Join us for a mayhem journey through the paranormal world of Jordyn, where fighting Daemons is a piece of cake but getting a boy to notice you is hell. Once you’ve had a chance to hang out with Jordyn and Emrys head over to http://authortiffanyjking.blogspot.comfor a chance to win cool prizes!!!
“Mother of monkey asses, these were new pants,” I squawked out loud as I took in the tennis ball-sized holes in each of the knees of my pants. Blood flowed copiously from my left knee while the right one looked like road rash.
“Real slick, dipshit,” I said, leaning down to roll up my pant legs so I could take a closer look. I sucked in a breath as the material of my pants brushed against my scraped knees. “Holy donkey balls, how do kids deal with scraped knees all the time?” I complained out loud.
“Do you always talk to yourself?” a voice asked behind me.
“Stalk much?” I asked unsurprised. Even while nursing a couple of scraped knees, my instincts had clued me in to the presence of someone else up here in the middle of nowhere. “More importantly, how did you find me?” I asked, turning around to face Emrys.
“Built-in tracking device,” he said, pointing to his chest.
“Really? Are you screwing with me?”
He raised his eyebrows suggestively at my words. “Now that would be an interesting turn of events.”
I smirked at him. “I think your ego’s making drinks your nonhuman body can’t have.”
“That’s an odd way to put it, but trust me, cookie, that’s not a problem,” he answered in his honey-laced voice, taking a step toward me.
“The slick banter doesn’t work on me,” I said nonchalantly. “Haniel filled me in on your, uh, ‘talents.'”
“Yeah, Haniel’s had a hard-on for our gifts of persuasion for years.”
I snorted out a laugh. I’d spent the last year around straight-laced people and it was nice in a naughty way to have someone speak what I was thinking.
“Too bad you seem to be immune to my charm. I might’ve been tempted to use that in my favor,” he said, looking me up and down.
“How do you know I’m immune?”
“Well, cookie, I used my most persuasive tools in my arsenal last night and you fought them off. I’m guessing Hard-on Haniel gets the same results.”
“Seriously, you have to stop calling him that. I won’t be able to look at him the same again.”
“What’s the deal with you two anyway? He seemed pretty possessive of you last night. I thought he hooked up with some chick in heaven, or is that old dog making up for lost time?”