In A CUPID’S WAGER, I tell the tale of one especially naughty cupid named Lio. See he’s been working in the Gay Division of the Inter-dimensional Association of Cupids, or IDAC for a long time. And he’s not exactly pleased with the way they’re running things.
So Lio has taken matters into his own hands.
He has a gaydar.
Oh not that sixth sense some people have, Lio actually has a device that reads a person’s orientation. And when he spies a man person far in the closet and denying who they are—he hates liars—he gives them a little nudge in the gay direction via a gay lust arrow.
While Lio feels his game is harmless, until he interrupts a true love target for an Ancient Aztec Love god.
Tempers, arrows and lust will spark when these two make a wager.
Will Lio get busted and have his quiver taken forever, or will this ancient god take his wager?
Well, you will just have to pick up A CUPID’S WAGER to find out! And as for your romance dreams….don’t worry there are still plenty of cupids out there playing by the rules. Your love arrow will find you soon!
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Buy A CUPID’S WAGER now!
The name’s Lio, and I’m a cupid working for the Gay Division of the Inter-Dimensional Association of Cupids. An Aztec god, whose modern name, Ethan, doesn't make him any less scary, just busted me shooting a closeted human with a gay lust arrow. I might find him sexy with all those tattoos and piercings, if I didn’t have a rule against getting it on with other supernaturals—especially ones working for the Straight Division. Now, to save my butt I'll have to strike a bargain with this tough god. But what I didn't see coming was my little wager not only risks my career, but places my broken heart completely in Ethan's hands
Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.
I was so gonna get my ass chewed for this.
And not in the good way.
I snapped my fingers, and my quiver of arrows disappeared into the cosmic nothingness where magical things went when demigods snapped their fingers. No clue where that nothingness was, and in my hundreds of years of existence, I’d never bothered to find out.
However, right then, such mysteries were the furthest thing from my mind because I had just nailed another cupid’s mark. Now the glittering trail of purple dust from my lust arrow was like the laser sight of a sharpshooter’s rifle, pinpointing my exact location.
I was so fucked.
Again, not in the good way.
The explosion of both purple and red dust in the street below meant the aftershock of my lust arrow striking the human first had deflected a love arrow. I was pretty sure the owner of said arrow would be coming to bitch me out any second. Cupids could be such whiny little cunts when they wanted to be.
Believe me, I would know.
I’m a cupid.
The name’s Philomenus, but I answer to Lio.
Just one of Eros’s many, many offspring, I’m employed for eternity by the Inter-Dimensional Association of Cupids, or the IDAC. Contrary to what paintings and sculptures depicted, cupids are not fat, naked baby boys in diapers. While on the small side, we look just like regular folks. No wings either. Involved in every aspect of love, from puppy love and first kisses to weddings, the IDAC is militantly organized. They take their task of giving the humans love very seriously—like a supernatural FBI, complete with orders, rules, and procedures.
And I just broke about a hundred of each.
Before I could conjure a location to send myself, a pop sounded behind me.
Huge steellike hands grabbed the collar of my leather jacket and yanked me around.
“What the hell, Lio?”
Bodily shoved against the ledge of the rooftop, I let out a tiny yelp of surprise when the magic inside my body surged white-hot, almost as if it recognized something…. WTF?
That had never happened before.
Then again, I’d never been busted shooting closeted gay men with Class 4G lust arrows either.
Righting myself, I flipped unruly blond curls out of my eyes and faced my attacker, arms out in a show of surrender. “Hey, ease up, pal.”
“What the hell?” that menacing voice growled again.
Thanks to all the gossipy cupids in the IDAC, I recognized the god immediately, though I’d never seen him before.
Éhecatl, the Aztec god of the winds.
All I knew about him—beside rumor or speculation—was that he preferred to be called Ethan in this century, and he was the powerful younger brother to one of the big, primordial Aztec deities, Quetzalcóatl. Long ago, Ethan fell in love with a human woman named Mayahuel, and he gave his people the ability to love so she would return his passion, much the way Eros had lit the flame of love with his bow and arrow on the other side of the world. Ethan’s gift of love makes him a love god, too, but his party-boy cousin, Xochipilli, holds the official title of the Aztec god of love. I have no clue why he got back into the love business and joined the IDAC a century ago. Especially since Mayahuel ended up marrying the flamingly gay Xochipilli. Why a wind god would want to slum it with us cupids when he’d have more bragging rights within an uppity weather god association was beyond me.
But then again, I have a hard enough time keeping track of all the drama in my own pantheon, I wasn’t gonna bother to try to figure out Ethan’s.
Few had ever seen the notorious loner, let alone spoken to him. Cupids heard about Ethan from someone who knew someone else who claimed to have met him. Decked out in all black leather, except for the skintight mesh shirt with a green-and-red feather design, he looked as ferocious as advertised.
Ancient warrior gone Goth.
If he pulled a tire iron on me at that exact moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
I tried to play it cool. “Hi, Ethan.”
“Do not ‘Hi, Ethan’ me!” His eyes literally flashed gold. “What were you thinking, interfering with my mark?”
Magical power radiated off him, and for some crazy reason, my own snapped in response. Like strobe lights in a nightclub, it pulsed wildly inside my chest. Weirdly familiar, yet not.
Probably just a glitch.
Being a mere demigod with unpredictable powers on a good day, there was no way I could escape a full-fledged love god.
My only option was to sweet-talk my way out of this.
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