Your Horror For The Holidays
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Meet Meredith Kriesmas, forensic accountant who sharpens numbers the way killers sharpen knives—Chicago’s very own Grim Reaper of the business world. Whole divisions close in her wake, and her clients pay handsomely for it. But ten minutes into a three-day weekend, Merri craves a new job to sink her teeth into.
A call from an old friend saves Merri’s sanity. Can she visit the winter wonderland at Cozy TV studios—known for its heart-warming holiday movies—and take a look at the books? Horror movie mill Slasher Corp just bought the studio—and Cozy might not make it to the final credits.
Merri must dodge the mistletoe, dismember the finances, and disappear before dawn—all while avoiding the Cozy Curse, where no one gets off set single.
No problem there. For Merri, business always comes first. At least, until she meets hot horror hipster CEO Seth Morana, and uncovers the secret he hides…
A sensual stand-alone paranormal romance for everyone who believes people should be loved exactly as they are.
🖤 Chicago’s Very Own Grinch
🖤 Neon Goths
🖤 Hades & Persephone
🖤 The Shy One Loves The Loud One
🖤 Meet Me Under The Mistletoe Hemiparasitic Plant
Teaser:
The hallway ahead looked like it led to offices, probably movie HQ for all the chaos outside. Meeting the directors was certainly on someone’s bucket list, but not mine. I wanted to go straight to the top. And I didn’t trust elevators in buildings older than me.
Sashaying past the receptionist I took the black stairs admiring how the shining black of the floor made it look like I was floating over the abyss. Whoever had done the interior design for Slasher had gone in for Aesthetic and I loved it for many reasons, not the least of which was that under the recessed spotlights I glowed like Persephone entering the underworld.
Hopefully Hades was home.
As I ascended to the upper level of there was a sharp, staccato sound of stilettos snapping against the black tile.
A woman turned the corner, almost pushing me down the stairs. She was willowy and tall in the way Twiggy had made famous nearly a century before. Gamin. With short-cropped neon pink hair, black contacts with pink stars for pupils, and three silver rings pierced into her right eyebrow along with the Slasher uniform of an all-black ensemble that hugged the tight, straight lines of her body.
Short nails too. Unpainted.
I wondered if she liked rugby.
But I didn’t ask because I’ve found that not every woman I meet wants me to start matchmaking as soon as I notice them. It was just that she was exactly my sister’s type.
The pink haired potential sister-in-law stopped short and glared at me. It was a good glare. She had at least eight inches on me and a face meant for brooding, withering scorn.
I smiled up at her.
She crossed her arms.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement, a figure wearing a black hoodie accessing the upstairs snack bar. So we had an audience.
I smiled brighter and pulled a business card out of my clutch to offer to the pink-haired Cerberus. “Merri Kriesmas.”
“It’s April.”
“My name is still Merri Kriesmas in April.”