What does a forty-year-old former child star do when she finds out she’s a Demon?

A sitcom, of course.

Age is just a number unless you’re an actress of a certain age trying to make a comeback in La La Land. Back in the day, I was the child star of the hit show Camp Bites. Today, I’m still living it down.

After a disastrous soap opera audition and getting fired from a TV show for not having a bodacious enough backside, one would think I’d be smart enough to go into real estate.

Nope.

Just found out from the rudest, meanest, and hottest guy alive that I’m a Demon. The jerk, also a Demon, goes by the name Abaddon—Abe to his friends.

I call him Dick.

He’s come from the Underworld to protect me—insert laugh track—since there’s a bounty on my head. Dick is not a welcome addition to my midlife madness. However, he won’t go away, and now, he’s my new boss.

Fine. Whatever. All I ever wanted to do in my life was pretend. I can pretend to get along with Dick. I can pretend that I’m not wildly attracted to him. Not sure I can pretend I’m human anymore, or that a supernatural assassin isn’t trying to cancel me, but I’m going to fake it until I make it. Or I get killed.

As the Underworld turns upside down, so have the days of my life.

Midlife is supposed to be messy, but this is a full-on catastrophic crisis.

Just when I thought life might be getting back to normal—normal being a relative word—I couldn’t have been more wrong.


Marriage proposal from the Grim Reaper? Yes.

Beautiful healthy baby? Yes.

Friends and family safe? Yes.

Ghost of my worst enemy sitting on my front porch? OMG. Yep.

With the ghostly world imploding around me, I’m going to need more than superglue to repair it.

Question? Am I willing to do what has to be done?

Answer? I’m about to find out.

To say forty has been an eventful year is an understatement.

On the contrary, it’s turning out to be a seriously hard-knock midlife.

What happens in Vegas, slays in Vegas.

With a show to produce and my career as an actress on the line, I really don’t have time to die—especially violently. However, while that might not be on my agenda, it seems to be on other’s.

Awesome.

Instead of acting in my latest endeavor, I’m playing the real-life role of Reluctant Demon Who Has To Save The World—or at the very least, the hot hero.

Fine. I’m always up for a plot twist or a re-write.

Scene One— Save Abaddon from the evil clutches of the hideous Pandora.

Scene Two — Don’t die.

Scene Three — Avoid Pandora like the plague. I understand she has an evil box…

Scene Four — Do not die.

Scene Five — Possibly meet my mom, the woman who abandoned me as a baby.

Scene Six — Do Not Freaking Die.

Scene Seven — Go back to my non-deadly life and win a damn Emmy for Ass The World Turns.

Even though I’m living on the edge of evil, half insanity, half upheaval, I’m a pro and the show must go on.

As the saying goes, a bad dress rehearsal means I don’t get dismembered on opening night. Or something like that.

It’s showtime, folks.

Midlife is sheer madness, and the facts of midlife are not taught in school. Unfortunately, some lessons are hellishly hard to learn.

I thought I had it figured out. I was wrong.

Proving I’m the Angel of Mercy is turning into a sh*tshow of epic proportions.

Not too long ago, I was a forty-year-old gal with a stable and boring life ahead of me. Now? Not so much. I have celestial siblings who are no walk in the park. Their decisions can destroy my future.

And of course, my predecessor has given me a few days to do the impossible or I’ll lose everything that means anything to me.

Gluing ghosts back together is turning out to be the easiest part of my job.

Fine. If this is my fate, I accept. Nothing is impossible if you believe.

I choose to believe.

Going to Hell has never been on my bucket list… until now.

The fact that I can speak that sentence without laughing or losing my mind is absurd. However, my life has veered into a very tricky tale that rivals any of my books.

The villain has been banished. I’ve written her right into an infernal doom. Unfortunately, a few of my very dear friends, fictional and real, have been caught up in the horror story and they’ve taken the trip down under as well.

It’s my fault and I can only see one way out…a plot twist of epic proportions. The fairytale is imploding and my imagination has taken flight.

The ending is murky and the stakes are up to me. There is no other alternative.

If I don’t get this ending right, my happy ever after might become a happy never after.