Boone Brux is today’s guest. She has a fun and hilarious “What’s Your Reaper Name?” Quiz (Come on, you know you wanna know what your reaper name is. The list is full of scary stuff! ;-)) She’s also here to share a bit about her October release, To Catch Her Death. Welcome, Boone!
Hi everyone! I’m so thrilled to be here today to talk about my new book, To Catch Her Death.
The story focuses on Lisa Carron, mother of three and widow. When caught in a minimart robbery, Lisa inadvertently activates her reaper powers. After much ado, she finally decides to accept the role as one of Alaska’s Angels of Death, only to find out her clients will be people who have died in stupid ways. Yeah, she’s not thrilled about that.
I started thinking about what kind of reaper I’d make. Which quickly led me to ask, what would my reaper name be? Maybe I have too much time on my hands, but I came up with this fun chart so we can all have our very own reaper name.
Use the first letter of your first name and the first letter of your second name to find out. I, for example, am The Nefarious Reaper of Diets. Wow, that’s fitting. The only other one more fitting might be The Luscious Reaper of Frostbite since I live in Alaska and am definitely luscious.
I’d love to see what everybody comes up with. Post your reaper so we can all have a good laugh. And don’t forget to check out To Catch Her Death if you want a fun read.
More About To Catch Her Death
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 discovered 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.
“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?”
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.
More About Boone
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.
Boone can be found online here:
Ha! My reaper name is “The Demented Reaper of Menstrual Cramps.” Look out!
So, everyone, what’s yours?
Thank you for guest blogging today, Boone!