Series: Sisters of the Apocalypse Series #2
Published by: Self-Pub
Release Date: 2018
Genre: Light paranormal romance
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Who says Famine can’t love cupcakes?
Ginny Lack is about to rise as Famine, the next horsewoman of the apocalypse. And to help her gain her powers, she’s agreed to an arranged marriage with a Brit, sight-unseen. Hope he doesn’t mind the dirty-talking grasshopper and her dead twin chasing her down the aisle. Aligning with another powerful Famine family could be her salvation…just so long as no one figures out that the heir to Famine loves to bake.
James Derth is the family black sheep because he’s determined to stop Famine, permanently. He’s so certain his plan to marry and stop the heir to his clan will work, he’s promised the gods results. But when he meets his sweet, curvy, red-headed fiancée, she’s nothing like the spoiled princess he expected. Her kisses are more irresistible than her cupcakes, but if he doesn’t keep his head firmly in charge and stop her rise in ten days, the gods will kill them both.
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Oh, cupcake. If that was James Bond’s family inside, looked like she’d just found 007 himself.
Right about now, she probably shouldn’t wish she’d just been captured by a homicidal stalker. Hoping someone else had planned to spy through the windows and she’d just gotten there first was not what she should have wanted. Then again, she’d never wanted what she was supposed to.
He let her down slowly, and her body slid against his, evidence that he might trigger the taste of chocolate, but he’d clearly never imbibed in his life. Nope, not in the past two lives. He was lean, rock-hard muscle. Broad in the shoulders, narrow in the waist.
Her toes found the gravel. He still stood at least four inches taller than her, maybe more since anything more than two seemed like quite a bit. She patted his forearms in some bemusement, muscle and vein twitching beneath her touch, the skin lightly haired.
She couldn’t find her tongue. Really didn’t want to look up and find his face. Because if he wasn’t as attractive as the rest of him, well, that would be disappointing. If he was as attractive as the rest of him…far better to dissolve in a pile of shame into the gravel.
“You all right?” he said, his voice deep. And, holy gingerbread, with an accent like that, it was clear why James Bond always got the girl. Or at least into her panties.