Many people have days where they feel like they have no idea what's going on in their lives. When Jackie Brighton wakes up in a dumpster, she starts a mega-day like that. Not only does she have no idea what is or was going on in her life, she has no idea what is going on in her afterlife. It turns out if you get bitten by a vampire and have sex with an angel, you get turned into a succubus. Who knew?
Supposedly, Jackie's unknown vampire sire, who drank from her and put her in the path of a sexual angel, intended to use this fact to create the perfect pawn...of course, he is little more than a pawn himself. With a guilty but delicious-looking angel and another succubus as her guides, Jackie is making mistakes left and right as angels, vampires, human pawns try to get her to do what they want... when all she wants to do is control her constant craving for sex.
Hysterical and sexy, GENTLEMEN PREFER SUCCUBI is an excellent combination of chick-lit, paranormal romance and mystery. The plot has a purpose beyond smokingly hot scenes of sensuality (although those are well-written!) that delivers quality entertainment.
Who knew an angel could get a girl in so much
devilish trouble?
Jackie Brighton woke up in a dumpster this morning, and her
day has only gotten weirder. Her breasts grew overnight, her
sex drive is insatiable, and apparently she had her first
one-night stand ever . . . with a fallen angel. Of course,
she only remembers gorgeous Noahโs enormous, er, package.
And their steamy shower sex. Hmm . . . and the dark stranger
whose bite transformed her into an immortal siren with a
seductive Itch. With help from Noah and fellow succubus Remy
Summore, Jackie adapts to her new lifestyleโuntil she
accidentally strikes a deal that sends her lover into the
deadly clutches of the vampire queen and lands Jackie, Remy,
and the queenโs wickedly hot right-hand man into the middle
of a fierce battle for an ancient halo.
But howโs a girl supposed to save the world when the enemyโs
so hard to resist?
EXCERPT
It had obviously been one hell of a night if I couldnโt
recall why I was waking up in a Dumpster.
I blinked a few times, staring at the sky overhead. A
Dumpster? Surely not. But between the flies, the stench,
and the garbage bags surrounding me, I didnโt know
what else it could be. My left hand rested on something
clammy and wet, and I hoped that it was an old newspaper
and not something more sinister. I didnโt even want
to think about what was tickling my bare toes.
I sat up, cradling my throbbing head and trying to
think. What the hell had happened? I didnโt normally
find myself comatose and drooling amid piles of garbage.
Shit. My boss was going to be sooo totally pissed at
me.
Something itched against my breast and I reached up
to scratch, finding a hard plastic card shoved into the
side of my bra.
A room key for a hotel. The Grand National here in
New City, Wyoming.
My mind regurgitated a series of drunken memories
from my bender last night. Iโd met a man at the bar of
the swanky hotel just as the sun was cresting into dawn
and I was polishing off my latest martini. Heโd walked
into the bar and, since the place was deserted, headed
straight for me and bought me another drink. Iโd let him.
I mean, hell, free alcohol.
He was even hot to boot, which was a nice change
from the creeps that normally tried to pick me up. I
vaguely remembered an amazing body, a voice that could
stop traffic, and the bluest eyes Iโd ever seen.
That wasnโt the only thing I remembered. My brain
flashed another image into my head, of a rather large
part of my dateโs anatomy. Which Iโd seen in close detail.
โOhmigod. Iโm a slut,โ I moaned, burying my face in
my hands.
Iโd never had a one-night stand before, but by the time
Iโd met my Blue-Eyed Casanova, I was eight or twelve
martinis into an all-nighter and three sheets to the wind.
I couldnโt remember a darn thing except those eyes and
that smile. And his dick.
That bothered me on levels I didnโt even want to think
about. I sighed and brushed a wet wad of trash off my
hand and straightened my thick, smudged glasses on my
face. At least they hadnโt been wrecked in my night in
the garbage.
โWhoโs there?โ a warbling voice called, and I clambered
through the trash to the edge of the Dumpster,
peering over the metal side.
A bearded older manโhomeless, if the stocking cap
and reek of whiskey were any indicationโstared up at
me in surprise. A familiar cute black-and-pink handbag
was tucked under his left arm.
โHey, thatโs mine.โ I pointed a grimy finger at the
purse. โGive it back.โ
Much to my surprise, he handed it up to me with a
wide-eyed expression. โI thought you were dead. Sorry.โ
What an odd statement. I frowned down at him.
โSorry, no. Do you have anything else of mine I might
be needing?โ My legs were devoid of pantyhose, and my
bare toes wiggled between the garbage. My shoes were
nowhere to be seen, and I wasnโt even sure I still had
panties onโall of which was making me extremely nervous.
Resisting the urge to cry, I swallowed hard.
โI didnโt take them. I didnโt take anything else.โ The
bum sounded rather miffed that I had the gall to accuse
him of stealing.
I ignored him and began to dig through the garbage,
trying not to think too hard about what I was touching.
Sure enough, my favorite pink-and-black Steve Madden
pumps were there underneath a pizza box. I shook them
out to be safe.
With my belongings in hand, I swung a leg over the
side of the Dumpster and began to climb out. Iโd probably
given the bum a flash of panties (if I still had them),
but I didnโt care.
He took a swig from his brown-bag-covered bottle.
โYou were dead, you know,โ he pointed out. โYou werenโt
breathing.โ
I slid down onto the pavement with a thump, losing
a few strands of chow mein that had stuck to my skirt.
โUm, what exactly makes you say that?โ I asked as I put
on my shoes.
โIโm serious,โ he protested. โI checked. You werenโt
breathing. I even saw your boyfriend dump you here. I
wouldnโt take a purse from a live girl.โ
I looked up from picking a noodle off my shoe. โYou
did? Blond guy? Blue eyes?โ Big package?
The bum shook his head and took another swig of
alcohol. โNaw. Black-haired. Real tall. Nice coat. He
kissed your cheek and dumped you in there.โ
I didnโt recall Bachelor No. 2. Good lord, what had I
done last night? My date had definitely been blond. An
image flashed through my mindโa memory?โof us in
the shower, my arms twined around his neck while he
lifted my bare leg to fit around his hips .
. .
I wanted to cry. I didnโt know if I was upset that Iโd
slept with a stranger, or that he was hot and I couldnโt
remember very much. I sighed and rubbed my neck. A
sharp pain shot through my skin, like Iโd rubbed it raw
during my sleep. I touched the spot with careful fingers
and found it sticky. Yet another gift from the garbage.
Ugh. I looked over at my drunken companion. โWhat
time is it?โ
The bum checked his plastic wristwatch. โItโs eleven
a.m. Tuesday,โ he announced.
โNo, itโs not. Todayโs Monday.โ I remembered it,
because we were scheduled to be short a docent at the
museum today. Monday.
โItโs Tuesday,โ he repeated. โYouโve been in that garbage
since yesterday. Dead.โ
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