Ever
wonder what it would be like to have your own jinn? Great, huh? The
wishes. The riches. The problems.
Yep.
That's what Cari faces when she inherits Jez. As an alpha jinn, he
refuses to serve anyone but a man. As far as he's concerned, she's
shit out of luck.
Hmm.
She believes otherwise and shows him just who has the upper hand.
Let
the battle of the sexes begin...
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Blurb
Where
there’s a will, there’s wicked fun…
Drowning
in bad luck, Cari doesn’t know where to turn when the unexpected
happens. A loyal customer at her Key West café has left her an
inheritance. She hopes for cash to save her restaurant but receives
an old brass bottle that looks like a sex toy…and has Jez inside.
At
six-four, he’s built like a gladiator, has looks to die for, and
oozes sexuality. He’s also a jinn.
Color
her enthralled and excited. Besides being one hot dude, he grants
wishes, right?
Not
for her. Ironclad tradition demands he serve men, not women. Of
course, if she wants to get down and dirty with him, he’ll gladly
oblige.
Let
the battle of the sexes begin. Before long, their differences fall
away as they indulge in every lusty desire, while falling hard and
fast. Ah, paradise. Until trouble arrives, threatening to pull them
apart forever…
Excerpt
She
couldn’t wait a second longer and twisted the knob to open the
container.
The
top didn’t budge.
She
tried repeatedly until she was breathless and sweating.
The
fucking thing wouldn’t turn. The nicks and dents she’d noticed
earlier proved to be pry marks around the top that resembled the
crown on a man’s cock.
“Crap.”
She wasn’t equipped to break this thing or saw it open.
After
searching her kitchen for something to use, she settled on rubber
gloves to add traction to her grip. With her thighs holding the
bottle, she wrenched the top as hard as her strength allowed.
The
knob not only loosened, but flew off—similar to a cork on a
champagne bottle—and hit her wall, denting the plaster.
There
goes my security deposit.
Hold
on.
By
itself, the bottle trembled between her thighs, the metal growing
warmer. Not an unpleasant feeling, but fucking weird.
Appalled,
she flung the container on her table.
It
thudded dully against her purse and shook violently.
“Shit,
shit, shit!” The damn thing was going to blow. Her spicy, rich
cooking must have pushed Ethyl into an earlier grave than she wanted,
and this was payback. Terrified, Cari dropped to her knees, desperate
to crawl to the door and outside. Frozen in horror, she hunkered
behind a chair for protection.
Thunder
roared.
Gold-and-black
smoke poured from the bottle.
I’m
going to die.
Hard
rain struck the windows, but they didn’t blow out from an
explosion.
Rather
than the smoke rising to the ceiling, it curled in a slow spiral then
drifted away from the table to her side.
Shuddering,
she crab-walked away from it.
The
smoke followed and took form.
Feet
appeared first, at least a size fifteen, the toes well-formed and
long. Muscular calves and thighs materialized next, dark hairs
hugging them, the complexion olive.
She
stopped edging back and leaned forward instead.
Upper
thighs and narrow hips emerged, a startling-white fabric tied around
the groin area, the ends hiding the good stuff. Not a loincloth
exactly, more like a scarf exposing a rock-hard ass.
The
abs and chest were no different, each sculpted, the small nipples a
dark brown shade, similar in color to refried beans. The pecs
quivered on each new breath. However, there was no navel.
This
can’t be happening.
She
raised her face.
The
smoke broke apart, floated to the ceiling, and disappeared.
Leaving
a thirty-something man standing before her.
He
opened his lushly lashed eyes.
Her
breath caught. His irises were closer to gold than hazel, his
shoulder-length brown hair thick and wavy, stubble outrageously sexy,
mouth sensuous, one dark eyebrow arched at her.
He
planted his hands on his lean hips.
Holy
fuck. A gladiator couldn’t have owned more muscles, though they
weren’t overdone like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s, but totally male.
Her
pussy creamed.
An
odd reaction since this couldn’t be real.
When
the knob flew off the bottle, it must have ricocheted off the wall
and hit her head, causing her to hallucinate this, or rather, him.
Only
one way to find out. She grabbed his calf. Its brawn and heat made
her ears buzz.
Grinning
lewdly, he flexed his muscles and pressed into her touch.
This
was no dream. She snatched back her hand. “Who-who-who-who—”
She shivered so badly, she couldn’t speak, but had to. “Who are
you? What are you?”
His
eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He lifted his chin. “You, a mere
woman, dare to question or demand anything from me?”
“Huh?”
Not liking his sexist attitude, she scrambled to her feet. At
five-seven, she couldn’t match his height. By her guestimate, he
topped out at six-four and was the most perfect man she’d ever
seen, except for his patronizing gaze. Precisely what she didn’t
need. “Again, who or what are you? This is my place. My kitchen.
Not yours. Answer me.”
“I
answer only to my master. Go on.” He gestured her away as Antonini
had. “Fetch the man in charge.”
As
if. Before she could slug him, he pivoted and regarded her
kitchen warily, as a one-percenter would, seeing only how small and
simple it was.
She
couldn’t have cared less if he found her digs lacking.
He
next focused on her buñuelos.
If
he gave them a pissy look or said one unkind thing about her cooking,
he wasn’t long for this world, even if she didn’t know how to off
him.
Bent
at the waist, he sniffed the treats and licked his lips.
Growling
sounded.
His
stomach?
Holding
one buñuelo between his thumb and forefinger, he examined the fried
dough carefully, licked the contours, then popped the treat into his
mouth. As he chewed, his lids slid down and he moaned the way guys do
during orgasms.
About Tina
Tina
is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes
romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional
publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic
Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three
of her erotic novels were
Readers' Choice Award winners. Another three were named finalists in
the EPIC competition. One of her erotic contemporary romances was
chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews.
The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically
for one of her erotic romances. Two of her titles received an Award
of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Another
two won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina
is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before
penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company
in Story Direction.
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