Hi everyone. Today I am featuring Laura Daleo's book "My Name is Death." Dive into this Dark Urban Fantasy Paranormal Romance today with a sneak peek, book details, and more. Check it out all below and purchase your copy today. Happy reading :).
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"I am known to some as the Grim Reaper, or the Angel of Death. Death is my preferred name. It's stylish and modern, and it goes well with my Armani suits. I don't have a fascination with robes, scythes, or skeletons, especially when I'm releasing souls."
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My Name is Death
by: Laura Daleo
Genre: Dark Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance
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She exited the store wearing baggy cargo jeans, a graphic retro T-shirt of butterflies, and platform sneakers. She draped the sweater coat over her arm. It seems odd that she would keep
that thing. Apparently, she has some unknown reason for remaining attached to the article of clothing.
Standing before me, she curtsied, and a big smile spread across her face. “Is that better?” she asked.
“Yes, very much. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”
Putting her hand on her stomach, she stated, “I might not be able to keep the food down.”
“I see. Could we have something to drink, or is that out of the question as well?”
“Alcoholic beverages?”
“Nice try, but no. How about a soda?”
“Fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
I ignored the pouty performance as I rose from the bench. “Let’s take a stroll and find a soda shop.”
She giggled. “A stroll?”
In response, I balked. “What’s wrong with stroll?”
“Dude, nobody says that.”
“My name is not Dude. Stroll simply means to walk.”
She swatted my arm. “I know what it means, but the word isn’t hip. You look like you’re in your twenties, but you talk like you’re a hundred years old. By the way, what’s your name? I’m Annalise.”
I bobbed my head in acknowledgment. “Ah, got it. I’ll try to work on my coolness.” I pursed my lips as I pondered telling her my name.
“What, you don’t have a name?”
While we zigzagged down the crowded sidewalk, I avoided eye contact with her. Instead, I gazed at the vibrant buildings and greenery spilling out from balconies. The trot of horse hooves rang in my left ear, and I glanced in their direction. The carriage was full of drunken people toasting their glasses and singing off-key. Her persistent, inquisitive gaze compelled me to respond.
“Yes, I do, but it’s complicated.” I glanced at her. “It will only lead to questions. Once we have our soda, we’ll find a place to sit and talk.”
“Nothing like being all mysterious.”
I dismissed her sarcasm. “You’d think one of these stores would have soda.”
“I hope it isn’t far,” she said, clutching her stomach.
I studied the lines etched into her brow. “Are you in pain again?”
Rather than speaking, she nodded.
After forcing her to stop, I placed my hands on her shoulders. I lowered my head to match her eye level. “Look at me.”
She obeyed.
As I locked eyes with her, I used my gift—not enough to kill her, but enough to block her brain’s communication. In one blink, I altered her perception of pain. She swayed, and her eyes rolled back into her head for a moment before I released her. “Do you feel better now?”
A slow smile crossed her lips, and she laughed out loud. “God, yes. What did you do? No, wait. How did you do it?” She inquired, her eyes widening and darting about in confusion.
“I will explain once we find a quiet spot to talk.” Taking my eyes off of her, I noticed the Sip A Froth sign swaying in the warm breeze.
“That might be what we’re looking for.”
She turned her head in the direction I had indicated. “Either that, or it’s a bar, and bars still serve soda.”
“Indeed, they do.”
As we entered the store, an explosion of colors greeted us. Candy, cookies, salty snacks, hats, sunglasses, mugs, postcards, and T-shirts crowded the small store. The entire back wall featured a massive soda selection, and Annalise rushed straight for it. She held up a bottle as I approached her. “Oh my God, Peanut Butter and Jelly soda!” she exclaimed.
“Sounds unpleasant.”
She laughed out loud. “How about this one? Gross Gus Pimple Pop!”
Curling my lips, I cringed. “Hideous.” I searched the shelves for something normal. “These will do.”
“Frostie Root Beer and King Kong Cola? You’re no fun.”
“Your stomach will thank me.”
She waved me away as she rummaged through the store. A highpitched squeal pierced my eardrums. She ran toward me wearing a lace cloche hat and gold flower sunglasses. She waved a fedora hat and pineapple sunglasses at me. “Oh my God, put these on.”
“What on earth for?”
“Come on. It will be fun, and the photo booth will help us capture our memories.”
“Photo booth?”
“Yes, it’s at the back of the store.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.
My gift had adversely affected her. She was high as a kite. I removed her hand from my arm and pointed to the counter. “Let me buy these first.”
As I brought the fedora hat and pineapple monstrosities to the counter, she pointed to the hat on her head and sunglasses covering her eyes. “These too.” She said with a bounce in her step.
The female clerk announced monotonously, “That’s $83.97.”
“Oh, and do you have a seating area where we can quench our thirst?” I inquired after handing her a hundred-dollar bill.
Annalise groaned and rolled her eyes. “We need to work on your vocabulary.”
Instead, I turned my attention to the clerk behind the counter. She was clearly bored, as she twirled her finger around a strand of hair.
“We do. You go around to the back and take the stairs up to the roof.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s time to take pictures; let’s go!”
I sighed. “Very well.
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BLURB:
My Name Is Death takes the Grim Reaper concept in a creative direction. Put aside the image of a scary, sickle-carrying, robe-clad entity. There are no shortages of Italian suits, velvet neckties, and oxford shoes in Death's wardrobe.
Death encounters a terminally ill young lady, Annalise, during a holiday in New Orleans. As she approaches the afterlife, Death wants to ensure she makes the best of her final moments. It is not long before they become friends.
A peaceful coexistence between angels and humans is what God desires. This plan is contrary to one of God's other sons' belief that angels are far superior to humans.
Devastation begins, and only God knows how it will end.
"Nothing in life is certain except death and taxes. I hold this statement in high regard. Why? There are two possibilities. I could be a tax accountant-borrrinng-or I could be Death. If you guessed the latter, advance to go and collect $200. My name can influence anyone in a room; some say Grim Reaper, others say Angel of Death. I like to call myself Death. It has a pleasant ring and a powerful effect on people. The way "Death" embodies the style and pizazz of my attire, which includes Armani suits, ties, and shoes, influenced my decision to select it as my name. It had never occurred to me to dress in a dark robe, to carry a scythe or an hourglass, or to assume a skeleton physique."
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Laura Daleo
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I was born and raised in sunny San Diego, California. A creative writing class in junior high ignited my passion for storytelling; however, it was Anne Rice who truly inspired me. Her novel, Interview With The Vampire, has become one of the best-selling books of all time and fueled my desire to craft my own vampire legend. In 1996, I created Immortal Kiss, which patiently waited until 2014 for its publication.
At present, my published works include Immortal Kiss, Bound by Blood, The Vow, The Vampire Within, The Soul Collector, The Doll, Once We Were Witches, and My Name Is Death. My current project is an urban fantasy titled The Wolf Experiment.
Here are some fun facts about me: I love enjoying Starbucks coffee while I write. I'm also obsessed with shoes. I have two furry kids named Rose and Cooper. And, of course, I'm a huge fan of all things vampire.
Follow Laura at the Following Links:
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