Hex Sells
(Babylon Boy, Book 2)
by TA Moore
Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press
Cover Artist: Tammy Moore
Release Date: July 26, 2024
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Tropes: Warlock Bikers, Menage a Trois, Fresh Start, Own Worst Enemy
Themes: Sins of the Past
Heat Rating: 1 flame
Length: 58 000 words
Hex Sells is part of a series, but can be read as a standalone.
It does not end on a cliffhanger.
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My name is Jonah Carrow, and it’s been 320 days since I cast a hex.
Blurb
Jonah Carrow just wants a quiet, hex-free life. It’s harder than he’d thought.
Despite his best efforts, though, magic trouble just keeps finding him. If it’s not his dead relatives trying to turn breakfast into a ouija board, it’s a crow with bad tidings at his door.
Jonah doesn’t know what’s worse, that warlock biker Shiloh has decided to call in his marker…or that he only did it to get him to pass on a message. It turns out that Luke, Jonah’s not-exactly boyfriend, hasn’t been taking the Crossroad Crows calls. …
but when things go wrong, despite not being in the first draft, Jonah gets roped in to find answers. Now he’s knee-deep in secrets, curses, and the sort of temptation in lean, blond Shiloh that is definitely not going to help Jonah stay on the straight and mundane.
On top of all that? He’s getting sick. Without a hex to help put a thumb on the scales, Jonah really can’t catch a break.
Excerpt
“ROAD’S CLOSED!” he roared. “F*cking—!”
“He’ll turn now,” Ned said, full of confidence.
The rider could. There was an alley just before the bridge. If he pulled a hard right, he’d probably lose some paint from the sides, but he’d make it.
He could.
But he wasn’t going to.
Jonah broke into a run. Heavy boots and a night’s work dragged like an anchor as he bolted down the bridge. The lights from the hazards caught on the car’s paintwork and splashed it with red. Grahams dropped the flagger. It clattered on the ground at his feet, but he didn’t move. Jonah tackled him and sent both of them crashing into the side of the trailer.
The van smashed through the barriers, broken wood and plastic strewn in its wake, and into the pool of light cast by the floodlights. Jonah got a glimpse of the driver, just for a second, through the windscreen. He was a middle-aged man with a battered face and a bruise that ran from his temple down to his jaw.
The man glanced briefly over his shoulder, mouth twisted, and then gunned the engine. The van left greasy streaks of rubber on the asphalt as it roared up the bridge. Caught in its path, the rest of the crew stared, frozen for a moment, and then scattered. Only Ned didn’t.
At the last second, the van veered violently. It smashed into the barriers at the side of the bridge and tore through them. The raw metal ripped holes in the side of the van, sparks flying as it pitched over the edge.
There was a moment of stark, breathless silence that dragged out longer than seemed possible. Then, the van smashed into the road below with a crunch of broken glass and crumpled metal. Dark, oily fingers of smoke eddied up and over the edge of the bridge.
“F*ck,” Ned said, the curse coming out respectfully.
Jonah scrambled to his feet and brushed his jeans down. The rest of the crew had run to the edge of the bridge to look over. He looked back the way the van had come.
The ribbon of smoke that had trailed behind the van was still there. It lay limp on the asphalt, one end frayed and split where it had snapped off the car. Then, as Jonah watched, it twitched and then slowly retreated down the street. Like something at the far, far end of it was reeling it in.
Well. That wasn’t natural.
And that meant it wasn’t Jonah’s business. Not these days. Not in Jerusalem.
About the Author
TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide.
Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.
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