I owe my lovely hostess a huge thank you for having me over today. My paranormal romantic comedy, Flirting with Fire, was just released by Decadent Publishing. It features a clueless fire mage, his fed-up cat familiar, and Madame Eve’s renowned one-night stand service. On All Hallows’ Eve, this witch and warlock iron out the kinks of an outdated employment contract in a spectacularly fiery fashion (and once you read the blurb, my very odd description will make a lot more sense).
In celebration, I’m giving away a $15 gift card. To enter, leave a comment here, and drop your details in the Rafflecopter widget at the bottom of this post.
Flirting with Fire
A Witch’s Night Out #1
by Tara Quan
Paranormal Romantic Comedy, Interracial/Multicultural
Apprentice witch Catalina Gato is prohibited from assuming her human form in front of her new employer without his express permission. Since he doesn’t know he’s a warlock, he can’t give it, leaving her in a familiar’s limbo. To make matters worse, she’s barred from leaving his house, and her attempts to enlighten him of his true nature results in burnt notes, charred walls, and exploding laptops.
On All Hallows’ Eve, she gets one night of freedom. Deciding some no-strings-attached sex might take the edge off the intense attraction she feels for her clueless boss, she signs up for Madame Eve’s service. When she meets her masked mystery date at the Castillo Capital, she realizes she might have gotten much more than she bargained for.
After being gifted a one-night stand from his annoying best friend, attorney Leo Difuoco reluctantly ventures to the Castillo Capital to celebrate Halloween. When he meets his oddly familiar green-eyed date in a Cat Woman costume, flames literally ignite, sparks magically fly, and life as he knows it changes forever.
Soaping her too-sensitive body, Cat closed her eyes and recalled an image of Leo from earlier that morning. She’d wanted nothing more than to slip through the glass doors, run her palms along those wet, chiseled abs, and trace the defined lines of chest muscle with her fingers. After less than two minutes of voyeurism, she’d imagined levering herself using those broad shoulders, wrapping her legs around his torso, and fusing her mouth with his.
Why did her boss have to be clueless and sexy? If not for the latter trait, it’d be much easier to hate his guts. Instead, she was trapped in a weird limbo between impatient annoyance and unbridled horniness. She switched the water to a cold blast. It didn’t help.
One cardinal rule existed in all professions—Thou shalt not lust after the boss. To it, she’d add—especially not when you’re his minion, bound by blood to do his bidding, and he doesn’t see you as a human being. But the impracticality of this attraction didn’t change the fact this man appealed to her in the most carnal way. It was a good thing she transformed into a cat whenever he came close, else her panties would be damp from constant sexual fantasies.
When she slept, she dreamt of learning the texture of his dark five o’clock shadow with her lips, of feeling his coarse chest hair rasp over her breasts. He might be no more than two inches taller than her, but she’d be powerless in his grasp. The man was all muscle, from his thick neck to his toned arms. Even without the magical rules demanding her complete obedience, he could compel her to do whatever he wanted.
This embarrassing and unrelenting lust put an impetus on finding a way out. She’d served Nonna for a little over three years and spent the past six months in his care, leaving an interminable eighteen months on the damn contract. By the time it ended, she’d be a frustrated nymphomaniac.
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