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A spooky old house and a closet full of family skeletons leaves Nicki Styx wondering if her life will ever get back to anything approaching normal. Things go from bad to worse when the Devil himself shows up, on the lookout for a hot new girlfriend with the power to help him harvest lost souls. Demons may be a ghoul’s best friend, but with this particular hottie, it could be a match made in hell!

Excerpt

    “Oh my God, that’s hideous! What were you thinking?”

    Evan’s outrage was loud and clear, despite the jingle of windchimes over the front door. Luckily, he wasn’t talking to a customer, but to himself.

    “Are those feathers in Courtney Love’s hair or is it an actual bird’s nest?” He held up the latest issue of Faboo magazine and waved it indignantly in our direction, not even bothering with a hello first.

    “You mean the ‘I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-in-a-crackhouse’ look is already over?” I pushed Kelly’s wheelchair through the doorway with no help from him, grateful for the cool rush of air conditioning. “Maybe she passed out in a chicken coop.”

    “All that great bone structure just going to waste.” Evan looked truly upset. “The woman needs to put down the lipstick and fire her stylist!”

    “Oh, wow,” Kelly said, unfazed by Evan’s fashion fit. “What a great store!” She gazed around, taking in the clothing racks, the colorful hats and beaded purses, the glassed-in jewelry counter. “Is that Audrey Hepburn? Ooo, Marilyn Monroe! What a great idea!”

    Nothing she could’ve said would’ve made Evan and me happier. The store mannequins at Handbags N’ Gladrags were our pride and joy. One of Evan’s artist friends had turned bland figures into glamorous replicas of early film stars, and we kept them dressed accordingly. I tried to play it cool while Evan turned to mush.

    “Kelly, hon,” Evan put down his magazine and hurried over, giving me no attention whatsoever. “You’re looking so much better.” He leaned down and gave her a quick squeeze, which she returned. I wasn’t surprised by the spontaneous affection so much as I was by Evan’s unconcern about wrinkling his shirt. “First day out of the hospital, hm?” He beamed at her, patting her hand like she was an invalid or something.

    Which she technically was, but whatever.

    “Have you been to the house yet? Has Nicki shown you the guestroom?” He took the handles of Kelly’s wheelchair as if he’d done it a million times, and wheeled her toward the counter. “Butch and I picked out the bedding ourselves, so don’t let her tell you any different.” Evan gave me a little wink as he passed, making it impossible to be mad at him. “Egyptian cotton will feel so much better on your skin than those cardboard sheets they use in the hospital. I hope you’re not allergic to goosedown.”

    “Ahh… you’re such a sweetheart,” Kelly said. “A nice, soft bed sounds great. I’ve got bruises in places I didn’t know I had.” I was amazed at how easy these two were with each other.

    My best friend and my sister; one I’d known forever and one I’d never known.

    “We haven’t been to the house yet. Nicki and I went straight from the hospital to make the funeral arrangements for Peaches.”

    Evan’s eyes flew to mine, horrified. He’d obviously forgotten.

    Kelly’s voice sounded strained. “Then we came by here to find her an outfit to be buried in.”

    Evan’s face changed. Now it looked as if he was the one about to cry. He reached out and snagged me with one arm, pulling me close, and put his other hand on Kelly’s shoulder.

    “It would be an honor,” Evan said, “if you would allow me to help. What did you have in mind?” He gave me a reassuring squeeze, and I squeezed back, knowing I was comforting him as much as he was comforting me, the little drama queen. I was already mentally debating between a peach chiffon or a dark blue brocade. Both dresses were appropriate, and equally lovely.

    “Pink,” Kelly said. She glanced up at me over her shoulder. Then she leaned back to look at Evan and said again, very decisively. “She liked pink.”

    “Pink it is, then,” Evan said.

    I sighed, not even bothering to argue. Evan wheeled Kelly toward the better dresses while I sank into the chair behind the counter.

    “Don’t get too comfy in the cat bird seat, young lady,” Evan called over his shoulder. “You can help, too.”

    The cushion beneath me was still warm from Evan’s body heat. It had already been quite a morning, and there was a lot more of the day to get through. “You two go ahead. I’ll be right here.”

    Evan shot me a look, but I gave him a bland stare in return. Let him take this one - he was the one who insisted I be sisterly, after all. Let him play nursemaid for a while.

    “So,” Evan’s attention returned to Kelly and the clothing racks, “tell me about Peaches.”

    Kelly hesitated, then said, “She had dark hair.”

    Evan started sifting through the dresses. “Okay, dark hair, liked pink… what size do you think she wore? Eight, ten, twelve, maybe?” He held up a blush-colored suitdress with a short jacket, very Jackie O.

    “Ten or twelve, I think.” Kelly shook her head at Evan’s offering. “But that’s way too conservative. Peaches was no wallflower. She was more like Nicki.”

    Evan’s eyebrows shot up. He looked directly at me. “Oh, really?” he said to Kelly. “Do tell.”

    Kelly was looking at me, too. I was so surprised I kept my mouth shut.

    “She liked bright clothes and she wore too much makeup,” Kelly smiled, though her eyes were shiny with tears, “and she was funny - I mean, really funny - without even meaning to be.”

    Evan’s mouth dropped, and so did my heart. At least for a second… then it did that fluttery thing.

    I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this - I’d been treating Peaches Davis like a stranger. It seemed easier that way. After all, I’d only met her briefly, in my dreams, and by then she was already dead.

    “You would’ve liked her.” Kelly was still talking. “And she would’ve liked you.”

    To my horror, I teared up. I hate to cry - absolutely hate it - and I’d done enough of it the last few months. I wasn’t about to join in a group hug, so I jumped up and went into the back office. I needed a minute.

    “Hey, are you okay?” Evan followed me right in, baby blues full of concern. The man had a sweet side a mile deep.

    “I’m okay.” I snatched a tissue off the desk and dabbed at my eyeliner, already finished with the waterworks. “I just didn’t expect to hear that, you know?”

    Evan tilted his head, and in typically blunt fashion pointed out, “But isn’t it great? Now you actually know who you take after.”

    I shot him a look. “I take after myself, remember?” I’d always made it a point of pride to be different, unique. My adoptive parents and my upbringing might be pure middle class Georgia, but not me.

    Evan waved a hand in dismissal. “Style is one thing, girlfriend, genetics is another. If I’m not mistaken, that’s your twin out there, and she just told you that you’re a lot like your mother. That’s pretty cool.”

    Trust Evan not to let me hide from myself, even when I wanted to. I changed the subject.

    “I saw another ghost today.”

    Evan blanched. He hadn’t gotten over what happened the last time. “What? I thought that was done… over with?” His eyes darted around the office.

    “Not here, silly. At the funeral home.” I lifted the coffee pot and checked the contents. Still hot. I poured myself a cup while I told Evan the rest.

    “A woman in the ladies room was looking for her married boyfriend… some local big-wig. They were both killed in a car accident.” I stirred in some sweetener. “She said if she had to go to Hell, she wasn’t going without him. They’d been having an affair for years, and she was pretty pissed about winding up dead instead of married.”

    I turned, and there was Kelly behind Evan, her wheelchair filling the open doorway.

    Evan saw where my eyes went, and attempted a graceful save. “Kelly… would you like some coffee? Nicki’s feeling better now.”

    She turned down his offer with a shake of the head, eyeing me oddly. “You were telling the truth in the car, weren’t you?”

    I couldn’t help it… I looked at Evan and he looked at me. I’d never been a very good liar, and I had no idea what to say.

    “You really do see dead people.” Kelly was very calm considering her new sister was a nutcase. “Now we absolutely have to go back for Keith Gilhooly’s funeral.”

    Hot coffee sloshed over the rim of my cup, wetting my fingers. I held it away so it didn’t drip on my shoes.

    “Oh, no, we don’t.” I had no desire to revisit Psycho Barbie’s Playhouse. She’d dissipate eventually, or something.

    “Oh yes, we do,” Kelly said. I recognized that stubborn look on her face as similar to one I’d seen in a mirror, many times. “You were right. I saw him. I talked to him.” She rolled further into the room. “We have to help him.”

    I put down my coffee mug with a groan.

    “You… you see them, too?” Evan breathed. He didn’t have to say who ‘them’ was.

    Kelly glanced at him, face serious. Her eyes begged Evan to be honest. “You’d tell me if this was all a big joke, right? ‘Cause if this is all an act to get rid of me, you guys are going to way too much trouble.” She looked at me again. “All you have to do is tell me the truth. I’m a big girl - I can take it.”

    “I did tell you the truth!” Dammit. “You were the one who lied… you said you didn’t see him!”

    Evan made an exasperated noise. “Calm down, ladies.” He stepped between us, helping himself to my rapidly cooling coffee. He took a sip, then grimaced, preferring it black. “Let me get this straight. You went the funeral home and you both saw a ghost?”

    Kelly didn’t answer, so I nodded.

    “Only not the same one?”

    I nodded again, miserable.

    “Oh my.” Evan leaned against the desk, one Prada shoe crossed casually over the other. “You girls sure know how to put the ‘fun’ back in ‘funeral’.”

Read Angela Wilson’s review of A Match Made in Hell