Beyond Romance: Paranormal Polyamory for Halloween! #HauntedOctober #Vampire #Werewolf #MFRWHooks

It’s Wednesday again, and I’ve got another paranormal-themed Book Hook for you. This one’s from my vampire-werewolf polyamorous romance Fangs, Fur and the Single Girl. Instead of giving away just one copy of this spooky, sexy novel, I’ve decided to drop the price from $4.99 to only 99 cents for the rest of October. So grab yourself a copy while you can!

FFSG is definitely Halloween fare. Not only does it feature a host of paranormal creatures, it comes to a dramatic climax on All Hallow’s Eve. In this scene, Bianca arrives at The Cloisters museum in Manhattan, where the vampire mistress of New York has organized a Halloween Blood Drinkers’ Ball.

Blurb

A tragically attractive vampire, a hunky wolf-man and a skeptical but susceptible career gal. What could possibly go wrong?

Bianca Sorenson understands obsession. Her phenomenally successful Vamp magazine feeds the popular fascination with the undead. The city is full of fanatics who want to believe vampires are real. Bianca knows that’s a fantasy. Then a blond, blue-eyed blood drinker walks into her office looking for a model’s job and turns her universe upside down. Jim Bush hasn’t been a vampire for long, but his terrible history and seductive hunger undermine Bianca’s single-minded ambition and her cherished self-control.

Trying to escape from Jim’s disturbing influence, she collides with a shaggy giant of a man whose mere presence inspires irresistible lust. When Zack Kane reveals that he’s a wolf shifter and claims Bianca as his mate, she finds herself on the horns of a supernatural dilemma. How can she resolve her feelings for her two mutually hostile lovers while defusing a city-wide conflict between the vampire clique and the werewolf pack?

Fans of Twilight: get ready for a wilder ride than you ever imagined!

The Hook

Bianca stepped into the Great Hall and was deluged by sensation. Pulsing red light bathed the Gothic arches two stories above her. Black-clad bodies thronged below. Wild strains of Mussorsky’s “Night on Bald Mountain” echoed through the cavernous space. The octagonal central fountain had been turned into a lavish bar, multi-colored bottles ranged around a gaudy centerpiece of white callas. All around her, people writhed in abandon or drank crimson fluid from champagne flutes. Some, she saw, clutched their partners and drank straight from the source. Cries of pain and of ecstasy rose over the music. The rusty smell of blood mingled with the pungent scent of the lilies.

Bianca’s stomach turned over. She glanced around, noting motionless bodies slumped on some of the chairs that lined the hall. Barely eleven and the ball had already turned into a feeding frenzy.

She wanted to run, to hide, to pretend she had nothing to do with this abomination. But this might be her last opportunity to negotiate with Elena Lazarescu. As she breathed deeply to calm her nausea and pondered her next move, she caught sight of Jerry, Vamp’s photographer, presumably on site to take pictures for the next issue.

Like everyone else, he wore black. His camera hanging around his neck, he carried a glass of translucent red liquid in each hand. Even in the dim, rosy light, Bianca noted that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes had a feverish glitter.

“Bianca! Have a drink, darling.” He pressed one of the glasses on her. When she shook her head, he leaned in to press his lips to her cheek in an alarming and uncharacteristic demonstration of familiarity. “You look delicious,” he said with a lecherous grin. “Absolutely delicious.”

“Jerry! Please! You’re working, aren’t you?”

“No reason not to mix business with pleasure…” He downed one of the drinks in a single gulp, then held out the other. “Sure you don’t want this, babe?”

“Babe? What’s got into you, Jerry?”

With a giggle, he swallowed half the contents of the other goblet. “Dunno, but it’s really potent. Great party, isn’t it?”

Bianca shook her head. “Go take photographs,” she ordered. “That’s the only reason you’re here. And no more booze for you, either!”

“Okay, babe, okay. Whatever.” He staggered off and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Bianca to wonder whether the cocktails contained just alcohol, or something stronger.

Bianca scanned the room. Where was Elena? She’d expected the vampire queen to be presiding over the macabre festivities in her usual imperious style, but there was no sign of the platinum-haired dominatrix.

Someone grasped her elbow from behind. “The Mistress wants to see you.” She turned to face a handsome, clean-cut young man with the blank expression typical of Elena’s minions.

“Ah! Where is she? I was looking for her.”

“The Mistress awaits you in the chapel. I will take you to her.” He led her toward the rear of the hall. As they worked their way through clots of drunken revelers, she happened to notice the bartender. Though she was clad in black, with skin whitened by make-up, the woman had lush, honey-blond hair that Bianca immediately recognized. Uneasiness crawled up her spine; what was Artemisia doing here at the ball?

The minion marched her through a series of corridors, down a set of stairs and through an arched door twice her height. Ribbed vaults soared above marble sepulchers bearing the effigies of ancient knights and noble ladies. Three stained glass windows lined the apse, their jewel-like colors brought to life by artificial lights outside. Elena Lazarescu stood motionless before them, dressed like a nun: a long black tunic cinched at the waist by a rope belt, with a white collar, wimple and veil. The costume hid the glory of her silver-blonde hair while highlighting her pale cheeks, crimson lips and piercing violet eyes.

The vampiress favored Bianca with a brilliant smile. “My dear Bianca! I am delighted to see you. The ball is a triumph, is it not?”

Bianca felt vague stirring between her thighs and a brief sense of disorientation, then clarity and reason returned. She sent a silent message of gratitude to Mirielle.

“Certainly we can’t complain about the attendance,” she replied, choosing her words carefully. “And I must congratulate you on the macabre atmosphere. Very artistic and appropriate.”

Elena’s laugh was liquid and beguiling, like water running over smooth stone. “We need only to show our true selves. The acolytes, as always, are drawn to our power.” She stepped closer.

Bianca found herself frozen in place, despite the amulet under her blouse.

The vampire reached out to stroke her cheek, fingers cold as the gravestone images around them. “Of course, much of the credit for our achievement goes to you and your magazine – your vision and your instincts. You understand, as few mortals do, our unique allure.”