Sentences...because it's Sunday

No one is more of a creature of habit than me.
So even though Official Six Sentence Sunday is no more, well, hell, this poor blog would get no posts at all if I couldn't toss up six (or more or less) from time to time. Sunday or no Sunday.

FROST released on Friday. I am dead crazy about the hero, Max Raines. Abso-freakin'-crazy about him.

Hope you'll be, too.

So here's a few from FROST:

Raines dragged a finger around his collar, popping open the top button. If he couldn’t achieve release soon, he’d go mad. Jacking off into his fist gave him insufficient gratification. Human women proved too delicate and fragile, too  
breakable. Demons glommed onto him, far too needy, attaching themselves with the tenacity of barnacles, draining him of inspiration and clinging long past their expiration dates.

He’d learned from bitter experience he could crisp any woman he touched. The infamous Maxwell Raines: a six-foot-six, two hundred twenty-five pound hunka burning love.

And now I’m channeling Elvis.

 

BLURB:

Dagney Night, a sought-after succubus, is no stranger to blazing hot sex. But as Valentine’s Day approaches, she longs for something more. When oddly erotic paintings arrive for display at her art gallery, arousing everyone who views them, she wonders about the mysterious artist who created the works.

Maxwell Raines, a fire-sex demon, lives a life of solitude and seclusion behind the walls of his compound at Sleepy Hollow, channeling his lustful impulses into his art—until his muse deserts him and his temperature rises past the danger point. He needs sex. Now.

When Madame Evangeline arranges a torrid Valentine’s 1Night Stand for them, will the flames of their encounter be too hot to handle?

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