Amelia Swenson’s plans for the weekend didn’t include a sexy djinni or saving the world from demons. Her whole life changes when Amelia discovers the ring to which the handsome djinni is enslaved, and at the same time accidentally unleashes a demon into the world. The djinni, Al-Marid has been alone for three thousand years—is it any wonder he falls for the woman who frees him? But Amelia's not prepared for love, magic, or the evil creatures that threaten her friends and her world. Now she must face all of these, with the help of her djinni, in an adventure that takes her to the ancient past, challenges her to open her heart again and reveals the world to be more miraculous than she had ever imagined.
Brilliant light and a crash of sound erupted around her.
“Holy crap!” Amelia’s chair went down as she scrambled back, heart thumping wildly. She could hardly see anything through the thick haze boiling around her, or hear for the ringing in her ears. The hairs on her arms and back of her neck stood erect, tingling as the air around her crackled with energy. She took another step back, away from a dark shape in the haze. She held her breath, waving a scent like hot peppers and cinnamon from her face, groping frantically to understand what was happening. The air cleared as swiftly as it had filled, revealing a huge man standing smack in front of her.
He loomed between her and the kitchen. He must have come in through the back, throwing in some kind of flash bomb or smoke bomb... Amelia stumbled farther back, banging into a bookshelf. The edge of a protruding volume jabbed her thigh. She felt oddly light, poised for action. She still had the small file she’d used to free the ring. If she needed a weapon, she could use that—and her wits. Where were her wits? Her heart drummed double-time in her ears.
“Who the hell are you and what do you think you’re doing here?” she snapped, surprising herself with her own ferocity.
The strange man looked around as if he’d never seen an ordinary, though cluttered, dining room before. He looked like a cross between a Greek god and Mr. Clean, standing well over six feet in height, clad only in loose white pantaloons, shaved head, olive skin, broad shoulders, a remarkably well-defined bare chest. His mustache framed a stern, beautifully shaped mouth, and his cheekbones jutted, prominent, below eagle eyes turning now to meet her own.
Meeting his eyes brought an electric jolt of recognition in which her every sense sprang to sudden life. Amelia might have just wakened to realize that a long night of wandering through strange streets running senselessly together was only a dream. Surely she knew him? But in some way she couldn’t explain and refused to believe. Those keen, dark eyes looked all too admiring, all too sure. With not so much as a twitch of his lips, she could swear he laughed at her.
“I am the slave of the ring,” he announced.