Meet Genevieve and Ahren in this dark and
sultry tale of love loss!
Publication Date: October 30th
BLURB
My name
is Genevieve Clare, professional mourner, destined to spend my days donning a
black suit and throwing myself on top of caskets for money. Sometimes I mixed
it up and threw myself on top of a willing warm body instead. Finding the right
warm body though, that was a different story.
Excerpt
I approached
Bryce Oskin, with caution, and when I reached his side, he demanded, “Who the
fuck are you?”
Charm and
disarm. Charm and disarm.
“I’m
Genevieve Clare, Mr. Oskin,” I said with a grin. “I believe you hired me to
come to your funeral? Mind if I join you?” I brought my own bag of goodies and
opened a white baker’s box from Brewster’s.
“You some
kind of spooky chick?” he asked, his eyes squinting as he studied me.
If I didn’t
know any better, I’d think he was… sweet on me already. “Kinda, yeah. If by
spooky you mean I get paid to go to funerals, give people a nudge, and check
for a heartbeat. Oh, and I live at Eden Hills. Then yeah, I’m spooky.” I
grabbed a plastic fork and took a bite of amazing cake. It was always amazing,
but today it seemed more amazing than usual.
“There,” I
nodded toward the folder I’d set down on a little table to his side. “I just
need you to sign on the dotted line. And the bag there is from Ruby. But I’m
taking over the goody-bag duties, so tell me what you like and I’ll get it for
you.” I licked my lips and did it seductively because I knew this was a man who
appreciated a woman. Also known as a dirty old man. “Want a bite?”
“You gonna
tell that Nazi Nurse Ratchet on me?” He jerked his head toward Cheryl.
“Are you
gonna drop dead from half a slice of cake?” I countered.
“Nope.”
“Then I think
this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Mr. Oskin. I visit once a week,
unless I have a funeral, usually on Tuesday or Wednesday. I always bring cake
for my clients. If there’s something you don’t like, just tell me. But I
usually bring a selection.”
“You do this
every week?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.
“What do you
mean?”
“You eat like
that every week? When you see other clients?” His eyes slid up and down the
length of my body.
“I have a
high metabolism.” I smiled. It really was a miracle I wasn’t as big as a house.
But my sweet tooth was limited to sharing with clients. I had to give myself
some sort of boundaries.
He grabbed
the plastic fork I’d handed him and stabbed the slice of Meyer lemon cake with
vanilla bean cream cheese frosting. His eyes closed, and when they opened, he
said, “God bless you.” After a few more bites, he asked, “So, you’re gonna open
up my box and poke me before they burn me, right?”
“Yes, sir,
I’ll make sure you’re good and dead.”
“Spooky
chick.” His tone was gruff, but his lip tipped up in the corner.
I saw it with
pride. Disarmament, accomplished.
Bryce Oskin
had ordered the Shake N Bake. I had permission from most of the mortuaries and
crematories to open the casket and check the body. I mean, you could just tell
when someone was dead. By the time I had my turn with the deceased, they were
most likely already embalmed. But some of them chose not to be, or if they
were, they hired me to come to their place of death and make damn sure there
was no chance in hell they were coming back to life.
A while back,
there was a highly publicized case in Southern California. A woman had been
pronounced dead and taken to the hospital morgue. But when they opened the
fridge for her to be transported to the funeral home, they saw obvious signs of
a struggle. She’d been put in there alive.
Yikes.
I’d never
been afraid of death, and, after my family died and the man I loved almost had,
I embraced death in my own strange way. I made it my life’s work, I guess.
While it took a lot to creep me out, that story gave me the heebie-jeebies
something fierce. It was all over the news. Every staff member from the
hospital to the morgue was investigated then sued or fired or both. And, of
course, old people sitting in the common room of a rest home from the wee a.m.
hours to beddy-bye time, saw that story six times in one day, minimum. I ended
up receiving so many requests to make sure they weren’t breathing, I added the
Shake N Bake to my website.
My Review
The
Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare is about Genevieve Clare, a
professional mourner. She goes to
funerals, and makes money while doing it.
She goes through the death of her
parents and grandmother, leaving her alone with out any family left. She has a run in with a former love, Ahearn,
and Genevieve has to decide whether pushing him away is worth it.
This
book was great! It was refreshing and
totally not what I was expecting. A
little quirky, and odd in some places and definitely not like anything that is
out there right now. I haven’t read
anything by Hartnett before, but she is a definite story teller. The story flow was great, and I couldn’t wait
to find out what was going to happen next.
Taking
you through all of the feels by the time you are done, you won’t regret picking
up this book!
4
stars!
“I’ll share your smile,
your laughter, your generosity, and your friendship, but I won’t share your
body, and I won’t share your heart.”
ꘜ
ꘜ
ꘜ
About the Author
Julie is a Southern
California native, a fan of a really good story (preferably romance with a
happily ever after), really good pie (preferably pumpkin) and copious amounts
of coffee (preferably Folgers).
She has always
enjoyed writing and at one time thought she could be a singer songwriter...the
'writer' part is the one that stuck.
Julie is obsessed
with pi...the equation(and the food). She's allergic to cats and cantaloupe and
hates mushrooms...so if you ever want to give her a gift, those are out for
sure.She currently lives with her own romance hero husband and two boys in
Melbourne, Australia.
GIVEAWAY
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