Welcome to the Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls #1) by Killian McRae Book Tour! Enjoy my review and an excerpt from the book!
Pure and Sinful
Pure Souls Book One
Genre: paranormal romance
Publisher: Tulipe Noire Press
When it turns out your ex was actually a sexy demon sent by the devil to seduce you to evil, you’d think the next guy, no matter what he’s like, couldn’t be a worse decision. Enter Father Marc Angeletti, a smooth talking piece of forbidden fruit with onyx eyes and a razor wit, and Riona Dade may as well start packing her luggage for damnation now. But come Hell or… well, Hell, Marc, Riona, and demigod Dee Zitka have a mission: serve as a Pure Soul and vanquish Lucifer’s minion scum from the face of the Earth to protect humanity from evil.
Oh, and don’t get seduced into sin yourself, because a fallen Pure Soul is one of Lucifer’s biggest thrills. As long as Riona and Marc can keep things professional and north of the sheets, no problem, right?
Yeah, that worked out great in the Thornbirds, too…
*My review is coming shortly :)*
The donuts weren’t the only things with holes. Though invisible to the naked eye, Riona and Marc had a matching pair in their heads.
“What the Jim Dandy f- were you thinking?”
Dee struggled with his volume amid the gaggle of middle-of-the-night patrons at Donuts DeJour. Not that he thought any of them gave a damn about anything he was saying. And frankly, a handful of them were suspicious, dark world wash-ups anyways. Failed demons really enjoyed a midnight crueller, from what he heard.
Riona’s expression wore “f-you” like it was the latest thing off the Paris runway. “It was the charm, Dee. You honestly believe someone as green as I could stand up to something Asmodeus himself was dishing out? The demon has been heating things up since the Ice Age.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dee said sweetly. “I didn’t realize you only signed up to fight middle-management evil.” With a blink, the scowl returned to his face. He focused his attention on Marc. “And you, Father Feely. I thought we had this all sorted out with our little powwow the other night? Do you not truly grasp that you were within six inches of damning yourself to Hell and becoming a demon?”
Marc remained nonplussed. Without looking so much as concerned, he pulled a white mug of caffeine sludge to his lips, and rattled off, “About nine inches, actually,” before drawing a sip.
The coffee never reached his mouth. It became a Jackson Pollack-inspired masterpiece on the wall adjacent the table at which they sat.
Dee leapt to his feet, his chair demonstrating the principle of Newton’s first law of motion as he lunged forward and plunged his fist down on the tiled tabletop, cracking it straight down the middle.
“Is this all a joke to you?” he bellowed, drawing Marc and Riona’s gazes back from the mug’s final resting place. “What part of ‘damned for all eternity and serving the dark side as its demon minion’ don’t you get? Yes, someone like Asmodeus is about as hard as they come. You still kicked his ass back to Hell, Riona. Barely. If you’d been ‘distracted’ a minute more, who knows though? You both have got to get a hold of yourselves before things go too far. I refuse to stand by and watch another person I care for get killed for something as silly as love.”
Now it was Riona’s turn to spring. “Jesus H. Christ, I am not in love with the priest here. I don’t know where the hell you and Ramiel get these ideas.”
“Ramiel?” Marc blinked violently several times. “You’re talking to Ramiel about us?”
Dee didn’t miss that dangerous two-lettered word. “Us?”
The witch slashed her hand through the air like a ninja using flies for target practice. “No, there is no us. Marc and I are not a thing. It only came up because Ramiel kept hinting that I have some destined love that’s supposed to shake the cosmos, or start an apocalypse, or melt the polar ice caps, or something. I think he was warning me not to be distracted,” she whipped in Marc’s direction, “by screwing you.”
“Why do I feel like you’re trying to make this my fault?” the priest shot back. “I backed off. I tried to stop. You’re the one who decided to act like a kitty that wanted to climb my tree.”
The witch blanched. “How dare you?”
By this time, even the transient who’d been having a three-way conversation with himself had paused and was watching the trio with utter confusion. Dee, noticing their audience, leaned in over the remaining half of the table and pushed the red-faced Riona back into her seat. Her attempt to resist stood no chance against Dee’s demigod strength.
Narrowing his gaze on the reticent couple, he yelled through a whisper, “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. You’re both on the hook if something happens; Marc for obvious reasons, and you because you would never subject someone to Hell, if given the choice. That’s it, I don’t see another solution. You two are not allowed to be alone anymore.”
“Seriously?” Riona barked.
“Chaperoned visits only from now on, preferably with Ramiel or me,” Dee confirmed. “It’s as much for your own good, as well as for our mission. I know I’m pretty damned talented, but I can’t fight evil on my own.”
“You’re right.” Brow furrowed, Marc nodded solemnly. “You’re right, indeed.”
But Riona didn’t like the looks of that bandwagon. “Oh. My. God. I am an adult and perfectly capable of putting a kibosh on my own behavior. I do not need to be chaperoned like this is some goddamn reenactment of Victorian courtship.”
Marc turned to Riona, taking her hands in his. The witch dashed a look at him in confusion, trying to figure out from his expression why he would do something so traitorous to their claims. It was when the saccharine words began to fall from his lips that she understood.
“My child, we all fall prey to Satan’s snares from time to time, and acquiesce our better judgment to the darkness. There is no sin in being human, the only sin is failing to strive for purity when we realize the error of our ways.”
She ripped her hand away as if Marc’s palms were a hot stovetop. “Don’t pull the compassionate clergy routine on me, Father. I am not one of your parishioners, and if I recall correctly, your error was about to make a beeline straight for my purity.”
About the Author
Killian McRae would tell you that she is a rather boring lass, an authoress whose characters’ lives are so much more exciting than her own. She would be right. Sadly, this sarcastic lexophile leads a rather mundane existence in the San Francisco Bay Area.
She once dreamed of being the female Indiana Jones, and to that end she earned a degree in Middle Eastern History from the University of Michigan. However, when she learned that real archaeologist spend more time lovingly removing dust with toothbrushes from shards of pottery than outrunning intriguing villains with exotic accents, she decided to become a writer instead.
She writes across many genres, including science fiction, fantasy, romance, and historical fiction.
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