Do you like a little giggle with your sexiness? Then you might want to pick up a copy of Sweet Hell, a Recommended Read on Two Lips!
Dionysus, Greek god of wine and theater, is the world’s original playboy. But
lately, he has been restless, moody, and he knows something is wrong. His
carefree and bacchanal lifestyle is starting to feel like one long string of
meaningless, sexual escapades. Even worse, he is suddenly aroused by the idea of
marriage. And to top it all off, Josie Marino, the mouthy, disheveled, and
eternally annoying woman who serves him coffee at the local bakery, sets him on
Josie, a Toronto baker of Italian heritage, is not looking for
love or lust. Especially not with Dionysus Iros, the most aggravating, demanding
customer she’d ever had to serve. With his rippling muscles and sexy, knowing
eyes, he’s obviously trouble with a capital T. Unfortunately, he’s also the star
of her every X-rated dream. She’s known players like Dionysus before, and one of
them almost got the better of her. Josie determines she will not fall for his
considerable physical charms, come hell or high water.
But Dionysus turns
strangely protective when a sinister character arrives at Josie’s bakery, and
they can no longer deny their unwanted feelings for one another. They are forced
to embark on a bizarre, sexually-charged journey to hell itself, which threatens
to either change them for the better, or destroy them.
Greek mythology had never been one of Josie’s strong points in school. In fact, she’d always thought the stories were kind of silly. Tales of men with goat legs, and sea monsters, and prancing nymphs were just never her thing. Give her a good Agatha Christie any day.
But that didn’t mean she hadn’t paid some attention in her Religions of the World class. She was beginning to remember the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. There was an opera named after them. Her mom used to hum the music while she baked.
And she was definitely starting to recall the myths about Dionysus, Greek god of wine. She stared at Dionysus Iros. Some very compelling comparisons were starting to form in her head.
Greek god of wine…
She held up a hand, cutting him off. “Iros is an interesting family name.”
He held her gaze. “It’s not a family name at all. I had to choose a surname to fit in among mortals. I chose Iros. It means, uh, hero. Don’t laugh.”
“Right,” she said, lips pursed. “And you’re a Greek…”
“God,” he supplied. “I’m a Greek god. Have been for a long time.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I got you out of the freezer. You’ve seen what I can do.”
Her lip trembled. “Not really. Maybe there’s a problem with the hinges.”
He huffed. “You have no choice but to believe me, Josie. I’d love to stand here and appear to you in all my glory, but frankly we don’t have time. And considering I have to drag you down to Hades with me before the week is up, you might want to jump on the bandwagon.” He started marching back up the steps to the bakery.
How dare he walk away from her! “Wait! I’m not going anywhere with you, buster!” She scrambled up after him.
“Well, you heard the man. You can’t stay here. I can’t take a chance that he’ll come back and hurt you.”
This was too much! “Well … if you’re such a powerful Greek god, why don’t you hit him with your lightning bolt?”
He stared at her, looking almost tired. “Wrong god, sweetheart. I’m not Zeus. But hey, A for effort.” He walked into the middle of the bakery, held out his hands to her, and said, “Well, shall we?”
“Shall we what?”
“Go to Hades?” And then he looked at her as if to say, “I’m waiting.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I get some proof!”
“Josie, Josie. I would think the journey to hell might be proof enough.”
“No.” She shook her head. This was way too weird. Yes, he was far too handsome to be a regular man. Yes, his kisses made her feel as if she were part of a drunken orgy. And yes, one glance from him was so sexy it was practically an out-of-body experience. But he was going to have to do better before she got on board with all of this nonsense. “I want you to do something. To prove you’re … different.”
He almost looked bored. “What would you like? A little plague? Pestilence?”
“God, no!” She thought about the options, and it only freaked her out even more. “I’d prefer if you kept it to a minimum of devastation, please. I’d hate for you to … smite someone.” And then the perfect idea struck her. “Wait! I know! Follow me.” She tore out of the bakery.
Dionysus shouted after her. “We don’t have time for this, woman! The sooner we find Eurydice, the sooner we can come back. Where in the blazes are you taking me?”
She ran to the back of the bakery, and up a set of stairs that led to a couple of apartment units above the store. At the top landing, she fished for her keys, conscious of his big body right behind her. All too aware of the inch of space between them, pulsing with a sexual electricity that was making her feel loopy.
“Josie,” his voice rumbled.
She steeled herself against the deep urge to yank her top off and pull his head down to her breast. Instead, she turned to him, determined. “If I have to go to hell with you, I’m not wearing the same clothes I wore to work. What if I run into someone I used to know? I need to shower and change first. And while I do, you can prove your divinity to me.”
She stuck her key in the lock and tried to ignoring his impatient muttering.