Title: Summoned
Series: Magus Malegica, Book One
Author: J.P. Jackson
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 04/19/2021
Length: 94500
Genre: Pararnormal, LGBTQIA+, witches, werewolves, faeries, paranormal, contemporary, fantasy, bears, dark, gods, interracial, magic, magic users
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Description
Devid Khandelwal desperately wants to experience the supernatural. After years of studying everything from crystals to tarot to spellcasting, nothing has happened that would tell him the Shadow Realm is real. And that kills Dev. As a last-ditch resort, he purchases a summoning board, an occult tool that will grant him his ultimate desires.
Cameron Habersham is Dev’s best friend. Cam loves Dev like a brother and will do anything for him, as long as he looks good doing it. So when Dev asks him to perform the summoning board’s ritual, he reluctantly agrees, but he knows nothing will come of it. Nothing ever does.
However, within a day, Dev and Cam’s lives are turned upside down as wishes begin to come true. They discover the existence of a supernatural world beyond their imagination, but peace between the species is tenuous at best.
Dev finally gets to see the Shadow Realm, meets the man of his dreams, and is inducted into the local male coven. But for all the desires that were summoned into existence, Dev soon realizes the magical community dances the line between good and evil, and Cam ends up on the wrong side of everything.
The old adage is true: Be careful what you wish for.
Summoned
J.P. Jackson © 2021
All Rights Reserved
Dev sat in the front row of his Advanced Methodologies of Sociological Research class. Staring at his professor helped to temporarily forget about the crap storm his life had spiraled into. Standing at the front of the class, leaning casually against his desk, Professor Byron Radcliff wrapped up one of the last lectures Dev would ever have with him. Radcliff was his favorite instructor.
The man exemplified the hyper masculine male. His very presence fueled the erotic scenes of Dev’s midnight fantasies. Radcliff led a starring role in most of Dev’s dreams ever since he had inadvertently signed up for Introductory Sociology, lucked out, and ended up with him teaching the course. Dev had fallen so hard for his professor, it had been a major contributing factor in his continuation of Sociology as his major.
So Prof. Radcliff wasn’t a redhead. Still, his hipster-style blond beard, with a touch of grey at the chin sent electric impulses through Dev’s groin, making the facial fur nothing short of an aphrodisiac. His close-cropped hair with the crown grown out long, brushed back, expertly styled and gelled inspired Dev to get the same haircut. Highlights of silver at Radcliff’s temples sparkled when the overhead fluorescent lights illuminated the side of his face whenever he stood at the podium. The man’s shirt clung tight, emphasizing his muscled frame. Radcliff’s apparent familiarity with a set of dumbbells had sent Dev to the campus gym, and he had even purchased a membership, but he’d never seen the man there. Biceps bulged every time he wrote more snippets of wisdom on the SMART whiteboard. All these sexy qualities contributed and completed Radcliff’s DILF status.
Radcliff’s leather suspenders framed his bearish torso, and Dev followed every motion he made as his professor’s pectoral muscles jumped and flexed while writing. Dev should have been paying attention to the lecture, spending more time writing down notes than memorizing the tight fit of Radcliff’s olive khaki’s. Of course, all this daydreaming led to fantasizing about Radcliff.
Dev unbuttoned Radcliff’s shirt in front of the entire class, wanting to expose the giant muscles that lay concealed by his starched white dress shirt. When he’d reached the top of his trousers, he peeled the shirt apart and ran the tips of his fingers over the thick, but trimmed, chest hair. Dev grabbed his teacher’s suspender with his other hand and pulled him forward, lips puckered, wanting to taste his instructor while getting to feel the bushy beard…
“And you pleasantly surprised me with your last assignment. To think most of you will be Sociologists within a few short weeks! Well done.” Radcliff shattered Dev’s imagination into pieces.
Radcliff grabbed an overstuffed manila envelope sitting on his desk.
What damn assignment?
Professor Radcliff began handing the papers out, calling each student by name and making a comment, “Joe, well done! Excellent take on the Conflict Theory. Allison, good work, nicely written, but next time, perhaps reference more than one online article? Devon, watch your spelling, mate.” The papers continued to go out, and as each student received their work from Prof. Radcliff, they exited the classroom.
Dev sat glued to his seat his gaze darting to each student as they received their papers. Nerves got the best of him and all Dev wanted to do was leap out of his chair, grab his carrier bag and run out of the room. He hadn’t handed in any assignment. Instead of giving into the flight response, he clicked open his file explorer icon on his laptop and searched for the course syllabus in a vain effort to see what he’d missed.
His ears were squealing.
“Dev, can you come see me?”
Radcliff’s folder, clutched in his meaty paws, was empty, which is exactly how Dev imagined his heart. Hollow. The back of his neck heated as did his cheeks. Sweat trickled down his spine.
Dammit, Dev. Your favorite professor. You look like an idiot!
“Dev, what happened, man? You’ve never not handed in an assignment. For that matter, your papers are usually better than all these others,” Radcliff waved his hand toward the door, as the last students were filing out.
“I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened. I’m not sure how I missed this.”
The high pitched ring muffled Dev’s ability to listen to Prof. Radcliff’s scolding. Dev put a hand on his forehead. The intense heat and gut wrenching belly twists made him feel hollow, and on fire. He’d never been so embarrassed in his entire life.
“It’s worth twenty-five percent of your mark, Dev. You’ll need some points on this to pass, and you’ll have to do really well if you want to maintain your honours standing.” Radcliff crossed his arms, looking more disappointed than angry, but the motion also flexed his biceps.
Maybe Prof. Radcliff would let Dev make up for the missed assignment in other ways, he hoped, but the heat from his shame snapped him back to reality.
“Can you give me an extension? Just a couple of days? I’ll have something in to you by Friday.”
Prof. Radcliff tilted his head to one side while his mouth twitched into a half frown. “Okay, Dev. But only till Friday. I wouldn’t do this with many of my other students. Don’t screw this up. I know you’re graduating this year.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry!” Dev turned away from Radcliff and walked, quicker than normal, toward the door. As much as he liked Radcliff, right now he didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
He hurried out through the door of the classroom, shutting the glass-paned door quietly behind him. As he did, he noticed Radcliff, who appeared as if he’d already forgotten the episode. The gorgeous teacher sat at his desk busily typing out something on his laptop. Dev’s face continued to burn.
Idiot!
Dev kept repeating that word to himself as he raced to his next class. The squealing in his ears almost unbearable. A dull throb behind his eyes promised to bloom into a spectacular stress headache.
His life had really gone to shit.
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J.P. Jackson is an award-winning author of dark urban fantasy, paranormal, and even paranormal romance stories, but regardless of the genre, they always feature LGBTQ main characters.
J.P. works as an IT analyst in health care during the day, where if cornered he’d confess to casting spells to ensure clinicians actually use the electronic medical charting system he configures and implements.
At night, the writing happens, where demons, witches and shapeshifters congregate around the kitchen table and general chaos ensues. His husband of 22 years has very firmly put his foot down on any further wraith summonings and regularly lines the doorway with iron shavings and salt crystals. Imps are most definitely not house-trainable. Ghosts appear at the most inopportune times, and the Fae are known for regular visits where a glass of wine is exchanged for a good ole story or two. Although the husband doesn’t know it, Canela and Jalisco, the two Chihuahuas, are in cahoots with the spell casting.
J.P.’s other hobbies include hybridizing African Violets (thanks to grandma), extensive traveling and believe it or not, knitting.
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