Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
As I glance around the crowded room, my eyes are immediately drawn to a Cher look-alike behind the bar, serving drinks like she's performing at Madison Square Garden. She's a tiny little thing, curvy in all the right ways, and judging by her no-nonsense demeanor, she knows how to work a room, or haunt in this case. With her long jet-black hair tied back into an uncomplicated ponytail, she somehow embodies the rock star glam with an effortless flair.
I saunter up to the bar, channeling centuries-old charm. “Can I get a Blood Mary?” I flash what I hope is a dazzling, fangy smile.
Without skipping a beat, she glances at me with something between amused tolerance and mild exasperation. “The other bartender will be here to take your order shortly,” she says in a rich, velvety voice that does all sorts of interesting things to my internal organs and one external organ. What the fuck?
Before I can form a coherent sentence, she pivots, ponytail swinging, and disappears into the throng like it’s Houdini Night. Oh, no, little goddess, you aren’t getting away that easily.
Not to be thwarted by a high-heeled retreat, I decide I’m far too interested in this enigma of a woman to just let her disappear. Without stopping to consider my actions, I follow her through the crowd, spotting her slipping down a long hallway that I assume leads to the back.
I hasten my pace, my cape doing its level best to trip me, until I arrive outside a storeroom where I find her muttering to herself while she digs through a large cardboard box.
Stepping into the room, I accidentally kick over a box of black plastic bats. As the black toys spill out across the shiny, treated-concrete floor, she spins around, eyes wide, a startle running through her like she’s ready to either scream or throw a novelty skeleton at me.
“Fuck a duck! Are you trying to give me a freaking heart attack?” she gasps, clutching a plastic skull as though it’s a makeshift weapon.
“Whoa, sorry!” I raise my hands in mock surrender, wondering why I’m fucking this up so badly. One look at her and I turned into a dipshit with no common sense and two left feet. “No, I was trying to talk to you when you walked away.”
Her expression shifts from shocked to deadpan, and there's something about the way she composes herself and glares at me that causes my cock to turn rock hard. “Excuse me.” She throws her hands down on her luscious hips and lifts her adorable chin. “You should’ve gotten the hint that me walking away meant I'm busy and don't have time to talk.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “I figured it meant I had to try harder,” I counter, flashing the charming grin I use to get my ass out of tight spots. “So, here I am.”
She looks at me for a long moment, deciding whether or not this earns me the right to stay. The challenge in her eyes causes my blood to heat. I’m not sure if I want to spank her ass or kiss her and beg for forgiveness.
“You’re in the employees-only part of the bar.” I guess she isn’t in a forgiving mood. “So, Mr. I Didn’t Get the Message The First Time, what can I do for you, besides not calling security?”
Chapter 3
Romi
Raising his hands in mock surrender, he steps back and flashes his freaking panty-melting grin again. “How about we start over?” There’s a pause as if he’s giving me the chance to reject his offer.
I narrow my eyes, trying to size him up. Somewhere in the corner of my mind, I acknowledge how tall he is, how his dark hair looks effortlessly tousled, and how that well-trimmed beard would feel rubbing against my inner thighs. Huh? When did I start having crazy thoughts like those? Oh, yeah. The moment the hot vampire with the roguish grin walked into Trick or Treat.
When he says, “I’m Sullivan Midnight,” like it’s his get-out-of-jail-free card, I groan to myself. Just freaking great. Because what else could add the proverbial cherry to my sundae of chaotic evenings than realizing he’s one of those Midnights?
As in the family with their name stamped all over this town and a mansion larger than life sitting on the edge of it like a testament to their power and influence.
Quickly flipping through the mental file of ’Who’s Who in Midnight Falls,’ I can’t help but paste a fake smile on my face. “Sullivan? It must have been a long, painful labor for your mother to come up with that one.” Holy smokes. Did that really come out of my mouth? My mouth filter must’ve gotten fried along with my brain circuits when he walked into the bar.
His deep, genuine laughter shouldn’t be as arousing as it is. “Funny, but I’m actually named after my Great Uncle Sullivan.”