|It's Raining Angels and...|
Jennifer Stevenson, welcome to Romance Lives Forever. Let's talk about your book, It’s Raining Angels and Demons.
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Buy links: http://tinyurl.com/9ff3kkj
Publisher: Musa Publications
Cover artist: Kelly Shorten
Length: 113 pages
Heat rating: 4 out of 5.
Heaven doesn't remember them, Hell doesn't want them, and horny mortal women are after them. It's raining angels and demons.
The man drought is over! Angels and demons fall into the arms of the sex-deprived women of a sleepy Chicago neighborhood. Only two women get gypped.
An angel and a demon escape capture and find temporary refuge with a team of renegade sex demons...but they're not safe yet.
Heaven doesn't remember them, Hell doesn't want them, and two horny mortal women are hunting them.
It's raining angels and demons.
What are your main characters' names, ages, and occupations?
Mella and Keek are twenty-something single straight women, roommates. Mella is an engineer for the gas company. Keek works a lot of McJobs to support her roller derby membership. They look out the window one night to see that it’s raining angels and demons!
Mutt (Mutmumtazarek) is a former commando warrior-demon turned desk clerk in the Regional Office (Hell). Jeff (Jioffriel) is an angel in the Home Office (Heaven). They’re members of the Joint Task Force assigned to capture the sex demon Archimedes, instigator of the infamous Ravenswood Project--but before they can catch Archie, they’re shot out of the sky by fireworks dipped in love potion. Mutt is 1300 years old. Jeff has no idea of his age--he became an angel when he was only a baby.
It’s raining men!
My heart gave one crazy thump, and then I went pelting down the stairs after Keek, stuffing my keys into the pocket of my flannel granny nightgown.
Keek was already in the street in her jammies, running for the cemetery gate. She turned. “Are you coming?”
I ran to the gate.
And there they were, walking out of the deepest darkness of the cemetery, appearing and disappearing in flashes as they passed under the heavy-leafed trees. A pale man, limping, caped in white wings. And beside him, with an arm under the pale one’s shoulder, a dark man.
I put my hands on the cold iron bars of the gate. My breath stopped.
He was winged, too, but his wings were dark, bat-shaped, with pointy bits going up and down. He was kind of helping the angel-winged guy along. As they approached the gate, they stopped and looked at us.
He was bare naked.
I breathed shallowly and quietly, in case he should disappear.
The big light on top of the gate shone down on them.
The angel was holding his hand over his thigh, which seemed to be bleeding.
The other one--oh my.
The other one was sculpted like a Greek god, all bulk and flat planes of muscle. His skin tone, in the gate lamps, seemed to shift from a rich brown to mahogany red.
As he turned, putting his hands on the angel as if to say, “Stay here,” I saw that he had a thick shock of reddish-black hair that stuck up like a Mohawk, and it bristled all down his back--but it wasn’t a ponytail. It grew all down his neck and down his back, tapering until it disappeared in the middle of his back.
And, oh, that back.
I have a weakness for muscly backs.
When he turned back to face the gate, he seemed to grow taller. His shoulders got bigger. His wings rose threateningly behind him. And his big pale demon cock stood like a truncheon at his crotch.
He looked ready to pounce.
I should probably have backed away from the gate. I couldn’t move.
He came about three feet away and stopped, looking down at me, his eyes full of danger. Big dark eyes. Strong chin. His face looked battered, all man. Lovely cheekbones, though. Little--ulp--little red horns curving out of his brow.
And in that moment, I knew he was afraid.
“Mutt,” said the angel faintly.
The man in front of me--okay, the demon, I couldn’t kid myself he was anything else--turned toward him, snarling.
Somehow he’d fallen into this place, and strange things were happening, strange things he didn’t understand. He was big and beautiful and dangerous and scared.
I didn’t want to scare him worse. I didn’t even care if he was a demon.
I breathed his name. “Mutt.”
His head snapped around. Our eyes met. I leaned into the gate, feeling my nightgown billow around me, smelling linden flowers perfuming the air, gripping the iron bars so hard I didn’t realize they were cold.
He stood in front of me, his shoulders bulked up, his wings high behind him, his hands fisted at his sides, his chest heaving and running with sweat.
He’s so afraid.
I wanted to reassure him. Gentle him somehow.
|It's Raining Men|
“Mutt, I don’t care,” I began. I don’t care if you’re from hell.
Interview With Mutmumtazarek, Commando Demon from the Regional Office
Tell us about yourself. What are you like?
I guess I’m an average commando warrior demon from the seventh circle of hell, or as we call it here, the Regional Office. The Home Office being, you know, up there. I’m six three, ripped, weigh one ninety-eight, black eyes, reddish-black hair, and my three-inch talons retract, as do my dark red batwings. I’m colored like a seal-point siamese cat if you could look at that cat through a maroon filter. Lighter in the middle and darker at the extremities. If I’m vain, it’s about my hair, which is as stiff and silky as the thickest Chinese hair, but it grows in a mohawk out of my scalp and down my back in a big thick wedge. It’s more of a crest. I think it looks pretty badass.
What do you think is your strongest point?
I’m really a lot more humble than I like to admit to myself.
Do you have a weakness? (If so, what do you think it is? What does your lover think it is? What does your enemy think it is?)
I think my biggest weakness is that I wish I was popular, and I’m not. My lover thinks my biggest weakness is pride--I worry too much about what other people think. I don’t have any enemies now that I’ve been erased from the Regional Office’s computers. Honestly I don’t think anybody noticed me Down There. I was just another gymmed-up keyboard jockey who wished he was still in the Field (mortal Earth), where the action was.
What drives you to do the things you do? What makes you want to be the "good guy?"
Mella. Mella introduced me to sex, and then she cried because I was no good at it, and it was all over. I’d do anything to please her.
What's your favorite guilty pleasure?
Coffee. I love alcohol, don’t get me wrong, but the steaming cat’s pee they sell in the vending machines in the Regional Office got really, really old.
If you didn't know how old you were how old would you be?
Twenty-something. Eighteen? I was made into a demon at twelve, but twelve sucked, I was desperate to be a grownup, so I guess I’m going for thirty.
A biography has been written about you. What do you think the title would be in six words or less?
Maybe Not A Horse’s Ass Anymore
If money were not an object, where would you most like to live?
Anywhere with Mella. Someday maybe I’ll take her to Capri, or some island off the southern coast of France. Anywhere but the Regional Office. I’m so over Hell.
What song would best describe your life?
“Refugee” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
If you were a tool, what would people use you to do?
I’d be a shovel. They’d dig up a bunch of horseshit and bury me with it.
Picture yourself as a store. Considering your personality and lifestyle, what type of products would be sold there?
Are we talking before Mella or afterward? Before Mella I would have been the guns & ammo section of the Bass Pro Shop. Now I’m leaning toward a store with scented oils and one of those big padded couches that clean up real easy. If you get my drift.
As a child, what was your favorite thing about school?
Nothing. I hated it. I just wanted to grow up and get big and be a soldier like my grandfathers, my dad, my uncles, my brothers, and all my cousins. And get away from my five sisters, who picked on me. Once I worked for the Regional Office I was sent into the Field (mortal Earth) to learn programming, which is how I ended up behind a desk instead of with a sword in my hand. Screw school.
If you came with a warning label, what would it say?
When I get nervous, my horns pop out of my forehead, my fingernails turn into talons, and my big red leathery batwings expand out of my back. So “don’t get on my nerves” would be the warning.
Please Fill in the Blanks
I love pizza with everything.
I'm always ready for sex.
When I'm alone, I sulk. I’ve been alone a lot.
You'd never be able to tell, but I really wish you liked me.
If I had a halo it would be a miracle.
If I could do it all over again I'd sell my soul to become a great lover, not a soldier.
I can never go back to the Regional Office because a) there’s no coffee b) Mella is here c) they wouldn’t let me be a soldier any more d) they’d make me work in C++, which is the devil. Metaphorically speaking.
About the Author
Jennifer Stevenson began writing in the womb. Her family tolerated this because they were all in newspapering. Once she was born, they made it clear that since they all wanted to be novelists but were too chicken to try, it was up to her to fulfill the family ambition. Now, of course, they're spinning in their graves because of all the sex in her books. Look for more novels from Jennifer via Musa Publications, but be warned: she thinks the best sexy novel is funny and romantic!
It’s Raining Men, book one of Slacker Demons, also from Musa Publications. Look for my roller derby vampire romance, A Taste of You, at Book View Café and on Amazon. I also write straight contemporary romantic comedies about my favorite real-life heroes, union stagehands, those sexy blue-collar guys who, you know, work with their hands: King of Hearts and Fools Paradise.
Books Coming Soon
It’s Raining Angels and Demons is book two of Slacker Demons. Book three is coming December 15! No title yet--but I can tell you it’s about the defrocked Hindu god of love and his virgin amnesiac runaway bride. Book four comes sometime in Spring 2013.
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