Surprisingly, this was the question most reviewers, bloggers, readers, and Facebook friends have posed when they read the blurb for my paranormal release, Dom of the Dead.
“It’s less complicated than you’d think,” has been my boilerplate answer.
Besides, this book isn’t about the bump and grind.
Okay, okay…it’s a very sexy book. Randall was a dominant sexually when he was alive and dying didn’t change what made him tick. What it did change was what was important to him.
Dom of the Dead opens with my heroine in pain, agonizing pain, and coming to terms with something a lot of us deal with at some point or another. She’s loved a man for most of her life—he’d been her best friend, her confidante, her knight in dinged up and rusted armor—and yet she’d never risked telling him how she really felt.
What if time ran out? What if you didn’t have tomorrow to fix things?
Even though we’re told to live every day as if it’s our last, most of us think there will be more time. There are things we have to do—pay bills, fulfill duties, clean things, clean ourselves—and we tend to put off the things that give us the most pleasure. We don’t have time today. We don’t have time right now. We’ll get to it as soon as we catch up.
Does anyone ever catch up? I know I sure as hell don’t.
We’re so busy fulfilling those roles we’ve given ourselves over the years—mother, father, brother, sister, friend, employee, whatever—and we put off to tomorrow the things we most want to do. How many of you want to write a book? Learn to paint? Learn karate?
Lemme guess…You’re totally going to do it, too, once you have time.
Randall runs out of time. Carson runs out of time. Left with regrets—which make for really crappy company—they are granted a magical moment…
Well, I won’t ruin it for you. If you want to read more, check out my release. It’s a ghost story and the perfect thing for a windy October night with leaves rustling against the brittle yellow grass and pumpkins leering on your porch. Grab a cup of cider, curl up with their story, and drop me a line and tell me what you think.
In the meantime? Quit putting that stuff off. Take that time for you, kay?
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?
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.
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.”