A jaded grim reaper and a woman who wants another chance at life give ‘til death do us part a new meaning in this paranormal romance from bestselling author Jenna Levine.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Love You to Death by Jenna Levine, which releases on October 13th 2026.
Lucy McKenzie’s life has always been a disaster. So it should come as no surprise when one day she’s hit by an inconveniently-timed bus—and dies. Unfortunately for the handsome grim reaper who shows up to take her to the afterlife, Lucy is not about to go quietly.
Daniel is tired of his job collecting souls. While working for the Agency beats the heck out of going to Hell, he’s been doing this for literal ages. The drudgery has him yearning for more. Touched by Lucy’s plea for more time on earth, he convinces the Agency to make a deal: Lucy can have six more weeks of life if Daniel can observe her and report back on humanity.
But as Lucy and Daniel navigate the chaos of life and afterlife together, they discover that a second chance at living might be their real chance at love.
EXCERPT
~ Lucy~
Of all the embarrassing things I’ve done in my life, ducking behind a stranger at a workplace retirement party so my boss doesn’t see me has to be in the top ten.
“Don’t move,” I instruct, crouching down low enough in my seat that the man’s conveniently broad shoulders block me from view.
He freezes. “What are you doing?” His voice is very deep and rough around the edges, like he hasn’t used it in a while. It’s a sexy voice, a fact I’d maybe dwell on if we weren’t at a work event and the night hadn’t already gone to shit.
“Let’s just say that if I believed in Hell,” I explain, from behind this thankfully accommodating stranger, “I would currently be in its seventh circle.”
The guy makes an oddly strangled sound but says nothing.
My boss, Professor Elizabeth Skellar, stands less than five feet away as she scans the hotel ballroom. From the determined set of her jaw I know she’s looking for whoever forgot to bring the plaque honoring Professor Shiran’s fifty years of service to Tennessee College. The same plaque she was supposed to present to him five minutes ago in front of this stodgy crowd of professors, Prof. Shiran’s family, and a handful of university staff like me who couldn’t get out of being here.
But Skellar couldn’t present anything when Prof. Shiran took the stage because there wasn’t anything to present. Because I forgot the plaque at the office.
I’d known I was supposed to bring it. I’d even written it down in my Notes app. Sometimes, though, even writing things down isn’t enough keep me from screwing something up. I’m probably the worst admin Skellar has ever had—but forgetting the plaque for tonight’s guest of honor is a new low, even for me.
As I continue hiding in plain sight, Professor Skellar walks past us without looking in our direction. Only when she gets a drink from the bar and returns to her seat on the other side of the room do I let out a sigh of relief and get my first good look at the person I’ve been using as a shield.
I nearly choke on my tongue.
I don’t know why this guy appeared beside me at this table reserved for university staff when everyone else abandoned it an hour ago. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. No — handsome doesn’t do him justice. This guy is hot. So hot it almost hurts to look at him. Dark, artfully messy hair that all but demands to have fingers running through it. Ice blue eyes. I’d already noticed the life-saving broad shoulders of course, but I hadn’t noticed the way his torso tapers down to a narrow waist. Or this man’s very long legs.
Or the way his cheekbones are so sharp they could cut glass.
His charcoal grey suit looks like it cost more money than I make in a month as an administrative assistant and way more than an econ professor at Tennessee College would spend on clothes. He can’t be staff, or I’d recognize him. He’s also not family of the retiring professor, sitting way back here; Shiran’s family is all sitting together at the front table.
At least I look good tonight, thanks to my sister Jess, who took me under her wing the way she always does. My shoulder-length light-brown hair and makeup are on point. And the dress she lent me—a gorgeous black sheath dress with cap sleeves that fits me like it’s mine—gives me a confidence I rarely feel.
“Hey,” I say, tapping into that false confidence. Trying for sultry, but probably failing. It’s me we’re talking about. He’s glowering down at a note card, his jaw doing that hot guy clenching thing that hot guy’s jaws always seem to do in romance novels. “What’s your name?”
A pair of ice blue eyes snap to mine. They widen a little, as though the question startles him. “My name?”
I nod at our otherwise vacant table. “A few minutes ago I was the only one here. Now you’re here too. An introduction seems appropriate.” And I’d like to know who I’m about to hit on. “I’m Lucy McKenzie. And you are?”
“I know who you are.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Are you in the econ department too?” He looks like he’s in his early thirties. Maybe he’s a new faculty hire after all.
“No.” His eyes go distant, as if he’s trying to answer a difficult question. “As for my name, it’s… Daniel?” His sentence turns up at the end, like he’s not sure about it.
“Are you asking me if your name is Daniel or telling me?”
A beat passes. “Telling you?” He doesn’t seem too certain of that, either. Being hot like burning clearly hasn’t make him immune to being strange.
“Daniel’s a nice name,” I tell him. His shoulders relax a little, as though my liking his name is a relief. “What brings you to my table at the very back of this lovely ballroom?”
He stares at me like a deer caught in headlights.
“This table is for the unlucky hourly employees who have to be here,” I clarify. I don’t tell him that my coworkers—including Eleanor, my work bestie—found more interesting places to be once the open bar started. It’s probably obvious; we’re the only two people here now. “Do you work here?”
“No.”
For a second I wonder if he’s a party crasher. But that’s ridiculous. Who would be lame enough to crash this party? Then again, I don’t remember Daniel from the formal retirement ceremony that afternoon. If I’d so much as caught a glimpse of this man out of my peripheral vision I’d remember him.
I try again. “What’s your connection to Professor Shiran?”
He shifts awkwardly in his seat. He clearly doesn’t want to be having this conversation. “No connection.” His gaze sharpens on me with an intensity that could cut stone. “There is someone here I have business with.”
“Business?”
He nods slowly, ice blue eyes still locked on mine.
Excerpted from Love You to Death by Jenna Levine Copyright © 2026 by Jenna Levine. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
