Published: October 17th, 2013
Description:
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 found out 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.
GUEST POST
Hi, it’s great to be here. My name is Lisa Carron and I’m the main character in Boone Brux’s newest book, To Catch Her Death. Let me tell you a little about myself because I have a problem I need some help with. I’m a thirty-five year old mother of three, I’m a widow, and I’m a grim reaper. A year ago my husband died in a car accident and I might have let myself go a bit. Just a little. Anyway, now that I’ve taken a position at Grim Reaper Services I’m trying to find my reaper mojo. That means finding a reaper look that says death and Lisa.
Now if you’ve read To Catch Her Death you know I have a tendency to wear sweats and sweatshirts. Comfort is my motto. So I need something stylish yet comfortable. Here are a few do’s and don’ts that I’ve come up with so far.
First off, this is a classic badass outfit. The boots are durable and whether you’re a vampire or grim reaper, this outfit rocks. My only problem here is that there seems to be a lot of pleather (fake leather), or maybe it’s rubber. I live in Alaska and would either freeze to death in this. And though I like the corset look, restricting my breathing in any way will probably make me pass out. Like I said, I’m a mother of three. I’d probably need a shoe horn and a gallon jar of Vaseline to get into this.
Next! Well, all I can say about this outfit is that I can’t do good work with a wedgie. Enough said.
I like these. Why? Because I can loosen them up if I have too. I could make them bigger at my tights or tighten them up around my calves. Perfect reaping pants. If only they had an elastic waistband.
Now we’re talking. I could do some reaping in this and still stay warm. Plus lots of room to grow (photo above)
I think you’re getting the idea, but let’s do a little comparison just to make it clear:
This, except for the boots, versus this.
This versus this.
This plus this (photo 1 and 2) But not this (photo 3). Definitely not.
Sensible, comfortable, but still screams death!
Thanks for letting me share and remember, I’m watching you.
Lisa Carron
Grim Reaper
About the author:
EXCERPT:
“You’re not welcome here.” He took a step forward and I
slapped my hand against the wall, blocking his path with my arm. If he was a
grim reaper then maybe he couldn’t enter my house until he was invited—like
vampires. “Be gone.”
He smirked. “I’m not a vampire.”
“I know you’re not. There’s no such thing.” I rolled my
eyes, trying to give the impression I hadn’t totally been thinking that. “What
do you want?”
“Give me ten minutes. Then I’ll leave and never bother you
again.”
It sounded too good to be true. “Never ever?”
“I promise.”
He didn’t do any kind of scout’s honor hand gesture, so I
didn’t know if I could completely trust him. “Ten minutes.”
In that amount of time, he could have me sliced up and
vacuum sealed, but what choice did I have. I spun and walked into my kitchen.
The idea of he being a grim reaper was the lesser of two evils made me want to
laugh. Not in a haha, ironic isn’t it
way. But a deeply disturbed things keep
getting weirder and weirder way.
His footsteps followed. I cursed myself. He’d probably
leave big, stupid dirt marks all over my sparkling floor. I scooped up my glass
and turned to face him. My upbringing forced me to offer him a drink. “Would
you like a glass of wine?”
He held up a hand and shook his head. “No, thank you.”
Hmm, very polite—for
a killer. I pulled out the chair and sat, indicating he should do the same.
I sipped slowly, wishing it was something stronger. “Okay, speak.”
He lowered himself into the chair and propped his elbows
on the table, leveling a stare at me. “You are
a grim reaper.”
“So you’ve said.” I took another drink and set down my
glass. “Are we done?”
“Hardly.” He eased back and sized me up, his gaze
narrowing. “All right then, you explain what happened at the Holiday station
this morning.”
I considered giving him Vella’s explanation, but those
reasons sounded even more ridiculous than reaping a soul. I decided to change
tactics. “Let me ask you this. Why do you think I’m a reaper?”
“We recently lost one of our own and you came on our radar
as the next reaper in line.”
“Lost one of your own?” I didn’t like the sound of that at
all. “You mean one of your reapers died?”
He shifted in his chair. “Yes.”
“That’s a bit ironic isn’t it? The angel of death dying.”
He shrugged. “We’re mortal, tools for the greater good of
mankind.”
I refrained from telling him how much of a tool I thought
he was. “Isn’t the grim reaper immortal?”
“You watch too many movies.”
That was true but I didn’t confirm his statement.
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.
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