Warning: contains humor, romance, magic, puns, bodies, and a short detour from reality. No plots were harmed in the making of this story.

Instead of a quiet dance retreat where she could escape the insanity of being the daughter of an angel, a succubus, and a lycanthrope, Emma Sansaul plummets into the middle of murder, mayhem, and mischief. As becoming the next victim of a crazed serial killer is not on her itinerary, she’s left with no choice but to join forces with Agent Kenneth Bernard to find the murderer, the one man on Earth capable of making her hissing mad one second and in need of a cold shower the next.
This story can be read as a standalone.
Where to Purchase
eBook: Patreon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple Books | Amazon | Smashwords
* Print, Paperback (6×9): Bookshop | Barnes & Noble | Amazon (Blank Edges)
Audiobook: Patreon | Kobo | Audible | Chirp
* Note: All 6×9 Paperback editions have forced print edges unless purchased at Amazon.
From Chapter One…
Normal people worried about delays at the airport, dealing with security, and other travel snarls when heading off on an adventure. Me?
One of my mothers was a succubus, and she’d brought home an incubus for me to enjoy. Like all his demonic kin, he was a dark beauty oozing sin with a dash of temptation, offering everything a girl could want and more. If I didn’t get the hell out of Dodge, I’d miss my flight, lose my virginity, and discover the joys of having an on-call incubus.
Heaven help me.
“No, Mom.” I pointed at the incubus, whose grin promised the immediate disintegration of my panties if I let him get anywhere near me. “What have I told you about bringing random incubi home?”
“You keep telling me not to do it like you actually get a say in the matter. This is my house, young lady. And in my house, I’ll bring home company whenever I want.”
Why, why, why did I have an angel for a mother, a succubus for a mother, and a bloody, feather-brained lycanthrope for a father? I thought a little screaming was warranted, so I started with my father. “Dad!? Mom brought home an incubus again.”
“Talk to your other mother, Emma,” my father yelled back from across the house. “I’m busy with the chicks right now.”
Damned feather-brained, chicken-obsessed idiot of a swan!
“Language!” Ma ordered from up the stairs, proving I had an unwanted snoop poking around in my thoughts again.
“Ma, Mom’s going to make me late for the airport. Can you please deal with this situation?”
“You’re still dressed, he’s not influencing you, and despite your current belief, he won’t actually disintegrate your panties. Stop being such a baby. Maybe if you wouldn’t run every time your mom brought home a guest, she wouldn’t find it so amusing to bring guests home with her.”
“You’re a fallen angel, aren’t you? There’s no other explanation.” I bowed my head, wondered how I’d make the thirty feet to my car without being ambushed, further delayed, or otherwise blocked from going to Boulder, Colorado to practice dancing and escape from the monotony of set performances at the theater.
“No, I’m just fair, and for once in her life, your mom hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Yet! She hasn’t done anything wrong yet.”
“Louisa, perhaps you should take your pet incubus home. You know how cranky George gets when you bring home an incubus for Emma. Can we go one day without having an incident in this house, please?”
Mom scowled, lashing her tail and clamping her wings close to her back. “Damn it! I went through a lot of effort to catch this one.”
Once my mothers started going at it, nothing short of divine intervention would stop them. Mouthing an apology to the bemused incubus, I snatched my luggage and retreated out the front door.
Some days, living with telepaths and empaths annoyed the hell out of me, but once they started duking it out in the privacy of their thoughts, the world could end without either one noticing.
“Have a safe flight, Miss Emma.” The incubus held the front door open for me. “The combination for the lock on your steering wheel is 4-2-7-1.”
“I don’t have a clue who you are, but you’re now my friend.”
“Call me Rafil.”
“Like Israfil?” Having met the archangel, if he ever found out there was a cheeky incubus edging in on his turf, it’d get ugly. With my luck, it’d happen in my house, as my mothers had no shame and enjoyed their power plays as much as my father enjoyed watching them.
I’d been born into a family of raving lunatics.
The incubus’s grin confirmed my fears. “I live to yank his chain. It keeps him on his toes. If you change your mind and want to play with me, give me a call. I’d be glad to introduce you to the true pleasures of life.”
I bolted for my car like the devil himself was hot on my heels. I contemplated murdering Mom when I saw the chain wrapped around my steering wheel, which ran out the window to loop through my rim, ensuring I wouldn’t be going anywhere without the combination. The number worked. I dumped the mess on the lawn for my mom to clean up, shoved my bags into the backseat, and bailed before my parents could stop me.