When all hell breaks loose, playing fair isn’t an option… MUZZLING THE BEAST #TinaDonahueBooks #EroticPNR-RomCom
Mix one luscious mortal cop with a yearning voodoo priestess with a penchant for removing memories and what do you get?
Muzzling the Beast – book four Taming the Beast.
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.
Muzzling the Beast Blurb:
When all hell breaks loose, playing fair isn’t an option.
Taming the Beast, Book 4
Removing memories from mortals who stumble into From Crud to Stud, a makeover service for supernatural beings, is a cinch for Constance, a voodoo priestess. Finding her own Mr. Right is another matter.
However, the latest intruder into the business stops Constance dead in her tracks.
He’s tall, dark,and deliciously hot. He’s also a New Orleans police detective with questions. And answering them will bring down a plague of exposure, purges, and exorcisms.
Gabe Legrand has come to check out reports of strange activities. But the strangest thing is how Constance’s sexy curves and silky skin have him uncharacteristically panting like a rutting beast. Trouble is, every time his questions probe too deep, his memories go poof, sending him back to square one with his luscious guide.
There’s no denying their aching need crackles like an electrical storm. But Constance has a business to protect, which means keeping Gabe at arm’s length – even as all hell breaks loose.
Warning: Epic whoppers (and we’re not just talking about lies), smokin’ hot sex, frequent brain farts, and two star-crossed lovers willing to do it again. And again. And again. Yeah, baby!
Constance edged around the corner, leery and curious as to whoever had scared the bejeezus out of Heather.
The guy faced Constance, but his gaze was on the ceiling. Thankfully, no vamp had morphed into a bat and was buzzing around up there.
Despite the steamy summer night, he wore a blue suit, white shirt and gray tie, the clothes draping him beautifully. Deliciously tall, he had to be six three or better, broad in the shoulders, his hips narrow, his build lean yet muscular.
Warmth filled her when it shouldn’t have. Radagar’s stupid stunt had cured her of men for a long, long time. Then again… She clutched her full-length gown since it wouldn’t be polite to grab this guy. What a hottie. He wore his curly black hair cropped short. His cinnamon-colored skin was a stunning contrast to his light blue eyes, his features masculine and a trifle rough.
Her pulse quickened.
She guessed him to be Creole, early thirties, an executive and probably mortal given Heather’s reaction. Most women would have been drooling by now, not hyperventilating. In another few seconds, she might be out cold and Constance would have to give her CPR. She would have preferred to do that for him.
To break the ice, she inched closer. “Well, hey, there.”
He took her in from stem to stern, his attention snagging on her saffron-colored turban and matching gown then lingering on her mouth and boobs. Like he couldn’t help himself.
She wasn’t about to complain. Call her crazy, but the lovely bulge behind his fly seemed to thicken in interest.
Her pussy creamed in response.
Heather wasn’t as taken. With him turned away from her, she waved her arms in what looked like warning.
Constance couldn’t imagine why. For her to cup his good-looking head and remove his memories of this place would be more play than work.
He met her gaze. “Evening.”
His rumbling baritone registered clear to her tongue and tonsils. She smiled.
Male interest sparkled in his gorgeous eyes. He killed his arousal and got ultra-serious. “I’m Detective Gabe Legrand.”
Constance’s heart stuttered. He couldn’t mean as in a freaking cop but probably did. Her smile went kaput over what had brought him here. Not to mention what would happen if others in his department suspected something weird was going on within these walls. “You’re with the police?”
He lifted a small leather wallet that displayed a silver shield, its crescent engraved with a word, maybe detective. The thing was too far away for her to read. Beneath the crescent was a star with another word and a number.
She wouldn’t have been surprised if it was 007, considering his awesome looks.
He pocketed his badge and advanced with stunning grace, similar to an animal in the wild stalking its prey. God help her, she was still more tempted than alarmed and drifted toward him in what seemed like slow motion. Another step and they’d touch. She didn’t see the harm.
He stopped. “You’re the owner?”
Heather made a pained sound. “Constance is a good person.”
Not that good. His woodsy-musky scent warmed her as the sun never had and made her legs watery.
“Your name is Constance?”
“Guilty as charged.” She hoped a joke would lighten the moment so Heather wouldn’t faint or blurt the truth about this place since good fairies couldn’t lie. “Nice to meet you, Detective. Or can I call you Gabe?” She offered her hand.
His own was so large it swallowed hers, his palm dry and slightly callused, his grip firm but not intimidating.
Heaven in a handshake. She liked a man who took charge, in particular when it came to bedroom play. Not that a roll between the sheets seemed possible, given his slight frown.
“I thought Becca Salt owned this place.” He spoke to Heather. “Didn’t I ask you to call the owner up here?”
Heather gripped her chair so hard her knuckles got even whiter. “Uh-huh.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
She clenched her jaw.
Before she broke her molars, Constance jumped in. “She did. I’m the owner. Constance Salt.”
Gabe regarded with suspicion, though his attention did wander to her mouth, boobs and her hand as she released his. “Then who’s Becca Salt? The name listed on the permits and other papers as the owner.”
“Still me.” Constance leaned toward him as if to share a big, bad secret. “My first name’s Becca, but I hate it, so I go by my middle name with coworkers and friends.” She gave him a sweet smile and gestured to the hall. “Why don’t we go to my office to talk?”
OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES
Freeing the Beast – Book One
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.
Surrendering to the Beast – Book Two
When she’s good, she’s very good – but when he’s bad, she’s better…
It’s definitely not business as usual at From Crud to Stud, a makeover service for supernatural beings. Dare we say it? Receptionist Heather—a good fairy with a pure heart, mind and body—is on the fast track to exquisite corruption with Daemon, a satyr.
Sex has never been this good or adventurous. Half man, all beast, Daemon’s the ultimate bad boy, a follower of the god of wine and a good time. Before, during and after his makeover to look fully human, he intends to put some color into Heather’s pale cheeks.
She’s one conflicted but turned-on babe. Especially as Mistress Jin, a genie Daemon commands, agrees to show Heather how to cut loose. Under the mistress’s tutelage and Daemon’s shameless lust, Heather’s gonna find out what love and having fun is all about.
Not your typical bedtime story. May lead to indecent behavior, a taste for voyeurism, discipline and bondage, which will result in screaming orgasms. Proceed with caution.
Mastering the Beast – Book Three
Surrendering is the only option she desires…
No one believes that under the tough attitude and schoolgirl fashion sense, reformed demon Zoe burns for a man, love and sex. She keeps those urges on ice and well hidden. She sold her soul for a guy once, and all it got her was a one-way ticket to Hell.
Her job, keeping supernatural creatures in line at From Crud to Stud, is all work and no play. Until she’s saddled with a trio of new enforcers who ooze so much sexual heat she’s afraid to be on the same planet with them.
Stefin, Anatol, and Taro try to contain their laughter as their adorable new boss tries to lay down the law. Apparently, no one told her they don’t take orders. They give them. And they’re determined to smooth her rough edges and tame her beast with acts so wanton they’ll make her scream—for more.
Talk about all hell breaking loose. Surrender won’t come easily, but given their devilish charm and her aching need, her journey to submission is one done deal.
Contains an unholy trio of demons who don’t like to take turns. Break room…snacking. After-hours…training sessions. In other words, a sensual ride on the pleasure express. Features m/f/m/m sex in every flavor except vanilla. Bring. It. On.