| Author: | Virginia Flowers | ISBN: | 9781476288796 |
| Publisher: | Virginia Flowers | Publication: | May 11, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Virginia Flowers |
| ISBN: | 9781476288796 |
| Publisher: | Virginia Flowers |
| Publication: | May 11, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
An erotic comedy!
All he wanted to do was meet a girl, get drunk, get screwed and have a great time. But the universe seems to have other plans, and when Death comes calling, he'll have to face his final act, and the possibility that his just rewards won't involve fluffy clouds and angelic harps. But what exactly does Lucy have planned for him, anyways?
Excerpt from Dark Angel:
He was standing in front of me wearing the most ridiculous fucking black robes. I mean damn, I kept wondering if the guy was going to one of those science fiction or comic book conventions or something. The mask was a nice touch, he really looked like his face was skeletal, and he was holding a prosthetic limb out of his robe’s arm so it looked like his hand was all bone as well. Those fake bony fingers were holding a piece of parchment that trailed down to the ground. His other hand held a large scythe.
“Because clearly your situation is bolloxed up.”
“Are you dressed for a convention?”
It was cool how those empty eye sockets could light up red. I was beginning to think the skull was a prosthetic as well, and he was a very short man under those robes, running the whole rig like an oversized puppet. He probably had a voice synthesizer to give him that robust baritone sound that seemed to trail off into a sepulchral gurgling at the end of his sentences.
“I am death.” Gurgle, gurgle.
An erotic comedy!
All he wanted to do was meet a girl, get drunk, get screwed and have a great time. But the universe seems to have other plans, and when Death comes calling, he'll have to face his final act, and the possibility that his just rewards won't involve fluffy clouds and angelic harps. But what exactly does Lucy have planned for him, anyways?
Excerpt from Dark Angel:
He was standing in front of me wearing the most ridiculous fucking black robes. I mean damn, I kept wondering if the guy was going to one of those science fiction or comic book conventions or something. The mask was a nice touch, he really looked like his face was skeletal, and he was holding a prosthetic limb out of his robe’s arm so it looked like his hand was all bone as well. Those fake bony fingers were holding a piece of parchment that trailed down to the ground. His other hand held a large scythe.
“Because clearly your situation is bolloxed up.”
“Are you dressed for a convention?”
It was cool how those empty eye sockets could light up red. I was beginning to think the skull was a prosthetic as well, and he was a very short man under those robes, running the whole rig like an oversized puppet. He probably had a voice synthesizer to give him that robust baritone sound that seemed to trail off into a sepulchral gurgling at the end of his sentences.
“I am death.” Gurgle, gurgle.
