TD&D
Once upon a time, I spent a few years living in Astoria, Queens, a neighborhood in New York City, at the time the largest Greek settlement outside of Greece herself. When I needed somewhere to put my bevy of modern-day Greek gods and their varied businesses - from matchmaking agencies to bars to PI firms - Astoria was the perfect place.
TALL, DARK & DIVINE - Bagging a Greek god
Eros, Greek god of love, has been down-on-his-luck (and neglectful of his job) since ex-wife Psyche left him for some Viking himbo. Drowning his sorrows in his buddy Dionysus's wine isn't helping, nor is the nagging from the goddesses assisting in his New York-based matchmaking firm.
When his misguided attempt to set up cute and lonely baker Annie Landon goes awry, he lends her his broad shoulders, not to mention a few other luscious parts of his anatomy, for comfort.
But falling for yet another mortal is the last thing Eros needs. Thus begins his quest to win the heart of a mortal man for Annie, which will also rid him of the maddening desire to keep her for himself. It's the perfect plan ... if only Eros can bear to let Annie go.
Can a woman looking for love, and the matchmaking god who wants her to find it— with someone else—have a shot at a happy ending? May the best god—or mortal—win.
Available from Amazon
Chapter 1
Thunder boomed and lightning crackled across the sky. There was a moment of breathless silence, as if creation was gathering itself, and then the deluge started. Fat drops of rain hit the pavement like tiny bombs and exploded, and in a matter of seconds, the gutters ran high with water. The humans on their way home from work huddled under umbrellas and folded-up newspapers as they scurried past the windows of Made in Heaven matchmaking service, while Eros watched, grimly amused.
The god of love rather enjoyed seeing the mortals in his charge struggle with life’s little inconveniences.
He hadn’t always. Once upon a time he’d been full of the milk of human kindness, and had wanted nothing but good for everyone. Especially the mortals, poor, pitiful creatures, with their weak bodies and finite lives. They deserved what little happiness they could grasp in the short time allotted to them.
But that was before the love of his life, beautiful Psyche, had called him a workaholic and run off with some overdeveloped Viking warrior with braids and more brawn than brains. Some Norse godling without a thought in his head except fighting all day and fucking all night and then getting up to do it all over again the next morning.
Ungrateful wench. And after everything Eros had done for her, too.
He lifted the bottle of ambrosia-laced wine and took a deep swallow as he watched a tall young man under an oversized umbrella hurry past the window.
Well, it was the last time he made that mistake, anyway. Never again would he get emotionally involved with a human. It just wasn’t worth the trouble. You spent years of time and effort pursuing them. You let work fall by the wayside, so people and animals didn’t fall in love, mate, or marry, while the earth grew dry underfoot. You braved the underworld for them, you woke them from infernal sleep when they stupidly opened the box they were explicitly told not to open, and you lowered yourself and went crawling to mighty Zeus himself to ask for help in making them immortal, just so you could keep them with you forever. And then, after just a few thousand years, this was how they repaid you. By telling you that you worked too much and didn’t love them enough, before they left you for someone else.
Mortals. Couldn’t live with them. Couldn’t—unfortunately—live without them.
On the opposite side of the street, a sweet-faced young woman came out of the door to the dog bakery and stepped into the rain. Within five seconds, her soft brown hair was sodden and clung to her head like seaweed, while the thin T-shirt molded to her breasts in a way that would have brought a mortal man to his knees.
Eros scowled. She was late today. Had she come out a minute earlier, he could have made sure the man with the umbrella—Harry Mitchell from the accounting firm down the block—offered to protect her from the rain. Once Harry got a good look at that T-shirt, chances were Eros wouldn’t even have to intervene. But now there was nothing he could do, at least not without exerting effort. Harry must have reached the subway stop on the corner by now, and Annie Landon was on her own. And she had missed another opportunity to make a match. Stupid chit.
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