Sam's Sunday Snippets

Book 3 - Dancin' With the Devil

"This is one of those series filled with all the good things I want in fiction. I can't imagine ever getting tired of books like these where the characters and dialogue make the action come alive for the reader!" 

~The Romance Studio

Astra's world is flipped upside down when she's called to a demon nightclub to rescue her magic-phobic sister, Darma. Turns out the event is only a precursor of the weirdness to come. A veil of twisted magic is descending over the Earth and it's making everybody crazy. Humans are killing humans, magic users are killing other magic users, dark worlders are attacking humans at an alarming rate and madness is rolling over everyone in waves. When the guardian angels start succumbing to a rare disease called Devil's Plague, Astra decides a visit to the prophet is in order. But before Astra can get her arms around it all, she finds herself facing the biggest challenge she’s ever had to face—being surrogate parent to a baby dragon. No way!

It's a whole lot of stuff for one little Tweener to manage. But Astra Q Phelps is definitely up to the challenge.

~~*~~

Dialle grabbed my arm and pulled me close, capturing my lips with his and wrapping an arm possessively around my waist. Hot, sexually charged breath bathed my face as his soft lips devoured mine. I pulled his scent into my core and welcomed it with a purr of satisfaction. My toes curled and my happy place tingled in anticipation.

I placed a hand on each perfect butt cheek and pulled him more closely against the place where I needed him most. He groaned against my lips and captured my bottom lip with sharp, white teeth.

I gasped as a drop of blood escaped from under his gently nibbling teeth. He released the lip and sucked the place where he’d drawn blood.

I was skewered, cooked and arranged on a platter. Put an apple in my mouth.

My hand slid inside his shirt and skimmed down the smooth, unnatural heat of his belly.

I didn’t stop there.

Pushing my way past the taut waistline of his jeans, I grabbed the hardest, warmest part of him.

He gasped and captured my ear lobe with his teeth. “What about the gargoyles?”

I shrugged, lost in a lust induced fog. “Emo can handle them for a couple of minutes. I’ll just be a minute here.”

He chuckled and slid a hand up under my sweater. His long, talented fingers finding the highest point and pinching gently, nearly bringing me to my knees from pleasure. He was working his way under my thigh length skirt with the other hand when an unearthly scream pierced the air.

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