Gods and Mortals
The Irish Gods Book 1
by D.S. Dehel
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
Maeve Devlin has no idea what to expect when she travels to Ireland for a vacation, but definitely not the supernatural or an old god obsessed with her. What should be a fun time reconnecting with an old love interest first turns thrilling, then confusing, when two men seem interested in a fling. And what’s with all the birds?
But when The Man with eyes like the sea— the man she’s dreamed of her entire life—appears, her life spirals out of control, and she’s thrust into a world of gods and heroes, magic and love. When gods and mortals collide, nothing goes well.
Gods and Mortals, the first book in the Irish Gods series, introduces us to modern day Ireland, a place where the old and new exists side by side, and the old gods mingle with mankind. It tells the tale of Maeve Devlin and the man she was destined for, and the one god daring to claim her for his very own.
Again she was faced with a mountain of carrots that had to be minced just so. Maeve sighed. This is the stupidest dream ever. She grabbed another carrot and ferociously lopped off the leaves, but instead of the usual snick, there was a squelch that sounded somehow pitiful. In her hand was a bunch of tiny white flowers, the white petals splattered with blood that oozed from the freshly slashed stem. Maeve dropped the knife and backed away. Horror filled her. The mound of carrots was now a pile of mangled flowers, all bloody, her hands as sticky as Bluebeard’s. What had she done?
God of the Sea
The Irish Gods Book 2
God of the Sea, book 2 in the Irish Gods series, tells the tale of Ellie Selkirk―elementary school teacher, bartender, and one-time Seer. She has left the world of gods and magic behind and settled into an ordinary life. Gods are just too much trouble, and even worse, they’re dangerous.
Her life—and summer vacation—is upended when she meets Gareth Keir, front man for the band DeDanu and god of nothing. Intrigued by Gareth, Ellie decides to see where this romance will go, thinking it’ll amount to little more than a summer fling. Fate has other plans, though, and when Gareth’s brother, Declan, stumbles into the scene, injured and chased by Hunters, Ellie must decide how far she is willing to go make the man she loves the god he is destined to be, even if it means revisiting her own dark past.
Now that she could see him properly, Ellie decided that the front was as nice as the back. The Clash t-shirt. Angular, almost elfish face. High cheekbones. Nice, kissable mouth. Hair so blond it had to be dyed, all topped off with brilliant blue eyes. “Thank you.” She grabbed the picture and tugged, but he didn’t let go. “Where’d you get this?” She could hear his accent, the softer, more intelligible eastern Scottish accent. “I drew it.” She didn’t feel like explaining about Lorena. She pulled on the paper. He made the stereotypical Scottish noise of disbelief. “That’s my pattern.” He gestured with is head at the purple tartan. “It’s mine, too.” She didn’t want to pull again for fear it would rip. Wait. His eyes aren’t blue. They’re violet. Like the picture. “But ...” The paper slipped from his fingers. A rumble and the smell of diesel made her turn. “That’s my bus.” When she turned back, his eyes were once again blue. Before he could answer, she headed for the bus, and she didn’t have to be psychic to know he was watching her go, or that they would meet again.
Curse of the Gods
The Irish Gods Book 3
Amory Wright’s world is changing. Her son is off to college and her husband, Steven, has accepted a new job that moves them to Dublin. There, she begins to work for David Abernathy, owner of Love Spot. It’s her first real job—outside of being mom—and she discovers there’s more to herself than the country club veneer she has cultivated in the past.
David sees this too, and his charm and good looks tempt her in ways she’s never been tempted before. To make things worse, Amory suspects Steven’s trips for work may be cover for yet another affair.
As her life spirals out of control, she discovers that the person she is attracted to is more than a man: he’s the God of Sex, and he wants her to see him for who he truly is. And maybe—just maybe—she can break the centuries-old curse that haunts him to this day.
David had taken the final one on the ride back in the limo. The flash was bright, making her squint or blink, and Amory was terrible at selfies anyway. In picture after picture, she’d had the most ridiculous expression. After five or six tries, they’d both been laughing so hard they were crying. “You look terrible.” David gasped for air. In the most recent one, her mascara had smeared from her tears. “You look like a drunk raccoon.” Amory had laughed, wiping her eyes. “So much for you being Prince Charming.” “Never said I was. Take a deep breath, and we’ll try again.” “Okay, okay.” Amory tried to regulate her breathing. She exhaled. “I’m ready.” In the darkness in the moments before he’d snapped the photo, David had leaned in and whispered, “I lied. You look beautiful.” In the resulting picture, Amory had a seductive smile on her face, and David had his arm around her, his bow tie undone, and his expression saying I’ve got your wife. Deal with it.
Goddess of the Dead
The Irish Gods Book 4
Fight for your destiny.
Mo Noonan’s life is falling apart. She's failed out of grad school. Her fiancé just dumped her in front of all her friends. Her mother thinks she's a failure.
And now she's dead.
It's hard making friends with the dead, especially when you’ve been murdered, but Aedan Hanlon is willing to show Mo how to navigate the Underworld, though he keeps going on and on about facing her Truth. After spending time with Aedan, Mo begins to wonder, can the dead fall in love?
And if they do, why does the Goddess of the Dead have to mess everything up? Why can't Mo and Aedan just rest in peace?
A warm, velvety blackness more complete than she’d ever experienced enveloped Mo. It felt safe here―wherever here was―and though she couldn’t quite remember how she had arrived in this dark place, she liked it. I’m home. Indistinct and blurry voices interrupted her calm. “Oh my, what has happened?” “How did she get here?” “Poor thing. Do you think she’s dead?” “We should at least get her out of the water.” Mo was curious in a distant way about whomever they were discussing in such distressing terms, but the darkness was calling her, and it was a much nicer place than where she had come from, wherever that was.
D.S. Dehel is a lover of photography, good food, and the Oxford comma. When she is not immersed in a book, she is mom to her kids and spoiling her rather pampered feline, Mr. Darcy. She can also be found at the gym training for her next Spartan race and generally avoiding all adult responsibility. She adores literary allusions, writing sex scenes, and British television. Her devoted husband is still convinced she writes children's books. Please don't enlighten him.
Have I written any other books that haven’t been published? Do I have “trunk manuscripts”?
Yes, five complete novels and one nearly complete. These are some of my first writing, and I know that while the ideas are solid, the writing itself is crap. Complete crap. I use too many words and have this bizarre obsession with dialogue tags. But I love the characters and the main conflicts. I know I’ll go back and revise them all, and maybe by then they’ll be good enough to publish.
I also know it’ll take a few stiff drinks before I open those files.
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