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.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
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 may or may not keep a complete zombie apocalypse bug-out bag in her trunk at all times, including a machete. Just. In. Case.
Find Dark Urban Fantasy, Paranormal & SciFi Romances here at my Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/1gMV6Db
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“I want answers. In the hospital, I sensed something about you when we met… Your mother was Mary Scott. Correct? She died in that hospital room while you were there?”
“I didn’t do that. It wasn’t my fault,” she blurted out.
“Okaaay,” he proceeded cautiously. “Did you touch her before you left?”
She considered him, her mouth going dry. She had touched her. She’d given her that final kiss on the forehead.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Ruth couldn’t look at him as she began to realize what all of this might mean. Had her bizarre handicap really killed her father, and now her mother, too?
She was a killer.
“You’re not a killer,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“I thought you couldn’t read minds!” She sobbed, tears choking her throat closed.
It’s my fault. I AM a killer.
“You’re not,” he insisted. “I think you’re a reaper, like me.”
Her heart starting beating faster and her vision started to go blurry around the edges. The whole room sped down a black chute into darkness. She was going to pass out. She was going to pass out with a strange supernatural man in her house.
God help me.