A high-schooler just wants to study and get into a good college. How is she supposed to find the time to serve a Demon Lord?
Cassie divides her time between working a cash register and studying like crazy to get accepted to a top-tier university. She’s on track until one fateful day, a spell cast by one mysterious barista transforms her from a regular teen to a valuable familiar: a magical well a demon can tap. Now all the creatures of Hell are fighting over her, and the demon who bound her would rather serve lattes than deal with it. She’d be happy to protect herself, but how can she do that when she can’t even cast spells yet? Cassie had better figure it out fast, or else she has a better chance of becoming some demon’s little pet than making the Dean’s List.
Join Cassie in the first book of Demonic Café, a vibrant urban fantasy world of snarky demons, vicious black magic spells, political intrigue, and paranormal coffee…well, the coffee is normal, but it’s prepared by paranormal creatures. Drink at your own risk.
This is a .99 book: as of this writing, the book has approximately 35,000 downloads. It has a rating of 4.2 out of 5 on Amazon, with 89 ratings/reviews. The series has earned a little over 4K in total so far.
That Sunday morning had begun as a typical shift at The Daily Grind, a downtown coffee shop where she had worked for eight months. Cassie usually did short, four-hour shifts on school nights. It was rare for her to do an opening shift, but she liked to work the occasional Sunday for the money. Early on, the customers were mostly retired people who walked to the shop for coffee as part of their weekly routine, some staying to read a newspaper. The early weekday morning rush—that gaggle of caffeine-craving commuters who kept the shop in business—was something Cassie had never seen. Dwight and Khalil sometimes complained about it, speaking of lines wrapped around the block, but she had reason to believe they were exaggerating.
The Daily Grind was somewhere in between a typical chain coffee shop and a funky independent outfit in appearance. Technically DG was part of a chain, but the franchise was mainly focused on the west coast; isolated from management, Dwight, the wiry musician who managed the shop, had the freedom to make his shop a little less generic. He had dressed the place up with pieces from local artists and his tropical fish tank, which Cassie was sure must be some kind of health code violation.
Dwight himself was busy stocking the fridge with juices from that morning's delivery, his coppery red strands pulled into his typical ponytail. Khalil, their assistant manager, was doing some paperwork at one of the cafe tables, his dark head bent over the clipboard in front of him. If she asked, he would probably say he was doing inventory; she had no idea if he was ever actually doing inventory.
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Portuguese
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Ana Moraes
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Mercedes Alemán
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Author review: Great communication. No problems. |
