Gìveaway (Int) & Spotlight on Crushed Seraphim: author Debra Anastasia chats with Satan Jack
Let’s give a warm welcome to Crushed Seraphim author Debra Anastasia!
I want to thank DavinciKittie for letting me play on this awesome blog today! Below is an encounter between me and the Devil. You know, just a normal day in my world.
“So we meet again.” Satan Jack looked from my slippers to the messy ponytail knot on my hair and chills soon replaced the path his gaze took. The man knew how to take in a woman, that’s for sure.
He exhaled his smoke and I coughed.
“No smoking in buildings anymore you know.”
He shook his head and his long brown hair fell in front of his deep brown eyes. He pushed it away with a practiced gesture.
“It’d take you a long time to come up with a rule I’ll obey.” He pushed on my slightly ajar door so I was forced to let him in. “Still living in this crap hole?”
“No, I break and enter in my pajamas nowadays.”
I rolled my eyes. Jack is Satan from my book Crushed Seraphim. He’s pretty pissed at me because I’m supposed to be working on his sequel. He’s cutting me some slack because my home was destroyed in Hurricane Irene and I’m living in temporary housing while a new house is built.
“Well, I hope you’re stealing some fast moving plotlines, ‘cause my balls are dying here.” Jack growled at my barking dogs that huddled in the corner like the cowards they were.
“You dogs are worthless! Attack him! I pick up your dumps in little bags for pete’s sake.” I shook my finger at my dogs who derived no courage from my words.
Jack flopped on my rented couch and took another puff. “And I’m here this time because…?”
He seemed happy. Maybe it was because he’d gotten another free pass out of Hell to visit. He loved the sunlight on his bare, muscled chest that was currently framed in a leather jacket. He glanced at his pectoral muscle and made it dance. I looked at the wiggling body part until I noticed the new ink there.
He exhaled. “Yeah. Just a little something for you.”
I squinted and stepped closer. The tat was a word, WRITE.
“Oh great. More pressure? That’s just what I need.” I sat down on the matching loveseat.
“You’re a grumpy bitch. I usually get at least a smile.” The smoke coming from his cigarette seemed to hear his words and curled into a gray, transparent smile.
“I’m sorry. You’re here for a guest blog post on Grave Tells. And thanks for showing up.” I twirled the ring on my hand.
“Any topic?” His deep brown eyes searched mine.
“Just getting to know you.” I pulled the blanket on the loveseat around my shoulders.
“I’m sexy, amazing in bed, and the evilest son of a bitch in the universe. Are we done?” He kicked his beat up motorcycle boots onto the rented coffee table.
“Great. Once sentence. That’ll give me what I need.” Again I was being short with him. It wasn’t like me. He was one of my very favorite characters and he knew it.
“Tell me what the Hell is going on here.” Jack was getting angry. His smoke was tuning red and starting to roll.
“It’s nothing. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.” He waited me out with his unnervingly persistent gaze. I sighed. “I guess I’m homesick.”
He relaxed, sensing that I was telling the truth. “Well, that’s understandable. I can sympathize.”
I bet he could. He’d been tossed from heaven over a thousand years ago and running Hell ever since.
He shrugged. “Hey, the kids are happy, you’re making dinners, walking the dogs. It’s okay to be human for a minute once and a while.”
It was easier being snippy with him. He patted the couch and gave me a knowing look. I got up and sat next to him, he slung his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.
“You’re go-to defense is anger, and that’s fine. But don’t let it fester too long.” He smelled good. His smoke had a sweet smell and I had to love him for talking about my situation when I knew he was dying to quiz me on his sequel.
“Bittersweet Seraphim.” I smiled a little.
One of his eyebrows shot up, “What now?”
He returned my smile. His teeth were so white and his dimple had come out to play.
“I think that’s the title of the sequel.” I held my breath for his reaction.
“That sounds a bit depressing. Should I be concerned?” He became agitated and stood.
I shrugged. Honestly, at the moment in the plot he was naked as a jaybird and things were looking pretty dire.
“Can I get a drink?” He licked his lips. “Hell makes you thirsty.”
I nodded and went to the liquor cabinet. I knew he preferred rum. All I had was some weird spiced stuff leftover from the holidays. I turned to ask Jack if that would do just in time to see him standing over my computer furiously typing.
“Jack! Don’t you dare!” I ran to him and jumped on his back.
He ignored me and I peeked over his shoulder. He was cruising through my fairly unorganized files quickly. He pulled up the working manuscript. I covered his eyes while I hung on his back like a koala.
“No, you can’t it’s not even done!”
He was instantly furious. I could see his neck tense with the veins signifying his fury. “Was I just kissing a dude?”
I swallowed as he blindly picked up my computer and walked us onto my third story porch with the cords dragging behind.
I slid off his back and stood between him and the plummet he was determined for my Mac to experience.
“Listen you can’t read things like that out of context.”
He bit his lip and his eyes were wild. His smoke formed a wall of pulsating tornadoes behind him. “Where’s Emma?”
I knew that was really what bothered him. He wanted to know where the love of his life was. He was in love with an angel and she was in tremendous danger.
I pointed at the computer. “She’s in there right now. And I haven’t backed up my files so if you toss it? We’ll never know.”
It took an extraordinary tense amount of time before he turned in a huff and set the computer back down on my desk. He snapped and his smoke plugged all the proper cords back in.
“You need to fix this. I can’t be making out with men while she’s trapped. I’m giving you time –but I’m losing my patience.” He took some deep breaths and picked his cigarette up off the floor where it was burning without him.
Power permeated the room. I shook my stubborn head.
“I’ll write the end to that story how it’s meant to be. You can’t bully me into anything else. It’s my way or not at all.”
It was a stupid stance to take with the Devil. He could snap my neck, drag me back to his horrible home, anything but very few people accused me of being smart.
He clicked his tongue, his voice soft and compelling. “I don’t like this. You have to at least do me one kindness.”
I nodded. I did love him and hurting him didn’t bring me any joy.
“Don’t write when you’re angry or homesick. Do it when it feels right. Don’t force it.” He snapped his fingers again and his smoke compressed itself into a blasé, small stream by his drug.
“Okay.” I held open my arms, offering a hug by way of apology. He crossed the room and pulled me close.
He spoke into my hair, ruffling it. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”
I pat his leather clad back until he was ready to leave. I watched him go down the stairs to the parking lot and closed the door when I could no longer see him. I sat back down in my computer chair and pulled up the offending document. I immediately broke my promise and continued writing his controversial scene. He doesn’t get out of Hell much, so I should be safe.
I hope you liked my dangerous afternoon. Here’s the information on Jack’s book…
Watch the trailer…
Win a copy of Crushed Seraphim!
Debra is giving away 2 (two) Crushed Seraphim prize packs, each including an ecopy of the book, a signed book plate, and a handmade book bling bookmark! To enter, just leave a comment telling us what you thought of Satan Jack and then fill out the rafflecopter! Good luck!
Psssst! This giveaway is open internationally!
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