Your Coffin or Mine?
A Novel of Vampire Love
One
I was being followed.
If that wasn’t creepy enough, it was dark out, I was all alone, and I was standing in a smelly alley near Times Square.
Talk about a Wes Craven flick.
For me, however, it was just another day in the life of a fantabulous five-hundred-year-old (and hold- ing) born vampire. My name? Countess Lilliana Arrabella Guinevere du Marchette, but my best buds call me Lil.
Because of my BV heritage, I ooze sex appeal, and since it’s oozing out of a totally hot package (great body, great face, kickin’ highlights), I’ve had more than my share of stalkers. Like the rest of my kind, I attract the opposite sex en masse.
Okay. So maybe en masse might be stretching things a teensy bit. Particularly since I haven’t had an official date in . . .
Well, I can’t actually remember the last time. (Fix ups DO NOT count, Ma.) To make matters worse, I was sorta, kinda dumped recently by a megahot bounty hunter after our one and only night together (sniffle).
But neither of those is due to a lack of hotness on my part. ...
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