He's a fallen angel. She's a rockabilly reporter. Together they must solve a deadly string of murders plaguing the mortal and the immortal worlds.
Griffin Shaw used to be a PI, but that was over fifty years ago when gumshoes hoofed the streets . . . and he was still alive. Now he's a... read more
“Her sluggish pulse still lapped like low tide at the shore,...”
“Charis sipped, smiling back. "...I saw God everywhere."Grif narrowed his eyes. "Really?"She nodded and leaned close. "We were actually pen pals. I'd write Him letters in Latin and leave them in my closet.""Why the closet?"She shrugged. "Because He didn't appear after I set my front yard's bushes on fire, so I decided He was shy."”
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