Paranormal romance is my favorite genre to read. I love the different worlds and creatures. Each one is unique and features compelling characters, vampires, shifters, ghosts and so much more.
Never Fear the Reaper is the first of a trilogy about a girl who has faced death and come away stronger. The second book comes out later this year and continues the tale of Chase and Ryder.
In a world filled with darkness…
Can true love spark just enough light to save it?
When Chase hires the mysterious ghost exterminator, Ryder, to cleanse his house from a pesky poltergeist he gets way more than he’s paying her for…
There’s just something about Ryder that has him mesmerized.
Is it the fact that he’s witnessed her do the unexplainable? Or the fact that she’s absolutely breathtaking? Or perhaps it’s that eerie familiar feeling that they’ve met before, perhaps in another lifetime.
Chase desperately tags along with Ryder on a whirlwind of life threatening adventures in exchange for a few precious moments of alone time with her. With the Grimm Reaper’s Scythe as their defense, Chase developing some supernatural gifts of his own and an intense crush developing between the both of them what crazy supernatural force will target them next?
Suddenly, from behind me, a calm, raspy voice breaks the silence. “Are you Chase? I’m Ryder,” she asks rather firmly, extending her long fingers for a professional handshake.
Oh God, please don’t be her, please don’t be her, please don’t be her, I repeat over and over again to myself. This girl is too young and far too beautiful to be a ghost hunter. Inconveniently, she is literally my definition of perfection, dressed all in black. Long, dark brown hair, perfect bronze skin, bright green eyes that are surrounded with the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, a gorgeous pearl-white smile, and a slim yet slightly muscular build. I can’t help but let her catch me looking her up and down. Her appearance makes me even more uncomfortable with my situation. I even notice a colorful, feathery angel-wing tattoo that creeps down her left arm, which is ironic, given her profession. Come on, this girl is too petite and undeveloped to be doing a fierce job like this.
She smirks in response before I can conjure up an excuse for my gawking.
“Not at all what you expected, huh,” she says, while gesturing to the hostess with two of her fingers.
“Honestly, no you’re not…not really.” I figure it’s better to be honest with her right now. Finally, I build up enough courage to return her handshake. I’m embarrassed when my clammy palm touches her soft, cool skin.
As we follow the hostess to a booth at the far end of the dining area, she responds, “Don’t worry, no one ever does. They expect some older, more spiritual looking woman who’s all decked out in crucifixes.”
Gator Girl Extraordinaire