Because Your Vampire Said So (Broken Heart Vampires, Band 3) - Softcover

Bardsley, Michele

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0451223861 ISBN 13: 9780451223869

Verlag: Berkley, 2008

Inhaltsangabe

The third deligtfully undead novel in New York Times bestselling author Michele Bardsley's Broken Heart series.

Not just anyone can visit Broken Heart, Oklahoma, especially since all the single moms—like me, Patsy Donahue—have been turned into vampires. I’m forever forty, but looking younger than my years, thanks to my new (un)lifestyle.

And even thought most of my customers have skipped town, I still manage to keep my hair salon up and running because of the lycanthropes prowling around. They know how important good grooming is—especially a certain rogue shape-shifter who is as sexy as he is deadly. Now, if only I could put a leash on my wild teenage son. He’s up to his neck in danger. The stress would kill me if I wasn’t already dead. But my maternal instincts are sill alive and kicking, so no one better mess with my flesh and blood.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Michele Bardsley is the New York Times bestselling author of the Broken Heart series.

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Chapter 1

"I ain't a groomin' service," I said, wishing I could still smoke Marlboros. Becoming a vampire cured me of most vices. If I couldn't breathe, I sure as hell couldn't inhale and exhale cigarette smoke. I wanted a donor who smoked, so I'd get a nice fix every time I had a pint. Unfortunately, the Consortium-which was in charge of our little piece of Oklahoma-didn't hire donors who abused their bodies. Yet, I hoped for the day I'd find me some nicotine blood.

"You give such good shampoo massages, Patsy," said Darrius, who was a fine-looking male. He could shape-shift into a big, black wolf, too. In either form, Darrius was hard to resist. He'd talked me more than once into a full-body shampoo.

"I own a salon service for people, not mutts."

"If you added animal grooming to your offerings," he said. "You'd make more money."

"You think so?" I liked money almost as much as I liked cigarettes. I couldn't smoke anymore, but I could spend money. I hadn't been jewelry-shopping in a dog's age. I looked at Darrius and cackled. Dog's age. Wasn't I hoot"

His green eyes filled with calculation. He sidled closer to me and draped a muscled arm around my shoulders. Oo-wee, I loved it when handsome men flirted with me. Gave me a thrill, it sure enough did. I was forty-years-old (and would be forever, by God) and not above enjoying the titillation offered by Darrius. Look at him, all cute and wily.

"Oh, all right. But this is the last time." Of course, that's what I said every time Darrius and his ornery brother Drake talked me into a wolfie shampoo. Too cute for their own good, both of 'em.

"You know how I feel about watching that shifting bullshit. Go in the back room."

Darrius took two steps before his cell phone rang. Cursing, he plucked it from the holster on his hip. "Ja?"

After listening a moment, he sighed deeply. He shut the phone and re-inserted it into the case. "I must take a rain check, Liebling. Damian says there is an emergency, but with him, everything is an emergency."

Damian was the third brother; the oldest, by eleven minutes, of triplets. He was head of the Consortium's security, and he protected the borders of Broken Heart fiercely. He never asked for a shampoo.

Darrius kissed my cheek then tapped my nose with his forefinger. "I will be back, Patsy. Then you can rub me all over."

"Promises, promises, stud."

He grinned widely and turned around. I slapped that tight butt so hard my palm stung. He laughed and sauntered out of the salon. Looking at that fine posterior almost made it worth digging out the wolf hair from my tub.

As Darrius exited, cold air gusted through the door and brought with the promise of snow. Well, what can you do? It was the first week of November, after all. Then again, Oklahoma weather was as fickle as my sister at a half-price shoe sale. Yesterday, the temperature had been a balmy sixty-six degrees.

I turned the sign on the front door to "Closed," then I grabbed the broom and started sweeping the clean floor. I'd been feeling off-kilter lately. You know that prickly feeling you get when a storm's coming, but the sky is clear? Whatever-it-was teased the horizon just enough to keep me clutching my umbrella.

My thoughts drifted to Darrius's suggestion. Grooming services, huh? We had enough lycanthropes around these parts that I could make some extra money as an animal groomer. Business wasn't exactly brisk thanks to ousting most of the original residents. Anyone who wasn't a paranormal being or a human donor found themselves elsewhere in a hurry.

I used to have two employees, but they were given new jobs in Tulsa, as part of the Broken Heart citizen resettlement program. My nail girl Linda got re-assigned as an assistant to scientist Dr. Stan Michaels. She was mightily in love with that man, but wouldn't admit it.

Anyway, Broken Heart wasn't exactly a hopping town before the undead took over. Less than a year ago, the only thing that had saved my salon from closing had been the strippers from the

Barley and Boob Barn, which had been shut down and razed in June. Aw, hell. I missed those girls. They were fun and raunchy and tipped real good.

I was "life-challenged" because of Lorcan O'Halloran. Diseased by the Taint-a nasty illness that only affects vampires-he'd attempted a radical cure. The cure turned him into a two-legged, hairy, stinky beast. He romped around ol' Broken Heart and killed eleven of us single parents. Oh, now, don't worry. He's back to being a vampire. He married my friend Eva, Broken Heart's only teacher. She was obviously the forgiving sort, but I still felt uneasy around Lorcan.

The night he attacked me, I'd been outside my shop smoking a cigarette. If I'd known that was the last smoke I was ever gonna have, I would've enjoyed it a lot more. Anyway, I died. Wham! Knocked down, knocked out, and snacked on. Next night, I woke up on a steel table in a white room feeling more alive than ever-only to be told I wasn't. And I figured out real quick that I had gained a few new tricks.

It wasn't all bad. My crow's feet, cellulite, age spots, and the ol' saggies went bye-bye. I had clear, wrinkle-free skin, but no amount of vampifying could rid me of my height, a couple inches shy of six feet, or what my son called "fluffiness." Eva said I reminded her of a Valkyrie, which was some sort of Viking chick who kicked ass. I liked that description, I'll tell you.

The Consortium bought my place and gave it to me lock, stock, and barrel, and they paid all bills associated with it and my double-wide, which was twenty feet behind the salon. I didn't have much to do with the money I made, except abuse my credit card on the Home Shopping Network.

"Good evening, Patricia."

The man's voice startled me, but I kept my cool. One thing I'd learned from my ex-husband was that offense was the best defense. "Do you ignore all the signs you read, or just the ones on doors?"

I turned around and leaned on the broom. A man I'd never seen stood inside the doorway, staring at me. And he was built, honey. Mm-hmm. I saw the muscles bulging underneath the crisp white shirt opened at the collar. He also wore a pair of tight black jeans and ... I'll be damned. He had himself a pair of black Prada Croc Sneakers. I liked boots and didn't wear much else. Wilson had shown me a magazine ad with those Crocs and said he wanted them. Even though our existence was no longer hand-to-mouth, I couldn't justify buying a pair of shoes that cost twice as much as my mortgage payment.

What was a guy wearing thousand-dollar pair of kicks doing in my shop? Shoot. What did it matter? Most of the paranormal beings running around our fair town were richer than God. He didn't seem to mind I was looking him over. As I took his measure, he took mine. His long hair was so white it looked like captured moonbeams. It was drawn into a queue at the back of his neck. If that hair wasn't enough to make the hairstylist in me slobber, then his golden eyes made the woman in me go mreow. Those mesmerizing amber orbs reminded me of the sunsets I would never see again.

Damn. He was temptation...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Berkley
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2008
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0451223861
• ISBN 13: 9780451223869
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 320
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar