This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Deborah will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to one winner, another winner will win a print copy of the book (International), both are randomly drawn via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
The ago-old story of what happens when a foul-mouthed, romance impaired heroine with no edit button and a predilection for hot sex is faced with her worst nightmare–a purpose.
Ari Katz is intelligent, driven, and will make an excellent demon hunter once initiated into the Brotherhood of David. However, this book is about his twin Nava: a smart-ass, self-cultivated hot mess, who is thrilled her brother is stuck with all the chosen one crap.
When Nava half-drunkenly interrupts Ari’s induction ceremony, she expects to be chastised. What she doesn’t expect is to take her brother’s place among the–until now–all-male demon hunters. Even worse? Her infuriating leader is former rock star Rohan Mitra, whose sudden retirement in his early twenties now seems a lot less mysterious.
Convinced that her twin still has a shot at his destiny, Nava hatches a plan to convince the Brotherhood to bring the other Katz sibling into the fold. It’s too bad Rohan’s guarding her so closely that she might not be able to put it into action.
And it’s really too bad Rohan’s exactly what Nava’s always wanted: the perfect bad boy fling with no strings attached, because he may also be the one to bring down her carefully erected emotional shields. That’s as dangerous as all the evil fiends vying for the bragging rights of killing the only female ever chosen for Demon Club–or the one demon in particular out for payback.
Odds of survival: eh.
Odds of having a very good time with Rohan before she bites it: much better.
The maybe-demon from Josh’s alleyway was back, having stopped about five feet away and triggering the motion sensor. What with Josh’s sister trying to kill me and all, he’d fallen off my radar.
Aloe gooped over my fingers, having clutched the frond hard enough to break it, and my terror and an intense curiosity resurfaced. There was no denying his compelling presence. Plus, he had those long lashes that were my Kryptonite. I opened my mouth to scream. Or drool.
He held a finger up to his delectable lips to keep me quiet, circling me with lazy strides, checking me out.
I’d have been offended by the blatant appraisal except under his intense scrutiny, I lit up with an electric zing. I found myself stroking the aloe stalks in an obscene manner. Even knowing he couldn’t see my blush since I was in the shadows didn’t kill my utter mortification at jerking off plant life in not-so-subtextual yearning.
He stalked toward me, his leather jacket rustling with each step.
I held up a hand to stop him, the faintest electric crackle pulsing off my skin.
He didn’t stop, didn’t slow. In fact, he kept up his steady approach until his hand covered mine. My magic shocked us both at his touch. I gasped and shivered as pleasure, not pain, rumbled through me.
Hand still clasped in his, he stared at me suspiciously, instead of in fear, but had I wanted, I could have broken his hold. Not a demon, then? He fingered the thin silver necklace I wore with surprising gentleness, toying with the cute floral pendant dangling off it that read “I will kick you in the balls if I have to.”
“Should I be scared?” Given how he sounded like sex, sin, and salaciousness–the true definition of a triple threat–I decided that yes, he was most definitely a demon.
I met his mocking gaze, my rooted stance and beating heart placing me somewhere between morbid fascination and noping the hell out at warp speed.
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