A human cop – a voodoo priestess – what could possibly go wrong? ADULT #eroticparanormal #TinaDonahue
He’s a human cop. She’s a voodoo priestess. They can’t keep their hands off each other. When their worlds collide, what could possibly go wrong?
Book Four – Taming the Beast series – erotic paranormal/romantic comedy
Available for preorder April 24- ready to read May 24
When all hell breaks loose, playing fair isn’t an option.
Taming the Beast, Book 4
Removing memories from mortals who stumble into From Crud to Stud, a makeover service for supernatural beings, is a cinch for Constance, a voodoo priestess. Finding her own Mr. Right is another matter.
However, the latest intruder into their business stops Constance dead in her tracks. He’s tall, dark, and deliciously hot. He’s also a New Orleans police detective with questions. And answering them will bring down a plague of exposure, purges, and exorcisms.
Gabe Legrand has come to check out reports of strange activities. But the strangest thing is how Constance’s sexy curves and silky skin have him uncharacteristically panting like a rutting beast. Trouble is, every time his questions probe too deep, his memories go poof, sending him back to square one with his luscious guide.
There’s no denying their aching need crackles like an electrical storm. But Constance has a business to protect, which means keeping Gabe at arm’s length—even as all hell breaks loose.
Warning: Epic whoppers (and we’re not just talking about lies), smokin’ hot sex, frequent brain farts, and two star-crossed lovers willing to do it all again. And again. And again. Yeah, baby!
Detective? As in a freaking cop?
Constance’s smile went kaput over what could have possibly brought him here. Not to mention what would happen if others in his department suspected something weird was going on within these walls. “You’re with the police?”
He lifted his hand in answer. In his palm was a small leather wallet displaying a silver shield, its crescent engraved with a word, possibly detective. It was too far away for her to read accurately. Beneath the crescent was a star with another word and a number— his, no doubt.
She wouldn’t have been surprised if it was 007 considering his awesome looks.
He advanced gracefully, like an animal in the wild stalking its prey. God help her, Constance was still more aroused than alarmed, moving toward him in what seemed like slow motion until another step would have them touching.
Was it so wrong?
Apparently he thought so, as he finally stopped. “You’re the owner?”
“Constance is a good person,” Heather blurted.
Not that good. His scent, a combination of something woodsy mingled with musk, warmed her as the sun never had, making her legs watery.
He turned from Heather back to her. “Constance?”
“Absolutely,” she said before Heather blurted something else or fainted. “Nice to meet you, Detective. Or can I call you Gabe?” She offered her hand.
It was a moment before he took it, his own so large it easily swallowed hers, his palm dry and slightly callused, grip firm yet not intimidating.
Mmm. Heaven in a handshake. Constance liked a man who took charge, especially when it came to bedroom play.
Unfortunately, a roll between the sheets seemed to be the furthest thing from his mind, given his slight frown. “I thought Becca Salt owned this place.” He spoke to Heather. “Didn’t I ask you to call the owner up here?”
Heather gripped the back of her chair so hard her knuckles turned even whiter. “Uh-huh.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
As a good fairy, Heather was unable to lie, so she clenched her jaw, clearly not wanting to answer him.
Before Heather broke her molars, Constance murmured, “She did. I’m the owner. Constance Salt.”
Gabe regarded her suspiciously, though his attention did wander to her mouth, boobs, and hand—as she released his—before he got authoritarian again.