Release Day February 25th
Holly Woods is going to hell in a handbasket—but this time, Satanists aren’t to blame. Halloween is.
Nonna doesn’t understand why there are skeletons and demons everywhere. Mom is threatening to stitch a devil into Nonna’s pillowcase if she doesn’t shut up. Bek is bumbling over a date with Jason, the handsome FBI agent who conveniently got himself relocated to Austin, and I… Well. I’m considering running away to a town without the crazies.
Nothing new here.
Everything is going smoothly—too smoothly—and I can’t shake the feeling that something is about to happen. Drake insists I’m being paranoid… But when a body turns up at the Holly Woods Halloween party, we have a whole lot more than a murderer to worry about.
Because the prime suspect is his mom.
And it’s my job to prove she’s innocent.
By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies - usually wine - and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy - unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.
New Release Updates: http://eepurl.com/bRdNeD
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE: http://www.amazon.com/Emma-Hart/e/B00A3QSV0M/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1410362990&sr=8-2-ent
“Kellie! You put-a that-a devil-a down!”
“It’s not a devil, Liliana. It’s a demon. Once that will find its way into your bedroom if you don’t get. Off. Of. It!”
I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the front door. Have you ever seen an elderly Italian woman and a fifty-something year old woman playing tug of war with a decorative demon? No?
“I do not-a care! It is-a not-a going on-a my-a house-a!”
“It’s my house!” Mom yells. “You haven’t paid rent for ten years!”
My eyes widen. Oh boy. Here we go.
“I no need-a pay-a rent! I cook-a, I clean-a! That-a is-a my rent!”
“You clean the kitchen, you crazy old lady!”
Nonna gasps, her hand flying to her chest in dramatic horror. “I am-a not-a crazy!”
“You’re so crazy you’re lucky you’re not in a home!”
“Noella!” Nonna spins, pointing a wrinkled finger in my direction. “Am-a I crazy?”
Way to put a girl on the spot, Nonna. “Well…” I say the word slowly. “Crazy is a strong word…”
“But then again, so is normal.”
“What? You asked, I answered.”
She sniffs and pulls her light wrap around her shoulders. “Why-a you-a here? Don’t you-a have-a to feed-a your man?”
“No. He’s working.”
“Ah-ha! I will-a call-a Drake and report this… This-a merda!”
Mom staggers back, her jaw dropped. “Liliana! That language is not appropriate!”
“Neither is-a your-a demons!” Nonna finally manages to wrench the demon away from Mom and waves it enthusiastically. “Pah!”
Then, to Mom’s undisguised horror, she throws it onto the ground. My eyebrows shoot up, and I step to the side as Nonna storms toward me. Well, as quickly as an old woman with a cane can storm, that is.
“Liliana! You pick that up right now!”
“No! I call-a the police-a!” Nonna frowns and waves her cane in Mom’s direction. “You-a disturb-a the peace!” She turns and shuffles into the house.
“She’s not actually going to… Never mind,” I say, hearing her yell down the phone. Yep, she’s actually calling the police station.
That’s a new one, even for the Bonds.
“She’s crazy!” Mom’s face is bright red as she bends forward to pick up the demon Nonna defiled with dirt. “She needs putting in a home!”
“You’d need to get her sedated before you try that.” I straighten a pumpkin Nonna apparently knocked over. “Just put the demons somewhere she can’t see them and then the problem is solved.”
“Oh yes?” Mom raises her eyebrows then pulls out a giant cloaked figure. “What do I do with Lucifer?”
I stare at the five-foot tall devil decoration that usually spends the holiday hanging on the tree at the bottom of the yard. Its motion-sensor makes it moan every time you walk past it, and the long robes are forever getting caught on the bush beneath the tree. “Mom, you might give her a heart attack if you hang him this year.”
“Good,” she mutters. “I might get some peace, then.”