The author of Fire Me Up and You Slay Me presents a delicious new romance that's pure bloody fun
Paen Scott is a Dark One: a vampire without a soul. And his mother is about to lose hers too if Paen can ' t repay a debt to a demon by finding a relic known as the Jilin God in five days.
Half-elf Samantha Cosse may have gotten kicked out of the Order of Diviners, but she ' s still good at finding things, which is why she just opened her own private investigation agency.
Paen is one of Sam ' s first clients and the only one to set her elf senses tingling, which makes it pretty much impossible to keep their relationship on a professional level. Sam is convinced that she is Paen ' s Beloved ' the woman who can give him back his soul...whether he wants it or not.
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May 02, 2006
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Excerpt from Even Vampires Get The Blues by Katie MacAlister
"What do you think of the sign?"
Clare set down a box of desk supplies and a bouquet of fresh cut flowers, and frowned. "Well, to be honest, Sam, I wasn't going to say anything about it, but I don't think the crow landing on your head this morning is a good omen. It means your life is about to go crisis central. But I'm here to help, and you know I'll do what I can to keep you from going outright insane."
"No . . . I meant the sign on the door." I nodded to where a local sign painter was putting away her stencils and paints.
"Oh. Mmm." Clare tipped her head and considered the freshly painted words on the upper half of the open office door. "EYE SCRY, SAMANTHA COSSE AND CLARE BENNET, DISCREET PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS. It's nice, but I still think it's a bit too strange. People are going to think we're not normal private investigators."
"We aren't normal, Clare."
"Speak for yourself. I'm as normal as they come." She plucked a tulip from the bouquet and went to the window, using her elbow to wipe a small clean patch on the grimy glass. "Isn't it a lovely morning?"
I glanced out the window at the grey, sodden-looking sky, and shrugged as I arranged paper in my new printer/copier/fax machine. "It's a typical Scottish May: grey, cold, and wet."
"When I woke up this morning," Clare said dreamily, unconsciously striking an elegant pose that made her a star on the fashion runways, "the dew had kissed all the sweet little flowers just as if faeries had danced upon them with damp little slippers. Don't you think that's lovely? I thought that up all by myself."
"Very, um . . ." Clare blinked silver-tipped lashes at me. I relented under her hopeful expression. "Very poetic. But not terribly accurate, is it?"
She blinked again, her large blue eyes clouded with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Well . . . just look at you." I waved a hand toward her torso. "You're the opposite of short, sturdy, dark-haired me-you're tall, lovely, elegant, and have that silver blond hair that everyone seems to rave about, but you're hardly in a dancing-on-the-dew-kissed-flowers sort of form, are you? You'd squash the little buggers flat were you to try it in your human form."