I got jealous of his talking to a departed woman today. Granted, she was a gorgeous departed woman.
“Be still my Betty White,” I said softly.
“What?” he asked without looking up, one corner of his mouth lifting playfully.
I walked forward and stopped at the edge of the bed. “You. Reading. That is probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen a man do.”
His mouth widened and he finally looked up at me, closing the book in his hand and setting it aside. “Clearly you’ve never seen me pole dance.”
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