Slacker Demons Omnibus
Three complete novels
by Jennifer Stevenson
Five guys are living in a man-lair, all hot, all ex-gods, now all sex demons working for hell, all this close to getting fired because, although they’re good at meeting women, they suck at the paperwork.
About the novels:
It’s Raining Men
“Just for you, it’s gonna start raining men.”
Archie is a sex demon who’s so lazy, he’s this close to being kicked out of hell. Chloe is a brand ambassador for a liquor distributor, dating bums and secretly crushing on her favorite bartender, Archie.
Archie only wants to comfort Chloe after her latest dumping. He doesn’t plan to show her the sex demons’ sweat-socky man lair, or confess to collecting thirty pieces of silver a month for seducing women. He doesn’t even intend to kiss her. It all starts with one well-meant lie…
“Just for you, it’s gonna start raining men.”
Dancing with Cupid
Defrocked Hindu love god seeks virgin amnesiac runaway bride
Exiled to Los Angeles by her Delhi family when she was only nine, Rathi grows up into a prim, virginal overachiever. Now she’s a lonely workaholic in a high-power women’s rights law firm in Chicago. Just having coffee with the mailroom boy would be a career-limiting move.
Kamadeva, once the lusty Hindu god of love, has never forgotten his long lost wife. She stomped out on him after he got demoted via flamethrower by an angry Shiva. He’s spent the last 500 years as a sex demon, looking for her. But Rathi has reincarnated many times. She doesn’t remember Kama.
She can’t find her love button with both hands. And he’s still the happy-go-lucky idiot she left.
Can he revive her goddess memories before Shiva’s curse fries him to a crisp again? And will she still want to dance with her underachiever cupid?
Walking on Sunshine
four lovers + ancient power = irresistable passion
A rock starlet whose biological clock is ticking… An ancient sex demon under orders to make a goddess out of the starlet… A precocious Parisian teen with a bottomless bank account and a stalker obsession for the starlet… And a son of vodou whose life tangles with the others as time runs out for him to claim his rightful title in France…
Is love enough to protect their sanity from immortality?
REVIEWS for SLACKER DEMONS:
“Jennifer Stevenson is the mistress of magic … Bravo!”
— Mindy Klasky, USA Today bestselling author of the Jane Madison Series
Read a sample:
Saturday night Chloe came into the bar about nine thirty, looking desperate. I poured her the usual. She didn’t glance around the room and scope the prospects, so I knew it would be a bartender-sympathy night. Luckily, most of the regulars had already arrived and fueled up.
Chloe nursed her drink. “Hey, Archie.” She looked pouty and far too young for all the make-up and the sophisticated black bangs over her eyes.
I poured myself some good Scotch. “Speak, angel face.”
She didn’t even look up. “I’ve been dumped. Again.” She tossed off her Bombay and Pernod and shoved the glass at me. Her eyes were still on her glass. “Reynolds texted me today.”
I put the next one in front of her. “So you’re getting trashed?”
“That’s life in the dumpster. Cheers.” Weepy eyes. Oh, heaven.
“He’s not worthy,” I said. “Detailed whining, please.”
“You’re always so sympathetic.” She twisted her pout into a smile. “All right. He’s a louse. Of course he’s a louse. They all are. I haven’t met a nice man in . . . oh. . . . ” She squinted.
“Just over a year.” I ought to know. “You met him here, during the Proof Poir promotion, demonstrating how to make Frothy Coladas. His name was. . . . ” I snapped my fingers. “Dexter.”
She toasted me. “Very good. Dexter.”
“Dexter of the awesome abs and the sweet temper.”
“And the wife in South Carolina.” She sighed again. “I haven’t met even a decent married man since Dexter.” I heard a sob come up in her throat. “Swear to God, Archie, it’s a conspiracy. Somebody decided to keep all the decent men away from me.”
She looked so miserable, I couldn’t think of anything amusing to distract her.
She started to sniffle.
A bad weight settled in my chest. My ears burned and my fingers twitched. I felt suddenly sweaty. Was it a heart attack? That’d be a joke after all these centuries.
Nope. The old ticker was still pounding away.
I watched her mouth droop, and the bad feeling tightened. What the—
It was . . . wait, wait . . . I was getting it.
I felt guilty.
How could I blame myself for Chloe’s bad taste in men?
How could I fix it?
Well, there was one surefire way.
So then I made a mistake. After two years, I made my move on Chloe. As usual when I make a move, I let my imagination and my sense of humor take over.
“Funny you should say that.”
She sniffled. I felt awful. Bless it, she was crying now. A big tear fell into her second Bombay and Pernod. My throat tightened.
“What?” she croaked.
I felt like ten kinds of a rat. I felt like a creep. I felt guilty.
Fuck that. I hadn’t spent twelve hundred years working for the Regional Office to suffer guilt.
So instead of exploiting her properly, as I’d put off doing these past two years, I got clever.
“You’re right. It is a conspiracy.”
She stared at me, her pretty mouth dropping open.
I said, “A conspiracy to keep all the decent men away from you. And every other woman in Ravenswood Manor. Twenty-square-block area. No nice men live here any more. No nice men work here. No nice men walk their dogs or drive through or take the El through or come to the gym or the restaurants or the vet. Certainly they don’t come to the bars.”
She gave a hacking laugh. “Not funny.”
“Not meant to be,” I said. It was really hard to meet her eyes. But for once in, sheesh, a long time, I felt hideously, painfully guilty.
I put my elbows on the bar. “All right, here’s the deal. Me and one of my roommates—did I mention I’m a sex demon in the second circle of hell?” I said, rushing my fence. “I’m a sex demon in the second circle of hell. We had this brilliant idea. Chase all the good men out of an entire neighborhood. Then clean up.” At her confused expression, I explained, “Lots more women for us. We would look good compared to the available mortal dickheads.”
She closed her mouth long enough to swallow. “Go on.”
“It took six months to set up, and then we ran it for a year. You should know how well it worked,” I added gruffly. I took a swallow of Scotch courage.
“And then?” She seemed a lot more cheerful.
I shrugged. “And then the Regional Office and the Home Office had their big five-year accounts reconciliation, and some programs got cut and some assets got moved, and long story short, we got caught in the machinery.”
Chloe squinted at me.
Now I got it. She wasn’t swallowing a word of this. Thanking hell, I spun the bullshit faster. “And now I’m on work release.”
She laughed delightedly. “Go on. This is fascinating.”
“I’m glad you’re amused,” I said grumpily. “I should have known, of course, that you were liable to get snared in our net, but I guess I’d hoped you would wise up, or at least take a breather from your lifestyle of dating sons of bitches.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She flapped a hand. “Moving right along.”
I shrugged. “So, yes, there’s a conspiracy, and it worked pretty well, but now it’s officially over.”
Her mouth twisted. “Tell that to Reynolds. The putz.”
“Reynolds is in the past.”
She was smiling. I felt a little better now. More like the idiot I really am than the total bastard I pretend to be.
So I spun some more. “The good news.”
“There’s good news?”
“Of course. The good news is, you’ve been selected for victims’ compensation.” Yeah, that sounded about right. The sort of thing those bureaucratic morons above and below would do. “As compensation for your suffering this past year, and in recognition of the damage to your peace of mind, for a limited time only.” I smiled my snakiest smile. “For you, it’s gonna start raining men.”