New! I'll Be Home for Christmas by PG Forte

I have a story releasing today as part of the Christmas-themed anthology, Holiday Kisses. My contribution is called I'll Be Home for Christmas and it's a riff on the classic Christmas movie, It's a Wonderful Life.

In n my version, Scout Patterson from my Oberon series is the George Bailey-esque character and Edge (my main angel from Edge of Heaven) steps into the Clarence role. I love writing holiday stories to begin with, and this one was a lot of fun to write--even if I needed to create a spread sheet just to keep track of all the changes that would have taken place in the new alternate timeline.  Here's a little excerpt to show you what I mean:

Blurb:  All Scout wants this holiday season is to get home in time for Christmas. But when your home is in quirky little Oberon, California, nothing is ever that simple. 

 It’s the night before Christmas and Scout Patterson is on her way back to Oberon, until a chance meeting with a meddlesome angel has her dreaming of a weird Christmas—one in which she sees what life in the little town might have been like if she’d never returned.

Excerpt:

It’s not until I get to the school and see the sign on the door wishing everyone a safe and happy holiday that I remember the note that came home last week announcing today’s early closure. Now what? 

 Pausing at the top of the school’s front steps, I consider what to do next and decide to call Lucy. As one of my two closest friends, and Nick’s cousin, she’s the logical person to have picked up Cole—and the most likely to know what’s happened to Nick. When no one picks up at her house either, however, I’m ready to scream in frustration. I stomp down the stairs and back to the car—only to find Edge waiting in the Mustang’s passenger seat. 

“What are you doing here?” I snap, forgetting in my annoyance that it’s his car. If he’s here to take it back, he can damn well drop me off at Lucy’s on his way. 

 “That’s almost funny,” he replies. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

 “I’m just trying to locate my family,” I explain as I open the driver’s door and climb back behind the wheel. 

 “I was afraid of that.” He shakes his head sadly. “You didn’t understand a word I said to you earlier, did you?” 

 Ya think? I grit my teeth to keep from screaming, slam the car in gear and tear away from the curb. “I don’t understand any of this!” 

 “Obviously not. So, where are we headed?” 

There’s that “we” again. “Well, since I can’t reach anyone by phone, we are going to drive to my friend Lucy’s house. Hopefully, Cole’s with her.” 

“If you say so,” Edge answers doubtfully. “But you’ll probably want to stop for gas. It’s an awfully long drive to Arizona.” 

“Who said anything about Arizona?” 

“That’s where Lucy’s spending Christmas this year—with her parents.” 

“No, she’s not.” If that was the plan, I’d know about it. “Her family’s coming here. We’re all having dinner at her house tomorrow.” 

“New life, remember? That was the plan. Was—past tense. Christmas hasn’t had the same meaning for Lucy since the divorce.” 

 “Who’s getting divorced?” “Gotten. Lucy and Dan. Greco-Cavanaugh marriage? Kaput.” 

“You’re out of your mind,” I snarl, practically standing on the accelerator as I power through the deserted intersection. I must be too. Why am I still in the same car with him? 

 “Stop sign,” Edge observes as we fly past it. 

“Never mind the sign. Talk, damn it!” To my surprise, he does. “So, d’you remember how they went through that rough patch a coupla years ago? They worked it out in part because you were here for Lucy to unload on. You took her side, gave her a chance to calm down and reassess the situation. You also located her son when he went missing. When none of that happened, when you weren’t here for her, or for Seth…things got complicated.” 

“What do you mean, ‘it didn’t happen’? Sure, it did.” 

 “Old life, yes. New life, not so much.” Nodding at the rearview mirror, he adds, “I think he wants you to pull over.” 

I glance in the mirror as well and see the lights of the cruiser behind me. “Oh, shit.” I will never hear the end of this. I steer the car to the curb, turn off the engine, close my eyes and wait for the inevitable humiliation. “This day just could not get any better.” 

 Edge chuckles in response. “I know. It’s great, innit?” 

“License and registration.” 

My eyes snap open. I know that voice. “Ryan? Oh, thank God.” I gaze in relief at the big cop who occasionally partners with my husband. “Look, I’m trying to locate Nick, but he’s not answering his phone. Do you happen to know where he is?” 

“License,” Ryan repeats in cool, implacable tones. “And registration.” 

“Better do as he says,” Edge advises as he hands me the required paperwork. 

I take a quick look at the registration and freeze. “Wait. That’s not... What?” This car is registered in my name? And the address listed is the Venice Beach condo I just unloaded? 

 “Is there a problem, ma’am?” 

 Edge nudges my elbow. “Don’t make a fuss. Just say no.” 

“No,” I say, feeling faint. “No problem.” 

Ryan plucks the docs from my hand with a terse, “Wait here.” 

 As he heads back to his car, I turn on Edge. “What did you do? Tell me I did not just hand forged documents to the police!” 

“Of course not.” He has the nerve to sound affronted. “That would be illegal.” 

 “Then tell me what’s happening—the truth, this time.” 

“Do-over remember? I re-set everything in your life to the way it was before you returned to Oberon.” 

“So, this is actually my car—my old car—the one I totaled, the car I owned when I first moved back here?” 

“Now you’re getting it.” 

“Then what’s this nonsense about Lucy being divorced? How is that the way things were before I came back?” Edge drops his head in his hands and groans. “I spoke too soon. No, Scout: your life got re-set. Everyone else’s lives continued the way they would have if you’d never come home.” 

“You’re saying that, in my timeline, Lucy didn’t get divorced; and that was because of me?” 

“That’s an oversimplification, but basically—yes.” 

“And in this timeline, she is divorced, and that’s also because of me?” 

“Again, not entirely because of you, but…” 

“That’s ridiculous!” 

“Everything okay, Ms. Patterson?” Ryan asks, making me jump. I hadn’t noticed him returning. He’s gazing at me suspiciously, still without a trace of recognition. “You haven’t been out celebrating, have you? Do I need to ask you to step out of the car to take a sobriety test?” 

“What? Of course not! You know I’d never drive drunk.” Not after what had happened to Nick. My heart clenches a little as I recall my husband’s accident—the rumors, the accusations, the bitter aftermath. 

“He doesn’t actually know that.” Edge leans in to whisper. “Also, FYI? You’re the only one who can see or hear me. Don’t recall if I’d mentioned that?” 

Perfect. “I’m fine. I promise. I’m just having a really stressful day.” 

“All right, well…I’ll take your word for it,” Ryan replies as he hands back my paperwork—and a citation for the stop sign I’d run. “For now. But don’t make me sorry.” 

I can’t resist making one last appeal. “I don’t know who put you up to this, Ryan, but it really isn’t funny. Please, tell me you know who I am?” 

He pauses, for a moment, studying my face, then shakes his head. “Nope. Sorry.” 

“But you were at my wedding! It was right after you were shot. Come to that, I was at your wedding, too.” 

 “Well, they do say that everyone’s got a twin. You’re obviously confusing me with someone else. I’ve been to my share of weddings, but I’ve never tied the knot myself, and I’ve never been shot.” 

“Never…?” The Ryan I know has been shot several times. If Edge is correct—which I don’t believe—is that my fault too? I turn to ask him, but the seat beside me is empty. I clamp a shaky hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. This can’t be happening. 

The blood’s pounding so loudly in my ears that I almost miss Ryan’s next remarks. “I tell you what, though. I absolutely will remember you after this. And if I run into you again under similar circumstances, I won’t be inclined to let you off so easy. You got that?” I nod in response. “All right then. Happy holidays,” Ryan says as he turns to walk away. “And careful driving.”

Experience the magic of romance this Christmas. Holiday Kisses is a festive collection of eight exclusive Christmas stories that will make you fall head over heels in love. Are you ready to take a journey with us? Get into the Christmas spirit with these swoon-worthy romances this holiday season.

Buy Links: https://books2read.com/u/4jo68X

WiP-It Wednesday for February 24, 2021

 PG Forte: I don't know if I shared this cover yet. This is Angel Mine, a freebie story I'm working on for my Angels in the Afterlife series. I hope to be finished with this story very soon. Meanwhile, here's a small excerpt. 

I don’t believe in destiny or meant-to-be. I don’t even understand the appeal of it, to be honest. The idea that there’s one special someone out there for each of us—seriously, how does anyone not find that depressing as fuck?

Think about it. The universe is so vast, and so timeless; even if your perfect soulmate did exist, how would you even go about finding each other? You could miss each other by centuries, by galaxies, by signing up for the wrong dating app. It’s all such an incredible crapshoot.

Or maybe I’m wrong. I didn’t used to be such a cynic. There was a time, not so long ago, when I was a pretty upbeat guy. But now…could be I just don’t want to believe that something like that is possible. Because now that I’m dead, now that I’ve missed my shot at hooking up with my other half... Okay, wait. I’m telling this badly, aren’t I? Let’s start over.

Hi. My name is Mattie. I’m an angel. And this is my story.

To read more about my angsty angels, and find out what they're up to there in limbo (where men are men and the angels are fallen!) check out their series page here: https://www.pgforte.com/angels-in-the-afterlife

What's in a Name?

 There's always someone making a fuss about something in Romancelandia. This past month's drama involved two authors squabbling over a title. Author A already had a published book with the title, Author B wrote her to say she was planning to release her own book with the same title, and how did Author A feel about that? Author A wrote back to say she was not pleased. Author B announced to the world that she was a little bit afraid of Author A. 

Honestly, I think they both have too much time on their hands if they're worrying about things like that.  Because multiple books with the same title are really not at all unusual. They might even be the rule,  in some cases, rather than the exception. 

In point of fact, I just did a quick search for books with the same title of my first published book, Scent of the Roses (which is not currently in print). I gave up counting after I hit a dozen. I believe most of the thirty or so books I've published have had titles that are not unique. That's just the way things are. For one thing, you can't copyright titles. For another, in general, no one much cares. As an example of just how much it doesn't matter, I'd like to point out that if you write hockey romance, there may just be a requirement that--if you wish to be taken seriously--you absolutely must title one of your books Breakaway. I don't know anything at all about hockey, so I don't know what a breakaway is, or why it's so desperately compelling, but I believe aficionados of hockey romance searching for new-to-them authors could simply do a search for the title and easily find a list of every hockey romance author extant. 

Most authors I know view matching titles as a good excuse for joint promo. OTOH, I have to admit that it does occasionally become awkward. For example, my book Edge of Heaven was released within a week of another book with the same title. The other book was published by Samhain--who published my vampire series. So some readers who knew I had a book coming out with that title, and knew that I worked with Samhain, wrote to me gushing over the gorgeous cover. And I totally agreed: it was a gorgeous cover. In fact, I was quite jealous, because I didn't like my own cover nearly as much!  But there was worse to come. Review sites confused at receiving multiple requests for reviews of the same title, generally assumed there was an error, and only reviewed one. 

My publisher was ecstatic when they received notice that Edge of Heaven had received a Best Pick award at one of the sites they'd sent an ARC to. They made a big deal of it. Congratulated me publicly. Used a review snippet to promote my book. I really hated having to be the one to break it to them that all the applause wasn't for my book.

Eventually, it all got straightened out. And, sometime later, both publishers went out of business and I finally got a cover I really liked for the book. And I'm simply ecstatic about the cover for the not-exactly-a-sequel that is one of my current WIPs. 

The way I look at it, titling books is a lot like naming kids. It has nothing to do with you if some stranger happens to have the good taste to pick the same name you did. It's certainly nothing to get upset about. If it's your sister or best friend who does it, well that might be a little weird. 

It was a reckless act of passion that ended Edge's life and left him in Limbo--literally. Now, he's stuck here. While most of the other angels-in-training move quickly up the celestial ladder, Edge knows it can never be that simple for him. He's dealing with issues that are a lot more complicated than a simple lack of closure.

 

While Edge doesn't know for sure what it will take to get him into Heaven, there is one thing he's certain won't help; that would be his latest assignment guiding angel-baby Matteo Matinucci while the newbie find his wings.

 

But twenty-something Mattie--sexy, beautiful, recently departed and openly gay--could turn out to be the answer to all of Edge's prayers, as well as the fulfillment of all his fantasies, even the hot, sweaty, secret ones he's never confided to anyone.

https://www.pgforte.com/angels-in-the-afterlife

If there was one thing Matteo Matinucci never lacked, it was determination. If he made up his mind to do something, it got done. He never let anything stop him. Not even dying.

 

So when he set his sights on Edge, he knew he'd get his man. How hard could it be to waltz into Limbo, sweep his fellow angel off his feet and return with him to Heaven--where they both belonged? A lot harder than he imagined, apparently.

 

Now Mattie's stuck in a place he doesn't belong, doing the one thing he never dreamed possible: falling in love.

 

Warning: Please be aware that this is not a sequel to Edge of Heaven. This is the side of the story you haven't heard yet. Mattie's side.

Jelly's Not a Cream

So, as you’ve probably guessed by now—thanks to the graphic at the top of the page—today is National Cream Filled Donut Day. Huzzah!

Don’t worry, I didn’t know about this either until I went looking in search of a topic for today’s post. And, to be honest, I wasn’t immediately convinced that it was a topic I could relate to. Cream-filled has never been my go-to donut. Too many times the “cream” is more like cake frosting—which I’m pretty picky about in the first place. And which, even when I do like it, I’d rather enjoy on top of a cake. Where it belongs. 

Inside a donut, on the other hand? Yeah, not so much. Although, obviously, that’s just my opinion. Your mileage may vary. My husband, for example loves chocolate cream filled donuts. And, just so we're clear, he loves chocolate donuts, filled with chocolate cream. With chocolate glaze on top. Of course.

Personally, I've always preferred jelly donuts. I even wrote a poem about them once — way back in my very, very emo teen days. They were a metaphor for something, obviously; I no longer remember what. Heartbreak, perhaps?  No matter. Whatever it was, I’m sure it was highly unoriginal, and as sickeningly sweet as…well, donuts filled with cake frosting. But I digress.

So, there I was, seated at my desk, pondering. Could I write a post about jelly donuts instead of cream-filled? I mean, why not, right? They’re both donuts, they’re both filled…

And that’s when it happened. A little voice spoke up inside my head and said (in a very distinct, partially disguised Aussie accent) “But Jimmy, jelly’s not a cream.”

Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. What the voice actually said (because none of the voices in my head are ever that concise) was:

“And he said to the kid, ‘give me a jelly donut—with cream.’ And the kid looked confused. So, I said: ‘but Jimmy, jelly’s not a cream.’ And I laughed, and the kid laughed. And then he punched me. He punched me real hard, the bastard.”

Which I’m paraphrasing because—shockingly—you can’t actually find that scene on YouTube. But, trust me, it was something very close to that.

The voice, of course, was Nicole Kidman’s and the quote is from Practical Magic—arguably one of the best paranormal romance movies of all time. Well, I would argue it, anyway. And a movie I’ve watched so often that huge portions of the dialogue are now indelibly imprinted on my brain.  All of which led me to the realization that I couldn’t possibly write a blog post about jelly donuts on National Cream Filled Donut Day, because jelly’s not a cream.

Which, of course, brought to mind another movie scene—Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail, explaining how the answer to every question can be found in The Godfather:

“The Godfather is the I Ching. The Godfather is the sum of all wisdom. The Godfather is the answer to any question: 'What should I pack for my summer vacation?' Leave the gun, take the cannoli. 'What day of the week is it?' Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday. ”

Oh and by the way, that scene can be found online, if you’re interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wB8xPnhpzAM

But enough about that. See, this post isn’t really about movies per se. And, unfortunately, as it turns out, it’s not about donuts, either. And, to all the donut aficionados out there who were hoping it was, you have my sincerest apologies. What I ended up marveling over, instead, was how creative works—books, movies, paintings, songs, etc—can worm their way into our consciousness and become part of our shared cultural experience; how they can change the way we think, the way we speak, the way we look at things, the decisions we make. How they can change us.  It’s pretty amazing, actually. Very powerful stuff.

Just this week, for instance, I got a review (for Edge Of Heaven) from a reader who said she had to stop reading several times because she was so moved by my main character’s plight that she couldn’t stop crying. I can’t think of a better compliment for a writer than to be told that something you've created has, miraculously, had that kind of impact on someone.  Stephen King has famously claimed that writing is a form of telepathy. Personally, I think it’s more than that. I think it’s magic.  

By the way, and apropos of absolutely nothing to do with either donuts or movies, I would like to mention that the first few episodes of my lightly-paranormal, haunted hotel/menage story, Truth Or Dare, are available on Radish Fiction. If you like your stories in bite-size pieces, you might want to check it out: https://radishfiction.com/stories/q9eUyeDMw

Bring It Back(list): Edge of Heaven

“People have all sorts of misconceptions about angels. They think we’re perfect. They think we don’t have feelings or emotions or lust after each other’s bodies -- and occasionally after yours as well. That’s nonsense. Of course we do. We’re only human, after all. Or at least some of us were. Once.

My name is Edge. I’m an angel. And this is my story.”

Edge of Heaven was one of those weird book ideas that seem to come from out of nowhere.   Once those opening lines appeared in my head, I couldn’t rest until I’d figured out whole the story.  I’m happy to have it up for sale once again.  

Welcome to the afterlife, where men are men and the angels are fallen.

It was a reckless act of passion that ended Edge's life and left him in Limbo--literally. Now, he's stuck here. While most of the other angels-in-training move quickly up the celestial ladder, Edge knows it can never be that simple for him. He's dealing with issues that are a lot more complicated than a simple lack of closure.

While Edge doesn't know for sure what it will take to get him into Heaven, there is one thing he's certain won't help--his latest assignment guiding angel-baby Matteo Matinucci while the newbie finds his wings.

But twenty-something Mattie--sexy, beautiful, recently departed and openly gay--could turn out to be the answer to all of Edge's prayers, as well as the fulfillment of all his fantasies, even the hot, sweaty, secret ones he's never confided to anyone.

Warning: This book contains angels in the afterlife, a host of heavenly hotties worth falling for, and man on man angel sex--so good, you'll be dying to get some.

Available for purchase at Amazon, Barnes & Noble , iBooks, and Kobo 

Edge of Heaven is told in the first person solely from Edge’s point of view. A friend of mine had put the idea in my head of writing the story again from Mattie’s point of view, but my publisher hated the idea. Now, however, since I'm the publisher, I’m pleased to say that Angel Mine is finally in the works!

You can check that out HERE

Bring It Back(list) with PG Forte

I don’t remember what initially prompted me to write Edge of Heaven—the sexy, m/m story of two angels trapped in limbo. I don’t write a lot of stories in first person, but when I do most of the time what pulls me in is the character’s voice. And Edge (the main character) was no different. Edge...has issues. An “edge” if you will. He’s moody and irreverent. He has secrets, and hang-ups, and a whole closet-full of flaws—most of which he’s in denial about. All of which made him a fabulous character to write. So, I guess, as with most of my books, I wrote it to learn more about the story; to figure out who this nutty guy was, and what he wanted....beyond sex with his angel-in-training, of course. That part was pretty obvious.

One thing I never fell in love with was the cover. So when I got the chance to self-pub the paperback version, I jumped at the chance to change it. It’s still a work in progress, however. I'm still not sure it does the story--or Edge--justice.

Welcome to the afterlife, where men are men and the angels are fallen.

It was a reckless act of passion that ended Edge’s life and left him in Limbo -- literally. Now, he’s stuck here. While most of the other angels-in-training move quickly up the celestial ladder, Edge knows it can never be that simple for him. He’s dealing with issues that are a lot more complicated than a simple lack of closure.

While Edge doesn’t know for sure what it will take to get him into Heaven, there is one thing he’s certain won’t help -- his latest assignment guiding angel-baby Matteo Matinucci while the newbie find his wings.

But twenty-something Mattie -- sexy, beautiful, recently departed, and openly gay -- could turn out to be the answer to all of Edge’s prayers, as well as the fulfillment of all his fantasies, even the hot, sweaty, secret ones he’s never confided to anyone. And by helping to send Mattie to Heaven, Edge just might end up saving both their souls.

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Loose Id

EXCERPT:

“Is this a bad time?” Matteo asks, showing up on my beach unannounced. He’s gazing at me a little uncertainly, and I guess he’s responding to the look of shock on my face. At least I hope I look shocked. It’d beat looking panicked, disgusted, and dismayed, which is closer to how I’m really feeling. New as he is, there’s no way he should have been able to follow me here, so hell yes, it’s a bad time!

“Time doesn’t really exist,” I say, cleverly sidestepping the question. “And good and bad—those are also illusions.”

“I see.” Matt’s brow crinkles up. He looks around curiously. “So what is this place, anyway, Hindu hell?”

“What? Hell? No, it’s not hell, and…why Hindu?”

“Okay, Buddhist maybe. Same basic philosophy, isn’t it? Nothing you see is real. It’s all illusion, and everything’s the same: good and bad, pleasure and pain, action and inaction, blue and green.”

I blink at that last part. Now he’s got my attention. He’s nuts, but he’s got my attention. “Uh…blue and green?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Well, yeah, you know, ’cause that’s how the world looks, right? From a distance?”

I don’t want to do it, but I can’t help laughing. “Cute, pal. But I’m pretty sure the Divine Miss M’s no Buddhist.”

Matteo grins. “My mistake, then.” He points at the log on which I’m sitting. “May I?”

I’d like to say no, but I’d have to have a reason to do that. A good reason I mean, one I’d be willing to admit to. Which I don’t. “Sure. Help yourself.”

It’s a big log, practically a whole tree. There’s plenty of room for us both. At least that’s what I tell myself. Still, it’s an effort to keep from moving away. I want to slide over to the very end to make sure he doesn’t sit right next to me. Which he does. Big surprise, huh? I don’t want to sound like a wuss or anything, but the guy’s clearly got no sense of personal boundaries. He’s sitting so close to me our shoulders are practically touching. I can feel the heat rising from his skin. It’s sensuous, tempting. I have to fight the urge to lean into it.

“So seriously, what is this place?” he asks, surveying the scenery.

I’m kind of wondering about that myself. I mean, I know what I see when I look around me, but I also know it’s a reflection of my own thoughts. None of it is actually real. Does Matteo see what I see? Or is he seeing something else? “What does it look like to you?”

He glances around again. “Somewhere along the West Coast would be my guess. Northern California, Pacific Northwest, something like that.”

“Yeah, that’s how it looks to me too.” I stare out at the ocean. Sunlight dances on the waves. A couple of gulls fly by. Who’s to say what’s real, anyhow? “This is the beach I used to go to as a kid.” I point at the rocky shore. “There are tide pools between those rocks. Man, I used to love messing around down there. And over that way”—I turn and point over his shoulder to that place where the beach ends in a fall of boulders and water laps at the base of the cliff—“is the entrance to a cave. It’s hard to find. You can only reach it at low tide. Sometimes not even then.”

“It seems like all of the best things in life are like that, aren’t they?” His voice is low, suggestive. I feel it in the pit of my stomach.

“Like what?”

“Hard to get.” He’s staring right at me. Our faces are just inches apart. I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes and the fine gold stubble that lines his jaw. My fingers are tingling. It’s like I can already feel the sandpapery texture of his cheek sliding against my open palm. His lips are full, slightly parted. They look soft. They look inviting.

I put my hand in the center of his chest and push. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, lips twitching into a tiny smile. “I swear I’m clean. No drugs, no diseases. Or does that even matter here?”

I shake my head. “It’s none of my concern. And it’s also not what I’m talking about.” My hand is still pressed against his heart. He seems not to mind. I do, but I just can’t seem to move it away. “Tell me how you died.”

And there goes his smile, disappearing in a red-hot instant. He straightens—away from me, away from my hand—and looks out at the water once more. “It was so stupid, you know? So totally senseless.”

Oh crap. There’s an unmistakable tinge of anger in his voice. Eerily familiar, it puts all my nerves on alert. My heart starts pounding. My jaw gets tight. I don’t want to ask it, but it’s my job. I have to know. “What did you do?”

When is a Beach Not a Beach?

When is a beach not a beach? When it's a projection of your thoughts! Or at least that's how it works out in my M/M fantasy story, Edge of Heaven. My main characters are angels (or angels in training, if you like) stuck in Limbo, a place where what you see is what you get...and what you think about is what you see. 

Edge, my viewpoint character (and perpetually bad-tempered angel trainer) has been in Limbo a long, long time--mostly due to the fact that he's really good at ignoring his own issues, but his newest assignment is bringing those issues front and center. In this scene, Edge gets to know his newest trainee a little bit better...

“Is this a bad time?” Matteo asks, showing up on my beach unannounced. He’s gazing at me a little uncertainly, and I guess he’s responding to the look of shock on my face. At least I hope I look shocked. It’d beat looking panicked, disgusted, and dismayed, which is closer to how I’m really feeling. New as he is, there’s no way he should have been able to follow me here, so hell yes, it’s a bad time!

“Time doesn’t really exist,” I say, cleverly sidestepping the question. “And good and bad—those are also illusions.”

“I see.” Matt’s brow crinkles up. He looks around curiously. “So what is this place, anyway, Hindu hell?”

“What? Hell? No, it’s not hell, and…why Hindu?”

“Okay, Buddhist maybe. Same basic philosophy, isn’t it? Nothing you see is real. It’s all illusion, and everything’s the same: good and bad, pleasure and pain, action and inaction, blue and green.”

I blink at that last part. Now he’s got my attention. He’s nuts, but he’s got my attention. “Uh…blue and green?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Well, yeah, you know, ’cause that’s how the world looks, right? From a distance?”

I don’t want to do it, but I can’t help laughing. “Cute, pal. But I’m pretty sure the Divine Miss M’s no Buddhist.”

Matteo grins. “My mistake, then.” He points at the log on which I’m sitting. “May I?”

I’d like to say no, but I’d have to have a reason to do that. A good reason I mean, one I’d be willing to admit to. Which I don’t. “Sure. Help yourself.”

It’s a big log, practically a whole tree. There’s plenty of room for us both. At least that’s what I tell myself. Still, it’s an effort to keep from moving away. I want to slide over to the very end to make sure he doesn’t sit right next to me. Which he does. Big surprise, huh? I don’t want to sound like a wuss or anything, but the guy’s clearly got no sense of personal boundaries. He’s sitting so close to me our shoulders are practically touching. I can feel the heat rising from his skin. It’s sensuous, tempting. I have to fight the urge to lean into it.

“So seriously, what is this place?” he asks, surveying the scenery.

I’m kind of wondering about that myself. I mean, I know what I see when I look around me, but I also know it’s a reflection of my own thoughts. None of it is actually real. Does Matteo see what I see? Or is he seeing something else? “What does it look like to you?”

He glances around again. “Somewhere along the West Coast would be my guess. Northern California, Pacific Northwest, something like that.”

“Yeah, that’s how it looks to me too.” I stare out at the ocean. Sunlight dances on the waves. A couple of gulls fly by. Who’s to say what’s real, anyhow? “This is the beach I used to go to as a kid.” 

I point at the rocky shore. “There are tide pools between those rocks. Man, I used to love messing around down there. And over that way”—I turn and point over his shoulder to that place where the beach ends in a fall of boulders and water laps at the base of the cliff—“is the entrance to a cave. It’s hard to find. You can only reach it at low tide. Sometimes not even then.”

“It seems like all of the best things in life are like that, aren’t they?” His voice is low, suggestive. I feel it in the pit of my stomach.

“Like what?”

“Hard to get.” He’s staring right at me. Our faces are just inches apart. I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes and the fine gold stubble that lines his jaw. My fingers are tingling. It’s like I can already feel the sandpapery texture of his cheek sliding against my open palm. His lips are full, slightly parted. They look soft. They look inviting.

I put my hand in the center of his chest and push. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, lips twitching into a tiny smile. “I swear I’m clean. No drugs, no diseases. Or does that even matter here?”

I shake my head. “It’s none of my concern. And it’s also not what I’m talking about.” My hand is still pressed against his heart. He seems not to mind. I do, but I just can’t seem to move it away. “Tell me how you died.”

And there goes his smile, disappearing in a red-hot instant. He straightens—away from me, away from my hand—and looks out at the water once more. “It was so stupid, you know? So totally senseless.”

Oh crap. There’s an unmistakable tinge of anger in his voice. Eerily familiar, it puts all my nerves on alert. My heart starts pounding. My jaw gets tight. I don’t want to ask it, but it’s my job. I have to know. “What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it was. So tell me about it.”

“Damn car came out of nowhere.”

I blink in surprise. “Car?” Okay, not what I was thinking, then.

Matteo nods. “I was out for my morning run along the beach in Santa Monica. Only it was Saturday and I’d slept in, so it was later in the day than I generally go. On my way back, I noticed the stores along the Promenade were open—which they usually aren’t when I pass them. There was this kiosk with the cutest baby mobile hanging up in it. My best friend and her partner are trying for a baby. It’s been a couple of months, and it hasn’t happened yet. It will, though, you know? I mean, they’ve done all the tests, and there’s no reason it shouldn’t. I wanted to give them something to help keep their spirits up, and this mobile was so perfect I couldn’t resist. I just had to have it. So I crossed the street, and…I was waiting while the sales clerk wrapped it, when it happened.”

“When what happened? I thought you were killed by a car?”

“I was. Driver must have had a heart attack or something. Car jumped the curb and plowed right into us. It was my bad luck that I had my back to it at the time. If I’d had a little more warning, I might have had a chance to get out of the way.”

“You were hit by a car while you were shopping.” It’s not really a question—I’m just trying to wrap my mind around the absurdity of the idea. “While you were buying a gift for your friend’s baby.”

“Yeah. Can you believe it? And now…I’m never even going to see the kid, never know if it’s a boy or a girl or what they name it, who it looks like…”

I nod, but I’m not really listening. To be honest, I’m feeling a little bit jealous. My death was stupid and senseless and largely accidental too. I left stuff unfinished. I left people behind. But there’s one big difference. My death was my own damn fault.

*****

Welcome to the afterlife, where men are men and the angels are fallen.

It was a reckless act of passion that ended Edge’s life and left him in Limbo—literally. Now, he’s stuck here. While most of the other angels-in-training move quickly up the celestial ladder, Edge knows it can never be that simple for him. He’s dealing with issues that are a lot more complicated than a simple lack of closure.

While Edge doesn’t know for sure what it will take to get him into Heaven, there is one thing he’s certain won’t help – his latest assignment guiding angel-baby Matteo Matinucci while the newbie find his wings.

But twenty-something Mattie—sexy, beautiful, recently departed, and openly gay—could turn out to be the answer to all of Edge’s prayers, as well as the fulfillment of all his fantasies, even the hot, sweaty, secret ones he’s never confided to anyone. And by helping to send Mattie to Heaven, Edge just might end up saving both their souls.

Loose Id    |    Amazon    |     Barnes & Noble    |     All Romance ebooks