Book Blitz: Divine and Dateless by Tara West!


Author: Tara West 
Publication date: July 7th 2014
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

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.
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. 
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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