Chip Pons is delivering a love story to die for.
The author of Winging It With You, who first gained popularity on Bookstagram, is releasing a new gay romantic comedy called Dearly Departed. Inspired by the story of Hades, the book will be available on June 16, 2026. TopMob News is excited to share the book cover and a sneak peek at the first chapter.
Pons’ novel introduces Stonevale, New Jersey, a town where Hayden Harlow—once a god of the Underworld, now a disgruntled funeral director—is stuck on Earth. He’s searching for a way around the rules that forced his exile, but his plans are complicated by Levi Wilder, the cheerful florist next door, who threatens to disrupt everything.
The book cover for Dearly Departed, designed by Tal Goretsky, prominently features a romantic embrace between the main characters, Hayden Harlow and Levi Wilder. The moody image depicts them surrounded by flowers in the darkness, clearly showcasing their love for each other.
Pons carefully selects the artwork for his books, and he’s spoken before about the thought he puts into choosing each cover, like the one for Winging It With You.
In June, author Alex Pons explained to TopMob News that they had extensive conversations with their publisher about the cover of their first traditionally published book. Pons, who previously self-published a novel called You & I, Rewritten, wanted the cover to depict a tender moment of love and affection between two adult men. They emphasized wanting to make a strong first impression with the cover art.
He explained that he hopes customers will see men embracing in his store in the same way they’re used to seeing men and women embrace – something that hasn’t always been common.
As for how his two new leading men end up in each other’s arms?
Oh my gosh, Hayden is totally falling for Levi, and it’s everything. He’s always been so guarded, building these walls around himself, but Levi… Levi is showing him a life he never even dreamed of! It’s like, he’s being pulled in two directions – the safe, familiar life he had, and this incredible, exciting future Levi is practically begging him to reach for. But letting Levi in means taking down those walls, and it’s not just about his heart, you guys. This whole thing feels HUGE, like one wrong move could change everything. I’m seriously on the edge of my seat!
Read on for a sneak peek at the first chapter of Dearly Departed, which will be released on June 16, 2026, and discover other exciting new books…
Chapter One – Hayden
The thing about death is that it doesn’t give a damn.
Death doesn’t care about what you didn’t finish, your good plans, or even small things you meant to do but didn’t get around to. It comes exactly when it will, without emotion, as it always has.
Which is why I respect it. Death, at least, keeps its calendar.
The sign over the door says “Harlow and Sons Funeral Home,” with the letters carved into old, worn oak. It looks like a traditional and trustworthy place – the kind of business people rely on during difficult times.
It’s a useful little lie, honestly. The business name. People tend to trust a ‘family business’ more than one run by a single person with no visible connections. I’ve kept the name for the joke of it – there isn’t a single family member involved, just me, my perfectly organized records, and a very long, successful history of pretending I’m not Hades.
I’m usually alone, accompanied only by my shadows. People can’t normally see them, but sometimes, when I walk by, they feel a strange chill – a prickling on their skin.
Finding a sunflower arrangement on my desk this morning felt like a personal affront, and my first reaction was to get rid of it immediately. I even briefly considered burning it – it seemed like a fittingly dramatic response.
These flowers look like they’ve stepped out of a cheerful summer ad. Their bright petals seem to invite you to run through a sunflower field, maybe with someone you met online… who might not stay interested for long.
This is a funeral home, not a Hallmark movie set.
Walking in, I immediately let my bag fall onto the old leather chair – it’s seen a lot, just like me. And then I look at the flowers… honestly, they just feel wrong. All bright and cheerful in a place like this. It feels like they’re mocking the sadness, and it really gets to me. This is where people come to grieve, to pay their respects. For a long time, it was my job to remember everything everyone else wanted to leave behind, to hold onto those memories for them. It meant something then, being the keeper of those stories.
I can almost imagine my past self mocking me. It’s like they’re saying, “Is this really what you’ve become, Hayden?”
The thought makes my jaw tighten.
“Irene!” I call out.
Irene Beaumont walks in, coffee in hand, and she has this air of someone who could easily be in charge of a major corporation. But instead, she expertly manages the details of my daily life. I don’t know if she’s witnessed me at my lowest points, but she’s certainly seen me when I wasn’t at my best. And she doesn’t seem bothered by it at all.
Her dark eyes gleam with amusement. “Morning to you, too.”
I gesture dramatically toward the flowers like they’ve committed a felony. “Care to explain?”
Her lips twitch. “They arrived for the Masterson funeral. I assumed you approved them.”
“You’re asking if I approved this?” I waved my hand at the flowers, struggling to find a polite way to describe them. “This… awful thing?”
Irene calmly took another sip of her coffee and said, “Perhaps the florist just wanted to add a little cheer to your day.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I assure you, my life is sufficiently illuminated.”
Irene handed me a tidy invoice and suggested I speak to the shop owner directly. “He’d probably like to hear what you think,” she said. “His name is Levi Wilder, and his shop is just around the corner. He’s a really friendly guy – you two will hit it off.” She paused, giving me a knowing smile.
There’s a comforting familiarity in our life together, especially in Irene’s steady calmness. After forty years, she’s never questioned my unchanging appearance, or the strange shadows that sometimes follow me. Irene is the only human I’ve known who instinctively understands that some things are better left unsaid. She doesn’t truly know what I am, but she understands me somehow, and that silent understanding has allowed us both to peacefully avoid certain topics.
You know, sometimes even the best people can get under your skin. I was just dealing with that myself – a tiny, familiar frustration bubbling up after a conversation with my colleague, Irene. She’s wonderful, truly, but…never admits she’s wrong! So there I was, heading out into the cold with a bunch of sunflowers she’d gifted me – and honestly? I wasn’t thrilled to be carrying them. It’s a small thing, but it perfectly captured the moment!
Walking to the flower shop, I saw my reflection in the window. My face, with its strong angles and dark hair, reminded me of the sculptures that once captured my image in stone and metal. Those were the days when I was celebrated, but that life feels distant now. I left all that behind when I exchanged the darkness of the Underworld for life in New Jersey.
While gods were honored with temples and songs, I only receive bills and reminders of my mortality. It’s a harsh change I haven’t accepted, and I prefer it that way. The people here don’t know my true nature, or my past life, and I intend to keep it a secret.
I catch my reflection, always with a lingering darkness close behind. There’s a feeling, a sense of something I should be doing, that I can’t ignore. It stays with me, constant and unwavering, like a haunting memory or a past error.
I push down the painful feeling in my chest, knowing it won’t help to think about it. The law allowing immortals to retire was a flawed idea, created with good intentions but based on misplaced faith – and it’s something I can’t fix now.
Though I’ve tried…
Honestly, even after all this time, I still wonder if this retirement is truly permanent. I never really pushed for details, just accepted what I was told. But centuries later, that little seed of doubt just won’t go away. We were assured the Act was unbreakable, sealed with everything they had. But if people can forget their gods, can’t the laws holding the Act together also come undone? I’m starting to think nothing is as final as everyone claims.
So here I am, living as Hayden Harlow – a former god now stuck doing ordinary, everyday tasks and dealing with endless paperwork. It’s a far cry from my previous life!
As soon as I walk into Full Bloom, a loud bell rings, and I’m immediately overwhelmed by color. There are tulips and peonies everywhere, with ivy growing all over the place – it’s exactly the kind of scene I can’t stand.
And there he is.
Of course it’s him. Levi Wilder is standing behind the counter like some sun-kissed warning sign.
I’m immediately drawn to his hair – it’s this incredible, vibrant red, and wonderfully messy. It doesn’t look like he’s ever bothered with a comb, and honestly, it doesn’t need one. It’s a bit longer around his ears and curls up at the back of his neck, catching the light like burning copper. And then there are the freckles – so many of them! They’re sprinkled across his nose, cheeks, and even down his collarbones, like the sun personally decided to paint them there.
He’s a strikingly tall and powerfully built man who seems to glow with confidence. He moves with a captivating, effortless grace – fluid, self-assured, and never rushed. He’s a bright, energetic presence amidst the surrounding vibrancy.
Usually, a guy like this would really bother me, or at least annoy me. All that effortless charm and genuine niceness… it’s just overwhelming.
When Levi looks up from the wrapping paper, his green eyes meet mine without a flicker of surprise, as if I’m just another passerby. But his gaze does something to me—a strange weight settles in my chest, the feeling of truly being seen. It’s different from the quick, dismissive glances I’m used to. This attention holds, lingering like a warm ray of sunlight when you’re accustomed to darkness. For a moment, I don’t feel invisible, and a curious energy stirs within me—maybe it’s curiosity, or perhaps the beginning of a headache.
“Morning!” he says utterly unaware…or uncaring…of my irritation.
Okay, so I practically threw the sunflowers onto the counter – not gently, definitely not gently. It was more like a dramatic statement, because I was so nervous. I had to see him. I blurted out, “Mr. Wilder?” It probably didn’t sound very graceful, honestly, but I just needed to know if he was there.
“That’s me,” he says, grin in place. “But… it’s Levi. No formalities here.”
“Hayden Harlow. From Harlow and Sons funeral home. We ordered lilies.”
He subtly changed his stance. “I recognize you,” he said, a reminder of just how close-knit the town of Stonevale was.
I blinked, surprised. People here usually only acknowledge me when they have to be polite. They definitely never act this friendly—or personal.
Levi didn’t stop talking, and his gaze met mine for a moment too long. “I was actually going to call about the lilies,” he said. “Was that arrangement for Ruth Masterson?” He didn’t sound like a florist checking an order; he sounded like a friendly neighbor remembering someone fondly.
I clear my throat, regaining my composure. “Correct,” I say flatly.
He nodded softly. “She always loved getting sunflowers, even in the winter. They reminded her of her mom.” He glanced at the flowers between them. “I figured it was a good idea.”
The words land like a rock in a still pond.
His familiarity with the dead catches me off guard. Like he knew her.
Even though a part of me understands he meant well, I still can’t ignore what happened.
“That’s…sweet,” I say, carefully choosing my words. “But we remember those who have passed by respecting the customs that allow us to grieve. It’s not right to make a funeral about sharing your own stories.”
He raised his eyebrows but didn’t disagree. “I didn’t mean any disrespect to the family,” he said. “I just thought…” His eyes lit up with an energy that honestly made me want to run away. “…maybe something cheerful could lighten the mood a bit. Funerals are usually so somber.”
I blurt out, “That’s just what this is about,” immediately wondering why we’re even talking. “Funerals are private, not something to be put on display.”
A playful look crosses Levi’s face. “Perhaps they deserve to,” he replies. “Life is full of both joy and difficulty, right up to the very end. It makes sense to show that.”
“That’s not your call to make.” And even I’m surprised at how harsh it sounds aloud.
A pause. He nods, a little more serious now. “Understood.”
I exhale. “Just…please don’t take creative liberties with my orders again.”
He bit his lip, struggling to hide a smile. “Okay, deal. But if people get the impression they’ve accidentally wandered onto the set of a crime scene show when they come in, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”
A twitch of a smile threatens. Almost. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”
A silence falls between us, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s different. The way he said her name was so natural, so comfortable. It’s as if he truly belongs here, something I’ve never felt.
I came here to fix a mistake. And found Levi Wilder instead…a complication disguised as sunlight.
Which is annoying.
At best.
I took the invoice and headed for the door. Levi had already gone back to work, calmly trimming flower stems and humming, seemingly unaffected by our conversation. The little bell above the door chimed as I left, but this time it felt like a cruel joke. I was just frustrated with the sunflowers—and with everything, really.
***
I hung up my coat—the quiet sound seemed amplified in the empty room—and sat down at my desk, reaching for the invoices I’d seen earlier. The shadows in the room seemed to deepen and relax. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Levi. Life is complicated and full of energy. I tried to push those thoughts away and concentrate on my work.
Then, a loud bell from the front desk rang out, quickly followed by someone deliberately clearing their throat.
I glance irritably at the clock. Apparently, Irene isn’t here to save me this time.
Fine. I stand up with a quiet sigh, and step reluctantly into the front room.
I noticed her then, standing at the counter. She was playing with a worn flyer, its edges softened from repeated handling. Something about her felt instantly recognizable, and vulnerable. Her tense shoulders and tear-filled eyes spoke volumes – I could tell she was hurting.
Oh, her sadness… it just consumes me. I keep trying to figure out who she’s lost – a husband, maybe? A brother? It’s not just sadness, though, it’s this deep, heavy grief I can practically feel. It clings to her, like a dark cloud, and it’s so…old. I’ve seen that kind of pain before, in so many faces, but it still hits me like a punch to the gut every single time. It’s breathtaking, honestly, and I just… I can’t look away.
I asked, keeping my voice calm and professional, “Can I help you?” I fought to keep my sympathy from showing in my tone, but I could already feel myself wanting to offer comfort. She looked up, surprised to see someone there.
She paused, her voice trembling slightly. “I was researching funeral planning… for when I’m gone.”
I nod, knowingly. She’s here to take the first step toward something that feels impossible to face.
I handed her the forms and explained, “We offer pre-planning services, and it’s easy. Just fill these out, and we’ll handle everything from here.”
The pen fell from her hand. As I bent to pick it up, our fingers touched. Her skin felt cold and trembled slightly. One of the shadows around me seemed to rise, as if listening, then slowly fell back into place.
“Take your time,” I say, and whatever professional detachment I keep in reserve thins at the edges.
I noticed her filling out the paperwork, and it was clear she was really struggling to maintain her composure. She kept avoiding eye contact, which always tells me someone is holding back a lot. It’s heartbreaking to witness someone trying so hard to appear okay when they’re clearly not.
I nodded and returned the finished forms to her. “You’re handling everything perfectly,” I said.
The woman let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just a bit. I couldn’t fix what she was going through, but I could offer her some comfort and a moment to rest.
She quietly said thank you and turned to go. As the door closed, the darkness around me seemed to pull back, respecting her sadness.
I’m back at my desk, and though she’s left, I can still feel the sadness she carried. A memory of Levi’s voice surfaces – a surprisingly cheerful reminder that life is complicated, but full of energy.
He talks as if he’ll always be remembered, like he’s never worried about fading from people’s minds. That’s probably why he makes me uneasy. When he looks at me, I feel like I won’t be forgotten either.
This excerpt is from Dearly Departed by Chip Pons, which will be published by Putnam on June 16, 2026. Putnam is an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2026 by Chip Pons.
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2025-10-22 16:23