Pure Souls Trilogy Synopsis:
APPROPRIATE FOR MATURE READERS ONLY.
When it turns out your ex was actually a sexy demon sent by the devil to seduce you to evil, you'd think the next guy, no matter what he's like, couldn't be a worse decision. Enter Father Marc Angeletti, a smooth talking piece of forbidden fruit with onyx eyes and a razor wit, and Riona Dade may as well start packing her luggage for damnation now. But come Hell or... well, Hell, Marc, Riona, and demigod Dee Zitka have a mission: serve as a Pure Soul and vanquish Lucifer's minion scum from the face of the Earth to protect humanity from evil.
Oh, and don't get seduced into sin yourself, because a fallen Pure Soul is one of Lucifer's biggest thrills. As long as Riona and Marc can keep things professional and north of the sheets, no problem, right?
Yeah, that worked out great in the Thornbirds, too...
Heaven hath no fury like a demon reborn...
Proving that Big Boss is not without a sense of whimsy, Hell’s former all-star demon, Jerry Romani, finds himself a traded player in the classic war of good versus evil. Taking up residence in the human shell left behind by the death and damnation of Marc Angeletti, Jerry seizes on the chance both to win a trip to the pearly gates and reclaim the heart of witch Riona Dade. Not pleased with the butt-kicking the Pure Souls served up, Lucifer enlists his fallen angel compatriots, the Grigori, to stir up trouble topside. Time ticks closer to the inevitable: Marc's resurrection as a demon on Earth, and Jerry is determined to protect Riona and his shiny new Pure Soul status at all costs. He quickly finds two thousand years of living la vida demonica aren’t easily undone, however, and old habits are hard to break. Walking the true path is problematic, and Jerry finds his role reversed when he must convince Riona that it’s in her best interest to do the same. Even if letting her give into temptation is more conducive to his efforts. And just as Project Woo a Witch starts bearing some forbidden fruit, Destiny delivers one hell of bitch slap. Jerry may have been sent back to Earth to do something Riona can't, something that will ensure the only thing he'll be kissing where she's concerned is his ass goodbye.
Dionysius Zitka: Pure Soul. Demigod. Widower.
The last time Dee saw his father, his wife Carol lay dead at Zeus’ feet. He vowed never to return, but someone has to rescue Riona from his crazy Greek God family. At least this time the visit should be brief: he just has to sponsor Jerry, find the keystone, and get the hell out of Olympus. Crossing paths with feisty quartergod Anwen Yates proves how the best laid plans sometimes don't mean jack. Seems Anwen has a couple of demons on her tail, and Olympus with its demon-free climate would be the perfect place for her to hide out. The fact that Dee finds her frustrating, funny, and sexy as hell has nothing at all to do with his decision to bring her along. Nope.
Biding her time with Hades and Persephone, Riona feels like a third wheel to the ancient, troubled marriage. The cherry on the cake? Uninvited angels are subject to death in Olympus, and suddenly her magic has a life of its own! Needing to get her heavenly hexing under control before her hybrid heritage is exposed, Hades helps her find an angelic mentor. And wouldn’t you know it that Azazel brings his newly-minted demon Marc Angeletti along for Riona’s target-practicing pleasure. Or maybe just her pleasure in general…
As the days tick by, the lines of right and wrong, purpose and persuasion, and sin and sanctity begin to blur. Rumors are flying, the Heaven-Hell Accords stretch thinner than a sheet of filo dough, and Zeus grows more cryptic by the day. Riona's angelic instincts throw her libido haywire, Hades makes a Hail Mary pass to save his marriage, and Jerry fears that his may be over before it’s even begun. Meanwhile, the two pillars draw closer to Olympus, and Dee closer to facing his father, his family, and his past. But can he honor his wife’s memory, while evermore wanting to do right by Arwen? The road to Hell is paved with God intentions.
“That over there…” Persephone raised a hand toward a palatial house on a hill, a huge spread above the tall, golden stalks, complete with a cast iron gate and opulent, Mediterranean-styled entryway, “…is my house. Well, our house, I guess.”
Riona’s attempt to sound nonchalant went over about as well as cold water on a hot stove. “Oh, it looks… quaint.”
A cackling laugh burst out from the goddess. “It’s a freaking palace, Riona. Remember that Hades and I are royalty. Dethroned centuries ago, maybe, but me and the mister still put our proper titles on our business cards.”
“I keep forgetting that you’ve been together for thousands of years. How did you manage to stay married so long?”
“Separate bedrooms and a burning desire we share to outlive the other.” Turning to the left, they started up a hillside path. “Our marriage is more like politics with benefits than a reflection of anything we feel. Well, anything we both feel, anyway.”
“If he means so little to you, why not break up?” Riona asked. “It’s not like sixty BC anymore. You could live Earthside twenty-four/seven, three-sixty-five.”
Riona came to a stop just as Persephone did the same. The goddess bit her lip, any sense of amusement draining from her face. “There’re other factors. Besides, Hades isn’t so bad.”
The twisty lane dissolved into cobblestones and dirt on the left, terminating at a gate. Eventually, the slanted roof of a palatial villa emerged, trailing off where wall met stone. The abode wasn’t so much built on the side of the mountain as it was built into it. Marble colonnades docked the top of a portico. Tinted green glass walls allowed ample views of the interior, which was inspired by a temple, and designed by Armani. In the yard, along the walk, torches burned, flaming wisps of smoke and fear. Guards carrying mortal, albeit, outdated weapons – spears, bows, and even some rifles, stood at attention outside every colonnade. Her eyes caught sight of one guard on a craggy outcropping of roof, bearing something that looked like a giant glow stick.
Riona stood frozen in place, her mouth gaping at the sight before her, until Persephone’s nonchalance hastened her reaction.
“It’s ridiculous. All these guards with puny guns. Like a rifle could do anything to us, but cause a little flesh wound. With Dad, it’s all about the stage, not the script.”
It took Riona only a moment to retrieve her memory regarding Persephone’s lineage. “This is Zeus’ house?”
“More of a compound,” Persephone answered. “The rooms go deep inside the mountain. Some tunnels even come out the other side. Dad lives here. He’s also got a whole regiment of people coming and going with the seasons. I know you’re running ragged, but I have to receive his permission to host a human.”
“Is that hard to get?”
She heard Persephone mutter a laugh. “Used to be a breeze. But for someone who looks like you,” the goddess’s eyes mapped Riona’s curves, “the trick is getting him to agree to let you stay at my house, and not on his lap.”
Killian McRae would tell you that she is a rather boring lass, an authoress whose characters’ lives are so much more exciting than her own. She would be right. Sadly, this sarcastic lexophile leads a rather mundane existence in the San Francisco Bay Area. She once dreamed of being the female Indiana Jones, and to that end she earned a degree in Middle Eastern History from the University of Michigan. However, when she learned that real archaeologist spend more time lovingly removing dust with toothbrushes from shards of pottery than outrunning intriguing villains with exotic accents, she decided to become a writer instead. She writes across many genres, including science fiction, fantasy, romance, and historical fiction.