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~Synopsis~
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.
~Buy the Book~
AVAILABLE NOW:
~Review~
“I was sitting there, Rocky next
to me, and thought, I have no family left.
That’s it. The line ends with me. No cousins twice removed. No one. And
then I thought, who’s gonna come to my funeral?
I suppose I might have a friend or two, but what if I outlive them?” His
hand suddenly on my knee stopped me from talking “Gen, in what, sixty years or
hopefully more, your kids and grandkids will be at your funeral. It’ll be an even bigger crowd than today; I
guarantee.” “I’m not having a family, and I don’t want to live that long.”
This is one of the most original and lovingly twisted books
I’ve ever read. The message is so much
deeper than the love story we read about.
It’s one of those books that literally haunts you (no pun
intended). I have poured over writing a
review for weeks, even missed my tour post because I just couldn’t put into
words everything I felt for this story.
All I can say is this; read it. Savor it. And really think
about the story and the characters. Take
the time to connect with them, fall in love with them, and watch how they grow
and change before your eyes. This isn’t
a love story. Well, it is…but it’s more than that. This is a journey. This is about Genevieve finally finding a way
to live her life when all she had thought she lost ends up staring her in the
face. And the humor and grace (most of
the time) in which she handles herself is completely uplifting in the most
heartbreaking ways.
“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.”
**5 Bring Me to Life, Stars**
~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.
~Teasers~
~Meet 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.
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