Graveside Manner
Iris Fairweather arranges flowers for the dead. She is good at it - better than good - and she has spent her whole life pretending she cannot see the cold thing that drifts in behind every funeral spray to collect the one who died.
Look away, her grandmother taught her. Keep your eyes on the flowers. Let it pass.
For twenty-two years, it always passed.
Then, one grey Tuesday, it stops. For her.
His name is Silas. He is four hundred years old, he lingers too long over every death, and he is - by the standards of his profession - catastrophically bad at his job. He has come to carry Iris out of her small warm life above the cemetery gate. There is only one trouble: Iris is the single soul in four centuries who can see him. Who can touch him. Who makes the cold he carries feel, for the first time, dangerously like being alive.
Every collection he fails buys her a little more time. Every stolen hour, he wants another. But Iris's appointed hour is eleven weeks out and closing, and the Registry does not forgive a reaper who lets one get away - it has already sent someone who never has.
To keep her, Silas will have to make a bargain no reaper is meant to survive.
Graveside Manner is a cozy-dark paranormal romance - aching and funny in equal measure, with a soft-hearted reaper, the one woman who can touch him, a slow burn to a single open-door night, and a hard-won, all-the-way-home happily ever after. For readers 18+.
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