A Halloween to Remember
As a former paranormal investigator, I’ve spent a few nights roaming around in the darkness searching for signs of something or someone speaking beyond the grave. From a very young age, I believed that perhaps there was something more than just poofing out of existence after we died, like we were candles caught in an errant breeze.
When I was little more than four, my mother woke late in the night, weeping because she claimed my father had died. My aunt, our neighbor at the time, told her to go back to sleep and stop being silly. When word came in the morning that he’d indeed died in a car accident, perhaps she seemed a bit less silly.
My own experience was a bit similar. I woke at a little after one in the morning as a teenager, sure I heard my name called. My dear high school friend still has the note as far as I know that I wrote telling her about it the next day. She advised I give the voice a phone call (I recognized it) when I got home from school. I got home to find out that the person I’d heard died right when I heard their voice.
Eerie? Sure, but it almost felt like proof to me. Something to cling to when mortality felt like a weight and I had those scared moments everyone has of questioning what would happen when I croaked.
Perhaps this evidence drove me into my fascination with life after death. Whatever the reason, Dom of the Dead will always be a story that’s particularly close to me. I’ve received, since its release, more emails about that book than any other that I’ve written. Most start off by saying they couldn’t figure out how I’d make sex between a ghost and a living woman work—which, if that intrigues you enough for you to read, awesome.
I’ve been honored to find that few leave my book with that as their experience. Although it’s a very sexy story (Randall was a dominant man in live and the grave didn’t change that character trait in the least), Dom of the Dead wasn’t a story strictly about the smashing of tab A against slot B. For me, it was a story about grief, second chances, and living every single moment to the fullest.
Halloween is a season of ghosts and ghouls and things that go bump…and sometimes grind in the night. It’s a season of playing pretend, of getting treats, and sometimes playing tricks. I love the costume element of the holiday, since most of us spend our lives pretending. We act out the roles we’re assigned, doing everything just like we’re supposed to and not taking risks. For one night of the year, we can put on a costume and leave those roles behind. We can be a princess, a slut, a monster…and we can live out all the fantasies we’re afraid to try on any other day.
Randall and Carson experience something very similar. What if you wasted all of your chances, didn’t take the risks…and you’d run out of time? What if you were offered a second chance, a way to fix your mistakes? You’ll have to read the book to see what they do with their chance. ;) I hope all of you have a Halloween to remember!!
Dom of the Dead
She couldn’t imagine living without him.
After Carson Black’s longtime crush and best friend, Randall Stokes, dies in a motorcycle accident, she openly weeps at his funeral. In the ensuing days and weeks of inconsolable grief, she hears his voice, smells his scent, feels his desires. She must be going mad.
He was afraid to demand what he needed.
Dominant Randall Stokes loves Carson but never expressed it while alive, never daring to dream the sweet girl next door could be the submissive he needed to find satisfaction. But after his death, a much clearer perspective of her needs, wants, and desires emerges.
A ghost of a chance…
Is it too late to have what they’ve both longed for?
Dom of the Dead
What Readers are saying:
“These are two best friends who finally realize that their love can transcend their friendship and in this case even the grave. ” -Sheri Vidal
“I can't remember the last time I read a book so fast. ” - JoAnne Kenrick
“Dom of the Dead by Virginia Nelson is an epic story that deals with heart breaking loss, and makes you face the fact that you have to make the most of the time you have.” – Asher Rae
About the Author:
Virginia Nelson spends her days chasing three very active kids around. When she is not doing this, or plotting taking over the world, she likes to write, play in the mud, drive far too fast and scream at inanimate objects. She can often be found listening to music that is far too loud and typing her next fantastic tale of blood, sex and random acts of ineptitude. Romance, in Ms. Nelson’s opinion, is not about riding off into the sunset on the back of a horse with the knight in shining armor— it is about riding the dragon. If the knight can keep up… well, that is love.
Email: firstname.lastname@example.org [For contact purposes only. Please Don’t Publish Email Address]
Enjoy the following excerpt for Dom of the Dead:
“Don’t make me punish you, Carson.”
Her legs shook at the snapped command. She fought dueling emotions—one part of her trembling in desire, the other mad…because, now? When he was dead and gone?
“What are you going to do? You’re a ghost. I knew what you were when you were alive, Randall. Yet not once—never—did you ever make one sexual move toward me. Always the white knight. Always the friend. Why would that change now that you’re pushing up daisies?”
A blast of warm wind picked her up, almost slamming her into the wall. The spectral gust pinned her hands above her head as if held by invisible cuffs and spread her legs open to the humid air. She fought down a wave of unbridled lust.
“When I was alive, I worried my desires would scare you. I worried that what I wanted would disgust you, ruin our friendship.”
She panted, breasts rising and falling with each inhalation. A cool feeling, like ice being rubbed against her, zinged awareness and pleasure through her, but she bit her lip to stay silent, waiting for his next move.
“I know what you want. You want me to take the control away from you….”
Held on the wall by invisible handcuffs, she didn’t care whether her imagination provided this fantasy or if a ghost toyed with her body. Wet, throbbing need between her legs demanded she hang on his every word.
The voice came from the air next to her ear. “Now I have nothing to lose.”