Today let's welcome back Lisa Medley to the blog today as she shares with us her book Reap & Repent.
Reap & Repent
by Lisa Medley
Don't fear the reaper. Lust after him. REAP & REPENT
Pre-Order 99¢ until March 3! http://amzn.to/1AvrNfb
Urban Fantasy
Romance: Reapers and Demons and Angels and Sex.
Words 84K * 326
pages
Series: The Reaper
Series, Book 1
Exclusively on
AMAZON here: http://amzn.to/1AvrNfb
Reap & Repent blurb
They see death. Can they share a life?
Ruth Scott can read the energy of every person she meets. Then
she meets Deacon Walker. She can see his ice-blue eyes, his black hair, and his
gorgeous face. But this beautiful stranger has no aura.
Deacon is just as unsettled by Ruth—and, having spent more than
two hundred years ushering souls to Purgatory, Deacon is seldom shocked by
anything. As he helps Ruth to understand her true nature, she awakens desires
that he decided long ago a Reaper can’t afford.
A demon invasion forces Deacon to confront the darkness in his
own past even as he fights to save the human souls he’s charged to protect.
When he’s taken captive, his first concern is for Ruth. But Ruth just might be
able to save herself—and the Reaper she can’t live without—if she can learn to
wield her newfound powers.
Excerpt:
PROLOGUE
What does a guy have to do around here to get
some service? Deacon Walker marveled as
he glared at the undulating queue of grotesque reapers in front of him.
For all that’s holy, move
the hell along already.
It had been a long week,
and it wasn’t over yet. He needed to make at least one more pass through the
hospital circuit before he could call it a day. He could already feel the tug of
a freshly departed soul. Again. People were dropping like
flies lately.
He massaged his brow,
trying to soothe his exhausted patience as the line inched forward at a snail’s
pace.
He was worn thin. Over the
past few weeks, three demon soul poachers had popped up in his fair city of
Meridian like poisonous mushrooms after a hard rain.
While it wasn’t unheard of
for one to slip out from Hell every now and then, three was a nightmare.
When it got topside, a
demon’s M.O. was to steal a human body, poach a few souls from the dead and
dying, and then make its merry way back to Hell, taking its host’s soul along
for the ride. The only way to save the souls a poacher was carrying was to
behead the host with a scythe. Not a pretty thing to do, but the poor suckers
were too far gone by then to survive anyway. No human could withstand the
pressures of being ridden by a demon. And it was worth it to save a handful of
souls, not to mention inconveniencing the demon.
Deacon refused to lose any
souls from his territory. At all. So far the score was Deacon, 3. Demons, 0.
As a reaper, carrying souls
to Purgatory for judgment was his job and he wasn’t about to cede his territory
to poachers who used up their hosts like they were disposable Tupperware. So
now, in addition to his normal day job, he also had to keep an eye out for more
demon invaders.
While demons burned through
most human hosts in a matter of days, some in a matter of hours, they had
discovered long ago that under the right circumstances they could ride a reaper.
Of course, they couldn’t just worm their way in like they did with humans—they
had to be invited. But once a deal was struck? They were in.
And reapers? Yeah, they
could hang on for decades inside a reaper. Deacon knew that fact firsthand. His
stomach twisted at the thought, but he shook it off, looking ahead with a heavy
sigh.
Seriously, this line?
Still. Not. Moving?
God, he needed a freakin’
vacation. Extended. He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration as his
mind flipped through postcard-esque locations of reapings past. He snarled at
the thought of New Orleans in summer. He would definitely want to go someplace
cool—cool as in frigid, not hip. He was sick of the heat, and it was only the
beginning of summer in the semitropical Midwest.
Come to think of it, he was
sick of a lot of things.
This place was high on the
list. It was as hot as…well, Hell actually. Or at least what he imagined Hell
to be, although he’d never actually been there. Thank God. Steam rose from
random cracks in the stone floor of the underground station, veiling the place
in a humid sulfur stench.
He pushed forward, finally
making his way to the front to deposit his cargo of souls. He didn’t bother
chatting. In. Out. Move on. It was a motto that served him well.
Mission completed, he
hustled through the crowd, forgoing the bar-side frivolity of some of the more
socially inclined reapers and their small talk about their glory days in the
field or—even better—the missteps of the newest reapers. Newbies often tested
their limits to humorous if not disastrous effect at least once in their early
careers. That was exactly why new reapers had mentors or at least worked in
teams. From all the laughter, he could tell that the stories were good ones. It
didn’t tempt him.
He slapped his palm against
the black granite monolith and flashed out of Purgatory to what he prayed was
his last stop of the day.
Author
Bio:
Lisa has always enjoyed reading about monsters in love and
now she writes about them, because monsters need love too.
She adores beasties of all sorts, fictional as well as real, and has a farm full of them in her Southwest Missouri home, including: one child, one husband, two dogs, two cats, a dozen hens, thousands of Italian bees, and a guinea pig.
She adores beasties of all sorts, fictional as well as real, and has a farm full of them in her Southwest Missouri home, including: one child, one husband, two dogs, two cats, a dozen hens, thousands of Italian bees, and a guinea pig.
She may or may not keep a complete zombie apocalypse bug-out
bag in her trunk at all times, including a machete. Just. In. Case.
