Isn't Spook Raines adorable? He's the longlost twin of smoking demon Bhyrne Raines from HEAT WAVE and the cousin of smoldering erotic artist Max Raines from FROST!
He'll be here soooooooooooon.
Spook Raines is a burnt-out spy who doesn’t know he’s a fire demon with a twin in Sleepy Hollow.
Geneviève Mortimer is a will o’the wisp who hunts demons to ease the pain of her troubled past.
When Madame Eve brings them together for a torrid 1Night Stand, will they be able to come in from the cold at last?
Geneviève Mortimer crept down the quiet hotel hallway, careful to bank her glow…at least for the moment. She sensed the presence of a demon on the floor, but something seemed off about the male’s aura. A weird lack of evil, as if an impenetrable force field surrounded his consciousness, his psyche. As if he thought he were… human.
Had he been brainwashed? Drugged? Raised by gypsies? By wolves? Wait. No. Scratch that last one. She didn’t get the were vibe at all with this one.
No matter, as a will o’the wisp and a Protector of the Legion of Shadows tasked with watching over humankind and keeping the unwary safe from visitors from the demon realms to the human plane, she lured the black-souled to their demise. Going all shine-a-light and sparkly until they fell under her spell and followed her anywhere. She needed to find this guy. Pounce first, beam a little hypnotic wattage, ask questions later. Take him out before he did any harm. To humans. Or innocents like her parents.
She sniffed. Getting warmer. Closer to the demon’s room. What would she find behind his door?
She ignored the “Do Not Disturb” sign and jiggled the handle. Locked. But the absence of a key card wouldn’t be a problem for her. Not with her brand of talent and the magick lock picks in her pocket. She got the door open in seconds and slinked into the room, masking her radiance, keeping to the shadows.
Holy shit. Male bonding scent filled the air. Delicious, decadent, sublime. Melted chocolate, rich mocha and salted caramel. Total man candy. Like nothing she’d ever smelled before. Calling to her sweet tooth. Her horny core. An ache blossomed between her legs. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Whoa. She could orgasm from the erotic scent of the guy alone.
Cripes. This sort of thing never happened to her. She was a demon hunter, damn it. Remained professional always, despite her ditzy, scatterbrained reputation. She did her job. And did it well. She’d fooled even her closest friends, those who didn’t know about her role as a POLOS and didn’t guess the half of it. Those who thought she slut-flitted around the world searching for mischief, adventure and, most of all, pleasure, like some sort of fickle, commitment-shy, well, yeah sure, okay, will o’the wisp.