Demon Kissed - Book Tour and Giveaway

Demon Kissed
The Summoner's Mark Book 1
by J.D. Blackrose
Genre: Paranormal Romance 

"This book is GOOD!" --Faith Hunter, NYT and USA Today bestselling author of the Jane Yellowrock series

My name is Rebecca, but everyone calls me Becs.

Years ago, a mark appeared on my inner wrist--The Kiss, they call it--and it makes me a summoner. I can summon, well, things…entities of power, including demons. Which, I did, until recently. I quit, because I summoned a demon on behalf of a client and things went south.I fixed it, but now I owe that demon a favor and I don't know when he's going to call it in, or, what he's going to ask.
One thing's for sure, it won't be kosher.

Now I work in a fae bar, trying to stay out of trouble, waiting for the hammer to drop. But trouble tends to follow me. And my upstairs neighbor, Ash, seems to be right in the thick of it. He's gorgeous, with sexy curls, kissable lips, and a body to match. I can't believe someone like him even glanced my way.

Things get complicated when a local mob boss wants my help, a warlock decides I'm next on the menu, and my six-foot-tall fairy friend can't find his way home.

What's a Jewish, bird-watching summoner with family and friends to protect, to do?


Praise for Demon Kissed:
"A fantastic protagonist, killer magic system, and a supporting cast you'll fall in love with, J. D. Blackrose's Demon Kissed is a fantastic new urban fantasy. I loved this book and can't wait to read more!" --John G. Hartness, Award-Winning Author of The Black Knight Chronicles

"This book is GOOD! Blackrose proves that a creative writer can grab you with an original twist." --Faith Hunter, NYT and USA Today bestselling author of the Jane Yellowrock series

"Magic, snark, a dash of romance, and a ton of action. Demon Kissed offers a compelling blend of fun and edge-of-your-seat excitement. Compulsively readable and highly recommended!" --David B. Coe/D. B. Jackson, author of Radiants and the Thieftaker Chronicles

"J. D. Blackrose's latest tale spins together demons, mobsters, fairies, and a kick-ass heroine under a curse that may end up being her salvation. *Chef's Kiss*." --Darin Kennedy, Author of Fugue & Fable and The Pawn Stratagem


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​“I WAS FAT-SHAMED by a fortune cookie.”
“Did you eat it and show it who’s boss?”
I checked my rearview mirror. The black sedan slipped one lane left of mine, but it was still on my tail.
“Rebecca Naomi Greenblatt, are you even listening to me?”
Ah. All three names. Mickey only used them when she was angry, like our mother. My sister often droned on about her latest fad diet or workout, and when she did, I tuned her out, so it was a fair question. Also, she was on speaker, so I raised the volume to hear her better over the traffic.
“Yes, Mikayla,” I said, stressing her first name, teasing her as only an older sister could. “What did the fortune cookie say?”
I sped up and swerved around the red Jetta in front of me, earning a honk and a middle finger, but the black car still followed. Damn. They weren’t even pretending to stay hidden now. Who were these people?
“The damn slip of paper said, ‘No one looks good in skinny jeans.’” Mickey sniffed to express her displeasure. “And I was wearing skinny jeans at the time!”
“That’s not even a fortune.”
“Right? My point exactly.”
“Maybe try another restaurant next time?” I took a sharp right into a parking garage and zoomed up a down ramp, fish-tailed around the curve, narrowly missing an oncoming dark-green Ford Escape, and circled to the left, heading toward the exit ramp on the far side of the garage. The black car followed but didn’t make it, slamming into the Escape. The crunch of metal on metal and loud cursing echoed through the concrete lot.
“Becs? What was that? Were you in an accident? Are you in trouble? It’s that damn job of yours, isn’t it?”
I touched my neck where my locket used to be, wishing I still had it. Mickey wore a duplicate. “I stopped doing that job, Micks. I work at a bar now.”
“You say that, but for some inexplicable reason I can’t visit you at this bar. You’re still summoning, aren’t you? Becs, you almost got killed six months ago.”
“I’m not summoning, and things happen to people in all kinds of jobs.”
“It’s the kind of people you work with, Becs, and you know it. The scum of the earth.”
“Worked with, past tense, and they were desperate. They needed help, and I provided it. I’m sorta the only one who can do it, and you know that.”
“You don’t help. You hand them a shovel so they can dig a deeper hole.” Her voice was hot and angry, and I knew nothing I said would make a difference. We’d had this argument a million times.
I sighed. “It wasn’t my fault they made bad deals.”
Except that one time. That time it was my fault, and it was the reason I gave it up.
My sister didn’t believe me, and I couldn’t blame her. It was true—she couldn’t visit me at my new job. I worked at a fae bar and she, like any other normal, couldn’t see the door or find the address.
“Mickey . . . ?”
“Ruthie got her first tooth.” After a pause, she said, “Your niece misses you. Even if she’s too little to say so.”
“I know.” I missed her, too. All of them. Even my brother-in-law. “Text me a picture?”
“I will. She’s so cute. It’s a bottom one.” Her mommy enthusiasm cut through the sadness, and I smiled.
“Does she have any more hair?”
“You would know if you ever came by to visit, Auntie Becs. When can we see you? Shabbat dinner Friday?”
I squirmed in my car seat. Jonah, Mickey’s husband, wasn’t my biggest fan. He hid it from Mickey, but we’d had words in private. Mickey didn’t believe in the creatures I summoned, such as demons. She was aware some people did believe, but a literal Dante type of Hell with demons wasn’t in her personal belief system. She knew I summoned bad things, but that was it. Jonah, however, understood that whatever people believed in, I could manifest and summon, and he didn’t want my demon “stank” to come near his wife and daughter. I didn’t blame him because he was totally correct.
I owed a powerful demon named Valefar a favor for fixing the mistake that made me walk away from summoning, and I didn’t know when he’d call it in. I lived on edge every minute, thinking he’d use the locket I’d given him to prick my soul, get my attention, and trade in his chit.
Part of me hoped he’d never do it. Another part of me wanted him to do it and get it over with. All of me lived in terror of what he’d ask me to do.

The Summoner's Mark is J. D. Blackrose's first series with Bell Bridge Books. Previously, she's published The Soul Wars, The Devil's Been Busy, and the Zombie Cosmetologist novellas through Falstaff Books. She's also published multiple short stories, enjoying the art of brevity now and then. She's always lived in her head and is often accused of not listening. To make up for it, she's mastered the art of looking interested. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter.


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