Hey all, AK Nevermore back with you! This month I'm releasing book 2 of my Urban Fantasy Romance Series, Air & Darkness. If you're a fan of sassy female leads and ridiculous situations, then this is the series for you!
Some people are meant to burn...
Before Envy Starr was a halfling with a bad attitude and a drinking problem, she was living in the lap of luxury as singing sensation at Noir, Vegas’s premier casino. When a bet with a mysterious daemon goes wrong, it kicks off a chain of events that thrusts her out of the limelight and into the shadows, giving her no choice but to run.
With only her self-absorbed mother at her back, and Sugar Daddy out for blood, weird biker dudes and cult-following hicks are just the beginning.
And unless she figures out whole stigmata thing, it could also very well be the end…
Excerpt:
I sidled up to the roulette wheel and the croupier raised her eyebrow at me. I grinned back and she just shook her head. None of the staff would nark on me as long as I didn’t hang out at any one table too long. Plausible deniability and all that.
A group of dae and a smattering of normals were placing their bets. One of the dae glanced at me, and I looked away, my cheeks hot.
Look, daemons, well, fae in general, are beautiful. In their normal guises at least. Noir had a strict no elemental forms policy, so no horns, fangs, or anything like that. All the dae were rocking here was bronzed skin, midnight hair, and silver grey eyes. The men looked like GQ linebackers, and the women were supermodels. Yep, every last one of them. It makes elementals easy to pick out, along with what kind they are. Dae are dark, sylphs light, undines, I dunno just look wet and sad, and gnomes are earthy.
And let me tell you, this one fit the dae mold; tall, broad, and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Like a sexy one, not a lame Steven Seagal rat tail.
I glanced up, and he smiled, making his way around the table. Crap.
They were also hella dangerous. I won’t lie, that totally added to their allure, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so. They drew normals like a Neiman Marcus sidewalk sale. I was sure feeling the pull right then. I tried to ignore the murmur’s double thump in my chest. God, I hated that.
“And who might you be?” the dae asked, leaning against a convenient pillar. The room was lousy with them. It was supposed to be a reproduction of some shrine in a vampire flick. Fitting, since I was afraid to look anywhere but his throat.
Why? Garnering any fae’s attention is dangerous, and yes, I’d already totally screwed myself on that front, but you’re never, ever, supposed to look into a their eyes. If I did, there was a very real possibility he’d glamour my ass and suck my will away, turning me into his meat puppet. No freaking thank you.
“Rose,” I croaked out, all nervous. You don’t tell them your name either, but like I said, that wasn’t really mine. Hmm? Oh, it’s hard to explain. Like, I just knew it wasn’t, and no, I’m not telling you what I thought it was. Names hold power.
“Rose.” He rolled the name around his mouth like it was delicious, and my gaze locked on his lips. He wet them and I shivered at his smile. “I’m called Cy.”
He was, and I did. Sigh, I mean.
“Can I buy you a drink, Rose?”
“I— Yes. Please.” What? Like I was gonna turn down alcohol, and if I was doing this, I was gonna do it. I’d never actually spoken to any of them before, but I could handle it. Probably. I squared my shoulders Calista-style and looked up at him through my lashes.
He stepped closer. “Anything in particular, or shall I surprise you?”
I can’t even begin to tell you how appealing he made that sound. I played with a tendril of my hair, all coy. “I like surprises.”
“Do you?” He called for something over his shoulder. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, abruptly glad Sugar Daddy made us dress for dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy, just high-waisted black slacks and a red tank, but I knew I looked good. I mean, I told you I’m gorgeous, and not even a burlap sack could hide that fact. What? I totally am, and by his expression, he thought so, too.
“Are you here for the convention?” I asked.
“No.” His eyes lit up with his smile. Oh God, yeah, I was totally looking at his eyes. I glanced away, and he laughed, low and smooth.“I’m here for sport.” His knuckles trailed down my arm, and no lie, I almost died.
Want to keep Playing with Fire? Get it here:
https://dl.bookfunnel.com/qaquc3b632
Want more? Download One Night in Bliss, the series prequel, for free here:
https://dl.bookfunnel.com/kriwoyadde
AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.
Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.
AK pays the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She belongs to numerous industry organizations, volunteers for far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.
2 comments:
Playing with Fire sounds great! I love your comment about 'ridiculous' situations. :) Hey, those are the most fun.
Thank you and they are!!
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