1. What flavor is your writing?
I’ve been told that my writing is a spicy gingersnap cookie outside with sweet creamy filling inside.
2. If this book was made into a movie, who would you cast to play the characters?
It’s Raining Angels and Demons is book two in the SLACKER DEMONS series. For Mutmumtazarek (Mutt) the fallen demon, I’d pick Henry Cavill for his dark sulkiness. For Jioffriel (Jeff) the fallen angel, it would have to be a young Alex Pettyfer, because he’s so blonde and perfect. Mella should be played by Amanda Seyfried. Keek would be played by Lizzy Caplan or Emma Stone. And for supporting cast: Axl Rose as Baz the big-daddy sex demon, Shahid Kapoor as Kamadeva the Hindu love god, and Compton rapper Common as Veek, the sex demon with a vodou priestess mother and a French aristocrat father.
3. What is your favorite scene in It’s Raining Angels and Demons?
Oh good grief, how can I choose?
The one I like to read the most often is the scene where Baz has sent Mutt to practice his sex demon technique with Mella. But Mutt totally flunks. He was a demon of war when he worked for the Regional Office (Hell). As he puts it, “Over four centuries of war I’d seen plenty of soldiers mating, of course. What still baffled me was why women would ever agree to it. Which they seldom did, from my observations.”
So when Mella says, “Do something sex-demony,” he screws up big time. She has hysterics and banishes him from her presence, and he flies back to the sex demon lair, feeling like a miserable failure. The sex demons there make fun of him.
Then Jeff the angel returns from his maiden flight as a sex demon, utterly dejected because he failed miserably. His report: he had sex with Keek for two and a half hours, and then she yelled, “I can’t, I can’t, enough, stop, no more!” Jeff is beside himself with despair. How the sex demons work with Jeff, and what they say to Mutt later, makes me laugh and laugh and laugh—and I wrote it!
4. What are you reading now or what books do you have in your TBR pile?
Right now I’m rereading Rex Stout’s Might As Well Be Dead. Up next will be Jennifer Crusie’s Fast Women, then Carl Hiaasen’s Bad Monkey. Only the Hiaasen is new to me. I admit I reread a lot. My excuse is that I’m studying the masters, trying to figure out how they do what they do so well. But the truth is, I regard these books as old, old friends, and I love spending time with them.
5. What are you working on now?
I’m working on three books now. (I know, shoot me, please.)
The book that’s farthest along is the final book in the SLACKER DEMONS series. It’s called Walking On Sunshine, and it’s about Veek, the fourth sex demon in the Lair, and Baz, the fifth, and how they find love and a new future working outside the Regional Office. It’s aaaalmost done. But I’m a perfectionist and I’m still beavering away at it. Walking On Sunshine will be out in mid-June this summer.
The second book is about halfway through the first draft. That’s the third book in the series that comes after Slacker Demons. That series is called COED DEMON SLUTS. All I know is, these books will mention Shoes in their titles. I’m keeping the rest under my hat for now. I will be launching at least three books in that series all at once, sometime late in 2016.
The third book I’m working on is The Hinky Nickel, final volume in my HINKY CHICAGO series. This wraps up all the threads I’ve left hanging for five books so far, decides the love triangle between Jewel, Randy, and Clay once and for all, resolves all the magical curses that have been liberally sprinkled throughout the series, probably has roller derby in it, like the last two volumes. Oh, and I may decide to destroy the world. All science fiction and fantasy writers love to destroy the world. Although usually it’s the SF writers who destroy it and leave it broken, and the fantasy writers who save it at the last possible minute.
You can find out more about Jennifer at these links:
Angels and demons fall into the arms of love-deprived women in a sleepy Chicago neighborhood. Only two women get cheated, when one angel and one demon escape and find refuge with a team of renegade sex demons. But they're not safe yet! Those two women are hunting them.
Keek’s self-esteem problems have led to a certain lifestyle with men. Angel Jioffriel is innocent in every way until he stumbles into Keek’s arms. Then he gets judgmental about her lifestyle.
Mella is pickier than Keek. When she meets demon Mutmumtazarek, for the first time she sees past a guy’s flaws—the six inch claws, the bat wings, and other demonic attributes—to the frightened beast inside.
Can the sex demons teach Jeff and Mutt enough to satisfy the women they love?
It’s Raining Angels and Demons is available from Amazon.
Please enjoy this excerpt from It's Raining Angels and Demons:
I should have known it was too good to be true as soon as they gave me sealed orders.
At first I was optimistic. Here I sat in the belly of one of our biggest black ops helicopters with forty-nine of my fellow demons, stripped naked to our bat wings and our fanny packs, ready to make our entry into the field at nineteen hundred hours.
We were hovering over a sleepy little neighborhood in Chicago, a place I’d only seen on television.
But we weren’t moving.
Because not content with launching an all-out assault, the Regional Office was coordinating, if you can imagine that, the assault with a similar vehicle from the Home Office. Two immense, cumbersome bureaucracies, so old and sloppy they’re like zombies with dead parts dropping off all over, coordinating.
Trying to picture fifty naked angels in one of their gooney-bird airships, my mind boggled.
Still, I was chuffed to be back in the field. After manning a desk for centuries, I tingled in places I’d forgotten I had.
I flexed my wings and tested my talons. Yup. Not too rusty.
As I sat there, wearing nothing but a fanny pack containing the essentials—credit card, toothbrush, condoms full of holes, and my orders—I realized that something had gone wrong.
What was holding things up?
I could hear explosions below us, reaching almost as high as our helo. Surely no earthly weapons could have an effect on us?
The team captain yelled.
Guys ahead of me began bailing out of the open bay. Flashes of brilliant-colored light went off intermittently. I smelled sulfur, though that could have been me. They were jumping down into the colors.
By the lingering afterglow of one long red blast, I furtively pulled out my orders. This was strictly against procedure, but I was a field operative for only four centuries. I’d been a desk clerk a lot longer.
I didn’t trust the Regional Office not to fuck something up.
I peered at the orders sheet.
Boy, was I surprised. At the name of our lone target most of all. Fifty ops from each office, a joint task force, the whole unfathomably complex and bureaucratic rigmarole, to get one guy?
Oh well. Mine not to reason why. Mine but to make somebody else die.
The line in front of me dwindled rapidly.
Or something like that.
As I bailed out, I saw the red, bat-winged figures of my teammates below me. They weren’t descending in tight, vulture-like, controlled spirals.
They were falling like rocks.
Occasionally a wing would catch the air and a guy would slow, twirling insanely like a maple seed.
Then—bam!—I could hear them hitting rooftops, the cars, the street.
So, again contrary to orders, I veered sharply as I exited the helo, gliding westward away from the landing zone. Now I saw my opposite numbers exiting their gooney bird, and they too were falling like rocks, like albatrosses winged and flailing.
Those colored sparks were mostly gone, although I could now see a huge blaze of multicolored fire below, arranged in an ominous-looking circle. Rooftop, I guessed. And then foom, just as I was congratulating myself on escaping whatever got the rest of the task force, another shell went off from that rooftop.
I descended through a cloud of green sparks.
I smelled sulfurous cinders in the air as I skimmed over the landing zone. It was those almost-extinguished, darkened sparks that had got my teammates, I was willing to bet.
Shit, and I was headed right down into the stuff.
I soared down in a tight spiral through sparks that stung and numbed me.
Unbelievable. Had those ground-bound land mammals finally figured out how to fight back against heaven and hell?
Unless it wasn’t them at all, but this one guy we were after.
That made sense. He’d always been a smart one.
My wings had gone numb. I felt myself beginning to spin out of control.
I saw a wall and a vast area of darkness beyond it.
Another tremendous green flower erupted in the sky above me. I was temporarily blinded.
When my eyes cleared, I saw I was very close to hitting that wall. I had just enough time to realize this, stick out a wing to divert, and see the last of the angels skimming below me.
He hit the top of the wall and flipped over it like a Chinese acrobat, hitting my thigh a glancing blow with his wing.
The two of us tumbled over the wall.
We fell twenty feet into a pond.
Keek and I were putting ourselves to sleep by complaining about men when we heard a commotion in the street. She peeked out first. Something banged like cars smacking together. “Oh my god!” she yelped.
I came to the window. “What is it? I’m in my nightshirt.”
“This guy just fell off a building and hit that car. Oh my god, there goes another one!”
I looked out. A guy was indeed lying on his back on the hood of a parked car. It seemed he had landed on a sheet, something white anyway. A woman came running out of the apartment building across the street and flung herself on him. That was weird.
“Should we dial 911?” I said. Then I noticed the other guy. He’d landed on the sidewalk, where he lay in a puddle of blood. No—was he lying on a big red cloth? And some woman was bending over him, kissing him. “Super weird.”
“Hey, fireworks!” Keek said, pointing.
As I looked, a huge blast of green sparkles erupted in the sky and then faded. Something white whizzed past our window, swooped, and went up. I gaped. It was a man, a naked man, and he had huge white feathery wings.
A moment later, a naked man with huge red bat wings followed him.
They skimmed over the cemetery wall and disappeared into the darkness.
“I’m going out there,” Keek announced, grabbing her keys and jamming her feet into her shoes.
“Wait!” I yelled. “You don’t know what’s happening!”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “Take your mouth guard out. You’re scary enough with your hair down your back as it is.”
“Wait, what’s happening?” I shrieked down the stairs after her. “You’re in your pajamas!”
Her voice floated up to me. “It’s raining men!”
Jennifer Stevenson finds new uses for old sex demons. She feeds crows, speed skates, eats bacon, and pretends she’s fixing up her house. She lives in Chicago with her stagehand husband and two cats.