Shadow Magic eBook Bundle

From Infernal Magic: She's forgotten her past. Too bad her past won't return the favor.

Ursula can't remember a single thing from before three years ago, so she has to keep her life simple. All she wants is to earn enough money for rent--and maybe a bit left over for a new pair of boots.

But on her eighteenth birthday, all hell breaks loose... quite literally... when a hellhound shifter shows up in her kitchen. Kester's lethally gorgeous, and he's come with a terrifying message: Ursula owes her soul to a demon.

No one seems to care that she doesn't remember striking that deal.

Thrust into the middle of a war between the gods of fire and night, Ursula fights her way across New York--and through the fae realm--to survive. Along the way, she must reclaim her magical knowledge and her long-forgotten skills with the blade if she wants to escape eternal damnation.

From Infernal Magic:

If Ursula had been able to plan her eighteenth birthday, the evening would be going very differently. First, she wouldn’t be working in a nightclub owned by her ex. Second, she wouldn’t have this weird fever burning her cheeks, setting her nerves on edge—like she was blazing from the inside out. And third, she definitely wouldn’t be pushing through an unruly crowd to break up a fight between two hammered university students.

In an ideal world, she’d have called in sick and taken the whole night off. Of course, in an ideal world, she wouldn’t be worrying about the rent that was due in two days. 

“Excuse me!” She said, squeezing between a gawking couple, arms raised. That shows authority, right? 

Two young men squared off on the dance floor, bathed in District 5’s pulsing orange and pink lights. A pounding bass rumbled through the room.

Part of her wanted to let these two knobs stab each other with broken bottles, but she had a mission tonight, fever or not. She was going to prove to the world that she had her life together, that she was a valuable asset to the club—or at least, she was going to prove it to her ex. Granted, Rufus was an idiot, but he was her boss and she was hanging on to this job by a thread.

A small crowd gathered around the potential brawlers, and she tried to suss out the bigger threat—possibly the red-faced giant who swayed in place. His platinum hair, bushy eyebrows, and full lips gave him the appearance of a Muppet—a murderous one who might crush someone with his giant, meaty hands. 

“I told you to watch where you step. You scuffed my shoe!” The Muppet screamed, a vein popping in his forehead. “Arsehole!” 

His opponent, a stocky guy with a bushy beard, jabbed a stubby finger. His voice boomed over the music. “Oh, is that what I am, you fat-faced donkey?”

Oh, good. A totally rational argument over a scuffed shoe.