#OnTour with Not So Wicked by Billie Dale! A 5++ star read you don’t want to miss!

We all know Maleficent as the Queen of Evil in the fairytale world but THIS one is not her! This is Mallory F’Cent, the daughter of a fairy godmother and an ogre…when her heart breaks the man she loves pays the price! A hilarious NEW read that will leave you laughing your buns off, squirming in your seat and falling in love!

Check out the book that Amazon says is so hot it has to be labeled Erotic! Keep scrolling to read chapter one!

Grab your copy today!

Amazon: http://mybook.to/NotSoWicked

IBooks: https://apple.co/2LdNCMp

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/not-so-wicked

Nook: http://bit.ly/NSWbarnes


Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40113812-not-so-wicked?from_search=true


My name’s Mallory F’Cent, and I’m always horny.

No, get your mind out of the gutter. Not THAT kind of horny. 

I’m talking about the horns on my head. It doesn’t matter how I try to disguise them with updo’s and headscarves; they’re two permanent, pointy reminders of my parentage – a feisty Fairy Godmother for a mom, and a towering ogre with poor impulse control for a dad.

I can’t help stand out even as I try desperately to blend in.

Then I go and turned into a Big Bad. 

Secrets leave my heart in tatters, and I turn the man I love from sexy stud into a sad sack.

And the worst part? 

Despite everything I’ve done to him, Stefan’s still willing to fight to find our Happy Ever After and he’s determined to prove there’s a halo held up by my horns!


Author’s Note: 
Not So Wicked is a full-length novel full of crazy fun.
Ever wonder what would happen if Maleficent and Ursula were best friends? Find out with this romantic comedy stand-alone. 

*Each book in the Fairytale Fantasy series can be read by itself.

Chapter One

“No, turn it the other way and put it in there,” Letty whispers, “Jesus, give it,” she huffs, reaching toward me. 

“I know what I’m doing,” I grit through my clenched teeth pushing away her hands.

“Stop rubbing it through there and put it in the slot, Mal,” she slaps, grabbing at my hand. “You need to slip it inside the little hole. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Would you give it already? We’re going to be late.” 

The lady behind the counter glares at me, her mouth pinched. If looks could kill, I would be six feet under. I hear the frustrated heaves of breath from the people in line behind me, but I will prevail. This stupid machine will not beat me. The aroma of coffee tempts me with its energy infusing promises; but until I get this right, the barista behind the counter is holding my sanity hostage. 

Stupid, surly bitch in an ugly green apron. 

When I think I have it figured out, a tanned forearm coated with bright colorful tattoos and a dress shirt sleeve rolled up, reaches between us. A flick of the hand holding his cell phone and with a small beep, he does what I’ve been trying to do for the past ten minutes. Pays for our coffee. 

My head turns to thank the Good Samaritan who saved me from chip reading machine hell.

Hooo leee Shasta. 

The body attached to the arm combined with his face steals the oxygen from my lungs and freezes my words of gratitude on my tongue. 

I’m not sure where to feast my eyes first. He’s tall; I mean, “Hello, how’s the weather up there,” tall. I stand five-foot-ten without shoes, and I have to crane my neck to see his face. The face is the icing on the cake so let’s start lower. I follow the nice solid forearm up to the tight round bicep over the broad shoulder across the expanse of his tight chest. 

Uh, huh, YUM. 

Perfect formed pecks stretch his pale blue dress shirt along the flat panel of his stomach cinching in a tad at his waist where his button-down tucks in. 

Stay with me, it gets better. 

Khaki dress pants tighten along his thighs and cup in at his bulge which begs the question of his backside and my mind wonders if it’s as well packaged as the rest of him. My eyes travel back up the path of his body appreciating every piece of the replay until they reach new fun beginning at the bare skin of his thick neck. A light dusting of stubble coats his chiseled jaw, groomed around the plump curves of his pink lips with a Cupids bow to make you drool. Ridged high cheekbones and a small snub nose pointing up at the end with flared nostrils, thinning up between his inky eyebrows. 

My heart races from his intense stare. His deep-set eyes catalog me from above the high lines of his cheeks, framed with long curling sooty lashes. Almond shaped with a dreamy cast and the most unusual shade of hyacinth. Glowing a vibrant blue-violet with small smiling wrinkle lines framing their outer edge. His tall forehead spans into his curling auburn hair with twisting spirals hanging haphazardly across his forehead. Resting just below the upper curve of his ears, the curling ends stopping below the collar of his shirt. His hair’s a contradiction to his dark lashes and brows, making the fiery red color stand out even more. 

“Mallory!” Letty yells, snapping her fingers in front of my dry, unblinking eyes. She rouses me from my hot guy in a coffee shop trance. I realize I’ve stayed here for an indeterminate amount of time staring at him as though I’m a creepy stalker. Judging from the disgruntled comments coming from the customers in line and the gloating smirk on his handsome face I will not be able to escape unnoticed from my mortification. 

Mumbling a low, “Thank you,” heat crawls up my neck and fills my cheeks. Drawing my chin to my chest, I lower my eyes to the toes of my white canvas shoes peeking out from the hem of my black floor length skirt. I grip Letty’s wrist, dragging her with me to the opposite end of the counter where our orders of steaming liquid sit waiting. 

Ignoring her questioning glare, still gripping her I tug her toward the exit. Once we step into the crisp fall air, the fragrance of leaves fills my lungs. I raise my eyes enough to meet hers. Standing at five-foot-three, my best friend Ursulette Argonaut -Letty to most -pops her free hand on her ample curving hip. Tilting her head up before squinting her obsidian eyes my way. She may be short, but she’s scary when she locks her eyes on you. 

Her face riddled with questions, but the hot guy could leave any minute and I don’t want to be standing here when he does. “I know, I know.” I offer to her unasked questions. “Didn’t you say we would be late?” I ask but don’t wait for a response. Pushing my feet to her car, still running by the curb I hurry my way to the passenger door. Once secured inside, I breathe out a sigh of relief. 

Turning to see why she’s not right behind me, I notice she’s speaking to our coffee savior. I watch as she touches his bicep before tipping her head back with a laugh. Her other hand brushes something from the lapel of the jacket he wasn’t wearing when I saw him a minute ago. She touches his forearm. I crave to see if the lines of his ink raise up on his skin.

Jesus, does she have eight fucking arms? They’re going everywhere. 

Jealousy festers low in my belly. I have no claim to the fine-looking man, but I wish I were as flamboyant as she is. Letty’s large personality is what I admire most. She’s very short, round as she is tall with bright white pixie spiked hair sticking up in different directions and porcelain skin. 

She rocks a dark purple eyeshadow which enhances her deep black eyes and bright red lipstick on her plump lips. Her chest encompasses most of her upper torso. She’s a master at using her assets. Her voice is deep and raspy with a seductive vibration, and she’s an expert with men. Her life motto is she loves the way she’s built and is only one infectious stomach virus away from her goal weight. If she sets her sights on a man, he might as well give in cause once she starts, he will never want her to stop. Sex appeal oozes from her pores; her self-confidence is inspiring and a tad intimidating. 

Then there’s me. Good ole Mallory F’Cent. My friends call me Mal, or I should say Letty calls me Mal cause she’s the only friend I have. I’m the freak to her chic. As I said, I stand five-foot-ten which is a smidge too tall for a woman. If it were the only issue I had with myself, I would hold a fucking parade waving to the crowd like Santa Claus. But no, no there’s more. 

Do you have any idea what you get when you cross a fairy with an ogre? No, this isn’t a bad joke. You get me. Now just hold on a minute before you throw your hands up, saying it’s impossible. I don’t mean a tiny, Tinkerbell type fairy and an enormous ogre. 

Nope, my mom is the one and only Fairy Godmother and my dad, well, he’s Meyers Shrek.




You can check out the first Snow White inspired Fairytale Fantasy stand-alone right now for FREE on iBooks!


Psst….if you use the price report feature on Amazon maybe the Zon Gods will lower the price there too!

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