Hex Your Ex Box and How To Lose A Demon In 10 Days

That's what I'm giving away. A Hex Your Ex Box filled with all sorts of treats. Why? Because I'm feeling rather witchy today. *insert evil grin* That and I'm guesting on Dakota Cassidy's Fan Page for the Question of the Day at 1 CST.

The flaming hoops? Follow the WGW blog, "like" Dakota on Facebook so you can talk to me about the Question of the Day. "Like" me, of course. And that's it. Links? I guess I could post them.

But how about a blurb and excerpt from How To Lose A Demon In 10 Days first? (It will be on shelves August 2012 from Kensington Brava.)


GOT DEMON?

Grace does. She’s got more demon than she can saddle. In fact, she’s got a sinfully sexy Crown Prince of Hell named Caspian. She’s also got ten days to get rid of him or Bad Things shall ensue. See, her Russian mobster ex-boyfriend didn’t take kindly to her smutty Mephistophelean contract. It's not that she's conspiring with fiends; that was his idea. It’s that she’s conspiring against him with outrageous devilry that runs the gamut from embarrassing to a dead hooker turned dominatrix demon gunning for his soul.

One should never trust demons, let alone shag them. They don’t have hearts. Yet Grace is buying hers some slightly tarnished armor and hoping that once he’s been shoveled into it, kicking and screaming, he’ll find it’s just his size. This wicked witch needs a white knight—or at least a Prince of Darkness for a Happily Ever After.



Excerpt:

Caspian was technically a Crown Prince of Hell. Technically. And technically, he was royally fucked. Or maybe was about to be, if he could finagle it.

How did he get himself into these things? He felt the pull, and there was no use in fighting it. The Big Boss had seen to that. Fighting would just make this harder.

Caspian gave a dramatic sigh and followed the call up into the mortal world. Which he hated. Not the mortal world per se, but the bitch work. He materialized in the middle of what was obviously a woman’s bedroom. There was enough purple to choke a unicorn. He quickly realized he was trapped within a chalklike circle drawn with finely ground bone.

Correction, not ground up. It was old. It smelled like rot. It had turned to dust on its own. What was this happy-crappy, another weekend warrior? How come he always got the freaks? No one sensible ever tried to summon a demon. Perhaps that should have been a consideration when he’d been frolicking down the primrose path that led to his current career.

She wasn’t bad to look at, aside from the sneer, which was a bit scary. Her beauty thrilled him. On the other hoof, as some of his co-workers would say, she didn’t look at all impressed at his entrance, and Caspian was a showman.

“WHY HAST THOU SUMMONED ME?” he began in a large, thunderous voice that rattled the windows and made books and knickknacks fall off the shelves in a most pleasing way. Pleasing to him, anyway.

“I hope you know you’re cleaning that up.” The voluptuous woman put her fist on her hip and tossed long dark hair over her shoulder.

“WHAT?” Caspian would have clapped a hand over his mouth had she not been staring at him so intently with those large chocolate eyes. Who was she to tell him that he was going to do anything of the sort?

Chocolate eyes? Where the hell had that come from? Did he care what her eyes looked like? No. Not in any meaningful sense, anyway. He wouldn’t remember them in a hundred years and describe them like foodstuffs he could get lost in or whatever.

“I know you don’t have to bellow like that. It’s not cute. I am not impressed.”

What did she mean, she wasn’t impressed? Of course she was impressed. He was Caspian, Crown Prince of Hell and demon extraordinaire. He was Infernal Royalty. While Caspian couldn’t imagine the Big Boss being rendered somehow impotent and unable to perform his cosmic duties, on the off chance he was, it would be Caspian’s turn to pull the strings. No matter what the other twelve Crown Princes had to say about it.

“Look, lady. You summoned me. You take what you get.”

She damn well better take what she got and like it. He used his demon sight to look at himself. No broccoli in the teeth; they were all straight, white and perfect. Hard jaw, broad shoulders, wicked tongue—check, check and check.

“Why, pray tell, did I have to get stuck with the metrosexual demon concerned with making an entrance? You should be on Broadway. Do you sing?”

Apparently, the question was serious. She was looking at him expectantly. Not only that, but she’d insulted his manhood. Demonhood. Whatever. She’d challenged his prowess.

Caspian looked at himself again. Metrosexual? He didn’t think Edwardian GQ was metrosexual. All the girlies liked it, thought he was going to spout poetry and fling a sword about and…oh.

“Well, do you? I need to know.”

“Why?” he grunted.

Wow. That was intelligent. Way to make her understand that she was in the presence of Caspian, a Crown Prince of Hell, his power second only to that of the Devil himself. Way to make her quake. If it wouldn’t totally shoot his credibility to shit, he would have palmed his forehead.

“I can’t have you bippity-bopping along behind me, now can I?” She sneered again, her cute little mouth curling in a very un-cute way.

Bippity-bopping?

His gaze lingered on her lips. They were making them better these days, human women. For a while, when summoning demons had last been all the rage, they’d been very skinny and worn ugly clothes. The ’70s hadn’t been a pleasant time for Caspian. Lots of offers for sex, though. He had actually inspired many of those gothics where the heroine gets it on with the Big Boss. Of course, he wasn’t the Big Boss, so that had gone over like an airborne pisser. See, the Big Boss was a showman, too. He didn’t really care to be upstaged.

This summoner really would be prettier if she smiled. He opened his mouth to tell her so.

“Oh, for the love of Hell. Not you, too.”

“Not me, what?” Again, he had yet to put her in her place, to make her quail before the might of—

“‘You’d be prettier if you smiled,’” she mimicked in a nasally little voice. “I can see the look on your face.”

“Well, you would be. I’m not gonna lie.”

“Why not? You’re a demon.”

He sighed. “Because lying is bad for business and it’s boring. Can we just get on with this? What do you want? Riches? Power? The ability to eat anything you like and not gain a pound…?”

She looked down at herself for a moment and snorted. “I like my figure fine, thanks. What I want—”

Caspian cut her off. “Really? Because you know most women are unhappy with themselves, regardless of size. It’s nice to see a woman with real hips and”—he paused to look her up and down again—“very nice breasts who—”

“Excuse me?” she practically growled. “Can I send you back and get another? Because this is not working.”

“No. And I’m offended.” He pulled at his sleeve for a moment. “I really don’t want to have to drag out the fire and the tail and the—”

“Fine! Let’s get on with it. Vengeance. I want vengeance.”



Thanks for reading, dollfaces.

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