However, I also enjoy paranormal romance and decided to combine the two. What did I get? An erotic paranormal-romantic comedy series Taming the Beast.
Book one, Freeing the Beast, is releasing October 17. It was a blast to write: sexy, fun, and oh-so romantic.
Freeing the Beast Blurb:
For Becca Salt being a witch isn’t all magic. Too curvy and lonely, she spends her nights running a makeover service for demons, vamps, weres, and zombies who want to project a more human, normal side. Their goal? To get the babes without the authorities hunting them down like rabid dogs. Once Becca suppresses the worst of their beast, they’re on the hunt and gone.
Dating has been a definite bitch for Eric Diletto. Although he’s hot and hung, he’s also one of Cupid’s descendants. A god born to believe in courtship, courtesy, and all that other junk. Tired of women dumping him for the bad boys, Eric hires Becca to release his inner beast. Grrrr.
Two potions later, they’re crawling all over each other. With Eric’s newfound dominance, he’s definitely the man. And the god who intends to take Becca here, there, and everywhere. Who said sorcery and love wasn’t fun?
Warning: A witchdoctor’s nightmare. Contains potions with weird side effects, a sorceress with limited magical skills and a yearning heart, plus a minor god who wants to get down and dirty. Bad, bad boy.
She fingered her top. “What are you?” He wasn’t a demon or a vamp. However, a were or other shifter wasn’t implausible. “Exactly what?”
“I’m Eric. Di-let-to.”
He’d pronounced his last name ultra slow, as though that should mean something to her.
It wasn’t ringing a bell. “Okay.”
“No, it’s not. I haven’t always gone by Eric. I changed my first name when I was twelve. Got tired of having to fight the other kids, you know?”
Becca did. She’d had her own scuffles when anyone had dared call her fat. Compassion and tenderness for him mingled with her building lust. “Tell me your real first name. Please.”
He sagged to the sofa. “You’ll laugh.”
“Never.” She hurried around her desk.
He leaned away from her.
Becca stopped. No way did she want him to feel more unglued than he already was or to make a fool of herself by being too forward. “I don’t make fun. I don’t bully. I had enough of that when I was a child to know how much it hurts.”
He nodded sympathetically. “The other kids made fun of your hair, huh?”
“No.” She curled her upper lip. “There’s something wrong with my hair?”
He held up his hands in appeasement. “Not at all. I really like the color and the way you wear it.” He gestured to his own head to demonstrate her bob and bangs. “It’s great.”
Sure, and Santa Claus is a card-carrying Communist. “The other kids made fun of my weight.” There, she’d said it. Little need to pretend there wasn’t a four-ton elephant in the room.
“Really?” He took her in, loitering on her ample cleavage and curvy hips. “I don’t see how. You’re perfect. Most women today are too skinny.”
Honesty shone on his face.
Becca liked that and what he’d said. “What’s your real first name?”
He lay on the sofa, arm draped over his eyes. He looked like a patient unwilling to confess his innermost thoughts to a shrink.
“Come on.” She used her gentlest tone. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what the problem is. It can’t be that bad.”
“Wanna bet? My real first name is Eros.”