The Devil's Wingman (paperback)












ISBN Digital: 9781628308679
ISBN Print: 9781628308662
Page Count: 308
Word Count: 76230
Rating: Spicy
MSRP: 16.99


After the death of her father and her own serious issues, Kara Maven decides to move back to her hometown to complete her senior year at Belman University. She settles into life on campus when her world is shaken by a handsome bad boy with a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Dominic Benenati is a half-demon Damamah, or whisperer, whose role on earth is to ensure Hell’s population thrives by pushing humans to act upon their sinful thoughts.

To complicate matters, enter Cayden Adams who is an angel determined to save Kara from Dominic’s influence. But does Kara really want to be saved?

Excerpt:

Acting on a whim, I brought my hands up and pressed my palms against his cheeks. They burned like a fever. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get used to that.

His black eyes latched onto mine. I waited as he struggled with something internally, pain and confliction clearly written across his face. Eventually, his expression shifted, the hard planes of his features softened into a sweet smile. As our faces drew closer, my breathing became ragged with anticipation. When he wet his lips, it was nearly my undoing. My chest heaved with expectation, trembling each time his breath crept across my skin. I looked into his eyes; the crimson specks were recessing, like a fading tide within a murky sea of black ink. They were hypnotizing.

“If I am under a trance, don’t ever rouse me,” I murmured.

His eyes glimmered just before he pressed his warm lips to mine. Our mouths moved together in perfect unison, as if they were molded to fit one another. The kiss deepened, and together we were swept away by our unraveling emotions, pawing at one another as though each other’s breath was the only oxygen we had.

When we finally parted for air, we both stood staring at the other, panting. Dominic took my hands, his touch warming me like a soothing balm. He cast his eyes down to our intertwined fingers, his long lashes fanning out over his high cheekbones, and he said, “My fraying willpower makes it hard to walk away from you.”

“Then don’t,” I whispered.




Copyright © 2017 The Wild Rose Press, Inc.