A mother and daughter engage in a bitter blood feud using magic, sex, murder, and men to even the bloody, backstabbing odds.

Thirty days to make a man fall in love with you via a dating site? Banned from using her demon charms? The stakes were high for succubus, May Frost. It seems she may have bitten off more than she could chew when she made a deal with the devil. If she wins, she becomes human. If she loses? Well, that isn't something she wants to think about. But falling in love was never part of the deal, was it? Alex Stone has a job to do – find the girl, get the money and move on. But the moment he "meets" May online, he's overwhelmingly attracted to her, and despite his guilt at the lie he has to keep, he just can't keep his mind off of the sexy little temptress. Although his instincts are telling him that all is not what it seems with her, he's pretty sure it's too late to stop from losing his heart.

Some girls are better off dead… Being murdered in the bathroom of a cheap and nasty pub wasn't how Samantha Cross—awkward loner—envisioned her leaving party at work. She'd hoped for balloons and happy tears, what she got was a masked psycho and blood. Her blood. So, when she takes her first breath as a dead woman, the last thing she expects is to come face to face with the dangerously sexy man of Death himself. He gives her an ultimatum; work for him as a Death Chaser, or face an unknown fiery fate. It's a no-brainer. The trouble was, now she was dealing with demons, family secrets, newly discovered kick-arse abilities, and her gorgeously arrogant boss, she missed her simple life. Being dead was stressful and getting more complicated by the moment—especially when you turn down a deal with the devil himself and all Hell breaks loose. ** There are moments in your life that you'll never forget. Getting married, giving birth, having hot sex in the back of a stranger’s car... For Samantha Cross—loner, misfit and all round good girl—scrubbing at a red wine stain on her t-shirt in the bathroom of a seedy pub in London was one of them. Not because it was a particularly good wine; no, her works leaving party was cheap and nasty—as were many of her ex-colleagues. She'd remember because it was the evening she came face to face with a masked psycho, right there in the ladies’ bathroom. Oh. And because it was the day she died.

Oh My Goddess!

Dawn and Jennifer bake a batch of magical brownies. Eat one and you'll fall in love!

Nero: for thousands of years his name has stood synonymous with the Roman Empire. But why? What was it about this enigmatic personality that catapulted him into becoming Emperor as a 16-year-old? It was at a time when Rome not only ruled the world, but also managed to house 1 million inhabitants - a population achievement not reached for almost a further 2,000 years when Queen Victoria reigned in London. In his heyday, pagan priests proclaimed that Nero was a living god, whilst hundreds of years after his death the Christian Church branded him as the Antichrist who would one day return to wreak havoc and destruction upon the planet. Throughout the many historic books published about Nero not even the historians are in total agreement with what happened during his lifetime, though the theologians do agree that the biblical number 666 is the Apostle Peter’s code-number for Nero. He certainly fiddled while Rome burned and then sentenced hundreds of Christians to a hideous death before banning any further worship of this religion. Forgetting his many murderous acts, games, extravagant parties and building projects, above all else, Nero believed that the god, Apollo, had blessed him with a divine voice, as well as the theatrical talents to entertain an audience.

The Voice of Pleasure makes a persuasive and fascinating argument that the romantic couple of Western representation is not heterosexual. Nor is it homosexual. With insightful new readings of landmarks of Western culture from Tristan and Yseut to Seinfeld , Callahan demonstrates that the illusion of heterosexuality is created by a male artist's assumption of a feminine voice to express desire. Named the 'troubadour effect' for the first time here, this tradition of male femininity in romantic writing results in a cultural model of desire best described as 'heterosexuality without women.' The most compelling aspect of the book is its attention to the effect of this paradox on women writers. Illuminating her argument with striking examples from the 'troubairitz' to Toni Morrison, the author shows how women writers inscribe their 'vagabondage,' a term she coins to name the consequences of the 'troubadour effect' for women's agency, as both writers and lovers.