Prayer for the Dead Release Day.
This is the story about a girl who lived, died, and met a guy… in that order.
Is it possible to find true love and happiness, while condemned to purgatory until the ends of days?
Olivia Brennan wasn’t eager to find out. Working for a division of Purgatory and Associates, her job consisted of one headache after another, caused by the impatient souls waiting to move onto eternal paradise. After a hard day at work, she was most content to stay home, watching reruns or reading a book. Aside from a few friends occasionally forcing socialization, her afterlife was nothing special.
That all changed the moment Drake walked into her life. He was handsome, charming, and had a sadness behind his eyes she couldrelate to. It seemed that Fate had finally brought her a kindred spirit…
But could Olivia move past her own dark regrets of the life she left behind or would falling for him demand the ultimate sacrifice—herself?
About the author
Nicki Scalise lives in Colorado with her husband, Jon. They share their home with four dogs and a chinchilla. Prayer for the Dead is her first novel.
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I stole a peek across the desk at the blonde in a cheerleader’s uniform. The young face was scrunched up in an unflattering scowl, sizing me up as she smacked her gum. The behavior was rude but since she’d just been through a major upheaval, I gave Chelsea some leeway. I decided comfort was a better option as opposed to discipline. So I chose to break the ice with the tried and true standbys of compassion and hospitality.
“Hello Chelsea, my name is Olivia and I’m going to be your liaison.”
Chelsea and I stared at each other in silence. Besides being given the cold shoulder, there was something about this girl rubbing me the wrong way. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t place whom.
I forced a smile in her direction. “Did your Reaper explain everything to you?” Receiving nothing more than an eye roll in response, I tried again. “You understand where you are and what’s happened, correct?”
“Yeah, I know where I am. Wanna know why?” I raised my brows, waiting for the smart-mouthed answer that was sure to come, “Because I’m not stupid.”
Oh right… I knew who she reminded me of, every snotty bitch that made my high school experience a living hell. Oh boy, lucky me, I get to put up with her for the next week.
Why can’t I ever just get a nice old lady who’ll sit with her hands folded neatly in her lap and patiently await her turn? Her silver hair would be curled in a halo around a tiny face, she’d call me “dear”, and, when I’d apologize for the wait, she’d pat my hand saying, “It’s all right, honey. I’m in no hurry.” But no, instead I get Chelsea the cheerleader.
I hate cheerleaders.
I hate cheerleaders.