Michele Bardsley Guest Blogging (Our Own Vampire MoM)

When I started writing the Broken Heart vampire series I never imagined so many people would dig (hah!) the idea of undead PTA parents. In the first novel, I’m the Vampire, That’s Why, widowed mother of two Jessica Matthews gets Turned by 4,000-year-old Irish vampire Patrick O'Halloran. They fight off evil vampires known as Wraiths, nearly die (er, again), and fall madly in love. Too bad hot sex means an instant 100-year commitment.

The second novel, Don’t Talk Back to Your Vampire, is about town librarian Eva LeRoy, proud single mother of a fifteen-year-old daughter. She’s unaccountably attracted to her … well, murderer … Lorcan O'Halloran. Lor's a former Druid who can't forgive himself for past misdeeds. And he can't stay away from Eva, especially when he's the only one who can protect her from the unknown evil encroaching Broken Heart's borders.

Because Your Vampire Said So is the third book. Divorcee Patsy Donahue is an undead hair stylist whose clientele has dwindled down to human donors and shaggy lycanthropes. Her sixteen-year-old son Wilson is driving her crazy, but not as much as the ghosts who want her to solve their problems. However, her biggest problem is named Gabriel Marchand--a gorgeous lycanthrope with dark secrets that could mean the death (no, really) of Patsy.

In November 2008, the fourth novel, Wait Till Your Vampire Gets Home, will hit bookstores everywhere. I thought it would be fun if the only vampire daddy, Ralph Genessa, got himself a girlfriend. I also thought … hmm, what if a paranormal investigator stumbled into Broken Heart and found herself chased by werewolves and zombies? Heh. Then there’re dragons, soul-sucking immortals, and fairies to deal with, too. Never let it be said that Broken Heart is boring.

In fact, Broken Heart is just like other small towns. The residents might be dead or furry or winged, but they’re nice and have problems just like the rest of us. And they’re looking for love … just like the rest of us. And now, I’m thrilled to give you all a sneak peek from the next exciting story in the Broken Heart series … Wait Till Your Vampire Gets Home.

Excerpt from
WAIT TILL YOUR VAMPIRE GETS HOME
By Michele Bardsley

A man knelt next a heart-shaped marble tombstone, which looked worse for wear. The top right corner had broken off. He placed an armful of brightly colored silk flowers on the ground and appeared to be talking to the headstone.

Oh, crap. Spying on someone in a graveyard was so wrong. But I couldn’t quite convince myself to walk away.

I was fairly close, but because my glasses were flotsam in the junk sea of my purse, I had to squint to read the inscription:

Therese Rosemarie Genessa
Beloved Wife and Mother
1975 - 2005

He wasn’t exactly dressed for cold weather. He wore white Nikes, jeans, and a thick, blue sweater. No coat, gloves, or hat. He looked like a normal guy. Nice bod, but not one made by Bowflex. Who knew? Maybe that sweater hid some rock-hard abs.

He took out a spade and starting to dig around the edge of the marble base.

The silence was ungodly. No chirping crickets, stir of little mammals, or twitter of birds. In this odd quiet, the spade rasped unpleasantly as the man thrust it into the soil and piled it nearby.

Rasp. Thud. Rasp. Thud.

Feeling more and more uncomfortable, I studied the rest of the cemetery. Tombstones were tilted, broken, or fallen. The place looked as if it had been ravaged by an earthquake. It looked old, but not uncared-for. I idly wondered what had happened to the place.

About five feet away was a lone pine tree with thickly covered branches. I shot out from my cover and raced to the pine, ducking under its flagging limbs. The needles poked at me, so I scrunched down. I was near enough to see his determined expression. He had brown hair, cut short. A nice, friendly face. Not drop-dead gorgeous, but pleasant.

I crouched next to the tree and watched him dig a narrow trench. Then he stuck the flowers in and arranged them. I don’t know why I stayed. Watching a man do this heart-wrenching work wasn’t exactly polite. I guess I just didn’t want to leave. I felt like someone needed to stand watch with him, even if he was unaware of my presence. Stupid, right?

The wind kicked up, slicing at my face like Ginsu knives. I clamped my lips together to keep my teeth from chattering.

The man finished putting the flowers together, scooped the dirt around ‘em, and patted down the soil with the flat end of the spade.

He stared at the grave and I stared at him. Something about him niggled at me. His face was a shade too pale. I couldn’t fault a guy who wasn’t into baking his skin. No, it was his utter stillness that freaked me out.

“You can come out now.” He stood up, dusted off his jeans, and turned his gaze directly to the pine tree. To me.

How had I given myself away? I knew better than just to stroll out and introduce myself. I’d learned over the years that not everything was as it seemed. He looked nice and sounded nice, but hey, so did serial killers-right until they stuck a knife to your throat.

“You are not afraid. You will come to me,” he said. His tone dropped an octave and went all seductive.

Yeah, right, Mr. Sexy Voice. I clutched the tree while my mind raced. Oh, to hell with it. I ducked out from underneath the unwieldy branches and raced toward the forest.

I heard the growls two seconds before I saw the animals issuing the threats. Two huge, pissed-off wolves raced toward me.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!

“Aaaaaaaaahhhh!” My scream echoed into the dense forest. Heart thumping, stomach roiling, fear prickling, I made a U-turn and ran back the other way. Their growls gave way to fierce barking.

I shot past the pine tree. He was still there! My grave-digging safety man! His puzzled expression switched to alarm. His eyes went wide and he dropped the spade, which was a good thing, because I launched myself at him.

He caught me, staggered backward, and then tried to let me go.

“Pick me up! Pick me up!” I screeched. “Save me already!”

Who’s your favorite vampire and why? Leave a comment and I’ll choose one winner to receive an Advanced Reading Copy (ARC) of WAIT TILL YOUR VAMPIRE GETS HOME.