Welcome to the week two of our participation in Sneak Peek Sunday, a romance writer blog hop. Follow the link back to see what other authors are working on this week (please note that participating authors write in all genres and at all heat levels).

This week you’re getting something that’s in a very early stage of development. It doesn’t have a title yet beyond Demons, and we haven’t quite figured out if it’s a political thriller or a farcical excuse for super weird porn. It could go either way. And the problem is, we really like both scenarios.

One thing we’re sure of is that it involves a ton of world-building and comes out of my travels in Italy over the years and the experiences I’ve had around my Sicilian background, my appearance, and my gender and what all those things mean in Milan vs. Rome vs. Naples vs. Gela.

When the story opens, Tim, a teenager growing up in suburbia, opens his front door only to be greeted by a demon. He knows about demons, of course; the government regulates the ones that live amongst humans and outside of demon principalities, but it’s still kind of a shock. After all, the demons are mostly near volcanoes (the demons probably aren’t evil, but are just a geological anomaly), and this is Connecticut.

What follows is an epic info-dump from Tim’s mother and an invitation to go meet his people that our hero can’t really refuse. While some later parts of this story are heartbreaking, Demons largely exists to indulge our love both of farce and the horrors of bureaucracy.

“Well there wasn’t really any reason to tell you,” his mother says.

“OH MY GOD, OF COURSE THERE WAS A REASON TO, because now, just to continue with the recap, I’m apparently getting on a plane, to Italy, as this guy’s like child bride or something so I can go be a proper demon because I’m not really fit to be around humans because I eat too much rare meat and the kids at school might make fun of me. Did I miss anything? Also, I don’t even have a passport.”

Tim’s step-dad shrugs, because yeah that’s more or less it, and shoves a sheaf of papers at him, containing, among other things, a passport.

“Demon passport,” he says as he does it.

“Oh my god,” Tim says for the hundredth time before turning to the demon. Max. Maybe he should get used to that. Not that he wants to. “Okay, I realize this is desperation, but like, do you have anything reasonable to say here?”

Max shrugs. “Demon passport.”