Knock Em Dead
Knock Em Dead
Book 2 in the Supernatural Security Force Series
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 200+ 5-Star Reviews
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Being demoted to cleaner for the Supernatural Security Force? Not my finest moment. But when I stumble across a pregnant level-six demon in the backstreets of New Orleans, my rock-bottom day takes a nosedive. She nearly kills me.
And just when I think it’s lights out for good, he shows up. Jax. The cocky, maddening, too-hot-for-his-own-good shifter I swore I’d never fall for.
Now, I’m stuck between a dangerously handsome new boss who makes my pulse race and Jax, the alpha with a hero complex.
They hate each other.
I’m caught in the middle, trying to keep the city from going up in supernatural flames.
But it gets worse—my father’s murder ties into this mess, and someone is letting high-level demons loose on the streets. If I don’t solve this fast, I won’t just lose my job. I’ll lose my life—and maybe my heart in the process.
Continue reading Knock Em Dead if you like:
- Badass heroines who don't give up
- Secret (demon) baby
- Urban Fantasy with slow burn romance
- Forbidden romance
- She falls for her boss
"This one made me laugh, broke my heart, and was filled with twists and turns I never could have predicted!" --⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Reader
"I totally love this twisted story!" --⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Reader
"The characters are amazing and the story is original and keeps you guessing what is going to happen next!" --⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Reader
Main Tropes:
☑️Fallen Angel Hero
☑️Strong, Sassy Heroine
☑️Slow Burn Romance
☑️Humor
☑️Secret Supernatural World
Chapter One Look Inside
Chapter One Look Inside
My boots sloshed through dirty puddles that resembled the gumbo they served at the dive bar below my apartment. The sight of the trash-littered gutters mixed with the revolting odor left behind by last night’s bar hoppers made my nose wrinkle. No matter how long I spent in the French Quarter of New Orleans, the smell never went away. Even on a rainy Monday like today, the odor of vomit, alcohol, and sweaty humans clogged my nostrils. Even my fae magic couldn’t coat the scent—and that was saying something.
Head down, shoulders bent, I let myself blend in with the few pedestrians who’d been forced to venture out this early in the wet weather. No one acknowledged me as I passed. To any of them, I looked human—and probably hungover or half-drowned, thanks to the weather. It was so easy to fool a human; they only saw what they thought was real. Supernaturals were harder to fool, but we also weren’t in the habit of outing each other to the human population.
Not unless you wanted to get dead.
Despite the half-drunk werewolves still wandering around down here and the con-artist witches who read fortunes for tourists and traded secrets for favors, I was safe enough. Even if anyone could tell I was half-fae, half- shifter, no one was going to call me out for it. An agent, on the other hand… An SSF agent would get outed for nothing more than existing if spotted
by the wrong supernatural. An agent had to watch her back constantly.
But I wasn’t actually an agent.
Thanks to failing my graduation test, I was now a cleaner.
And according to Rigo, the slimy perv I’d had for an instructor, I was lucky for even that much. God, I didn't want to think about that dreaded night at The Monster Ball ever again. Not the failed final mission. Not the mysterious stranger who’d saved my life—and helped me take down two
would-be murderers in the process. And definitely not my favorite pair of heels that now lay at the bottom of the sea, probably off some continent far away from this one.
The harsh reality was that I’d missed my chance to become an agent for the Supernatural Security Force, the Nephilim-run organization that hunted demons and policed the supes of Earth. Instead, I was nothing more than a glorified janitor, cleaning up the supernatural messes of my beloved hometown.
If I’d been tempted to lie and tell myself being a cleaner was somehow prestigious, the address of my new post would have set me straight. Downtown New Orleans, right on the edge of Bourbon Street, and smack in the middle of low-level supe-crimes wasn’t exactly a corner office with a coffee maker.
Hence, the thermos I was currently clutching.
A toothless beggar smiled at me as I passed him and kept moving through the crosswalk just past his cardboard home. The sight of his friendly grin only served to drive home my irritation.
A homeless guy with no shoes should not be having a better day than me.
My phone rang, and I almost declined out of habit until I saw the name flash on my Caller ID.
“Hey, Milo,” I answered.
“How’s my favorite pretend lover?”
I smiled at that. Milo and I had met the first day of academy training when he’d snuck into my exam room and made me his sex-alibi. I couldn’t bring myself to leave him hanging, especially after finding out he’d snuck around with an illegal immigrant who also happened to be a literal demon spawn.
“On my way to report for cleaner duty.” “Oh, darling.”
I didn’t want to revisit the sympathy he was giving me—or the reasons for it. I’d spent the weekend drowning my sorrows in reruns of Buffy with my mother. That was more than enough pity and comfort for one tragic life turn.
“What are you up to?” I asked instead.
“Knee-deep in paperwork. Toledo still blows, in case you were wondering.”
“I thought you liked being blown?” someone said in the background.
Someone male. And with an unmistakable teasing tone.
I shook my head. “That better not be another coworker you’re flirting with.”
“Hypothetically, if I arrest a guy, is it okay to date him?” “Milo.”
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