The Djinn's Desire

One wish. Two fates. A passion that could destroy them both.

Bound by a childhood wish gone horrifically awry, Tanika Skye is the reluctant master of a malevolent djinn who haunts her every step. For years, she has resisted the creature’s dark manipulations, knowing that her vow of virginal solitude is the only thing keeping his destructive power at bay. But her resolve falters when a mysterious and dangerously charming stranger enters her salon, awakening long-buried desires.

Ophir, a djinn himself, is on a quest to return to his own dimension and knows that Tanika holds the key to his escape, but his unexpected attraction to the fiery, defiant woman complicates his mission. Torn between his desire for freedom and his growing feelings for Tanika, Ophir hatches a plan that could cost them both everything...

In a world where wishes come with a deadly price, love may be the most perilous magic of all.

The Djinn’s Desire is a steamy fantasy romance that will sweep you into a realm of forbidden passion, where the line between good and evil blurs, and where a single wish can change everything. Perfect for readers who crave intense chemistry, powerful magic, and a heroine forced to choose between her heart and her soul.

Tanika Skye jiggled the lock on the accordion grate protecting the salon and gave it a good hard kick before the bolts slid free. Using her full weight, she shoved the screen aside. On the cracked plate-glass door, the Seance Salon’s logo had been hand-painted in bright pink letters around a rendering of a gold crystal ball with a comb and pair of scissors. The remaining glass on both the door and the large window had been painted black to hide the interior from prying eyes.

She picked up her basket of towels and entered the dusky shop, a small bell above the door frame jingling. The overheads flickered on with an annoying electric buzz, revealing two beat-up hairdresser chairs and their accompanying plate mirrors, a pair of folding chairs next to a magazine rack for waiting customers—which she never had—and a small area at the back surrounded by a threadbare velvet curtain where she did psychic readings. The scent of permanent-wave solution cloyed the air, directing Tanika’s gaze to the hair sink; Birdie had once again neglected to wash the hair-rollers from her last client.

Or the water’d been shut off. Either was possible.

Much as Tanika loved this place, sometimes she wondered exactly what she was proving by keeping it open. Dropping her basket of clean towels into Birdie’s station chair, she moved to the sink and turned the faucet to hot. To her relief, a solid stream of water emerged. She checked the black-cat wall clock Birdie had bought on a whim, saying it fit to have a witchy bit of decoration in the salon. Seven-fifty a.m. If she hurried, she could get the rollers cleaned before her first reading this morning and air out the stink. The chemicals didn’t mix well with the scented candles she used during her readings.

The soft jingle of the store’s bell drew her attention, and she turned, hoping for a walk-in. No one was there. She pressed her lips together and returned to washing the rollers. Sometimes if she ignored his antics, he went away. The water she was running sputtered and turned icy. Dammit. Cringing, she kept washing.

Then the lights went out.

With a sigh, she settled back and glared at the dark wall in front of her. “Fucking poltergeist.”

In response, the lights flickered back on. The nearby velvet curtain rippled, and a scrawny, bare-chested man stepped through it. Not around it. Through it. His voice sounded just as emaciated as his body. “I told you not to call me that.”