Divine and Dateless by Tara West
Publication date: July 7th 2014
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Synopsis:

Good girls go to Heaven. Bad girls go all the way...

What can be worse than electrocuting yourself while getting ready for your Internet date? Realizing the hot stud you’ve been fondling is the grim reaper? Being chased by a sex-crazed bloated, naked corpse?

How about an eternity of more bad hair days and horrific dates?  Or lusting after the one guy in all the afterlife whose hydrophobia rivals his fear of commitment?

Yeah, that’s a whole lot worse.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22543639-divine-and-dateless

Purchase:

Will be found here come release day:

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BLURB:

Divine and Dateless by Tara West

Good girls go to Heaven. Bad girls go all the way...

What can be worse than electrocuting yourself while getting ready for your Internet date? Realizing the hot stud you’ve been fondling is the grim reaper? Being chased by a sex-crazed bloated, naked corpse?

How about an eternity of more bad hair days and horrific dates?  Or lusting after the one guy in all the afterlife whose hydrophobia rivals his fear of commitment?

Yeah, that’s a whole lot worse.

SAMPLE SCENES:

SCENE ONE:

     The unremitting knocking turned into all-out banging.

     Damn, Roger! As if I don't have enough problems with my neighbors.

     I was so aggravated, I didn't even bother to check the peephole before jerking open the door.

     "Is that really necessary?" I growled before I got a good look at him. But then I did get a good look at my date, and my jaw practically hit the floor. Wow, he looked nothing like his profile picture.

     Tall. Check.

     Wavy, dark hair, and a strong jawline. Check.

     Impossibly blue eyes. Check.

     Broad shoulders and rippling, tanned muscles. Double-check.

     I did my best to strike a casual pose as I leaned against the doorframe, but I feared I would melt all over the floor in a puddle of lust instead.

     Mister, you can bang down my door any time.

     He arched a dark brow while eyeing me with a smirk. "Ashley MacLeod?"

     "Everyone calls me Ash, but yeah. So sorry. I wasn't expecting you for another half hour. I had a bit of a blow-dryer accident." I smoothed an errant lock of frizz behind my ear. "I'm not ready."

     "They never are." He laughed.

     And just like that, a bubble burst in my chest. I should have figured him for a Casanova. I was sure he went out with a different girl every weekend. Then again, judging by the confident tilt of his chin and the way those stone-washed jeans clung to his thick legs (and that bulge beneath his zipper), I was fairly certain each of his dates ended in mind-blowing sex. I was also thinking I wanted to end our date the same way, because Casanova or not, I was getting tired of buying batteries.

     "Right." I pushed back another strand of hair, which immediately popped out of place. "Maybe you should wait in the downstairs lobby. There's a soda machine. Don't drink the coffee. It's usually a few days old." I took a step back and prepared to close the door.

     "I've got a schedule to keep."

     I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard a hint of a southern drawl, which didn't make a lot of sense because I was almost positive Roger's profile said he'd lived in Seattle his whole life. Casanova blocked the door with his foot, stepped forward, and practically filled the entire doorway with his frame.

     That's when it hit me. Roger's profile said five-foot-ten, one hundred and eighty-five pounds, brown eyes, and pale skin. A dentist, he spent most of his days indoors and his pastimes included going to the movies and playing fantasy football. But this guy hogging my doorway could have played real football as a linebacker.

     I pointed an accusatory finger. "You look nothing like your profile."

     He pushed past me, frowning as he surveyed my cramped apartment. "What were you expecting? Hood and cape and a giant scythe?"

     "A what?" I felt suddenly self-conscious as he eyed my small kitchen table and even smaller fridge. Like Roger, I might have lied on my profile, too. I might have put that I was a defense attorney and not a law-school dropout barely making a livable wage as a legal secretary.

     He shrugged. "It was a joke."

     "Can I fix you a drink?" I did a mental count of how many diet sodas I had left in my fridge. Probably not enough to last until payday. Luckily, Roger looked more like a water guy, and I had plenty of free tap on hand.

     "No, ma'am. I told you, I've got a schedule to keep."

     Oh, yeah, the southern drawl was coming across much thicker now, coating my senses like warm butter and sending a jolt of hormonal lust straight to my lady parts. I crossed one leg over the other, silently chastising myself for getting all hot and bothered by this guy when I didn't even know who he was. I was certain of one thing: he was a far cry from a meek, pale-faced dentist.

     I narrowed my eyes and tilted my chin, trying to force myself to stop thinking about those tight, stone-washed jeans. "You're not a dentist."

     He laughed. "No, ma'am."

     I wasn’t fluent in southern speak, but I was fairly certain ma'am was a term reserved for older women. As if my frizzy hair wasn't making me self-conscious enough, now he was calling me an old lady. That's when I realized I still hadn't applied fine-line minimizer and foundation. I really wished Roger, or whoever he was, hadn't shown up so soon. And I really wished he'd go downstairs and wait in the lobby while I made myself look more presentable, and hopefully younger.

     "And you're not from here, are you?"

     He crossed one beefy arm over the other. "Born and raised in Texas."

     "That explains the sexy accent." I mentally smacked myself upside the head. This was what happened when I got nervous. I said the first thing on my mind without wondering if I should have said it.

     "Are you flirting with me, Ashley MacLeod?"

     I loved the way my name rolled off his tongue like warm chocolate sauce melting all over vanilla ice cream. Mmm. I was suddenly in the mood for a hot-fudge sundae. I had a vision of me lapping ice cream and chocolate sauce off his abs, which I suspected were as rock hard as the rest of him.

    

SCENE TWO:

     "Come on, let's go. I've got a heart-attack victim waiting."

     "Heart attack?" I gasped. "So you're a doctor?" Maybe his profile said oncologist and I'd read it wrong. Even so, if he did have heart attack patient, what was he doing going on a date when he should have been saving this person's life?

     "A doctor?" He chuckled. "No, I'm a Grim."

     "Excuse me?"

     "Angel of Death, Grim Reaper, Gabriel, Yama, Azrael, depending on your religion."

     Shit! Fake Roger is a weirdo.

     I should have known. Despite being raised in a very religious household, I’d started to question whether there even was a God. Because if there was a God, surely he wouldn't have deprived me of sex with a real person for a year only to have set me up with the world's hottest psychopath. "This is a joke, right?"

     Fake Roger, or Grim, or whoever the hell he was, scrunched up his handsome features and looked at me as if I'd just sprouted an arm out of the top of my head. "Have you seen yourself?"

     "I know." I pushed back a wiry strand of hair that had slipped out of its headband. "I think I can fix this with a little conditioner and mousse. Excuse me."

      I turned on my heel and ran straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Letting out a shaky breath, I stared at the warped wooden door. I didn't know why I was expecting Fake Roger to bang it down with a machete, but the guy was creeping me out. What the hell had that been about? Where had this guy come from, and where was Roger?

     The Angel of Death? Really?

     Then it hit me. This guy might actually be a genuine serial killer. One thing was for sure, he was delusional if he thought he was the Grim Reaper.

     I stood at the door for several seconds. When my arms and legs got this tingly, weightless feeling, I realized it must be from fear. Then I remembered my cellphone. I had set it on the counter right before I got shocked. 

     I backed away from the door and spun around. That’s when I nearly tripped over my head.

     My head!

     My body was on the floor, my hair was fanned out in a wild mess, and my lifeless eyes were staring up at the ceiling. But wait. What was I doing down there when I was also up here?

     I caught a glimpse of my reflection, or what was left of my reflection, in the mirror. The woman looking back at me was so pale she was translucent. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?

     Oh-my-freaking-God!

     Panic seized me, and the only thing I knew to do was scream. I screamed at the woman in the mirror. I screamed at the corpse on the floor. I screamed and screamed until I thought my throat would turn raw. And though my brain was barely functioning, I knew Fake Roger was the Grim, and I was dead. 

SCENE THREE – SPICY:

     “Do you want to pick up where we left off earlier this evening?”

     The rusty wheels churning in my brain came to a screeching halt. “Huh?”

     He scooted over and pulled up his knee. A soft sigh escaped my lips as he grazed that sensitive juncture between my thighs. That’s when I realized my legs had somehow fallen open. Holy fuck! When did that happen? It was as if my inner-whore had taken over, robbing me of all sense of reason.

     “We shared a kiss,” he said as he shifted his knee again, rubbing more moisture into my already soaking panties. “Do you want another?”

     “Yes,” I rasped before jerking my head up. “No!” I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

     What the hell was the matter with me? This hot stud so obviously wanted to fuck. I so obviously needed to fuck. I was a total idiot for turning him away.

     Luckily for my starved libido, he wasn’t so easily deterred. “We’ll take it slow if you like,” he said as one corner of his mouth hitched up in an impossibly sexy grin. 

“I’ll do anything you want, Ash.” His eyebrows dipped beneath the shadow of his thick hair as he clasped my hand in his. “Anything.”

     When he brought my palm to his lips, trailing delicate kisses across my skin, I was done for. Sweet Hell on fire, I’d never been so turned on by a man before. Never. 

     The heat from his virile body encompassed me as he leaned closer. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I let his musky scent permeate my last thread of resistance and sink into my skin.

     “Taste me,” he breathed against my lips.

     And so I did, just one little nibble on his lower lip. Then another. When his tongue darted into my mouth, I opened to him, and he poured his warmth into me.

     He tasted different than the first time we’d kissed, not bitter, not rough, but sweet, like chocolate cheesecake. Somewhere in the recesses of my hazy mind, I was reminded this man was not the same man I’d kissed earlier. This man was not even real, but hot damn, he sure was a fine kisser.  

     My legs spread like melted butter as his hand grazed inside of my thigh. I moaned into his mouth when he hitched up the flimsy fabric of my skirt and slipped a finger beneath the hem of my panties. He slid them off with ease, and I was vaguely aware of them falling to the floor. That’s when I wiggled my toes and felt nothing but air beneath me.  

     “We’re floating,” I gasped, reluctant though I was to break the kiss. 

     “It’s easier to undress you this way.” He slipped my little dress over my head before deftly unclasping my bra and tossing it to the floor. I was totally naked now, exposed and vulnerable, pinned beneath his big, virile body, floating somewhere under the rafters on a cloud of lust, and not caring one bit about my safety.

SCENE FOUR - SPICY:

     He looked down at my finger, which was somehow still poking, or maybe stroking, his chest. "I thought you didn’t like me."

     "I don’t," I said as I flattened my hand. Even through his thick coat and stiff shirt, I could feel his heart beating. It was pounding pretty fast for a dead guy. 

     Frowning, Grim grasped my hand in his. "I can’t blame you. Not after what I did to you." 

     Wow. Was Grim apologizing for leaving me high and dry after that grope fest? Actually, though I appreciated his sudden remorse, it was killing my mood. Horny and awkward didn't go so well together.

     "What do you mean?" Feigning innocence, I batted my lashes and licked my lower lip.

     His mouth set in a hard line as he squeezed my hand tighter. "I promised you your afterlife would be better than the life you left behind."

     It took me a moment to process what he was saying, but then I vaguely recalled the promise he'd made to me on the night I died. Really? Was that what the guy was hung up about?

     I shook my head, laughing, trying to infuse some humor into the situation. "You didn’t know I’d get kicked out of Heaven."

     The shadows in his eyes darkened. "I don’t like breaking my promises, Ash."

     "Well, you don’t have to worry, because I’m not going to hold you to it." 

     He let go of my hand. "That's not the point." Just great. Mr. Love 'Em and Leave 'Em had picked a hell of a time to have a conscience.

     Then it hit me. The chocolate and flowers wasn't a romantic gesture. It was an apology. Duh. Well, didn't I feel like eternity's biggest fool? I scooted away, needing to put distance between us. "Is that why you’re bringing me presents? Because of a promise? This attention you’re giving me is all out of pity?"

     He moved toward me. "No." 

     Pouting, I crossed my arms, which was kind of hard with torpedo tits in the way. "Then why are you here?"

     Grim didn't give me time to react as he pulled me against his hard chest and his lips came crashing down on mine. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I should have protested, but my traitorous body melted into that kiss. He tasted like warm spice and cool mint, his own personal blend of Heaven.   

     "That’s why," he breathed into my mouth before capturing my lips again.

     I had no idea how long that kiss lasted. Five minutes. Ten. It could have lasted an eternity, and it wouldn't have been long enough. He stroked down my back before cupping my ass in his strong hands. I moaned as he squeezed and then massaged my globes. He lifted me until I straddled his leg, and then he began grinding a knee into my sweet spot. Oh, heavenly Father, I could have come right then and there.

SCENE FIVE – SPICY:

     When I finally reached my bathroom at the end of the hall, I noticed light spilling from beneath the heavy oak door. I tensed when I heard the sound of running water. Hey! Boner had said this was the girls' bathroom. Whoever was in there was trespassing! Just as I was about to bang on the door and give the violator a piece of my mind, it swung open, light and steam pouring out.

     And then, sweet mercy, I'd found a secret portal to Heaven! The muscular and tattooed male standing before me, wearing nothing but a small bath towel draped low across his hips, had to have been a valet. He was too sexy to be anything other than a fantasy fuck. I couldn't help but let my gaze travel the length of his glistening, bronzed body. If at all possible, the metallic, prosthetic leg attached to his knee made him even more attractive.

     I knew this had to be Sarge, the Afghanistan war hero Boner told me about. I squeezed my thighs tight as a trill of desire swept through me. I used to think there was nothing hotter than a man in uniform. But seeing this particular soldier out of his uniform set a new standard for stud.

     My gaze traveled back up the length of his body, lingering on his corded abs and thick chest before I looked into his large Latin eyes, which were a rich, golden brown framed by thick lashes. It was the intensity beneath those eyes that had my heart going thumpity thump thump.

     "What's up?" He ran a hand across his closely shaven head. "You must be the new recruit. MacLeod, right?"

     My mouth hung open so low, I could have caught a fist-full of flies. Good thing Basil said there weren't any in Purgatory. "Yeah."

     He went rigid as he spoke with a deep, rhythmical baritone. "Sergeant Santiago Sanchez. You can call me Sarge. They say your aura projects thirteen levels and you just died." He frowned as his gaze fell to the hem of my old lady nightgown and back up to my frizzy roots. Oh, what I wouldn't have given for my silk Victoria's Secret nightie and a bottle of hair gel.

     "I guess so," I answered and then mentally kicked myself in the ass. What a lame answer. Why did cute guys always bring out my stupid?

     "Hope you don't mind sharing a bathroom with me." He nodded at the shower behind him, the shower where he was just lathering up that glorious naked body. "The men's bathroom always smells like Crow’s hemorrhoid cream. You know how old men are," he said with a wink.

     Yeah. I just fucked one last night, I wanted to answer, and then felt like a ten-pound bucket of dog shit for even thinking it. Grim may have died a long time ago, but he sure as hell didn't have the body, or the stamina, of an old man.

     Rather than laugh at Sarge's joke, or do anything remotely flirty or attractive, I gaped at his gleaming muscles, wondering what those few errant water droplets suspended above his naval tasted like. 

     "Cat got your tongue, MacLeod?"

     I sucked in a sharp breath as I forced myself to snap out of my trance. He'd softened his stance and was leaning against the door frame with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

     "No." I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. "It's just, you're naked."

     His deep, throaty chuckle reverberated through me like a gong, banging loud and clear on that sweet little bundle of nerves between my thighs.

     "Naked? I’m not naked." He peered down at his fingers clutching one bunched-up side of fabric. "Now if I let go of this towel, then I'd be naked."

     I watched with fascination as he released two fingers, and then another. 

     "Please don't let it go."

     I knew I should have bolted when I saw the predatory gleam in his eyes, but he’d already placed me under his seductive spell. Taking a step forward, he leaned so close I could feel the heat from his skin. The woodsy scent of his masculine body wash was enough to make me want to rip that towel from him myself.

      

AUTHOR BIO

Tara West writes books about dragons, witches, and handsome heroes while eating chocolate, lots and lots of chocolate. She's willing to share her dragons, witches and heroes. Keep your hands off her chocolate.

Tara West's young adult and new adult romances have been Kindle bestsellers. A former high school English teacher, Tara is now a full-time writer and graphic artist. She enjoys spending time with her family, interacting with her fans, and fishing the Texas coast.
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