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10 pages, Audible Audio
First published December 4, 2012
“Before Griffin had come along, I’d been living inside a photograph: just a facsimile of life, without either color or depth.”Weird tentacled monster stuff happens, and Percival (don’t call him Percy!) comes across one Griffin Flaherty, a dashing PI investigating creepy paranormal cultish occurrences and prone to liking awkward gawky men. Romantic and sexy times ensue (spoiled by me giggling over all the repetition of words “member” and “length”; they are just *so awkward*), interrupted by a few misunderstandings, a touch of lethal danger, family secrets unearthed, a few magical spells learned, a horde of Lovecraftian monsters and an Egyptian gala gone terribly wrong.
A second to rant, yeah? Seriously, what kind of a nickname is “Ival”? Going from “Percival” to “Ival” only works on paper. Even “Val” would have been better.
“I grabbed Griffin’s arm. “Dear heavens, man! You’ve brought me to a house of ill-repute!”
The world was hideously fragile, everyday life nothing more than a thin film laid over infinite depths of chaos and terror.
'Whatever am I to do with you?' he murmured.
The warmth of his breath feathered over my skin. Heat collected in my groin, my lips. My mouth was dry, my voice hoarse, and perhaps he was right and it was madness when I whispered, 'Whatever you want.'
“...tall, handsome, and speak precisely thirteen languages. But read more. ...”
“I craved him, like an opium addict craved the pipe: the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, his mere presence in the same room.”
‘I collapsed facedown into the bedding, my arms limp as cooked noodles.’
‘The icy air outside quelled my unruly member quickly enough.’