Succubus (n.) An alluring, shape-shifting demon who seduces and pleasures mortal men. Pathetic (adj.) A succubus with great shoes and no social life. See: Georgina Kincaid.
When it comes to jobs in hell, being a succubus seems pretty glamorous. A girl can be anything she wants, the wardrobe is killer, and mortal men will do anything just for a touch. Granted, they often pay with their souls, but why get technical?
But Seattle succubus Georgina Kincaid's life is far less exotic. Her boss is a middle-management demon with a thing for John Cusack movies. Her immortal best friends haven't stopped teasing her about the time she shape-shifted into the Demon Goddess getup complete with whip and wings. And she can't have a decent date without sucking away part of the guy's life. At least there's her day job at a local bookstore--free books; all the white chocolate mochas she can drink; and easy access to bestselling, sexy writer, Seth Mortensen, aka He Whom She Would Give Anything to Touch but Can't.
But dreaming about Seth will have to wait. Something wicked is at work in Seattle's demon underground. And for once, all of her hot charms and drop-dead one-liners won't help because Georgina's about to discover there are some creatures out there that both heaven and hell want to deny...
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WARNING! The following review is not supposed to make any sense. If, through an unholy miracle, it does make sense then you should consult a doctor at once. You might have an evil cotton candy monster living in your brain.
After a failed attempt with The Blood That Bonds, Anzu decides to go for something else in the Urban Fantasy genre. Since she is such a sadistic person she goes for Succubus Blues, another book she was sure she will hate. Deep inside she was still hoping to be proven wrong.
Anzu lies in bed and starts the book. Only six pages pass and the trouble starts.
“What the hell just happened???” She is confused. Nothing is as it should be.
“She really... the disgusting loser... page six... did she have??”
And she reads on and on. Nothing seems to please her.
“What the hell is wrong with this chick???” She screams at the walls. No one is there to hear her.
Sleep with Seth Mortensen? Good grief. It was the most preposterous thing I'd ever heard. It was appalling. If I absorbed his life force, there was no telling how long it'd be until his next book came out.
“What the hell is wrong with you??” Anzu is still screaming at the book. She seems to have forgotten that the book is a mere object; it cannot answer all these questions.
"Everything going okay?" a voice behind us asked. I looked over and saw Warren, the store's owner and my occasional fuck-buddy.
“WHAT?? Why does she have to ruin the book with this shit??!” Still no answer comes from the book.
The more Anzu reads the more she mentions this person named Richelle Mead. She seems to have developed a certain amount of hate for her. She is also punching her Kindle device quite often while reading.
Most guys did just want to get me into bed. I wasn't quite sure what to do with one who didn't.
Anzu’s right eye is twitching rather violently.
I had found his defense rather endearing. Also, still burning with Roman-lust and now maybe Seth-lust, I suddenly found Warren convenient in the wake of my grouchy succubus hunger.
“You WHORE!” she screams and throws her Kindle device against the wall. Surprisingly the device survives without a scratch. Her expression is very similar to the following image.
After long painful hours, Anzu finally finishes the book. She sets her Kindle device on her nightstand, gets up and slowly walks to her kitchen. She takes a huge knife and walks out the door. There are no shoes on her feet. Anzu was gone, never to be seen again.
The next day the newspaper delivers horrible news. Richelle Mead has been murdered. The authorities have no idea who her murderer could be.
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