A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis
Good To The Last Death Book Three
Robyn Peterman
Copyright © 2020 by Robyn Peterman
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.
This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.
Cover design by JJ's Design & Creations
Edited by Kelli Collins
Contents
Acknowledgments
More In The Good To The Last Death Series
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
More In The Good To The Last Death Series
Robyn’s Book List
Note From The Author
About Robyn Peterman
Praise for Robyn Peterman
“Daisy’s life has been turned upside down, and we get to watch the aftermath. Prepare to root for a new heroine. You’ll fall in love with this hilarious hoyden and all of the hot water she dives into. Head first! Masterful and heartwarming, don’t let this one get away!”
—NY Times Bestselling Author Darynda Jones
“Brilliant and so relatable! I laughed, I cried, I swooned, and I sighed. Heavily. Robyn Peterman has her finger on the pulse of midlife madness, and I can’t get enough.”
— USA Today Bestselling Author, Renee George
“I’d read the phone book if Robyn Peterman wrote it! It’s A Wonderful Midlife Crisis is a home run of hilarious, heartwarming paranormal fun. Midlife’s a journey. Enjoy the ride. Crisis included… Read it!”
— Mandy M. Roth, NY Times & USA TODAY Bestselling Author
“Hilarious, heartbreaking, magical and addictive! No one can turn a midlife crisis upside down quite like Robyn Peterman. A stay-up-all-night novel that will have you begging for more.”
— Michelle M. Pillow, New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author
Acknowledgments
This series has been in my head for two years. It took a call and a nudge from Shannon Mayer to make me pull the file out and finish book one. Now you’re getting book three! Each word was a joy to write and I owe Shannon for yanking me into the Paranormal Women’s Fiction group. Playing in a sandbox with strong talented women who have each other’s backs is a rare and special experience.
As always, while writing is a solitary experience getting a book into the world is a group project.
The PWF 13 Gals — Thank you for a wild ride. You rock.
Renee — Thank you for all your support, your friendship, your formatting expertise and for being the best Cookie ever. You saved my butt on this one. Forever in your debt.
Wanda — Thank you for knowing what I mean even when I don’t. LOL You are the best and this writing business wouldn’t be any fun without you. You make the journey more fun.
Kelli — Thank you for saving me from scary grammar mistakes. You rock. And thank you for letting me be late. LOL
Nancy, Susan and Wanda — Thank you for being kickass betas. You are all wonderful.
Jay — Thank you. Your cover captured what was in my mind perfectly.
Mom — Thank you for listening to me hash out the plot and for giving me brilliant ideas. You really need to write a book!
Mandy — You rock hard! So happy I can call you my friend.
Steve, Henry and Audrey — Thank you. The three of you are my world. Without you, none of this would make sense. I love you.
Dedication
This one is for everyone who knows the meaning of a hot flash. LOL
More In The Good To The Last Death Series
ORDER BOOK FOUR NOW
My midlife crisis. My rules. And if it doesn’t put me six feet under, I plan to live it up in style—possibly for the rest of eternity…
After a Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader moment, I discovered I do indeed have a father. He comes with a hell of a lot of baggage, but I’ve decided to keep him. Not only do I have a father, I have a kickass new sister, a ghostly family, and super powers to boot. If you add to the mix that I’m dating the Grim Reaper, it’s a freakin’ party.
The only thing standing in the way of my happiness is the Angel of Mercy, though Angel of Misery is more appropriate. She’s responsible for almost everyone I have loved, and who has loved me being taken away. With the help of family and friends, I will track her down and show her exactly what a perimenopausal hot flash looks like in action.
Job — Death Counselor — Supergluing ghosts back together and solving their issues is rewarding. For real.
Mission — Bring the seriously evil Angel of Mercy to justice without dying or getting anyone else killed in the process.
Team — A bunch of certifiable Immortals, including one who re-homes vibrators. Yes, you read that correctly.
How to do this? — Wing it. Wine, my Demon boyfriend, a houseful of deceased squatters, and good friends by my side will help.
Midlife’s a journey. I will enjoy the ride. The crisis is happening whether I’m ready or not.
Book Description
A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis
Midlife’s a bumpy journey. The ride is a freaking rollercoaster. The crisis is real.
With my life back to normal—normal being a very relative word—one would think I’d catch a break.
One would be very wrong.
With an Angel gunning for me and a Demon in my bed, life couldn’t be more complicated. Not to mention, I’m going to have to make a rather large life choice.
Do I want to live forever?
Does anyone? Forever is a very long time.
Whatever. I’ll think about it tomorrow… or next week… or next month. As long as I have my girlfriends, my dogs, a super-sized case of merlot and my deceased squatters, I’m good to go.
My midlife crisis. My rules. If it doesn’t kill me dead first, I plan to have a most excellent midlife crisis.
Chapter One
“Hell’s bells,” I muttered as I let my head fall forward. The swirling grain in the oak of my kitchen table was far more interesting than the shouting gibberish that was echoing throughout the house.
The furious disagreement between the two powerful men made me wish I’d told everyone to go home.
“Just be happy no one is throwing lightning,” Candy Vargo whispered, picking her teeth with a toothpick.
I stared at her with my mouth
open. I never knew if the woman was serious or just trying to screw with my head. “Is that an actual possibility?”
She winked. “Yep. You wearing rubber-soled shoes?”
“No,” I hissed under my breath. “I’m wearing my funeral freaking best. Tennis shoes don’t exactly go with dress clothes.”
Candy shrugged and grinned. Lifting up her leg, she showed me her ratty tennis shoes. “I beg to differ.”
It was truly horrifying that Candy Vargo, or rather Karma, was the Immortal in charge of fate. She was a hot mess of rude and some serious scary.
“I suppose you could duck,” she suggested with a chuckle.
Rolling my eyes, I was tempted to flip her off. However, tempting fate wasn’t a great plan. “Roger that,” I said and turned my attention back to the action I hoped wouldn’t take my house down.
The Grim Reaper and the highest-level Angel in existence fighting in a dead language wasn’t what I’d envisioned when I’d called the meeting of the Immortals in my kitchen. It had been a heck of a long day, between Gram’s funeral and over half the town in my home for the reception afterwards.
I was shocked as all get out that Bob Barker had shown up to pay his respects. He was Gram’s gameshow boyfriend. She’d seen every episode of The Price is Right ever made—at least twenty times. I’d worried that she’d be upset he wasn’t able to see her since she was dead, but Gram was just thrilled he came.
I wasn’t thrilled when I’d learned that Karma had made it happen. Owing the deadly disaster of a woman wasn’t my idea of a good time.
“You okay, Daisy?” Heather questioned quietly.
I smiled and shrugged. “Not sure I know the meaning of the word anymore.”
She gave my hand a quick squeeze and watched as the undecipherable argument grew more heated. With a reassuring glance, she moved to the kitchen counter and observed the disagreement with an emotionless expression on her lovely face. Having Heather here was a blessing. Until recently, I hadn’t known one of my best friends was the Immortal Arbitrator between Heaven and Hell. Now? I couldn’t be happier about it.
My head felt like it might explode. Gideon, aka the Grim Reaper, and Clarence, aka Michael the Archangel—who I’d secretly nicknamed John Travolta because of the movie Michael—had been arguing back and forth in Sumerian for an hour. I couldn’t understand a word. The ghosts had gotten bored and wandered away in search of a reality show to watch. Gram had stayed.
Gram had nodded off a few times and fell off of her chair, but in her defense, she’d had a big day. How often did one get to attend one’s own funeral as a ghost? Gram’s mid-service crash landing on top of her dead body in the casket she’d chosen to match her hair also wasn’t an everyday occurrence. However, it did make for an excellent story. Holding back my laughter was one of the most difficult things I’d done. I didn’t think having a Mary Tyler Moore slash Chuckles the Clown moment was a good idea, especially since there had been only a handful in attendance who could even see Gram’s ghost.
“Eat this,” Candy Vargo said, slapping down a plate in front of me at the kitchen table while the two men continued to debate. “Those nosey bitches who showed up left enough food to feed an army.”
Glancing down, I couldn’t quite understand what I was seeing. Candy was clearly as messy with her food as she was with her appearance. Potato salad was piled on top of the apple pie. Next to it sat a piece of fried chicken dangerously close to a large helping of banana pudding. The topper was the unidentifiable casserole with blueberries and ground beef in it.
It was all I could do not to gag.
“Umm… thanks,” I said. “Not hungry right now.”
“Try that,” Candy insisted, pointing her ever-present toothpick at the blueberry beef surprise. “Looks disgusting. I want to know if it tastes as bad as it looks.”
I pushed the plate over to her. “Then you try it.”
Candy shrugged, removed the toothpick from her mouth and took a bite of the mysterious concoction. “Tastes like baked ass with blueberries,” she muttered, swallowing with effort.
I was wildly pleased she didn’t spit it back out onto the plate. Candy’s manners were iffy at best.
“Can you understand them?” I whispered as I watched Gideon grow angrier and Clarence narrow his eyes in displeasure.
“Yep,” she replied, putting her tennis-shoe-clad feet on my kitchen table.
“Nope.” I knocked her feet back to the floor. “Tell me what they’re saying.”
“Can I put my feet back up?” Candy bargained.
“Only if you want to eat the entire blueberry ass casserole,” I shot back.
“Spicy,” Candy muttered with a laugh and scooted her chair closer to me. “They’re arguing about if you can be trusted to tell the truth of what you see in Steve’s mind. Clarence believes you’re too close to be neutral. The Angel of Mercy stands to lose everything if she’s deemed guilty. The Grim Reaper is on your side completely… of course, you’re banging him.”
“First of all, I’m not banging him,” I snapped. “And if I was, it’s not any of your business. While I do understand you’re a badass who could probably incinerate me with a flick of your desperately in-need-of-a-manicure finger, I’d like to remind you that I punched a freaking tree and it fell over.”
Candy eyed me until I grew uncomfortable. Unsure if she was going to tear my head off with her bare hands or laugh, I held my breath.
“You’ve got enormous nards,” she stated, raising her brow.
“Lady balls,” I corrected her.
“Whatever,” Candy said. “It’s impressive.”
“Thank you,” I replied, shaking my head. My Southern manners were ingrained. A rude compliment was still a compliment and required a polite response.
Candy stabbed the baked blueberry ass with her toothpick and pulled out a fresh one. “So, as I said, Clarence isn’t on your side, Death Counselor.”
“John Travolta is being a dick,” I hissed under my breath. “And Clarissa is guilty.”
“What you just said is proof of Clarence’s issue,” Candy pointed out. “You’ve already damned the Angel of Mercy without proof of guilt. While I hate the bitch, I have to side with Clarence on this.”
Shit. She did have a point. I questioned how far I would go to ensure the safety of my dead former husband’s afterlife. I would go very far… very, very far. Steve was my best friend.
“The problem is that Gideon has found in the text that it’s impossible for another to join a Death Counselor in the mind of the dead,” Charlie said quietly.
“Do you agree with John Travolta and Candy that I can’t be trusted?” I asked.
Charlie was quiet for a long moment. He was round, polite and as kind as can be. It still blew my mind that Charlie was the Immortal Enforcer. He was married to the sweetest human in the Universe—my dear friend June. Of course, she had no clue, but I certainly did. As of about a month ago, I became very aware of the secret world that had been right under my nose my whole life.
“Trust is not the issue,” Charlie explained. “Much more than you can comprehend is on the line. What I do believe is that your loyalty is with Steve. It muddies the waters.”
“There’s another way,” Tim announced loudly.
Everyone stopped and stared at Tim. God, I hoped my new, socially awkward, vibrator-rehoming friend was going to make sense. As the Immortal Courier between the darkness and the light, he was full of shocking information.
“Speak,” Gideon said tersely.
“Daisy is a hybrid Angel,” Tim said, pointing to my eyes.
That woke Gram up fast. “What in tarnation are you talkin’ about?” she demanded. “Her mamma was a human Death Counselor, just like me and just like Daisy.”
“And her father?” Tim asked.
Gram sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“If this is true,” I said, feeling strange and a little panicky. “What does it have to do with anything?”
>
“Interesting,” Karma said, leaning in and studying my eyes. “I hadn’t noticed. Very, very interesting.”
“Again. Why?” I demanded. “How does the possibility of me being some kind of half-breed freak help get justice for Steve?”
Ignoring my question, Clarence leveled me with a hard look. “What is it that you want? To send your dead husband into the light or to destroy the Angel of Mercy?”
“The Angel of Mercy damned Steve to the darkness out of hatred of me. Her decision can’t stand.” I snapped. “So to answer your question… it’s one and the same.”
“Not necessarily,” he replied.
“Bullshit,” Heather said. “You would let the Angel of Mercy take a plea deal, so to speak? Get away with taking fate into her own hands unchecked? That is not how it works.”
Clarence brought his fist down on the table in frustration. “Do you have any idea what stripping an Angel could do to the order of the Universe? Do you?” he shouted.
“I do,” Gideon said coldly. His eyes turned red and his features sharpened. “I know exactly what happens when an Angel falls.”
A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel : Good To The Last Death Book Three Page 1