Hot Flash! Demon's Layer by Carlanime Bligh

Demon's Layer


by Carlanime Bligh

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-550-1

Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy

Theme(s): Interracial, Ménage, Bisexual and More, Werewolves

Series: Orisha's Gift

Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1490

Blurb:
Nisha's spending the weekend with her boyfriend, her favorite werewolf... and a sex demon.




The Innferno is the perfect hotel for a weekend getaway, except for one minor problem -- the sex-crazed resident demon. It's possessing the guests and using them to slake its lust, and that's bad for business, which is why the manager needs help from Nisha Jenkins. Her assignment? Do whatever it takes to persuade the demon to move on.



Publisher's Note: Chronological order of the Layer stories: "Enter the Layer" in the Changeling Aftershock collection first introduces Nisha and Slade. Wolf's Layer follows from that, and Demon's Layer is the third story in the series. All can be read as stand alone stories.

Excerpt:
Demon's Layer


Carlanime Bligh

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2010 Carlanime Bligh



This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Hands on her hips, Nisha Jenkins glared up at the sign above her head. "Now that's just asking for trouble." The sign featured a pattern of flames and a single word: Innferno. It swung gently even though there was no wind.

Slade looked amused. Nisha had spent the better part of a week trying to explain her calling as a Layer, and that her current assignment involved a demon-haunted hotel, but she had the distinct impression he hadn't taken her seriously. His reply confirmed that. "There you go. Tell the owners to change the name and we're free to enjoy the weekend."

Nisha sighed. Slade had never been open to the idea of anything supernatural. This weekend was either going to change his mind, or possibly damage his sanity.

The blonde at the front desk had too much frosted blue eyeshadow and way too little clothing. Her assets threatened to spill out onto the guest register. She eyed Slade's muscled six-foot-four physique hungrily. "What can I do for you?" She utterly ignored Nisha, a pattern Nisha had noticed before. Certain white chicks had a way of acting as if she didn't exist when they wanted to pretend her boyfriend was fair game. Slade, bless him, was looking completely unimpressed.

Charitably resisting an urge to claw the wench's eyes out, Nisha cleared her throat loudly. "I'm Nisha Jenkins. Your husband sent for me -- we have a room booked."

The blonde gave her a sullen look, but handed over the key to room 113. "I hope you didn't get your hopes up about meeting my husband at a hotel." She snickered. "It's guaranteed to be less interesting than it sounds, unless you're addicted to lectures on small business management." Nisha decided she was happier not knowing what that was all about. Just because she was a Layer didn't mean she had to care about every stranger's crappy relationship, right?

In their room, it took Slade ten seconds to do his version of unpacking -- tossing a pack of condoms and some lube on the bed and giving her a look full of promise before heading into the shower. Nisha grinned to herself as she hung a few things up in the closet. Maybe she should join him. The steam creeping out under the bathroom door smelled delicious, sort of a sandalwood scent mixed with something smoky, like the after-scent of a lit match. It was oddly enticing. Before she could act on the sudden tingle of interest, there was a knock on the door.

"Nisha? You in there?" She froze. She'd know that voice anywhere -- hell, she heard it in her dreams. It was Alastar, the werewolf alpha she'd met on her last Layer assignment. Okay, more than met. A lot more.

She shivered, a wave of goosebumpy arousal sweeping her body at the memory.

This was not good. She'd fantasized about finding a way to bring both guys along for this weekend, sure, but the reality wasn't likely to be pretty. Fuck. She had to get Alastar away from here before Slade emerged from the shower.

At that exact moment the click of the bathroom door opening informed her she was too late to prevent disaster. She did what any intelligent, independent woman would do in this situation. She panicked and bolted into the closet, sliding the door almost shut behind her. Turning to peer through the crack, she saw with absolute horror that Slade, naked and stunningly erect, was striding out to answer the door.

She'd never expected to see the two men face to face. This was so not good. Some part of her mind couldn't help noticing that they looked great together, though. Slade's dark brown hair, touched with random hints of gold, and his tanned, muscular body; Alastar's pale skin, blue-black hair and eyes, and slightly more sleek physique. Two great flavors, unfortunately probably about to kick the shit out of each other. She winced and tried desperately to think of a way to disrupt this scene before it turned violent.

"Come in." Slade's voice was low, commanding. To her mingled horror and fascination, Alastar obeyed instantly, stepping calmly into the room. She'd never in a million years have guessed that the alpha wolf could be so, well, obedient. And what the hell was up with Slade? Sure, he had a sort of natural corporate-honed dominance, the confidence natural to very rich, very successful men, but now there was something new in his voice. A new note of... authority? No, that wasn't quite it. But he'd compelled Alastar, that was obvious, and now he was circling him slowly, an odd smile quirking the corners of his lips upward. He traced one finger across Alastar's chest, and Alastar just stood there, unmoving, his eyes slightly unfocused. Slade's cock was twitching with arousal now, and Nisha was beginning to squirm as well. This was all wrong, but damn, it was hot.

Then Slade paused, lifting his head to look directly at her as if he could see right through the closet door, and she gasped. His eyes, usually a smoky greenish-gray, were glowing. Glowing red.

Smirking slightly, he returned his attention to Alastar. "Drop your clothes." It came out in a whisper, a hiss that nevertheless carried easily to Nisha's ears. She suspected it had been intended to.

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Skinshift: Bear Bait by Carlanime Bligh

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Skinshift: Bear Bait by Carlanime Bligh cover art by Bryan Keller ISBN: 978-1-60521-434-4 Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Hot Flashes Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Magic and Mayhem, Gay and Lesbian Series: Skinshift Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1402

Blurb:
Joshua hasn't seen Beo since their days at university, but when he gets word Beo needs him their political differences can't keep him from rushing to his friend's side. But Beo's been caught in the crossfire of a magical counter-attack intended to repel invasive nanoprobes, and he's not the same man Josh remembers. For one thing, now he's a bear shifter. For another? He can no longer deny how much he's always wanted Josh.
Excerpt:
Skinshift: Bear Bait
Carlanime Bligh
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Carlanime Bligh

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
The little old lady was already unlocking the doors, which two grim-faced men swung open -- but only, he noticed, partially open, as though they were preventing anyone from rushing in. Or from escaping, he thought uneasily. Just how bad a condition was Beo in, exactly? The email had mentioned depression and turmoil. Had that been meant as an euphemism for "deranged"?
He stepped into the cool, dark interior of the church. St. Achilleus was small but solidly built, a perfect example of mid-twenty-second century Gothic revivalism, designed less for beauty than to provide sanctuary during the waves of riots and militia crackdowns. Nevertheless, there were unexpected grace notes: a flourish of hand-carved faces and flowers adorning the pews and altar screen, small but perfect stained glass windows placed high enough to be immune from vandalism, lovingly bound gilt and leather hymnals. Joshua, always attuned to beauty, felt himself relax in spite of the alien beliefs held here. This was a sacred space by virtue of its importance to the people it belonged to; he could respect that, even if he couldn't quite share it.
Much like his youthful interactions with Beo, he thought ruefully. They'd never seen eye-to-eye, to put it mildly, but there was no doubting the sincerity of his hulking, bearded friend. Beo had embodied kindness and reliability even as a young man, which had made it all the more infuriating, in Joshua's opinion, when he did incomprehensible things like voting Conservative. Or admiring the police. Or approving of modesty fads and back-to-the-homestead movements. As far as Josh was concerned, the whole patriarchal, traditional-values shtick was just a series of excuses to disenfranchise anyone different. It had driven him nuts that someone he liked as much as Beo could support any of it.
The doors swung shut behind him, and to his dismay Josh heard the tumblers of the lock falling into place as the key turned. With no time for him to react, there was a movement in the shadows and Beo stepped forward, as huge as Josh remembered -- a full half foot taller than Josh's own six-feet-two inches and as broad as a lineman. He was uncharacteristically unkempt, his hair and thick beard disheveled, his shirt untucked.
His eyes gleamed. "Joshua." His voice was hoarse, as if from disuse. "I never believed you would really come here."
And then he wrapped his arms around Josh and lifted him, holding him close. The heat radiating from his body was incredible. Josh, his arms pinned to his side, was too startled to speak. Beo's hands shifted, grabbing Josh's ass, and Josh found himself straddling Beo's waist for balance. He blushed, unable to believe this was happening. To his intense confusion, he felt Beo's erection, huge and hard, rubbing against his own crotch.
"Beo." He managed to get the word out and then couldn't think of a single thing to say. Beo seemed oblivious, or, at least, unconcerned. His huge hands pulled Josh even more firmly against his body as he nuzzled Josh's neck affectionately. Josh's own cock responded now as the sensations flooded him -- Beo's warm, moist breath, the strength of his grasping hands, and most of all that enormous erection, rubbing insistently against Josh's.
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Wolf's Layer by Carlanime Bligh (Paranormal, Guilty Pleasures, IR, Werewolves)

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Wolf's Layer by Carlanime Bligh cover art by Reneé George ISBN: 978-1-60521-428-3 Genre(s): Paranormal, Guilty Pleasures Theme(s): Interracial, Werewolves Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1390

Nisha Jenkins is a Layer, gifted with special powers by the Orisha of love and intimacy, Oshun. Now she has her second assignment: help a hapless werewolf leave his pack so he can marry the woman he loves. Trouble is, Kevin hasn't been entirely upfront about what she'll have to do to help him win his freedom. Now she's face to face with the Alpha of the pack who's demanding his traditional right to bed Kevin's Moot date -- and that's Nisha.


Alastar Canagan is a powerful man (well, some of the time!), and not used to being turned down. What's a Layer to do?

Excerpt:
Wolf's Layer
Carlanime Bligh
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Carlanime Bligh

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Nisha Jenkins stumbled into her living room in search of the source of the crash that had woken her at four in the freaking morning. Ah, yes, and there it was -- a guy in a long, dark coat and black fedora, surrounded by the remains of her IKEA CD stand and scattered CDs. Her Layer... guide, or whatever he was called. Wonderful. "It's you."
He straightened up guiltily from his efforts to pick up her music collection. "Yes."
"Here. In my apartment."
"Well, yes."
"Hear the joy in my voice?"
He considered this for a moment and then admitted, "Not really, no."
"That's because I'm not happy to see you. Why are you here? Did I do something really awful in a past life or something?"
What little she could see of his face – and between the upturned collar and the low tilt of his hat, that wasn't much -- appeared to be pouting. He sighed, the overly dramatic sigh of the much-put-upon. "I'm here to give you your assignment." He pulled a notebook from one pocket and consulted it. "After I evaluate your current emotional and mental fitness."
"After you what?"
"Don't ask me. This is something new they brought down from headquarters. So, Nisha, anything going on in your personal life I should know about?"
She thought for a moment about her long-term, on-again off-again boyfriend, Slade. Last night he'd proposed, for about the millionth time, and she'd refused for about the half millionth -- the other fifty percent of the time she just changed the subject. Seriously, she was beginning to wonder if her fear of commitment might just be a signal she needed to move on.
Except, every time she considered the possibility of never again getting her hands -- or other more pertinent parts -- on that gorgeous body, she ditched the idea of ditching Slade. Then she thought about Slade's younger brother, Bennett, who'd called yesterday to ask her out. For reasons she didn't want to consider too closely right now, she'd said yes.
"No." She shook her head. "Absolutely nothing."
He didn't look like he believed her, but he also didn't look like he was going to pursue the issue. "Excellent. Then I have your next assignment."
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Dawg Town: Prairie Rose by Carlanime Bligh

Dawg Town: Prairie Rose
by Carlanime Bligh

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-250-0
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Shapeshifters
Series: Dawg Town
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1184

Blurb:

Todd Hunter goes undercover to investigate just how a shipment of drugs went missing in the middle of nowheresville, Kansas. But the blonde biker chick is an irresistible temptation.


Rose Blacktail heard there was a new librarian in town, but she didn't plan to pick him up that night. Back at her house, she realizes two things: the moon is full and she's in heat. Getting laid is a challenge when you're about to go all cute, plump, and furry...





Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Rose Blacktail and her sister Thistle didn't bring many guests home. She wasn't too sure why she'd made an exception tonight, except that the new guy in town had wandered into the Prairie Dawg looking completely lost. He was, she knew from town gossip, the new librarian.
Somehow, she'd never pictured librarians having unkempt black hair and intense green eyes, but this guy was definitely an improvement over the stereotype. And quite clearly he was crazy, or just completely lacking in survival skills, because a biker bar is not the kind of place you show up uninvited, not even in a town as small as Barkus, Kansas. And she should know -- she was a member of the Dawgs, born and bred, and had been on the back of a bike from the time she was a toddler. Hell, her whole family were bikers, and she knew all the reasons it was best to steer clear of strangers. In her book, a bad reputation and a tough attitude went a long way to ensure personal safety.
So when this guy had tossed back a few drinks, looking vulnerable, she'd understood just why her fellow Dawgs were eyeing each other and chuckling ominously. The boy was gonna get rolled, and he'd have only himself to blame when he woke up bruised by the side of the road somewhere and, if he was capable of learning, a little bit wiser. The Dawgs were as sweet as they come, but there was such a thing as pushing your luck, and Todd Hunter was in danger of finding that out the hard way.
But something about his unkempt hair and his inappropriate cheerfulness won her over. Every time she'd brought him a drink, he'd had a smile and some little joking remark -- not in an "obviously hitting on her way," but more like how someone new to town might try to figure out the people he'd landed with.
She'd caught him staring at Bucky's giveaway teeth with a puzzled frown, as if he knew something was odd but couldn't work out what, and that had made her laugh. And each time she'd brought a beer or a soda to his table, she'd been just that little bit more aware of how well his jeans fit and how taut those abs were. His shirt draped against his body, hugging it, and she couldn't blame it. Lucky shirt. When she caught herself thinking about slipping her hands underneath it, she decided to rescue him, and herself, by inviting him home for one last drink.
Before she knew what'd happened, she'd introduced herself, pointed out he was too damned drunk to drive back to town, and offered to let him crash at her place. It was a lie, and she knew it. He'd been pacing himself carefully, and he wasn't drunk at all -- even Sheriff Mike Winslow and Taylor MacKeller would have been hard-pressed to find an excuse to run him in, however they might feel about a newcomer. Still, Todd had jumped at the chance. No big surprise there; she knew he'd been checking her out. Rose smiled to herself, feeling a surge of satisfaction. Some days she just felt good in her skin.
He was hardly in the door before she'd backed him against the wall and moved in close, pressing against him. While he was still gasping for breath, she stood on tiptoe to rub noses with him. "Uh, sorry," she said when she realized what she was doing. Oops.
« Return to Dawg Town: Prairie Rose







http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1184

Living Doll 2: Make it Rough by Carlanime Bligh

Living Doll 2: Make it Rough
by Carlanime Bligh
Cover art by Sahara Kelly
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-124-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, The Fetish Club, BDSM
Series: Living Doll
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1061

Blurb:

Honey, a reluctant switch, has pretty much given up on the idea of ever meeting her perfect Dom. Right now she’d settle for finding a date to the Ironclad Resolution Ball, since her friend James has flaked on her at the last minute. Thinking she’s hiring herself an escort, she accidentally orders herself a doll from the Living Doll Test Kitchens, and gets way more than she bargained for. Thane is ready and able to assume every bit of power she’s willing to yield to him, and fully capable of bringing her to the point of willing surrender.

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Honoria Dore -- Honey to anyone who wanted to live -- swept her bobbed hair back impatiently into a messy ponytail, from which the shorter sections immediately began to escape, and then pulled her laptop toward her.
She’d just listened to the phone message from her friend James. The louse had backed out of escorting her to the Ironclad Resolution Ball on the weekend. Not, she admitted, that she could blame him, really. She and James were just friends after all, and they’d been planning to attend together strictly as a matter of comfort and convenience. It had always been part of their arrangement that “real” dates, with potential partners, took precedence over their own standing agreement to escort each other to social events.
And heaven knows, neither of them had anyone else they could count on to unblinkingly agree to attend social events that ranged from staid, respectable, boring golf club functions or office parties, all the way up through much more interesting parties and staged scenes. James was not only up for all that, he had the wardrobe required to step in at a moment’s notice and join her just about anywhere. He was the best accessory ever. She appreciated him, truly she did.
But, she thought now, frowning in annoyance, he had left things awfully late. He had every right to cancel, sure, but she did wish he hadn’t put it off until the last minute like this. Where the hell was she going to lay her hands on a well-dressed, well-trained male sub at a moment’s notice? She firmly quashed the faint, flickering hope of finding an equally suitable Dom instead. That, she well knew, was a nearly impossible task.
In the meantime, there was the much more achievable goal of finding a date for the ball. Honey had thought of the perfect solution.
A while back, she and some friends had attempted to order a sex doll for the shyest, most prim member of their group. It had been supposed to be a prank, but had gone weirdly wrong. The company they had ordered it from, the Living Doll Test Kitchens, had turned out to be some sort of freaky escort service. Instead of a deluxe adult toy, they’d dispatched an actual guy.
Luckily they’d somehow managed to send Delle her perfect man. The last Honey had heard, Delle and the somewhat mysterious Lexan were making wedding plans. Okay, so Honey wasn’t kidding herself that she was expecting that kind of commitment, much less that she’d find anyone via the hire-a-guy route. But, she thought now, surely the LDTK was the perfect place to turn to now, when all she needed was someone presentable in black leather to be her escort for a single evening?
A moment later she was browsing through profiles on the LDTK website. Back when they’d been choosing what they’d thought was a doll for Delle, Honey had found the site a bit strange and sickeningly twee. Creating “personality profiles” for dolls was just a bit too cutesy for her taste. It made slightly more sense now that she knew they were escorts.
But they were still the strangest profiles she’d ever seen. The categories, for instance, made no sense. Astral Wanderer? Reclaimed Demon? Intergalactic Traveler? Honey winced, trying and failing to imagine the degree of sheer crazy that had gone into thinking that one up.
Lexan, the guy they’d sent to Delle’s apartment, had been listed as a “Recently Freed Bondsman,” and his blurb had claimed he’d earned his freedom from servitude, had a memory wipe, and was looking for someone to belong to. Honey and the others had giggled themselves sick over it at the time. Cocktails had been involved -- many, many cocktails. Also, now that she thought about it, probably a little too much sun.
Remembering this now, she felt a slight surge of guilt along with the renewed hilarity. Oh, God, had Delle’s escort showed up expecting some sort of unspeakably silly role-play scenario? If that was the case, then no matter how well her relationship with Lexan was going now, Honey still owed her a whole world of apology for the embarrassment. She scribbled a reminder to herself to send them flowers and a bottle of wine or something. The humiliation must have been extreme, and not in a fun way.
Clicking through the improbable profile categories, Honey stopped suddenly, delighted. Fallen Angel? Now that was more like it. She pulled up the order form and whipped out her credit card.




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Living Doll 1: Make It Real by Carlanime Bligh

Title: Make It Real
Genre: Paranormal, The Fetish Club
Author: Carlanime Bligh
Release Date: November 21, 2008
Publisher: Changeling Press

Summary: After Delle decides not to accompany her friends on a "sun, sea, sand, and sex" vacation, they chip in to buy her a sexdoll. Delle thinks that was mean, but she's too softhearted to throw the doll out with the trash, and reluctantly decides to find it a place in her collection.
The doll refuses to stay on its feet once she gets it to the bedroom, which is how he winds up in her bed -- but she has only herself to blame when she takes advantage of the opportunity that night.
Delle doesn't realize it, but Lexan's no mere plaything…

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1050

Content Warning: This excerpt is non-explicit.

Excerpt:

Even though she wasn't taking time off, and had turned down her best friends' repeated efforts to get her to join them on vacation, Delle woke feeling as if it were time for a spring break. She didn't regret her decision to stay at home, exactly -- "sun, sea, sand, and sex," as Honey had put it, weren't what she was in the mood for. Even when they'd all been in college, she hadn't really enjoyed wild parties -- and as much as she loved her friends, she knew herself well enough not to get dragged along on one of their extreme vacations. But she felt a little wistful all the same. Maybe she should take a few days off and find something fun to do.Usually she liked to spend days off fussing with her collection, but the shelves of dolls she'd lovingly bought over the years were in perfect order; she'd gotten stuck on a project last week and had gotten unblocked by free-associating while she rearranged and re-dressed her toys. She showered and dressed, still trying to think of something she wanted to do -- and had almost given up and decided to spend the day working -- when her doorbell rang. Still toweling her hair dry, she peered through the security peephole to see two deliverymen and an enormous crate. What the hell? She hadn't ordered anything. But that was definitely her name and address on the form one bored-looking guy thrust at her. She signed, puzzled, and gave him back the clipboard. "You want us to bring this inside for you?" the other one asked sympathetically, and she nodded. Delle was five-foot-four; whatever was in that crate was at least a foot taller. And heavy, she noted, because the two guys struggled to drag it over the threshold and wrestle it into place against the wall. She thanked them, and carefully locked the door once they'd left. Delle loved having her own place, but she was cautious about security. There was an envelope taped to the front of the box. She opened it and groaned. It was in Honey's handwriting. Honey ("Call me Honoria and die," as she invariably introduced herself) usually meant well, but she had a taste for adventure and a talent for chaos that her friends had learned to be wary of. For our favorite Girl Gone Mild, it read. If we can't convince you to come with us and meet a guy, we're just going to have to find one to send you. Consider this a placeholder. He's every bit the homebody you are, won't cheat on you, and can keep you company until we get back. Love you. All three of them had signed the note. Delle eyed the crate with trepidation. There could be anything in there. Honey's sense of humor could be more than a little over the top. Please, Delle prayed, don't let there be an actual person in there. It was one thing to have her friends, who'd known her forever, tease her about her reluctance to get romantically involved with anyone. If they'd talked some guy into getting delivered to her as a joke about her single status, it would cross the line from amusing to humiliating. She knew they meant well, but sometimes her friends made her feel she took life too seriously -- and sometimes she felt frustrated and alone, isolated by her inability to take life as casually as they all seemed to, and to shrug off the occasional heartbreak as easily. Why did it always look so effortless for them? She shook off the mild depression that was threatening to settle over her, and grabbed a crowbar from her toolbox. Returning to the crate, she grinned at the idea that if there was an intruder inside, at least she was well armed.It took her close to a half-hour to pry off the front of the box. When she finally lowered it to the floor she was sweating and disgruntled. She pulled out the layer of fake straw that had been used as packing material, and stood frozen in shock. It was a doll. But this wasn't any ordinary doll. He was as tall as a living man, and gorgeous. For several minutes she was too shocked -- and, in a strange way, impressed -- to do more than stare. And then she realized, with horror, what this must be. Oh, God. It was a sex doll. Even though she was alone in her apartment, Delle blushed hotly. Okay, this wasn't funny: it was mortifying. Why on earth had her friends bought her this thing? Except she knew why: it was exactly the sort of joke Honey couldn't resist. But this was a pretty expensive joke, Delle guessed. The doll was exquisitely made. She reached out one trembling hand and touched the smooth, cool surface of his cheek, almost unable to believe he wasn't alive.

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