Sinful Delight

Sinful_Delight

 

Sinful Delight

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About the book * Excerpt * Reviews

 

 

(about the book)

To keep her job as an Angel of Death, Poison must retrieve an evil board and the woman using it, but a demon beats her to it and demands she sleep with him or he will vanish with both forever.

Poison has two hours to fulfill her orders received from Michael the Archangel: Locate and retrieve the dark Evil Board and capture the woman has been using it to grant wishes. She is determined to succeed and prove herself a worthy Angel of Death. She agrees to demonic temptation.

Ringmaster is on a search of his own. He is pleasantly surprised to discover not only the Spell Board he has been tasked to find, but also the fledgling Angel of Death he has yearned to sample. When he learns Poison wants the same woman and board, the persuasive demon makes her a tempting offer—sleep with him and have both.

 

(review)

Between good vs. evil, angel vs. demon, they were going to make a pact that would not be easily broken. Who would win? Loved this book the way it was written.

—    Jacquie, Reviewer

 

(excerpt)

Chapter One

Poison stared across the living room at her prey, Lisa Evans, dressed in a small short-sleeved crop top and sheer pink pantaloons with matching fuchsia panties.  Lisa wore her dark brown hair piled high on her head and the red headpiece with a gauzy pink veil sat lopsided.  With her breasts threatening to burst out and a huge belly hanging over her pants, her I-Dream-of-Jeanie outfit would definitely win the scariest Halloween costume tonight. Poison leaned against the wall.  Her boss, Michael the Archangel, wanted Lisa dead by midnight.  Her name was listed in the Book of the Dead that listed the time and date when a human would die.  Normally, angels of death only waited for the humans to die and escorted them to their afterlife destination, but not tonight.  Michael had ordered her death, but he refused to tell Poison his reasons.  She crossed her arms over her chest and watched Lisa’s every move.  What the chit had done to attract Michael’s wrath eluded her.  When she asked him, he glowered at her and she regretted probing.  As usual, his lips were as tight as Ebenezer Scrooge’s purse strings.

But before she killed her, Michael wanted Poison to obtain a plain oak board–the size of a board game.  He said it had strange markings on the side and in the middle of it was an egg shaped red ruby.  Michael refused to tell her what the board was, but he was adamant about her retrieving it and then kill Lisa. Why? She shrugged. Who knows? Who cares? Not her problem.  She was a damn good soldier that followed orders.

She surveyed the room like she always did with a job.   High vaulted ceilings with dark wood beams were overhead.  People, disguised as vampires, werewolves, princesses, zombies and prostitutes, sat on the two red leather couches and the matching loveseat and recliner, while others stood holding their glasses of wine, beer and mixed drinks.  Loud male and female laughter and clinking glasses mixed with Bobby ‘Boris’ Picket’s infamous song, “The Monster Mash” frayed on her nerves.   Lisa played the damn song over and over again.  By this time, Poison could recite it by heart.  She half smirked.  Maybe that’s why Michael wanted her dead.

Her smile died on her lips as a tickling sensation ran over her arms and she broke out in a rash of goose bumps.  A shiver ran down her spine as if someone blew on her back.  Her heart beat fast.  She frowned.  So, what was up?  Demons?  She studied each decked out vampire, princess, monster or ghoul.  Beneath the costumes, she saw past their flesh, blood, and tissue and detected their precious glowing white soul–coveted by Heaven and Hell.  Demons had no souls.  Beneath their flesh, blood and tissue, there was nothing, but emptiness.  Blackness.  Loneliness.

Poison gritted her teeth.  It wasn’t the absence of souls that bothered her.  It was their damn stench.  She inhaled, but only detected pumpkin spice and chocolate–dark to be exact.  She detested the demon odor.  Several years ago, she and the twin angels of death, Blade and Scythe, Michael’s second in commands, were out on an assignment to carry the souls of a sunken ocean liner to heaven or hell, when she inhaled the reek of maggot infested rotting meat- demons.  Balthasar, second in command of the demons, had materialized with a bunch of his goons.  He wore nothing, but black leather pants.  His long black hair hung past his shoulders.  His sculpted muscles gleamed with sweat. He might be candy on a stick, but hell’s odor clung to him.  Like him, his two goons were shirtless and wore black leather pants.   Did they just return from a Chippendales’ audition?

But one of them stared at her.  His pierce gaze unnerved her.  His long medium red hair, the color of a Spanish Sangria, hung past his massive shoulders.  As her eyes moved down his wide pecks, she stopped at his right.  Above his nipple, he had a small tattooed clown face–the size of her palm. The pure white make up emphasized the clown’s red bubble nose and crimson smile, but its narrowed black eyes terrified her.  Evil emitted from them.  Tearing her gaze away, she forced herself to exhale.  When had she stopped breathing? What could she say?  She’d never forget him or his damn tattoo.