A witch, a god, a potion – oh my! FREEING THE BEAST – PNR Romantic Comedy – ADULT #TinaDonahueBooks #PNR #RomanticComedy #Witch #God
I had such fun writing Freeing the Beast, book one of my Taming the Beast series.
I liken this series to Sex in the City with a paranormal twist. The setting is a New Orleans makeover service for paranormal beings, run by a witch, a good fairy, a reformed female demon, and a voodoo priestess. Let the romance and fun begin…
Magic has never been as sexy or as fun. In New Orleans’ French Quarter From Crud to Stud is the makeover service for supernatural beings who want to tame their beasts so they can date mortal babes. Owned by a half-witch and staffed by a good fairy, a reformed female demon, and a voodoo priestess—among others—the place is always hopping. There’s moonlight therapy for weres, aversion therapy to keep vamps from sinking their fangs in anyone’s neck, and no end of spells, potions, and treatments. These ladies definitely put the boys through their paces. But it’s not all work as they search for their one true love. Their journeys aren’t easy, but they’re definitely magical.
Freeing the Beast Blurb:
Book one in the Taming the Beast series
No more Mr. Nice Guy.
For Becca Salt being a witch isn’t all magic. Too curvy and lonely, she spends her nights running a makeover service for demons, vamps, weres and zombies who want to project a more human, normal side. Their goal? To get the babes without the authorities hunting them down like rabid dogs. Once Becca suppresses the worst of their beast, they’re on the hunt and gone.
Dating has been a definite bitch for Eric Diletto. Although he’s hot and hung, he’s also one of Cupid’s descendants—a god born to believe in courtship, courtesy and all that other junk. Tired of women dumping him for the bad boys, Eric hires Becca to release his inner beast. Grrrr.
Two potions later, they’re crawling all over each other. With Eric’s newfound dominance, he’s definitely the man. And the god, who intends to take Becca here, there and everywhere. Who said sorcery and love wasn’t fun?
Warning—a witchdoctor’s nightmare. Contains potions with weird side effects, a sorceress with limited magical skills and a yearning heart, plus a minor god who wants to get down and dirty. Bad, bad boy.
The front door swung open.
Heat and humidity poured inside, along with racket from the street party. Drunken voices mingled with throaty laughter, pounding drums and trumpets. The instruments reached and held their highest notes.
A guy slipped inside. At least six-three, he had an athlete’s build—lean and muscular, his shoulders broad, hips narrow, thighs powerful.
Becca’s pulse thumped in her ears, drowning out the other sounds. She stepped closer.
Classically handsome, he wore his hair preppy-style, longer on the top, shorter on the sides. Those locks were a warm chestnut brown streaked by the sun and tousled, begging for a woman to smooth them back.
Becca lowered her hand. She hadn’t intended to lift it.
His golden complexion spoke of days spent outdoors, perhaps from skinny-dipping in a pool, water streaming over his firm pecs and abs, the dark curls between his legs trapping the moisture, his rock-hard cock jutting out, inflexible as iron, sleek as a spear.
She suppressed a delighted shiver.
He wore leather loafers, beige khakis and a white dress shirt opened at the collar, the sleeves folded back to mid-forearm.
Masculine yet civilized.
The staff had done an outstanding job on this guy’s makeover. No wonder Zoe had suggested him for the advertising pieces. A fat raise for everyone was in order. Maybe even part ownership in this place. They’d made this dude over to the nth degree from…
Becca wasn’t certain what kind of demon he was or his level in Hell. She’d never met him before. Maybe he’d taken so long to get there because he couldn’t pull himself away from the god he now saw in his mirror.
He regarded the reception area as one would when seeing it for a first time or through different eyes…a reformed demon’s eyes. Potted plants and feathery ferns abounded. The faux brick floor, coral walls and gas wall fixtures radiated warmth and an earthy, sensual feel in keeping with the area’s culture.
It was also romantic.
That was why most paras signed up for the ordeals they’d face here. They were having problems with babes and wanted a solution, even if it was painful.
Hissing noises flowed from a room on the right. On the left, muffled groans sounded faintly sexual.
Could be that was why this guy was late. He’d already seduced a new lover and had been reluctant to leave her.
The thick ridge behind his fly held enormous promise. Some women had all the luck. Becca, on the other hand, had a business to run.
Reining in her desire, she joined him in the reception area. “Do you have any idea how late it is?”
His attention zipped over her. He lifted his eyebrows.
Becca wasn’t certain if he was surprised or amused at how unique she looked, from her flame-red hair, cut in a chin-length bob with bangs, to her dramatic makeup. Heavy black liner surrounded her blue eyes. Her maroon lipstick was a shade lighter than black and quite a contrast to her pale skin.
His attention didn’t remain on her complexion for long. He was riveted to her black silk top tied beneath her breasts, then her silver navel jewelry, then her black harem pants, anklets, toe rings and high-heel sandals.
Even at five-seven, and with the extra three inches the shoes gave her, Becca felt dainty next to him. Quite a feat, considering she’d always been too tall and curvy. In school, they’d called her the f-word.
Well, fuck ’em, right? So she’d never be skinny or a beauty. Not like her mom. Unfortunately, Becca took after her dad. A great guy, but no hunk in the looks department.
“We can’t wait forever.” She gestured for the dude to follow her. “Let’s go.”
She hurried down the hall. Her heels clicked.
His shoes didn’t make any noise.
She stopped and looked over. He hadn’t taken a step in her direction. He was far too busy studying her ass. Intently and appreciatively if his crooked smile was any indication.
Her heart fluttered.
She hoped his response wasn’t something the staff had taught him. Gaining his approval on her own, because he liked what he saw, would be far nicer. “You coming?”
He blushed beneath his tan. What appeared to be carnal hunger sparked in his eyes. “Where?”
His voice was even deeper than those of the howlers that came here for treatment. Way huskier than Zoe’s when she got riled. Becca drifted back to him, drawn by his potent masculinity, until she forced herself to stop and pointed over her shoulder.
He approached with grace, though not too much, more like a well-behaved panther. Loose limbed and composed, not cocky or predatory. The employees here were freaking miracle workers.
He stopped close enough for him and Becca to touch or kiss. “Sure.”
His eyes were honey colored with green flecks. Given his laugh lines, he looked to be in his early thirties, if she used mortal time. That made him a few years older than her.
Not that their ages mattered. Once his photo shoot ended, he’d take off and would be back in bed with his newest babe, the first of many.
Disappointment rolled through her. “There.” She pointed to the side and tried not to drool over him.
He checked her out too and offered another crooked grin. “There what?”
She had no answer. His adorable smile tangled her thoughts. Becca lowered her head and tried to pull in a full breath but couldn’t. “Door on the right. Go in that room. Take off your clothes. I’ll get the photographer so we can get things started.”
He cuffed her wrist to keep her from leaving.
The spit in her mouth dried up.
He leaned in. “What?”
That voice. His touch. Her knees sagged. With great effort, Becca faced him.
He gave her a questioning look.
She wanted to ruffle his long dark lashes, kiss his silky eyebrows and suck his lower lip into her mouth while she crawled all over him. “Briefs or boxers?”
He pulled back slightly, but didn’t release her wrist. “What?”
She cleared her throat. “What are you wearing?” Her voice jiggled and rasped. “Briefs or boxers?”
He looked down at his clothing. “Boxers.”
“The stretchy kind or the baggy ones?”
He released her wrist, offense on his handsome face. “They’re not that baggy.”
She’d hurt his feelings. A nice human touch the staff must have taught him. Like having him stare at a female’s ass, rather than grabbing it as demons were prone to do. A man who controlled his inner beast made a woman feel respected yet also sexy and desired. “I’m sure they’re not. Still, we prefer the snug ones.”
The kind that would hug his fleshy balls and caress his rigid cock. On wobbly legs, Becca crossed to the hall closet and pulled out a navy pair.
“Here.” She flung them at him.
They landed on his deliciously broad shoulder.
Becca backed up. “Strip down, then put those on. We can’t screw around any longer.”
“Sure about that?”
She turned away before he could see her smile. “Completely. Now get—”
A snarl stopped her.
He’d opened the wrong door. Two female staffers held down an alpha shifter they were treating with moonlight therapy. Slobber dripped from his mouth. He growled, battling his compulsion to morph into a werewolf.
The staffer on the right panted. “That’s it, baby. Fight it. You can do this.”
The guy sprouted unsightly hair even on his balding head.
“No, no, no.” The staffer on the left clenched her jaw. “Don’t do that. You want to take moonlight strolls with your girl, right? Come on, work with me here.”
Becca shut the door and gave Mr. Stud a smile. “Wrong room.” She rested her hand on his back. Stone wasn’t as solid as his muscles. She blew out a breath. “Next one.” She guided him to it and opened the door. “In there.”
“If you say so.”
The staff had really housebroken him.
Becca inched closer. His scent was as heady as his rich baritone, a cedar, musk and rum fragrance. “I do. Go.”
She planted her hand on his chest and pushed.
He was too big and solid to budge. Dutifully, he backed into the room. His thigh hit a table. The desk lamp tottered.
Becca fought a smile. “Careful. Be back in a sec.”
She closed the door before she surrendered to her lust and slipped inside to help him undress.
Breathing hard, she pinched her nose and tried to get a grip. What in the hell was the matter with her? Although she’d fallen for weres, vamps, demons and countless other jerks in the past, she’d sworn off all males for the time being, not wanting to get her heart and self-esteem pulverized again.
The staff might have changed this guy on the outside, but inside he was still a predator. The ultimate bad boy—charming, seductive and totally into himself. Selfish as fucking hell. Nothing like her dad.
Too bad mortals didn’t appeal to her.
Muttering a curse, Becca stomped down the hall and stopped.
A new guy had arrived. His black tee could have been skin, the fabric hugged his outstanding torso that well. He wore biker boots and faded jeans slung low. His crotch was nicely filled out, that bulge one of the Seven Wonders of the World. He sported a Celtic tat on his muscular forearm, the design geometric and powerful. His midnight hair hung over his forehead. He gave her an Elvis-type smile, upper lip curled seductively. “Hey there.”
He made it sound like “Let’s screw”.
“Ah…hi.” Confused as to who he was, Becca stepped closer.
Faint flames danced in his dark eyes.
She sucked in a breath. There hadn’t been any fire in the other guy’s pupils…at least the literal kind.
“Sorry, I’m late.” This dude edged so close his groin almost kissed hers. “I was delayed with other stuff.” He grinned indecently. “You know.”
Unfortunately, Becca did. She turned to the hall.
He slung his arm over her shoulder. His fingers dangled close to her right nipple. His lips brushed her ear. “So, what now?”
“Don’t move.” Becca shoved his arm off her and rushed to the guy she’d thought the staff had made over. They hadn’t. The service’s ‘best freaking success’ was in the reception area behaving like a bull during a rut. More civilized than he’d been before, but not as much as the man she’d told to strip.
Becca had no idea who in the fuck he could be.
Not bothering to knock, she pushed in the door.
He was naked as the day he’d been born, the boxer briefs mid-thigh, leaving his male package swinging in the breeze—mouth-watering balls, plump as plums, and a long cock protruding from his thatch of brown curls.
Becca squeezed the doorknob so hard her palm hurt.
He didn’t move, except for one part. His rod thickened and grew even longer, the crown firm, engorged from desire. The damn thing pointed at her.
Like a zombie detecting fresh meat, she stepped closer, attracted to his masculine goods, wanting them.
Of all the times for her to show up.
Heather leaned into the room until she saw Mr. Stud. “Oh…oh.”
Wow was the word Becca would have used. He’d gotten harder. The prominent veins on his shaft bulged.
Becca elbowed Heather away. On a breathy gasp, she stepped back.
“Sorry.” Becca gave him a weak smile. “I didn’t know…that is…I thought…”
“I was someone else?”
She nodded then frowned. “Who are you?”
He yanked the boxers up. The elastic waistband caught on his balls.
That had to have hurt.
He sucked air through his clenched teeth and hurried the underwear past his groin. Before he got it over his tight ass, he lost his footing. Trying to regain it, he jerked around.
There was a heart, the perfect Cupid’s kind, on his right butt cheek.