Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Holly Michelle to HJ!
Hi Holly and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, You’ll Be the Death of Me!
Please summarize the book for the readers here:
YOU’LL BE THE DEATH OF ME is a comedic take on a corporate afterlife, where an overworked, underqualified clerk accidentally processes the wrong soul, leading to a romantic adventure on earth. A young woman becomes a ghost in the prime of her life, and is given three days to remedy the situation, with the help of her afterlife clerk. It touches on themes of second chances, finding yourself, finding love, ambition, and what it means to truly live.
Please share your favorite line(s) or quote from this book:
I have two! Both said by our MMC to our FMC:
“You’re the type of beauty people write poems about.”
“I looked at you, and had this feeling of ‘Oh, it’s you,’ as if I’d been wandering around looking for you. “
Please share a few Fun facts about this book…
The original title was Verdella Rodgers is Accidentally Dead, but it felt too clunky. I heard Time is Running Out by Muse on the radio one day while sitting in traffic, and the line “You will be the death of me” sung in that haunting cadence hit me like a truck. It was the perfect title! Also, the story is set in San Francisco and has a few scenes in Tahoe – two of my favorite places ever! I grew up in Northern California, so it was fun to include familiar locations on the page.
What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?
No spoilers, but our characters have a certain…history that they start to remember as the story progresses. They both feel the pull of it but can’t understand why at first. Their main attraction is they are complete opposites! Dell is a Type-A firecracker, and Cole is quiet and always follows rules. They are each other’s perfect complement.
Did any scene have you blushing, crying or laughing while writing it? And Why?
I almost always write chronologically, but for whatever reason with this book, I felt the need to jump ahead to the sex scene in order to get to know my characters better. It worked! I discovered Cole was a little freakier in bed than his personality would suggest, and Dell secretly likes being told what to do. Knowing them on an intimate level helped me craft their characters and arcs better.
He fell back on his elbows like he wanted to get a better look at her. The heat of his gaze traveled from her belly button up to her pointed nipples and then her face. He may well have been touching her with his hands for the way it sent her skin rippling with desire. “You’re the type of beauty people write poems about.” He said it like it was a fact he knew thanks to his expertise and something he’d like to try doing himself. He sat up to cup her face and kiss her again and used his other hand to trace along the band of her underwear. He snapped it once, the light sting a stirring thrill on her sensitive skin, before he slipped his thumb inside.
She sucked in a hard breath when he stroked over the swollen seam between her legs. On reflex, she rocked forward, needing to move to absorb the sensation, but he pressed his palm against her chest to hold her in place.
“Stay,” he said.
The command stirred something dark in the deepest pit of her belly. He held her gaze, making sure she was on board with whatever turn they had just taken.
She was more than on board. She was ready to follow his lead straight to hell if that’s where he wanted to take her.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll stay.”
“Good.”
The single syllable sizzled through her. It was praise and gratitude and somehow the hottest thing anyone had ever said to her in bed.
Readers should read this book….
if they want a lighthearted, cozy take on death and the afterlife. I wrote it to soothe my own fears about death, and it has been wonderful to see so many readers responding to it in the same way. Also read if you like opposites attract, second-chance, soft MMC, and a little spice.
What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have in the works?
This is my last book in contract for now, but I am working on a horror novel, and I’ve recently put out two self-published books: IN BETWEEN FOREVER, which is a contemporary women’s fiction about a deputy district attorney who has to prosecute the man who broke her heart twenty years ago, and SOMETHING ABOUT JULIA, a domestic thriller about a therapist torn between justice and patient confidentiality when three women she treats all become suspects in the same murder. Both are available now in ebook or paperback!
Thanks for blogging at HJ!
Giveaway: A print copy of YOU’LL BE THE DEATH OF ME by Holly Michelle
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Excerpt from You’ll Be the Death of Me:
Verdella Rodgers was blessed with an old lady’s name. Some might have called it elegant. Classy. Refined, perhaps. A callback to a glamorous age when women wore furs and smoked cigarettes from slender stems between their bejeweled fingers. Except Verdella’s parents had bestowed her the name in the age of Ashleys and Jessicas and Megans, leaving her elegant, refined old-lady name ripe for ridicule. She’d shed it along with the remaining dregs of puberty for the cooler, sleeker Dell in high school, a name much more suited for her plucky personality, her drive and determination. Anyone who knew her knew Dell was a go-getter, a doer, an unrivaled success story. The single-syllable label that started with a punch and ended with a soft tongue curl had followed her through life like a perfectly tailored suit.
Still, the name Verdella Rodgers remained written on all her legal documents. Her driver’s license, her bank accounts, her house’s deed. On paper, she was an old woman in a pilly cardigan with five cats and an affinity for Wheel of Fortune.
That was why Cole Lewis, recently minted transition specialist at the Afterlife Administration could have been forgiven for his mix-up.
When it came time to transition Verdella Rodgers from this life to the next, he did not realize he’d selected Verdella Rodgers, thirty-three, of San Francisco, California, and not Verdella Rodgers, ninety-five of Wichita, Kansas, from his list. Had he looked closer, he would have noticed the former was a young brunette in the prime of her life making waves in the Bay Area food scene with her new restaurant and mere days away from marrying the mayor’s son, and the latter was a retired teacher and beloved great-grandmother who’d lived a long, fulfilling life and was ready for rest.
Bleary-eyed in the office’s fluorescent light and still adjusting to his new position he was arguably unqualified for, Cole did not notice the mistake until it was too late. Until he’d hit Transition on the wrong Verdella Rodgers, and his monitor pulled up the profile image of a stunning young woman and not that of an elderly one.
His heart, which no longer beat but still registered sensation in his chest, sunk hard enough to make him feel faint.
When he realized he’d just done the undoable and ended the life of the wrong person, all he could say was “Oh.”
And then: “Shit.”
***
In a panic—one of his two default states, the other being law-abiding, rule-following upstanding citizen, a fact that currently had him further panicking—Cole left his cubicle and hurried to his supervisor’s office.
The department where he worked resembled what one might picture if asked to imagine corporate hell: sterile gray walls, dull carpet, no windows. A break room that smelled like microwaved fish and an elevator that frequently got stuck between floors. (He’d been assured time and again he was not, in fact, in hell but rather a waiting area while his case was processed. The state of the department was simply due to understaffing and budget cuts.)
He arrived at his supervisor’s door and knocked.
Beatrice Gimble, Supervisor, Department of Accidental Deaths read the plaque beside the plain brown door.
“Yes?” a throaty voice called from inside.
“Ms. Gimble, I need to speak with you urgently,” he said to the closed door. He wanted to shove it open and demand to be heard, but his rule-following instinct, like a rod holding his spine straight, wouldn’t let him.
A pause passed. It made him fidget. He glanced down at his oxfords and noticed his socks didn’t match where they peeked out from his cuffed pants. He was getting sloppier in death.
“Come in,” Beatrice finally said, snapping him back to the moment.
Cole opened her door to a swirl of the musky floral perfume Beatrice favored. She reminded him of a stern librarian with her cat-eye glasses, sharp bob haircut, and truly hideous sweater collection. She was wearing a bright yellow sweater with big green flowers, which made Cole think of insects squashed on a windshield.
“Hello,” he said, still in a panic. He’d visited her office only a few times before: for his performance reviews and when he’d accepted his position as a transition specialist. She was always pushing him to show more initiative and confidence—something he found challenging given his under-qualification for his job.
“Mr. Lewis, how can I help you?” Beatrice asked. She narrowed her eyes over her glasses as if she were X-raying him. For all Cole knew, she was.
The Afterlife Administration was made up of people like Beatrice: executives, supervisors, administrators, and employees who’d always been there and weren’t exactly human—and people like him: humans who’d arrived after their death on earth.
And then there was an even smaller category of people, like Cole, who’d arrived in the Department of Accidental Deaths—DAD—because something had gone wrong on earth, and it was up to the department to investigate and file an official report before they were allowed to pass on, leaving them in an indeterminate limbo.
Cole had died, what, about a year ago now? He’d honestly lost track. That was the thing about the DAD: the longer you waited for your case to be investigated, the less you remembered your life on earth.
Surely, his mistake had just sentenced someone—this poor, too-young-to-die Verdella Rodgers—to a tortuous wait in the DAD, and he needed to reverse it.
“I’ve made a mistake,” he told Beatrice. “A terrible one.”
Beatrice, in no hurry despite Cole’s state, continued to gaze at him over her glasses. “Go on,” she said with the speed of a lazy cat stretching in the sun. Cole had quickly learned folks with endless time on their hands tended to discount urgency.
He nervously bit his lip, afraid of how she might react. But it was better to be out with it than dance around excuses. “I transitioned the wrong person,” he confessed. “I confused her name with someone else’s. I need to undo it. Please.”
Beatrice stared at his worried face without much expression. Where someone a little less numbed to the constant and inevitable passing of lives from one stage to the next might have gasped or otherwise expressed dismay, she simply blinked at him and sighed. “Pity. We were doing so well this month.” She rose from her desk chair and walked to the wall where a small whiteboard hung, stating 18 days since last incident. With a squeak of her hand against the board, she erased the eighteen and used a pen to fill in a zero.
Cole winced. “Please. You have to let me undo it.”
Beatrice recapped the pen she’d used and sunk back into her chair. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lewis. Mistakes here can’t be undone.”
He was sweating with nerves, despite being dead. That poor woman. He couldn’t bear the thought of having accidentally ended her life. “Yes. I know. But perhaps you could make an exception?” He gave her a charming smile. At least he thought it was charming. Had he been a charming man on earth? Based on the way Beatrice seemed to soften, he liked to think maybe he had been.
Beatrice scrutinized him with another narrowed gaze and then let out a sigh. “Listen, I like you. And I appreciate you showing a little of that backbone I’ve been trying to foster by coming to me to confess. Normally I’d say no to this, but we need to keep our numbers up, and you are a solid employee for the most part.”
That’s generous, Cole thought. He hated his job. He’d taken it only to pass the time in the DAD while he waited to move on to whatever came next. But if she was going to give him a chance to fix his mistake, he’d let her shower him with whatever praise she wanted, deserved or not.
“Name?” Beatrice asked. She turned to her computer screen and clicked a mouse.
“Um . . . Verdella Rodgers,” he said, thrown she was willing to help. “The young one,” he clarified.
“Obviously,” Beatrice muttered. Cole watched her eyes dart back and forth as she scanned her screen. He had to assume she was reading Ms. Rodgers’s file.
“Hmm,” she hummed, and Cole held his nonexistent breath, hoping whatever she was deciding would land in his favor.
“What?” he asked.
Beatrice squinted at her screen. “Interesting case. Verdella Rodgers—the young one—is the chef de cuisine at her own restaurant; member of a powerful, prominent family; a philanthropist.”
Cole winced at each descriptor, feeling like every good thing about her was more salt on a wound. Why couldn’t he have accidentally offed some immoral narcissist who had it coming?
“Oh. Well, that’s interesting,” Beatrice said.
“What is?” Cole asked, and leaned forward to see. He knew supervisors had access to more information than transition specialists did. He really only knew the woman’s name, location, and occupation.
Beatrice cut him off with a glare and angled her screen away.
He recoiled in shame.
She went back to reading the file, and Cole thought he might faint from anticipation. “Huh. Now that’s very interesting . . .” she nearly purred, clearly enjoying torturing him.
Instead of asking what again, he counted the pens lined on her desk. Thirteen. Who needed thirteen pens?
Beatrice tapped her nails on her desk and looked up at him with a mischievous smile. “I think we have an opportunity here. I’d like to see your problem-solving skills in action, so I am going to give you a chance. This woman was a good person but took a wrong turn. This is against protocol, but I’ll give you three days on earth to set her on the right path, and we’ll forgive this little mistake of yours. It’ll be like it never happened. Succeed, and I might even put you in line for a promotion.”
“Yes,” he said without even thinking. What a relief. “I’ll do it.”
“Great,” Beatrice said, and typed something on her keyboard. “I’ll put a pause on her transition for now, but you’ll find her in an in-between state, like yourself.”
“You mean as a—?”
“Ghost? Yes. Now, let me just give you clearance here, and you can be on your way.”
“Wait, right now?” he balked.
“You said it was urgent,” she said with a feline smile.
“I did. Yes,” he said, flustered, and not sure he was ready to return to earth.
“Good. You’ve got an uphill battle in front of you, Mr. Lewis. She’s a good person, but she’s type A, ultracompetitive, and downright stubborn. Getting her to turn things around will be good practice in assertiveness for you.”
Cole nervously gulped. Type As were his worst nightmare. Well, perhaps other than being stuck in a corporate void for all eternity with only fading memory of his life and the knowledge he was responsible for someone’s untimely death. That was pretty bad. But dealing with a type A person—especially if he had to get her to see the err in her ways—sounded pretty bad too. He was the polar and alphabetical opposite of type A. More like type Q. As in quiet. Go with the flow. Follow all the rules and don’t make waves.
But that poor woman. She didn’t deserve it. He had to go. He had no choice.
“Oh . . . and, Mr. Lewis?” Beatrice said as she yanked open a low desk drawer. “Take this with you.” She unearthed an ancient-looking leather-bound book and thrust it at him.
“What is it?” he asked as he took the slim but dense tome.
“The rule book.”
“Rule book?”
“Yes. It’s a guide to what you, a deceased, can and can’t do on earth. Follow those rules, Mr. Lewis.” She went full stern librarian on him and wagged her finger as she spoke, emphasizing each word. “I am already going out on a limb for you here. Breaking those rules will have dire consequences—for both of us.”
“Got it,” he said with a nod and felt a surge of confidence mingle with his still thrumming nerves.
If there was one thing Cole Lewis knew how to do it was follow rules.
“Great. See you in three days, if not sooner,” Beatrice said, and tapped her keyboard again.
“Thank you for doing this,” Cole said. He braced himself to be sent to earth. He hadn’t gone back since he’d died and imagined it would involve the same tingly-all-over sensation and maybe some bright lights.
“Oh! One more thing,” he blurted. “How will I know what the right path for her is?”
Beatrice cast him another beguiling grin. “You’ll know.”
Then she stroked her keyboard one last time, and Cole disappeared in a flash of light.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Book Info:
Cole is spending the rest of his eternity as an overworked Afterlife Clerk, reaping souls for the Afterlife Administration. But when he accidentally reaps the wrong Verdella Rodgers, Cole and Verdella must race to fix his cosmic blunder—and try not to catch feelings along the way. A swoony and whimsical romp, You’ll Be the Death of Me is a romance to die for.
Verdella “Dell” Rodgers is at the top of her game. As the chef de cuisine at San Francisco’s hottest new restaurant and on the cusp of marrying the mayor’s son in the social event of the season, her life is perfect. That is until the week before her wedding when she wakes up and find herself very much dead.
Enter Cole, a charming but bumbling entry-level clerk in the Afterlife Administration who accidentally confuses Dell for a 95-year-old woman in Kansas with the same name, reaping the wrong soul. When Cole tries to fix his mistake, their worlds collide in life- and death-changing ways.
Now walking the city as a ghost only visible to Cole, Dell is frantic to get back to her perfect life but soon learns that it wasn’t what it appeared to be, particularly when it came to the man she was about to marry and his high-profile family.
Meanwhile, Cole has no memory of who he was before working for the Afterlife Administration. As they try to uncover Cole’s past and remedy Dell’s future, they realize the mistake that brought them together might just be a twist of fate. With time running out to bring Dell back to the land of the living, she’ll have to decide if the life she left behind is truly what she wants, or if Cole’s untimely appearance could lead to an unexpected change that she didn’t know she needed.
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Meet the Author:
Holly Michelle, who also writes as Holly James, holds a PhD in psychology and has worked in both academia and the tech industry. She loves telling stories with big hearts and a touch of magic. She currently lives in Southern California with her husband and dog.
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