I feel like I've posted this before. Because Thanksgiving is coming and this is my favorite (for which read ONLY) Thanksgiving Day scene. I do have a book in the works that is actually set at Thanksgiving, but until that's done, I'll just have to make do with Grumpy Vampire Thanksgiving. It's from In the Dark (still one of my favorites, still not a romance) the very first book in the Children of Night series. ALTHOUGH...there's a prequel of sorts in the works. If all goes well, that will release next September as part of the Rejected by the Immortal anthology (available for preorder now. links below). And I do have a new vampire Christmas story releasing next month...more about that Tuesday.
But, for now, Happy Thanksgiving from Conrad and crew!
When you live forever, a few mistakes are bound to happen.
Vampire Conrad Quintano has been around for centuries -- long enough to know falling for a human is a terrible idea. Much less falling for adventure-seeking hippie Desert Rose and agreeing to raise her babies.
Raised in virtual isolation, Marc and Julie Fischer have never known their unique status in the world. But once they're in San Francisco, the family reunion is nothing like they anticipated and they're thrust into a world they're completely unprepared for.
Buy it here: https://books2read.com/u/49nGpX
Exerpt:Thursday, November 28th, 1968
Thanksgiving Day
“All I’m saying is that the picnic in the park was a total blast and you missed out on a really great party today.”
Desert Rose was pouting. Arms crossed, her posture rigid, she glared sullenly at Conrad from one end of his couch. Lying comfortably against the cushions at the other end, he smiled back at her indulgently. He hadn’t been expecting to see her here this evening. Even though she’d taken to spending nearly every weekend with him, tonight was Thursday—definitely part of the week, as far as he was concerned. In her mind, however, the fact that it was Thanksgiving apparently made it the start of the weekend.
“I told you all about it when I was here last weekend. I was really hoping you’d show. You’d have liked it.”
“Yes, I’m sure I would have.” Enough talk now. Conrad reached for the girl and pulled her toward him. He rearranged her limbs until she was reclining against his chest with her head resting on his shoulder, her long, dark hair swept to one side. Unexpected, yes, he thought, as he began to lick lazily at her neck. But definitely not unwelcome.Three days was long enough to go without. He’d grown quite addicted to the taste of her over the course of the past month—which would have worried him, if he’d been planning on turning her. He wasn’t. “I’m sorry I missed your picnic today. It sounds like it was a…real happening scene.”
A strangled noise, emanating from the vicinity of the secretary desk on the other side of the room, greeted Conrad’s observation. He glanced up, his face breaking into a wide grin at the sight of Armand’s pained expression.
“A happening scene? Mon Dieu.”
“Well, it was,” Desert Rose insisted as she settled deeper into Conrad’s embrace, her eyes closed, her neck exposed. “With music and dancing and...just crowds of people. And more food than…well, than you’ve probably ever seen in your life.”
Armand’s eyes grew smoky as he gazed at the girl. His tongue danced lightly across the points of his teeth. He looked mesmerized, enchanted. He looked hungry.
Mine. Conrad stilled. It took a conscious effort to tamp down the unreasoning jealousy that was once again threatening to burn holes in his gut. Luckily, Armand seemed to collect himself before too much time had passed. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head and went back to work, writing checks to pay the monthly bills. Conrad relaxed as well, and quietly sank his teeth into the girl’s waiting neck.
“Corn and beans and squash and cranberry sauce and those little pearl onions,” she continued her recital, in the slightly dreamy tone that indicated she was so relaxed she hadn’t even noticed Conrad’s feasting at her throat. “And mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, peas, three kinds of pie, a big chocolate cake. Not to mention homemade bread and biscuits and pumpkin soup. Oh, and there was even an entire turkey made out of tofu.”
“It sounds delightful.” Conrad raised his head. “Armand?”
“Oui?”
“Qu’est-ce que c’est…toe-foo?”
Armand looked up again, his face perplexed. “Je ne sais pas,” he replied with a shrug. Then, his face clearing, he snapped his fingers. “ Ah, non, non, non. Il est Chinois. It’s something to do with soybeans. A kind of a paste, I think?”
“Soybeans? Vraiment?” Conrad shook his head and went back to his meal. Soybean turkeys. What would they think of next? He could still eat human food, if he had to, but it had very little taste and no nutritional value for him, so he rarely bothered. In the past, of course, things had been different and he’d frequently been forced to eat regular meals as part of his attempts to pass for human. He hadn’t felt the need for such subterfuge in quite some time, however, and being as he was now a man of some means and could afford not to eat, he no longer did.
“I wish you’d been there,” Desert Rose murmured, still pouting. “You could have met some of my friends.”
“I’m sure that would have been very charming,” Conrad lied and, sensing she was growing restless, quickly licked the wounds shut and released her. “But, you know, mignonne, Armand is Canadian and they don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving in his country. It would have been rude to leave him alone.”
“Well, you could have come too,” she said, sitting up and gazing earnestly at Armand. “All sorts of people were there.”
“Merci, chérie.” Armand smiled at her. “And, for the record, we do celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada. It’s just not all about the food for us.” He cast a sly glance in Conrad’s direction. “But, you know, Conrad is not from this country originally either. So you can’t really expect him to appreciate the delights of all your traditional American dishes. Like tofu, for example.”
“You’re not American?” Eyes wide, she stared at Conrad. “Where are you from?”
“Originally?” Conrad frowned. He had to think about that for a moment. The part of Europe he hailed from had been called many different things over the centuries, most of which would mean nothing to her. “Rome,” he answered, finally, taking the easy way out.
“So, does that mean you’re like…Italian?”
“Close enough,” he said, ignoring Armand when he muttered, “…but no cigar.”
“So, what do you like to eat on Thanksgiving then? Spaghetti, or pizza, or lasagna or something?”
Conrad grimaced as thoughts of garlic, and other unpleasant spices, threatened to sour his stomach. “I don’t really care for any of those.”
Cocking her head to the side, she frowned thoughtfully. “You know what’s funny? Now that I think about it, I never see you eat anything. Why is that?”
From across the room, Armand choked back a laugh. “C’est parce que vos yeux sont fermés, chérie,” he answered. That’s because your eyes are shut.
“That’s enough out of you,” Conrad growled, throwing a pillow at his head.
“What did he say?” the girl asked, her gaze shifting back and forth between them both.
Conrad shrugged. “He said it’s because I’m always on a diet.”
“What?” Her eyebrows rose. “You? But, you don’t need to diet, you’re perfect!”
Conrad pulled her close again and kissed her, flashing a smug smile over her shoulder at Armand. “Thank you, chérie. So are you.”
An avaricious little thrill pulsed through him as she clung to him, sighing happily against his mouth. Mine. He tightened his arms around her. One kiss was not enough. The taste of her mouth was an easy match for the taste of her blood—he was addicted to both and unable to get enough of either. Angling his head to the side, he plundered her mouth, loving the way her hands crept shyly up to frame his face, the eagerness with which she snuggled against him. Soon he was rolling her beneath him on the couch and stretching himself out on top of her, wanting, needing more.
In the long run, his dual obsession with both her body and her blood was a very bad thing. One that would surely lead to trouble when he lost control of either his temper or his jealousy, as had happened with the last person he’d craved in this fashion. In the short run, however, it was perfect. As he tangled his legs with hers, he allowed himself a single depraved fantasy of what it would be like if he could have them both together in his bed. Both of his dark-eyed beauties, gazing at him adoringly…
It would be…nice. Very nice. But it was never going to happen, if only because, for safety’s sake, he’d have to turn her first. And that was such a very bad idea he wasn’t even tempted by it. Much.
“So, what holidays do you celebrate?” she asked, pressing her hands into his chest in an attempt to push him away.
She’s pushing me away? He glanced down at her, surprised by her unexpected resistance. Is there a problem here?The furtive glance she cast in Armand’s direction, however, made the source of her discomfort clear.
Conrad sighed. He rolled to the side, giving her the space she so clearly desired. He’d been forgetting how very young she was. Young enough to still be self-conscious about being observed at play. Far too young for the fantasies he’d been imagining. Far too young for him. Yet another reason things would never work out between them. “I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”
“Holidays. There’s gotta be some you celebrate, right?”
“No, not really.”
She looked surprised. “Not even Christmas?”
“Not even Christmas.”
“That’s a shame.” She nodded at the big bay window, heavily swathed in velvet curtains to keep out the sun. “Because, you know, that would be a perfect place to put a tree.”
“A tree?” The grounds were full of trees—which was exactly where they belonged. “Why would I want a tree in the house?” It would have to be a very hardy specimen, something that could flourish in the dark.
“A Christmas tree, silly. You know, all done up with tinsel and pretty lights? If I had a house like this, I’d sure have one.”
He smiled at her. “So, you want a tree now? Is that what you’re saying?”
The girl sighed wistfully. “Well, who wouldn’t? But I don’t have any room at my place. I mean, I don’t really even have a place—not of my own. So, you know, there’s not much point in thinking about it, is there?”
“No, I meant here. Would you like me to get a tree for you to decorate?”
The look in her eyes gave him his answer. “Really?”
Conrad raised his head. “Armand!”
“Oui!”
“We need a tree!”
“Eh?” Armand glanced up, confused. “Comment? A…tree?”
“Yes, a tree, you heathen. For Christmas. Get one for us, will you, mon cher?”
Raising one eyebrow, Armand stared at him. “Ah, oui. Très bien. And would you be wanting the little colored lights, too?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “You could wrap them all around the house, perhaps—up on the roof and around all the doors and windows?”
Conrad looked at the girl. She nodded eagerly. He smiled. “Oui.”
Sometimes living forever is not all it's cracked up to be.
1956 Winnipeg, Canada. Once Armand Renaud realizes that eternal youth is a real possibility, nothing will deter him from achieving his goal. And after one hundred years of solitude, Conrad can’t bring himself to resist the handsome young dancer who’s hellbent on being turned.
They both know they’re not destined to be the great loves of each other’s lives, but there are worse ways to pass a long and lonely decade or two than in the arms of a passionate stranger.
Living forever might not be everything they’d hoped for. But, at least they can still get a few things right. Can't they?
Scheduled for release September 19, 2023 as part of the Rejected by the Immortal anthology.
PREORDER IT NOW: https://books2read.com/rejectedimmortal
And why not spend this Christmas with a vampire...or two?
Her love will light up his night. If they can both survive that long.
Heather is having the worst Christmas ever! Or, at least, the worst Christmas since she was forced to become a vampire. Her sire's distracted, her nestmates have forgotten her, weirdos have taken over the lair. The only bright spot in her life right now is Drew--who didn't even used to like her! She knows he's fond of her now, but that's not good enough. She wants more. She wants everything. She wants him. And she's not giving up.
Drew Geiger gave up on love a long time ago. Such tender emotions have no place in a vampire's heart. But, somehow, the girl he once described as a "feral kitten" has got her claws in him, and she's not letting go. That would be fine, if only someone didn't want her dead--and if her sire didn't recall that it was Drew who once suggested that maybe she'd be better off that way.
Releasing December 13, 2022
Available for preorder now: https://books2read.com/u/m0En1l
