Publisher: Monster House Books
Publication Date: November 12th 2022
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Summary
Young Myla and Lincoln Kick Ass and Take Names in This Prequel Novella for REAPER GAMES!
A part-demon girl fights Lady Reaper
Myla Lewis is a sixteen-year-old part-demon girl who fights evil souls in Purgatory’s Arena… and she’s always looking out for a good battle against evil. Enter Lady Reaper, the famous ghoulette who wields both a scythe and nefarious intentions. Myla discovers Lady Reaper will soon visit the Demon Woods ‘ride ’at Purgatory’s Annual Lust Festival. Time to visit the fest, kick ass and take names, right? Wrong. Lady Reaper has other plans for Myla and her bestie, Cissy…A part-angel prince faces the Grim Reaper
Lincoln is a seventeen-year-old part-angel prince who protects humans from the denizens of Hell. On a routine trip to Earth, Lincoln uncovers clues that his best friend, Walker, might be allied to an evil ghoul named the Grim Reaper. Things go downhill from there…***A 20,000-word novella***
Publisher Note: Originally, LADY REAPER was a full novel. However, the author fell ill with COVID and gave us this prequel novella instead. We have since locked Ms. Bauer into the basement with a charger cord, MacBook Pro and carton of Theraflu. Therefore, the full and epic conclusion of this story will definitely be delivered in the next release, REAPER GAMES.
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Excerpt
Myla – Age Sixteen
Don’t think about Lady Reaper.
Don’t think about Lady Reaper.
Don’t think about Lady Reaper.
Gah. This is hard.
Finally, it’s February thirteenth and Mom’s driving me to the Lust festival. Fortunately, she still hasn’t guessed my plan for tonight.
And that would be: kick Lady Reaper’s ass.
Unless the lady in question doesn’t want to fight… only, that’s unlikely. For whatever reason, I simply bring out the worst in evil.
An idea appears. Focus on something other than lady you-know-who. Memories return. It’s earlier today. I stand on the floor of Purgatory’s arena, ready to battle a horde of demonic millipedes. I’m talking eight-foot-long monster-bugs with green exoskeletons and serious anger management issues. The insects scurry across the sand, screeching as they close in on yours truly. Scooping up the first monster, I use it as a battering ram against all the others and win, win, win. Good times.
Mom steers our station wagon down another dirt road in Purgatory. Betsy—that’s the wagon—blares polka music. Her radio’s been stuck on the same station for years. A new rendition of Roll Out The Barrel plays so loudly, the windows shake.
I try to focus on the tune, but my mind veers back to she who must not be named.
Don’t think about Lady Reaper.
Don’t think about Lady Reaper.
Too late. Mental pictures appear as I daydream my butt off.
Lady Reaper stands before me, sporting her Victorian gown, eentsy beentsy hat, and huge scythe.
“How did you find me?” asks Lady Reaper. “No one knows I visit this festival each year.”
“Let’s just say I have a very informed honorary older brother.”
Lady Reaper sniffs. “You must be here to thank me. Back in 1857, I helped Purgatory move souls.”
“Correction.” I hold up my pointer finger. “You moved those ghosts, but not to Heaven or Hell. A bunch of spirits from 1857 are missing. Anything you want to confess?”
“Alas!” Lady Reaper hangs her head. “ I am evil to the core.”
This is how things always roll in my daydreams. Villains quickly admit they suck.
“Glad we cleared that up. How do I get the ghosts back?”
“Not telling.” Lady Reaper flips her weapon so the long blade sits up top. “Time to die!” She swings the cutting blade of her scythe toward my face.
Jumping up, I land a roundhouse kick—SLAM!—against the side of Lady Reaper’s head. She stumbles backward, pinwheeling her arms. I’m happy to report that her little hat falls off. The scythe lands nearby.
“Mwah hah hah!” I cry.
Lady Reaper’s all-black eyes widen with shock. Reaching forward, I grab her scythe and—
A chill runs up my back, snapping me out of my fantasy.
Crap. I thought about Lady Reaper.
Maybe Mom didn’t notice how I mentally entered my own private battle zone. Little by little, I force my gaze away from the passenger-side window to where Mom sits behind the steering wheel. Sure enough, she glares in my direction.
“Are you scheming again?” asks Mom.
Oh, she noticed.
Author Bio
Christina Bauer thinks that fantasy books are like bacon: they just make life better. All of which is why she writes romance novels that feature demons, dragons, wizards, witches, elves, elementals, and a bunch of random stuff that she brainstorms while riding the Boston T. Oh, and she includes lots of humor and kick-ass chicks, too.
Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.
Be the first to know about new releases from Christina by signing up for her newsletter: http://tinyurl.com/CBupdates
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