Top 5 books you think Ashli would have on her bookshelf
1. A book on photography
2. A book of healing meditations
3. Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
4. The Devil Wears Plaid by Teresa Medeiros
5. The Divine Comedy
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She hopes that someday leather pants for men will make a big comeback and that her writing might make you laugh when you need it most.
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Accidentally ... Over? Accidentally Yours #5
When it comes to Máax, the God of Truth who refuses to follow the rules, there's more to him than meets the eye. Literally. Because Maáx is invisible! Which is probably why, after seventy-thousand years, he's still unable to find a mate.__________________________________
Ashli Rosewood was never meant to die. In fact, her death might be the very reason the gods are now faced with stopping that pesky doomsday right around the corner. If only there was a way to undo the past.
Cue Máax. Seven feet of divine masculinity and the unruly god charged with saving Ashli. With a little help from an ancient Mayan tablet, Máax will travel back in time and set things right.
Easy, right?
Wrong.
Because Máax has one teensy challenge. He's invisible. And every time this impatient, powerful deity gets anywhere near Ashli, he spooks her right into harm's way. Meaning...she dies, and he has to start all over again.
Cliff, banana peel, runaway storage container filled with Belgian chocolates, bee sting, the list goes on and on. Does the Universe have it out for this girl? Sure seems that way. But why? And what will Máax do when he begins to suspect that not only is Ashli the key to stopping the apocalypse, but she may be "the one" he's been waiting seventy-thousand years for.
How will he save the one woman the Universe insists on killing and who wants nothing to do with him?
Máax stared down at the hysterical, screaming woman. He was about to offer a
few calming words, such as “Shut the hell up,” but then something peculiar
happened.
What the fuu . . . ? He stumbled to the side but caught himself. He’d never experienced anything so unusual, so potent. But what was it? It didn’t hurt. No, quite the opposite. It felt like a sack of fucking wonderful dropped on his head.
Máax looked at the woman once more, and it hit him again.
Click.
He gasped. She was doing this to him? How? There was no logical explanation, other than . . .
He lost his train of thought. Gods, she is magnificent.
Holy Christ! He stepped back and stared at Ashli. Is that . . . Am I . . . ? He was drooling! Like a hungry dog!
The odd, euphoric sensation hit him again, nearly tumbling him over. Nothing in his seventy thousand years of existence could help him articulate the sensation. It was as if the damned woman had jumped inside his body, soldered herself to every molecule of his light, and then sucked away any rational thought. The hollow pit in his chest, one he hadn’t known existed, felt instantly placated. That spot now felt warm and mushy. The center of gravity shifted from beneath his feet toward the direction of the woman and began pulling him to her like a shooting star.
Oh, shit. She’s my mate? He took two more steps back. No. No. Hell no! But how? And why now? He’d never asked the Universe for a mate. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be tethered to some . . . some weak mortal woman, or any woman for that matter. Where was the godsdamned logic in that? For fuck sake, he was a lone wolf—answered to no one and nothing. And he was invisible,
went where he liked when he liked. (For the time being, anyway.) After he went on trial for his recent multitude of offenses, he’d be entombed for a very, very, very . . . yes, very fucking long time! And now this, this . . . woman had messed it all up! Filii canis! Now he was truly going to suffer. He’d have something to miss!
Then another truth dawned on him. Cimil set me up! Again! He was going to kill her. And, gods fucking dammit, did the woman—this, this, Ashli—have to be so godsdamned hot?
Infernum. Her beauty was beyond that of any deity. Dark golden-brown skin, hair like black-licorice ribbons wild about her face and trailing down her back, and exotic eyes, turning up in the corners like a feline’s. And her lips . . . Her lips were plump and full, just the sort a man longs to feel sliding over every inch of his—
Get a hold of yourself, man! But holy saints she was hot. What was he going to do?
Why don’t you start by saving her, asshole?
Right. First things first, though; he had to get her to stop screaming. “Ashli, I command you to stop screaming.”
Her beautiful hazel eyes widened, and she bolted toward the dusty, narrow road that ran along the beachfront.
Sanguine ad infernum! She’s running away? “Ashli, I command you to stop. I won’t hurt—”
A large silver bus came out of nowhere. “No!”
What the fuu . . . ? He stumbled to the side but caught himself. He’d never experienced anything so unusual, so potent. But what was it? It didn’t hurt. No, quite the opposite. It felt like a sack of fucking wonderful dropped on his head.
Máax looked at the woman once more, and it hit him again.
Click.
He gasped. She was doing this to him? How? There was no logical explanation, other than . . .
He lost his train of thought. Gods, she is magnificent.
Holy Christ! He stepped back and stared at Ashli. Is that . . . Am I . . . ? He was drooling! Like a hungry dog!
The odd, euphoric sensation hit him again, nearly tumbling him over. Nothing in his seventy thousand years of existence could help him articulate the sensation. It was as if the damned woman had jumped inside his body, soldered herself to every molecule of his light, and then sucked away any rational thought. The hollow pit in his chest, one he hadn’t known existed, felt instantly placated. That spot now felt warm and mushy. The center of gravity shifted from beneath his feet toward the direction of the woman and began pulling him to her like a shooting star.
Oh, shit. She’s my mate? He took two more steps back. No. No. Hell no! But how? And why now? He’d never asked the Universe for a mate. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be tethered to some . . . some weak mortal woman, or any woman for that matter. Where was the godsdamned logic in that? For fuck sake, he was a lone wolf—answered to no one and nothing. And he was invisible,
went where he liked when he liked. (For the time being, anyway.) After he went on trial for his recent multitude of offenses, he’d be entombed for a very, very, very . . . yes, very fucking long time! And now this, this . . . woman had messed it all up! Filii canis! Now he was truly going to suffer. He’d have something to miss!
Then another truth dawned on him. Cimil set me up! Again! He was going to kill her. And, gods fucking dammit, did the woman—this, this, Ashli—have to be so godsdamned hot?
Infernum. Her beauty was beyond that of any deity. Dark golden-brown skin, hair like black-licorice ribbons wild about her face and trailing down her back, and exotic eyes, turning up in the corners like a feline’s. And her lips . . . Her lips were plump and full, just the sort a man longs to feel sliding over every inch of his—
Get a hold of yourself, man! But holy saints she was hot. What was he going to do?
Why don’t you start by saving her, asshole?
Right. First things first, though; he had to get her to stop screaming. “Ashli, I command you to stop screaming.”
Her beautiful hazel eyes widened, and she bolted toward the dusty, narrow road that ran along the beachfront.
Sanguine ad infernum! She’s running away? “Ashli, I command you to stop. I won’t hurt—”
A large silver bus came out of nowhere. “No!”
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