What's on the back of the book:Succubus (n.) An alluring, shape-shifting demon who seduces and pleasures mortal men.
Pathetic (adj.) A succubus with great shoes and no social life. See: Georgina Kincaid.
When it comes to jobs in hell, being a succubus seems pretty glamorous. A girl can be anything she wants, the wardrobe is killer, and mortal men will do anything just for a touch. Granted, they can often pay with their souls, but why get technical?
But Seattle succubus Georgina Kincaid's life is far less exotic. Her boss is a middle-management demon with a thing for John Cusack movies, and she can't get a decent date without sucking away part of the guy's life. At least there's her day job at a local bookstore - free books; all the white chocolate mochas she can drink; and easy access to bestselling, sexy writer, Seth Mortensen, aka He Whom She Would Give Anything to Touch but Can't.
But dreaming about Seth will have to wait. Something wicked is at work in Seattle's demon underground. And for once, all her hot charms and drop-dead one-liners won't help because Georgina's about to discover their are some creatures out there that both heaven and hell want to deny . . .
A piece from the book:
"Kill me, Doug. Just kill me now. Put me out of my misery."
My immortality notwithstanding, the sentiment was sincere.
"Christ, Kincaid, what did you say to him?" murmured Doug.
We stood off to the side of Seth Mortensen's audience, along with many others. All the seats had filled up, putting space and visibility at a premium. I was lucky to be with the staff in our reserved section, giving us a perfect view of Seth as he read from The Glasgow Pact. Not that I wanted to be in his line of sight. In fact, I really would have preferred that I never come face to face with him again.
"Well," I told Doug, keeping an eye on Paige so as not to draw attention to our whispering, "I ripped on his fans and on how long it takes for his books to come out."
Doug stared at me, his expectations exceeded.
"Then I said - not knowing who he was - that I'd be Seth Mortensen's love slave in exchange for advanced copies of his books."
I didn't elaborate on my impromptu flirting. To think, I'd imagined I was boosting a shy guy's ego! Good Lord. Seth Mortensen could probably bed a different groupie every night if he wanted.
Not like he seemed like the type. He'd demonstrated much of the same initial nervousness in front of the crowd as he had with me. He grew more comfortable once he started reading, however, warming to the material and letting his voice rise snd fall with intensity and wry humor.
"What kind of fan are you?" Doug asked. "Didn't you know what he looked like?"
"There are never pictures of him in his books. Besides, I thought he'd be older." I guessed now that Seth was in his mid-thirties, a bit older than I looked in this body, but younger than the forty-something writer I'd always imagined.
"Well, look on the bright side, Kincaid. You succeeded in your goal: you got him to notice you."
I stifled a groan, letting my head flop pathetically onto Doug's shoulder.
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