It’s been a long time since I’ve talked about any of my fantasy book boyfriends…I know…shame on me! I feel incredibly fortunate that I keep discovering new ones to add to my list. See, that’s one of the many great things about fantasy boyfriends…you can have as many as you want…and I want many 😉
Lucky for you I’m the type of friend who’s willing to share my book boyfriends. I could be selfish and keep them all for myself…but that would just be wrong…right?!? Since I believe that friendship is a two way street it’s only fair that you share your discoveries with me as well. I’m a curious type of gurl so I’d love it if you left me a comment after the post and tell me who your top 3 book boyfriends are.
Today, I’m going to
drool talk about some one who has been on my radar for awhile now. He made my top 10 list for 2011, and I have no reason to think he won’t stay there. His sequel will be coming out this year *Hard Thud* and I can’t wait. Have I teased you long enough yet? Ok, ok…let’s talk about Satan_ Jack from Crushed Seraphim by Debra Anastasia.
Jack has longish brown hair and heart melting brown eyes…le sigh…Tattoos, and muscles, and bulges…O.MY.
Tamie had changed her outfit four times. How do you dress for a date with the Devil? Jeans, a fancy dress, and a negligee all lay in a pile on her floor. It was a cloth grouping of failed disguises. She tried to remind herself that she’d asked for this. The dealer was an author named Debra Anastasia who was of questionable sanity. Satan Jack had seduced Tamie from afar. From pages. Even though his hand had never run down her cheek, her skin was branded as if it had.
Tamie was almost out of time, if he was on time that was. She slipped her negligee back on and pulled on her jeans. She tucked the flimsy satin into the pants. The resulting outfit was sexy and casual. Her doorbell rang.
Jack was early. If it was Jack. She thought briefly of calling Debra Anastasia and cancelling the whole thing. Her daydream had gone too far, here in her real world, she couldn’t entertain a man she barely knew.
She stumbled down the stairs and decidedly past the telephone. Her curiosity had her by the neck. Or breasts. Or anything. She looked at her front door. Smoke was seeping in the sides like an impatient cloud was waiting on the opposite side. Tamie glanced in the mirror above her fireplace. Her hair was wild from all her quick changes, but she refused to pat it down. It fit her actions, reckless and daring.
She strode confidently to the door, unlocked it, and swung it open.