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Succubus Blues by Richelle Mead
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Richelle Mead
“Well, that depends, I suppose. I heard someone once say that men dance the same way they have sex. So, if you want everyone here to think you're the kind of guy who just sits around and—"
He stood up. "Let's dance.”
Richelle Mead, Succubus Blues

Richelle Mead
“Look, don’t get me wrong. I worship the ground this guy walks on. I’m excited to meet him tonight. I’m dying to meet him tonight. If he wanted to carry me off and make me his love slave, I’d do it, so long as I got advance copies of his books.”
Richelle Mead, Succubus Blues

Richelle Mead
“It’s important to keep up appearances with books,” I explained. “Image goes a long way in this business.”

He dared a look over at me, still nervous but steadily recovering his composure. “I go more for content.”

"Really?” I repositioned slightly so that we were touching again, the soft flannel of his shirt brushing my bare skin. “Because I could have sworn a moment ago you were pretty caught up in outside appearance.”

His eyes shifted down again, but I could see a smile curving his lips. “Well. Some things are so striking, they can’t help but draw attention to themselves.”

"And doesn’t that make you curious about what’s inside?”

"Mostly it makes me want to get you some advanced copies.”

Advanced copies? What did he—?

"Seth? Seth, where—ah, there you are.” Paige turned down our aisle, Doug following behind. She brightened when she saw me, and I felt my stomach sink out of me and hit the floor with a thud as I put two and two together. No. No. It couldn’t be—

"Ah, Georgina. I see you’ve already met Seth Mortensen.”
Richelle Mead, Succubus Blues

Richelle Mead
“Kill me, Doug. Just kill me now. Put me out of my misery.”

“Christ, Kincaid, what did you say to him?” murmured Doug.

“Well,” I told Doug, “I ripped on his fans and on how long it takes for his books to come out.”

Doug stared at me, his expectations exceeded.

“Then I said—not knowing who he was—that I’d be Seth Mortensen’s love slave in exchange for advanced copies of his books.”
Richelle Mead, Succubus Blues


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