All the Ups and Downs: Book Blitz and Giveaway: The Flame Game (Magical Romantic Comedies #12) by R.J. Blain

Tuesday, November 24, 2020

Book Blitz and Giveaway: The Flame Game (Magical Romantic Comedies #12) by R.J. Blain

Title: The Flame Game

Series: Magical Romantic Comedies #12
Author: R.J. Blain
Publisher: Pen & Page Publishing
Publication Date: November 24th 2020
Genre: Romantic Comedy

Bailey and Quinn are back for one last action-filled adventure!

A corrupt police chief is on the loose, and it falls to Bailey and Quinn to put an end to him before he finds some way to weaponize the spreading rabies virus, create yet another batch of potent gorgon dust, and otherwise wreck Bailey’s happily ever after.

With a pair of orphaned gorgon whelps to care for, more animals she can shake a stick at, and her husband’s determination to make the world a perfect place for her, Bailey has her hands full. To protect everyone she loves, she must embrace her dubious role as the Calamity Queen and rain hell down on those who stand in her way.

The Flame Game is on.

Warning: this novel contains two fire-breathing unicorns on a napalm bender, action, adventure, chaos, mayhem, humor, and bodies. Proceed with caution.

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EXCERPT:

The Elvis impersonator made it through the rest of the predetermined speech and informed Quinn he could kiss the bride. My husband did an excellent job of redirecting my attention to him and only him.

Somebody needed to give his tongue a hazard rating, and as he wasn’t above cheating, he enhanced his claim over my lips with a touch of his incubus influence, warning me what I’d have in store for me after the eating, the brawling, and whatever else needed to happen before we could head to our suite.

Once he finished with me, all I could manage was a whispered, “You’re pure evil.”

He grinned at me. “And now you get to stew until I get you back to our room tonight. I will be the luckiest of men.”

“Are we going to fight over which one of us is the luckiest?”

“Absolutely. But only once we’re in bed.”

Whee. “I forgot what I’m supposed to do now. You distracted me with your mouth.”

“It’s an art I’ve been cultivating with daily practice, making sure you’re incapable of even thinking once I’ve had my way with your mouth.” Quinn linked my arm with his. “Now we walk through the gauntlet of people eagerly waiting to throw things at us, as this is somehow romantic.”

“Are they flinging money at us? That would be romantic.”

Despite having mostly whispered my question, everybody laughed.

“Alas, you’re getting rose petals rather than dollar bills. You’re my bride, not a stripper.”

As I’d probably die from mortification if I even thought about stripping for anyone other than him in the privacy of our bedroom, I couldn’t blame anybody for chortling over his reply.

They knew me well, especially the feathered menace giggling a storm in the front row, who could read my mind at his whim.

I still wondered how a headless being could giggle.

“I’d be a terrible stripper,” I conceded. “I’d be trying to add layers rather than remove them.”

“You really would.” Quinn shook his head, chuckled, and had to drag me the first few steps to get me to move through the gauntlet of cops and family. As warned, we were pelted with rose petals, and because some cops had a twisted sense of humor, a few bills fluttered our way. Quinn’s grip on my arm kept me from chasing them down, but he caught one and handed it to me. “I’m sure you can figure out what to do with that later.”

Whee. If someone wanted to get my dollar, they would have to pry it from my cold, dead hands—and get through my gorgon-incubus doohickey first. As I was in no hurry to escape his clutches, I’d enjoy his hovering. When I did finally tire of his overprotective ways, I’d transform into a fire-breathing unicorn and nip him until he behaved. Or he joined me as the world’s best cindercorn stallion.

Janet and Tiffany, both of whom had been recruited as bridesmaids so I could pretend I had a somewhat normal wedding, waited until we reached the end of the gauntlet before they both offered me twenty dollar bills.

I looked my husband in the eyes while depositing the cash in my bra.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.