Burned: A House of Night Novel by P.C. & Kristin Cast

What's on the back of the book:
"y'all need to get yourselves together. Here's a newsflash from the only High Priestess you have left at this dang school: Zoey isn't dead. And believe me, I know dead. I've been there, done that and got the fricken tee-shirt."

Zoey Redbird is the youngest High Priestess in House of Night history and is the only person - vamp or fledgling - who can stop the evil Neferet from raising all kinds of immortal trouble. And she might just have a chance if she wasn't so busy being dead.

Well, dead is too strong a word. Stevie Rae knows she can bring her BFF back from her unscheduled va-cay in the Otherworld. But it's going to take a lot more than hoping to bring Zoey back. Stevie Rae might have to give up a few secrets of her own . . .

A piece from the book:
Aphrodite wasn't sure what to say to the vamp, so she just nodded and moved to Zoey. She slid her hand in Darius's and squeezed hard, trying to borrow some of her Warrior's amazing strength. Then she looked down at her friend.
She hadn't imagined it. Zoey's tattoos really were gone! The only Mark left on her was an ordinary-looking crescent-moon outline in sapphire in the middle of her forehead. And she was so damn pale! Zoey looks dead. Aphrodite stopped the thought immediately. Zoey wasn't dead. She was still breathing. Her heart was still beating. Zoey. Was. Not. Dead.
"Does the Goddess reveal anything to you when you look at her, Prophetess?" asked the tall, thin woman who had spoken to her before.
Aphrodite dropped Darius's hand and slowly knelt next to Zoey. She glanced at Stark then, as he was kneeling directly across Z from her, but he didn't move. He hardly blinked. All he did was weep silently and stare at Zoey. Is this what Darius would be like if something happened to me? Aphrodite shook away the morbid thought and refocused on Zoey. Slowly, she reached out and rested her hand on her friend's shoulder.
Her skin was cool to the touch, as if she were already dead. Aphrodite waited for something to happen. But she got not even the slightest twinge of a vision or a feeling or anything.
With a sigh of frustration, Aphrodite shook her head. "No. I can't tell anything. I can't control my visions. They just hit me, whether I want them to or not, and the truth is, it's usually a case of not."
"You aren't using all of the gifts Nyx has given you, Prophetess."
Surprised, Aphrodite looked up from Zoey to see the dark-eyed vampyre had risen, and was gracefully approaching her.

Tempted: A House of Night Novel by P.C. & Kristin Cast

What's on the back of the book:
Dark secrets and unspoken decisions come between Zoey and Stevie Rae, putting their friendship - and the House of Night - at risk. After Zoey Redbird and her gang have banished Kalona and Neferet from Tulsa, you'd think they'd catch a break. But with Zoey and her sexy warrior Stark both recovering from a brush with death, and the fledglings struggling to deal with the fallout from Neferet's reign of terror, a break is just not in the forecast. Zoey is haunted by her confusing yet elemental connection with A-ya, the ancient Cherokee maiden who was the only human able to tempt Kalona's body and soul. How will A-ya's pull on her affect zoey's ability to resist the dangerously seductive immortal? Meanwhile, Stevie Rae, with her super red-vamp powers, always thought she could handle the stuff she's been keeping from her BFF. But the mysterious, threatening force lurking in the tunnels under the Tulsa Depot is spreading. Stevie Rae won't confide where she's been and what she's doing, and Zoey is beginning to wonder just how much she can trust the person she always thought would have her back.
Will their choice destroy them and will darkness consume the House of Night?

A piece from the book:
'I felt drawn to Kalona from the first second I saw him,' I said slowly. I wouldn't lie to Grandma, but that didn't mean telling her the truth would be easy. 'But almost all the fledglings and even the vampyres were drawn to him - actually, it was like they were under some kind of spell he was able to cast.'
Grandma nodded. 'So I already heard from Stevie Rae. But it was different with you? More than just this magical allure he has?'
'Yeah. With me it wasn't so much that I was under his spell.' I swallowed past the dryness in my throat. 'I wasn't tricked into thinking he was Erebus come to earth, and I knew he planned evil with Neferet. I saw his darkness. But I also wanted to be with him - not just because I believed he might still be able to choose to be good, but because I wanted him, even though I knew it was wrong.'

Hunted: A House of Night Novel by P.C. & Kristin Cast

What's on the back of the book:
The door closed with a sickening thud of finality. Shutting my friends out and leaving me alone with my enemy, a fallen angel, and the monstrous bird creature his ancient lust had created. Then I did something I'd only done twice before in my entire life. I fainted.

It's all happening, though Zoey Redbird wishes it wasn't. She has her friends back, which is great. But a dark angel has taken over the House of Night, supported by High Priestess Neferet. Not so great. This leaves Zoey hiding out with the (supposedly friendly) red fledglings in Tulsa's prohibition-era tunnels. The not greatness continues.

Naturally, Zoey also has boy issues to stress her out, with a chance to make up with super-hot-ex Erik. But thoughts of the archer that died, semi-permanently, in her arms keep distracting her. Then he shows up as Neferet's newest minion. Well, hell. Zoey and friends will need a plan to put things right, and soon, if she can just keep her head and her heart intact.

A piece from the book:
I held my breath and heard his footsteps stop. I still didn't look at him. I was afraid if I did that, I would turn around, run back to him, and hurl myself into his arms.
I was almost to the old metal grate when I heard the first croaking caw. The sound stopped me like I'd run into a brick wall. I whirled around. Heath was standing in the freezing rain under the tree just a few feet from his truck. I spared hardly a glance for him. My eyes darted up into the dark branches of the ice-bowed tree.
Within the shadows of the naked boughs a darkness stirred. It reminded me of something, and I blinked, staring at it and trying to remember where I'd seen something like it before. Then the image shifted . . . changed . . . I gasped as it became more visible. Neferet! She was clinging to a thick, ice-slick branch that leaned against the roof of the depot. Her eyes blazed crimson and her hair whipped around her crazily, like she had been caught in a sudden wind.
Neferet smiled at me. Her expression was so purely evil that I felt frozen in place.
Then, as I stared up in horror, her image shifted again, wavered, and where the image of the tainted High Priestess had been, there was now a huge Raven Mocker. The thing perched on the side of the depot roof wasn't human and it wasn't animal. It was a terrible mutated mixture of both.

Untamed: A House of Night Novel by P.C. & Kristin Cast

What's on the back of the book:
'I saw the end of everything.' Aphrodite's voice was as haunted as her face. 'I saw all of it happening because you were dead, Zoey. Your death made it happen.' 'Ah, hell,' I said and then my knees gave way and I had to sit down.

A week ago Zoey had a group of special friends, three boyfriends and a (kinda) clear conscience. Now she has none of the above. Luckily, ice-queen Aphrodite is showing signs of melting and ex-roomie Stevie Rae isn't as dead as she'd thought. Though Stevie Rae's now hanging out in tunnels with freaks - totally gross.

Assuming she can get them to listen, Zoey will need all her friends as events take a frightening turn at the House of Night school for vampyres. Shocking true intentions are about to come to light, loyalties will be tested and an ancient evil is about to rise again.

Some days being special just doesn't seem all that . . .

A piece from the book:
'Neferet has left my path and has chosen chaos instead.' The Goddess's image wavered. 'But remember, what I ahve given I never take away. So do not underestimate Neferet's power. The hatred she is attempting to awaken is a dangerous force.'
'This scares me, Nyx. I - I'm always screwing up,' I stammered. 'Especially lately.'
The Goddess smiled again. 'Your imperfection is part of your power. Look to the earth for strength, and the stories of your grandmother's people for answers.'
'It'd be a lot safer if you just told me what I need to know and what I should do,' I said.
'As with all my children, you must find your own path, and through that discovery, you will decide what each earth child must ultimately decide - whether she chooses chaos or love.'

Chosen: A House of Night Novel by P.C. & Kristin Cast

What's on the back of the book:
I guess it had gone okay with Stevie Rae. I mean, she had agreed to meet me tomorrow. And she hadn't tried to bite me, which was a plus. Of course, the whole trying-to-eat-the-street-person thing was highly disturbing . . .

Zoey's best friend, Stevie Rae, is undead - in an eww! zombie! kind of way, not in a cool vampyre kind of way. She's struggling to retain her humanity and Zoey doesn't have a clue how to help. But she does know that anything they discover must be kept secret.

Unfortunately, trust has become a rare commodity. Sinister forces are at work at the House of Night, where the line between friend and enemy is becoming dangerously blurred.

A piece from the book:
'I thought adult vampyres weren't supposed to have relationships with fledglings.' We were so close that I didn't have to speak much above a whisper for him to hear me.
'We're not supposed to. It's highly improper. But sometimes there's an attraction that happens between people that transcends the vampyre-fledgling boundary, as well as age and propriety. Do you believe in that kind of attraction, Zoey?'
He was talking about us! We were staring into each other's eyes, and I felt lost in him. His tattoos were a bold pattern of intricate slashing lines that gave the impression of lightning bolts, and they went perfectly with his dark hair and eyes. He was so insanely handsome and so much older that he made me feel at the same time incredibly attracted to him and scared to death that I was playing with something so far beyond what I'd ever experienced that it could easily spiral out of control. But the attraction was there - and if he was right, it definitely transcended the vampyre-fledgling boundary. So much so that Erik had even noticed how Loren looked at me.
Erik . . . Guilt washed through me. He would just die if he could see what was going on between Loren and me. A mean little thought snaked through my mind, Erik isn't here to see me, and I drew in a deep, shaky breath and heard myself say, 'Yes. I believe in that kind of attraction. Do you?'

Betrayed: A House of Night Novel by P.C. & Kristin Cast

What's on the back of the book:
All any of us could talk about was Chris's disappearance and how bizarre it was that he had last been seen so close to the House of Night. I didn't want to believe it. But everything inside me said that the kid would be found, but he'd be found dead . . .

Things seem to be going pretty well for Zoey Redbird. She's settled in at the House of Night finishing school and is coming to terms with her incredible new powers. It all seems too good to be true. And guess what?

Someone has begun murdering human teenagers, and all evidence points to the vampyres at Zoey's school. Which means her first assignment as the leader of the Dark Daughters is finding out which one of her classmates or - gulp - teachers is a killer.

Sigh. And she thought her boyfriends (yes: plural) were going to be her biggest problem this year . . .

A piece from the book:
She took her hands from her face then and looked up at me, but I already knew who it was. I'd recognized her voice. And I also recognized what was happening to her. I forced myself to approach her calmly. She stared up at me. Her face was covered with tears.
'Come on, Aphrodite. You're having a vision. I need to get you to Neferet.'
'No!' she gasped. 'No! Don't take me to her. She won't listen to me. She - she doesn't believe me anymore.'
I remembered what Neferet had said earlier about Nyx withdrawing her gifts from Aphrodite. Why should I even mess with her at all? Who knew what was going on with Aphrodite? She was probably making some pathetic play for attention, and I didn't have time for this crap.
'Fine. Let's say I don't believe you either,' I told her. 'Stay here and have your vision or whatever. I have other things to worry about.' I turned to head into the stable, and her hand snaked out, grabbing my wrist.
'You have to stay!' she said through chattering teeth. Obviously, she was having difficulty talking. 'You have to hear the vision!'
'No, I do not.' I pried her vicelike fingers from my wrist. 'Whatever's going on, it's about you - not me. You deal with it.' This time when I turned I walked away more quickly.
But not quick enough. Her next words felt like she'd sliced them through me.
'You have to listen to me. If you don't your grandma will die.'

Marked: A House of Night Novel by P.C. & Kristin Cast

What's on the back of the book:
Enter the dark, magical of The House of Night, a world very much like our own, except here Vampyres have always existed. Sixteen-year-old Zoey Redbird has just been Marked as a fledgling vampyre and joins the House of Night, a school where she will train to become an adult vampire. That is, if she makes it through the Change - and not all of those Marked do. It sucks to begin a new life, especially away from her friends, and on top of that, Zoey is no average fledgling. She has been chosen as special by the vampyre Goddess Nyx. Zoey discovers she has amazing powers, but along with her powers came bloodlust and an unfortunate ability to Imprint her human ex-boyfriend. To add to her stress, she is not the only fledgling at the House of Night with special powers: When she discovers that the leader of the Dark Daughters, the school's most elite group, is misusing her Goddess-given gifts, Zoey must look deep within herself for the courage to embrace her destiny - with a little help from her new vampyre friends.

A piece from the book:
Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse I saw the dead guy standing next to my locker. Kayla was talking nonstop in her usual K-babble, and she didn't even notice him. At first. Actually, now that I think about it, no one else noticed him until he spoke, which is, tragically, more evidence of my freakish inability to fit in.

Wicked: Witch & Curse by Nancy Holder & Debbie Viguie

What's on the back of the book:
Holly Cathers' world shatters when her parents are killed in a terrible accident. Wrenched from her home in San Francisco, she is sent to Seattle to live with her relatives, Aunt Marie-Claire and her twin cousins, Amanda and Nicole.

But as Holly struggles to settle into her new home, her sorrow and grief soon gives way to bewilderment at the strange incidents going on around her. Such as how any wish Holly whispers to her cat seems to come true. Or the way a friend is injured after a freak attack by a vicious falcon. And then there's her undeniable, magnetic attraction to a boy she barely knows . . .

Holly and her cousins, Amanda and Nicole, are about to be drawn into a family feud spanning generations. And as they uncover a dark legacy of witches, secrets, and alliances, where ancient magic yields dangerous results, the girls learn of a shared destiny that is beyond their wildest imaginations . . .

A piece from the book:
"Oh, my God, oh, my God," Marie-Claire screamed as she came to.
She had fallen asleep on her way from the motel, and now her car was out of control. As her headlights bounced off the trees and the road and the stars, careening around her in a dervish, she grabbed at the wheel and slammed her foot on the brake.
The squeal of her tires was earsplitting; the car spun into a 360. I'm going to die, she thought as she rode it out. Part of her mind was completely rational. I'll look hideous. Closed coffin . . .
From somewhere in the dim recesses of her memory, she remembered her driver's ed class. Take your foot off the brake, she ordered herself. But she was paralyzed with fear; she could do nothing but stare straight ahead as the car wheeled around like an overwound music box.
Then something, an unseen force, seemed to grab hold of her foot. Something compelled her to turn off the engine.
It's my guardian angel, she thought.
The car spun again, then lurched to a stop.
"God," she whispered, exhaling. She let go of the wheel with shaking hands and wiped her eyes. Tears clouded her vision, and as she tried to remember how to breathe, she clamped her right hand over her mouth to keep herself from becoming violently ill.
With her other hand she punched open the electric window. The whirring was covered by the sound of footfalls racing towards her. A shadowed figure was waving at her with both hands above its head.
It was Michael's son, Jer.
What's he doing out here in the middle of the night? she thought. Shame flooded through her; she didn't want to speak to him, as if somehow he would be able to tell by looking at her that she had been with his father at a tawdry motel a few miles from the Deveraux house.
Before he could reach the car, she turned the key in the ignition, put the car in reverse, and skidded backward. Then she slammed it into drive, made a sharp left, and drove away as fast as she could, as if he might be able to catch up with her.
I don't think he saw me, she said, glancing fretfully into the rearview mirror. I'm safe.

Fish Out of Water by MaryJanice Davidson

What's on the back of the book:
Mermaid fredericka Bimm has finally made her choice between Artur, Prince of the Black Sea, and marine biologist Thomas - or has she? She's agreed to visit Artur in his underwater home and she's determined to make their relationship work. Why then is she so unhappy? Is it truly Artur who is the right person for her, or could she have made a mistake in her choice of man?

However, Fred doesn't have time to dwell on this - the existence of the Undersea Folk is no longer a secret and someone needs to keep them from floundering in the media spotlight. Fred must do everything she can to help but, as civil war threatens to sink the merfolk, she finds her whole world - and love life - is turned completely upside down . . .

A piece from the book:
The story so far . . .
Fredericka Bimm is a hybrid - her father was a merman who got her hippie mother pregnant one night on the beach and then disappeared forever. Part of both worlds and feeling out of place pretty much everywhere, Fred's dearest wish is to keep herself to herself and stay under everyone's radar.
Circumstances, however, make that impossible. In the last year and a half, she has helped prince Artur of the Undersea Folk (what the mer-people call themselves) figure out who was dumping toxins into Boston Harbor, fallen for a fellow marine biologist (Dr. Thomas Pearson, who writes romance novels on the side), fought pirates (yes, pirates), attended a Pelagic (don't ask), met the king of the Undersea Folk (who is obsessed with the HBO series Deadwood), walked in on her mother and stepfather having sex, walked in on her boss (Dr. Barb) and her best friend (Jonas) doing their impersonation of the Thing That Can't Stop Kissing, visited the Cayman Islands, and watched as several of her father's people showed themselves (tails and all) to the world.
Also, she's taken a leave of absence from her job at the New England Aquarium. So, she's been busy.
Now, six months after the first of the Undersea Folk were seen on CNN, the world is transfixed by the idea that mermaids are real . . . have always been real . . . and there could be one living right next door.
Also, she has to house hunt in Florida. During tourist season.
Oh, the humanity.

Swimming Without a Net by MaryJanice Davidson

What's on the back of the book:

Half human and half reluctant mermaid, Fredericka Bimm finds herself investigating her watery roots in the latest instalment of her highly original and very funny romantic adventures.



After spending her entire life without seeing another mermaid or merman, there are suddenly undersea folk all over the place when Fred visits the Black Sea. But Fred is still torn between her reluctant attraction to Artur, arrogant high price of the mer-people, and wealthy human Thomas. Will the trip finally help her make up her mind, and separate the men from the . . . erm fish?



A piece from the book:

Fredericka Bimm trudged down Comm Ave. (known to tourists and other mysterious creatures as Commonwealth Avenue, Boston, Massachusetts) and tried not to think about the Prince of the Black Sea, or famed romance novelist Priscilla D'Jacqueline.

She had, in fact, spent the better part of the last twelve months determinedly not thinking about them.

And why should she? She had a fulfilling job. Okay, an irritating job. She had her own home, which she never had to herself anymore. She had a best friend who was infatuated with a new girlfriend and never had time for her anymore.

A pity party already. And not even two o'clock! A new record!

It was a typically lovely autumn afternoon - yawn - and her Wordsworth book bag bulged with D'Jacqueline's last two novels, Passion's Searing Flames and The Rake and the Raconteur. This did not count as thinking about Thomas Pearson, a fellow marine biologist who made big bucks writing under the D 'Jacqueline pen name. This was supporting a colleague. That was all.
A colleague with brown hair and lush red highlights, broad shoulders, long legs, and dimples. A colleague who carried a switchblade among other various illegal weapons. A colleague who told her he loved her and then left for eleven months and fourteen days.
'Stop it!' she yowled aloud, ignoring the startled looks of passersby. 'He had his fellowship to finish and he only knew you a week so just cut it out! What are you looking at?' she added fiercely, and the kindergarten-age child scuttled behind her mother's legs.
No, Thomas was gone and that was all. So was Artur, for that matter, the other man she determinedly did not think about. A full-blooded member of the Undersea Folk - a merman, in other words. Not a half-and-half hybrid like herself.
More than that: a prince, the eldest son of the High King of the Black Sea. A prince with hair the color of rubies and eyes the color of cherry cough drops; a prince with big hands he couldn't keep to himself. And a red beard that tickled whenever he did things she would not think about.

Sleeping With The Fishes by MaryJanice Davidson

What's on the back of the book:
Fredericka Bimm - Fred - is a mermaid. But she is not the stuff of legends. A marine biologist, she knows what's in the water so chooses not to expose herself to those toxins. She's allergic to shellfish. The sea creatures she can communicate with won't do her bidding. And she doesn't have long blonde hair or a perfect body. And she's definitely not perky!

Fred's life is mostly spent trying to conceal her origins - and lately she's been trying to figure out just why there are weird levels of pollutants in the local seawater. Then two strangers come into her life. Her new colleague is a sexy - if over-curious - hunk with a mermaid fixation. The other claims he is Artur, the high prince of the black seas - and Fred's rightful ruler!

A piece from the book:
The unbelievable horror began when Fred walked in on her parents making love on the living room coffee table. Like all children (even when grown), her first muddled impression was that her father was hurting her mother. Or perhaps fixing her back. Her second impression was that the coffee-table books (Alaska: The Last Frontier; Cape Cod: An Explorer's Guide; The Black Sea: A History) must sting like hell on her mother's knees. Her third impression sounded something like this:
"Aaaaeeeiiiiieeee!"
Her mother slipped and National Geographic's Seals of the Antartic flew like a tiddly wink from the coffee table and hit the floor with a thud. Her father flinched but, unfortunately, did not fall off (or out off) her mother.
Fred darted across the room and, before she realized what she was doing, hauled her father off and tossed him over the back of the couch. She then yanked the puke-orange throw from said couch and threw it over her mother.
"Ow," her father groaned from out of sight.
Her mother wriggled under the throw, sat up, and faced her daughter, her normally pale face flushed with wrath. Or something else Fred did not want to think about. "Fredericka Bimm, what do you think you're doing?"
"Freaking out. Losing my mind. Thinking about snapping your husband's spine. Squashing the urge to vomit. Wishing I'd died at childbirth."
"Oh, you say that when you don't get a prize in your Lucky Charms," her mother snapped. "What's your problem, miss? You don't knock anymore?" Her mother, a good-looking blonde with silver streaks and shoulder-length hair (and a disturbingly sweaty face), climbed off the coffee table with remarkable dignity, fastened the blanket to cover her chubby thighs, and went around the couch to help her husband. "You just barge in?"
"I have a key, I didn't barge," Fred pointed out, still revolted but regretting the violence. "And you told me to come over."
"Yesterday. I told you to come over yesterday."
"I was working," Fred tried not to whine, or stare. "I couldn't just ditch all the fish. Although they deserve it, the little bastards. Anyway, I couldn't come."
"Well," her mother retorted, "neither could I."
Fred again tried not to vomit, and succeeded for the moment. She peered over the couch, where her father was groaning and clutching the small of his back. His bald spot was flushed almost purple. His ponytail had come undone. "Sorry, Dad."
"Sorry, hell," he gasped. "I swear, I'll never touch her again."

The Splendour Falls by Rosemary Clement-Moore

What's on the back of the book:
Sylvie is broken.
Her father's death broke her heart.
Her mother's remarriage broke her spirit.
And a broken leg ended her career as a ballerina. She's lost so much . . . is she losing her mind as well?

Shawn is the resident golden boy, the one everyone thinks Sylvie should be with, the obvious choice.

Rhys is handsome and mysterious and has a hold on Sylvie that she doesn't quite understand.

The Splendour Falls

A heroine who will steal your heart.
A house that will haunt you.
A love story that will leave you breathless.

A piece from the book:
For months, I relived the pas de deux in my dreams, in that multisensory Technicolor of a memory I'd much rather forget. Nothing ever changed: the backstage perfume of sweat and hair spray. The heat and glare of the lights. The delicious coil and spring of my muscles as I moved through the choreography as if it were a spontaneous outburst of the joy I felt when I danced. The glorious triumph over gravity as Pasha lifted me over his head, and I was untethered, not just from the stage, but from the earth.
If I could have forced myself to wake up then, it would have been better. Like dying happy. But the dance played out in measured beats, as unchanging as a reel of film.
Pasha set me down, soft as moonlight; the orchestra covered the hollow tap of my pointe shoe on the stage. I balanced on one leg, the other stretched up behind me, prolonging the illusion of flight.
I could never say what went wrong in the next eight bars. The stage was clean, my pointe was solid. It wasn't even a particularly difficult combination. Come down to fourth position, port de bras and changement to second position and a quick series of chaine turns.
Right foot, left foot, right . . . then a strange crunching sound that seemed to come from inside my head. Without knowing how I got there, I was facedown on the stage, and the murmurs of the audience were escalating with worry. In my dream - my memory - I tried to get up, but Pasha held me down, lapsing into panicked Russian. I didn't have to understand the language to know that something had gone very wrong.
It's funny how so much can hinge on one missed step.
Not funny ha-ha. Funny that the moment that should have been the pinnacle of my seventeen years on this planet ends up making me famous for the entirely wrong reason.
So I really don't mean funny so much as 'tragically ironic'.
Dancers get injured doing the flashy things, jetes and echappes. I mean, who the hell breaks their leg on a turn they teach in the tiny-tots class?
Me, I guess. The month before, I'd gotten a full-page write-up in Ballet Magazine. The month after, I was a tragic item in a sidebar to an article on insuring your legs, Betty Grable style, against career-ending injuries.
Sylvie Davis, the youngest-ever principal dancer for American Ballet, suffered a compound tibia and fibula fracture in front of hundreds of horrified audience members during her stunning debut at Lincoln Center.
At least I knew how to make an exit.

Beautiful Dead Book 1: Jonas by Eden Maguire

What's on the back of the book:
Not alive. Not dead.
Somewhere in between lie the Beautiful Dead.

Something strange is happening in Ellerton High. Jonas, Arizona, Summer, Phoenix. All dead within a year.

Jonas Jonson is the first to die, in a motorcycle accident. But there are many unanswered questions, and the three deaths that follow are equally mysterious.

Grief-stricken Darina can't escape her heartache or visions of her dead boyfriend, Phoenix, and the others who died. And all the while, the sound of beating wings echoes inside her head ...

Are the visions real? Or do the Beautiful Dead only exist in Darina's traumatized imagination?

A piece from the book:
The first thing I heard was a door banging in the wind. It spooked me because I didn't even know there was a house here amongst the trees, this far out of town.
Slow down, heart, I thought. Darina girl, get a grip! But back then a falling leaf would have spooked me. It was two days after Phoenix had died.
So the door banged and my heart thumped, and I was looking for something on that hill, I don't know what. I walked to the top and looked over the ridge and there it was - an old log-built, falling-down house with a porch, a big old barn and one of those round water tanks on stilts, all rusty and decrepit. So was the truck parked at the front of the deserted house, with its fenders falling off and the roof stove in, and yellow grass growing knee-high around the porch.
It was the door of the barn that banged shut. Open-shut, open-shut, whenever the wind grabbed hold.
I guess most people would have walked away.
Not me. As I said before, I was lost and looking for answers to big questions about love, loss and the meaning of life. Darina on a mission, you might say. Like, how come four of my classmates at Ellerton High had died in the space of a year? Jonas, Arizona, Summer and now Phoenix. I mean, how weird and tragic was that? It scared the hell out of everyone, I can tell you.
And the last one - Phoenix - broke my teenage heart. I was in love with the guy, mostly from a distance. Then for two blissful months we were dating. My flower tribute to him, placed on the spot where he got stabbed, was pathetic. It read 'I'll miss you for ever, with all my love, Darina' and didn't even scratch the surface of the way I felt.
So I was going to stop that barn door banging then take a look around the ghost house. I wanted to get inside, see how the people lived - what plates they had put on their table, what chairs they had sat on.
But first the barn. The door was huge and held together by a hundred rusty nails. The inside was dark. I could see old horse halters hanging from hooks, a pair of dusty leather chaps, some cobwebby rakes and brushes.
And a whole bunch of people standing in a circle, chanting a rhyme at a guy standing in the centre. I didn't believe my eyes when I first saw him, but that guy was Phoenix, stripped to the waist as true as I stood there.
Phoenix who had died from a knife wound between his shoulder blades. The knife went through a major artery and he bled to death.

Beautiful Creatures trailer

The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance Edited by Trisha Telep

What's on the back of the book:
Love is a weapon in the face of evil

From the biggest names in paranormal romance, here are over 25 tales of a hunger like no other . . .

Let Karen Chance, Keri Arthur, Lilith Saintcrow, C.T. Adams and Cathy Clamp, Amanda Ashley, Vicki Pettersson and Susan Sizemore and others take you hot-blooded on the trail of the sexiest creatures of the night.

In the world of the Undead there are strange codes of conduct, dark rituals and dating games, as they seduce the locals and engage in the most sensual encounters you'll sink your teeth into this side of the grave.

These ain't your Mother's vampires!

A piece from one of the stories inside the book called What's at Stake? by Alexis Morgan:
When the world righted itself, Rafferty lifted his head, gently withdrawing his fangs from his lover's neck. He carefully licked the wounds closed, not wanting to leave a scar this time. The last time she'd allowed him to feed, he'd given in to the primitive urge to leave his mark on her. The small scars he'd left made sure she'd never forget that moment when he'd taught her what it meant to give herself over to a vampire lover.
She stirred restlessly beneath him. He moved to the side, knowing she'd need her rest if they were going to bring Petra to bay. He'd only taken a little of Josalyn's blood, enough to whet his appetite for more. But he couldn't risk weakening her, not with his murderous ex out there plotting their downfall.
"Rafferty? You're frowning pretty hard for a man who just indulged in life-altering sex." Josalyn's smile was tired, but extremely satisfied.
He couldn't help but grin, delighted with his lover's opinion of him. "Sorry. I was just trying to decide if I could survive a second helping."
"Give me a few minutes to catch my breath and we can find out. If we don't live through it, at least we'll die happy."
When she yawned loudly, he chuckled and tucked her in close as she tumbled over the edge into slumber. While she rested, he'd savour these moments of holding her in his arms.

Circus of the Damned by Laurell K. Hamilton

What's on the back of the book:
'Most women complain that there are no single straight men left. I'd just like to meet one that's human.'

I'm Anita Blake, expert on creatures of the night. I've dined with shapeshifters, danced with werewolves, and been wooed - but not won - by Jean-Claude, the Vampire Master of the City.

And now a darkly dangerous vampire named Alejandro has hit town. He wants me for his human servant. A war of the undead has begun. Over me. . .

A piece from the book:
The man's body lay on its back, pale and naked in the weak morning sunlight. Even limp with death his body was good, a lot of weights, maybe jogging. His longish yellow hair mixed with the still-green lawn. The smooth skin of his neck was punctured twice with neat fang marks. The right arm was pierced at the bend of the elbow, where a doctor draws blood. The skin of the left wrist was shredded, like an animal had gnawed it. White bone gleamed in the fragile light.
I had measured the bite marks with my trusty tape measure. They were different sizes. At least three different vamps, but I would have bet everything I owned that it was five different vampires. A master and his pack, or flock, or whatever the hell you call a group of vampires.
The grass was wet from early morning mist. The moisture soaked through the knees of the coveralls I had put on to protect my suit. Black Nikes and surgical gloves completed my crimes-scene kit. I used to wear white Nikes, but they showed blood too easily.
I said a silent apology for what I had to do, then spread the corpse's legs apart. The legs moved easily, no rigor. I was betting that he hadn't been dead eight hours, not enough time for rigor mortis to set in. Semen had dried on his shriveled privates. One last joy before dying. The vamps hadn't cleaned him off. On the inside of his thigh, close to the groin, were more fang marks. They weren't as savage as the wrist wound, but they weren't neat either.

Witch's Canyon (A Supernatural Novel) by Jeff Mariotte

What's on the back of the book:
Sam and Dean have set out on a road trip to the Grand Canyon, but this is no vacation for the brothers. On a stretch of deserted ranchland just beyond the canyon's stunning vistas, mysterious murder sprees have occurred every forty years. The areas inhabitants have been few and far between in years past, but a nearby mega-mall is about to celebrate its grand opening - and attract thousands of fresh victims.

The Winchester boys are determined to protect locals and shoppers alike, but they never anticipated they'd be fighting a group of killers this vicious, this vindictive, this . . . dead. A deadly horde of animal spirits and human ghosts has arisen to terrorize this tiny corner of the Arizona desert. If Sam and Dean can't figure out why, the wide-open spaces of the West will once again become a desolate frontier . . . and the witch's canyon will be the brothers' final resting place.

A piece from the book:
The wail of a siren jerked Dean out of a deep sleep. Cedar Wells had been so quiet, they might have been camping a hundred miles away from the nearest other humans, instead of sleeping in a motel at the edge of town. In contrast, the blaring siren was almost deafening.
"That's not good," Sam said. He slipped out of his bed and started dressing.
"A siren is pretty much always bad news for someone," Dean agreed.
By the time they made it to the Impala - a gist from Dad, 1967, midnight black, newly rebuilt - the siren had faded into the distance. But they knew its direction of travel, through town and toward the Grand Canyon. Another couple of minutes later they could see flashing roof lights flickering through the trees up ahead.
Dean and Sam got out of the Impala and hurried to a driveway that led to a big white barn. A pickup truck was parked in the driveway, and beside it was the body of what must have been a man, probably not to long ago. The truck's driver side door hung open. Blood had spattered up the side of the truck and onto the driver's seat, and the man's arm was hooked up over the step, but his throat was gone, along with the bottom half of his face, and something had opened his chest cavity. It looked like whatever had done that had been hunting for tender morsels, but Dean didn't spend a lot of time counting organs. He glanced long enough to estimate the damage, then looked away, sickened by the sight.
You could see a lot of carnage without ever growing to like it.

Nevermore (A Supernatural Novel) by Keith R.A. DeCandido

What's on the back of the book:
Twenty-two years ago, Sam and Dean Winchester lost their mother to a mysterious and demonic supernatural force. In the years after, their father, John, taught them about the paranormal evil that lives in the dark corners and on the back roads of America. . .and he taught them how to kill it.

Sam and Dean have hit New York City to check out a local rocker's haunted house. But before they can figure out why a lovesick banshee in an '80s heavy-metal T-shirt is wailing in the bedroom, a far more macabre crime catches their attention. Not far from the house, two university students were beaten to death by a strange assailant. A murder that's bizarre even by New York City standards, it's the latest in a line of killings that the brothers soon suspect are based on the creepy stories of legendary writer Edgar Allan Poe.

Their investigation leads them to the center of one of Poe's horror classics, face-to-face with their most terrifying foe yet. And if Sam and Dean don't rewrite the ending of this chilling tale, a grisly serial killer will end their lives forevermore.

A piece from the book:
Dean could clearly hear wood snapping. Given that the apartment was completely empty except for some shiny new hardwood on the floor, Dean figured it to be the flooring. Wasn't one of Poe's stories about hiding a corpse in the floorboards?
Mackey ran in, and promptly tripped and fell on his face.
Glancing down, Dean saw that someone had taken the precaution of laying a tripwire a few feet into the front room.
Sam jumped over the tripwire and into the next room, where the sound was coming from.
Or, Rather, he tried to. Mackey chose the moment when Sam was jumping over him to try to get up, and his shoulder collided with Sam's long legs. The two of them went down in a tangle of denim and polyester.
Dean stepped over them both, pistol ready. "Hold it!" he yelled, but he only saw two legs going out the window onto the fire escape. The stench of decaying meat made Dean's nostril hairs stand at attention.
Dean went straight for the window, pausing to turn around for only a second. "Stay with that jackass!" he said to Sam, pointing at Mackey. Dean also caught sight of several pieces of ripped-up hardwood and bits of wormwood.
He turned and climbed through the window.
How the hell did we miss this?

Strange Angels Book Trailer

The Laughing Corpse by Laurell K. Hamilton

What's on the back of the book:
The older the Zombie, the bigger the death needed to raise it.

After a few centuries, the only death 'big enough' is a human sacrifice. I know because I'm an animator. My name is Anita Blake.

Working for Animators, Inc. is just a job - like selling insurance. But all the money in the world wasn't enough for me to take on the particular job Harold Gaynor was offering.

Somebody else did, though - a rough animator. Now he's not just raising the dead . . . he's raising Hell. And it's up to me to stop it.

A piece from the book:
The phone rang. I moved nothing but my eyes to glance at the bedside clock: 6:45a.m. Shit. I lay there waiting, half drifted to sleep again when the answering machine picked up.
'It's Dolph. We found another one. Call my pager . . .'
I scrambled for the phone, dropping the receiver in the process. 'H'lo, Dolph. I'm here.'
'Late night?'
'Yeah, what's up?'
'Our friend has decided that single family homes are easy pickings.' His voice sounded rough with lack of sleep.
'God, not another family.'
''fraid so. Can you come out?'
It was a stupid question, but I didn't point that out. My stomach had dropped into my knees. I didn't want a repeat of the Reynolds house. I didn't think my imagination could stand it.
'Give me the address. I'll be there.'
He gave me the address.
'St Peters,' I said. 'It's close to St Charles, but still . . .'
'Still what?'
'It's a long way to walk for a single family home. There are lots of houses that fit the bill in St Charles. Why did it travel so far to feed?'
'You're asking me?' he said. There was something almost like laughter in his voice. 'Come on out, Ms Voodoo Expert. See what there is to see.'
'Dolph, is it as bad as the Reynolds house?'
'Bad, worse, worst of all,' he said. The laughter was still there, but it held an edge of something hard and self-deprecating.
'This isn't your fault,' I said.
'Tell that to the top brass. They're screaming for someone's ass.'
'Did you get an warrant?'
'It'll come in this afternoon late.'
'No one gets warrants on a weekend,' I said.
'Special panic-mode dispensation,' Dolph said. 'Get your ass out here, Anita. Everyone needs to go home.' He hung up.
I didn't bother saying bye.

Tantalize by Cynthia Leitich Smith

What's on the back of the book:
Trouble brews when Quincie Morris and her uncle decide to remodel the family restaurant with a vampire theme. One month before the grand reopening the chef is mauled to death in the kitchen and the murder suspect is . . . a werewolf!

Quincie has to transform Henry, the new chef, into Sanguini's vampire extraordinaire - and fast. But strange things are happening to her boyfriend, Kieren, and a deadly love triangle forms.

A piece from the book:
Lousy idea, us sitting like that on the railroad tracks. If we had had to jump, it would have been a heart-stopping drop to the lake below. But Kieren had said he could hear a train coming from far away, in more than enough time for us to scramble from the middle of the bridge to safety. And I trusted him. Liked him watching out for me, too.
To the west, the fading horizontal clouds had turned a bloody tangerine color, fuzzy and tinged with violet, like the inside of a conch shell. So, I imagined picking one up, a curved shell, and shaking it to see if the animal within had died.
Then Kieren's fingernails began tracing the pattern on my upturned palm, and it was hard to think about anything. I knew it bothered him, though, my laugh line, my love line, my lifeline. Slight and severed, all of them.
This was four years ago, so we were in middle school, past due for handholding. I'd been staying with Kieren's family, helping with the baby, while my folks were in Guatemala doing whatever professors with archaeology Ph.D.s did there. Daddy anyway. Mama had just gone along for the ride. They'd be back the day after tomorrow, I realized. And tomorrow could be gone in a heartbeat or two.
"It's not just a sunset," I said, going for poetic. "It's a moonrise, too."
Kieren's nostrils flared at that, which I found exceedingly manly. Besides, I'd always loved this time of day, late evening when the world went smoky and soft. Dusk. Twilight. Such pretty names. We owed something to the night, didn't we?
I tried preesing my newly rounded right boob against his forearm. Even though it was well covered in a sweat-stained T-shirt, even though the temperature had to be over ninety degrees. I had it on good authority that most boys my age were due to go boob crazy at any time. But my hand was all he was interested in.
As the sun melted into the horizon, I stared into the rippling water and decided to take the lead. If Kieren backed off, I'd make like I was joking.
It seemed to take forever, turning my palm until our fingers aligned, rested against one another, ready to intertwine. His face was flushed, moist from the heat, and his expression didn't tell me anything.
Taking a shallow breath, I went for it. There. My fingertips touched the back of his hand. His fingertips touched the back of mine. And he was letting it happen. I was about to say something - I didn't know what - when distant but sure I heard the train.
"Kieren?" I whispered.
I'd distracted him.
A cause for celebration if it hadn't been for the penalty.
His head snapped in the direction of the oncoming threat, the one that would reach me first, and his eyes in the evening light looked flat and yellow. I didn't feel the pain when I first heard the wet crunching, didn't feel it for long even, wicked hot, turning my sweat cold. There was an instant, just one, when I looked down at my hand and felt the blood dripping and realized his nails . . . claws . . . had extended, piercing clear through, five crescent-shaped punctures, catching raw muscle and splintering bone.
"Oh," I said, like that explained everything, and suddenly, the train didn't matter so much anymore. Then the world swirled, faded, took me floating into the darkness.

A Hunger Like No Other by Kresley Cole

What's on the back of the book:
After enduring years of torture from the vampire horde, Lachlain MacRieve, leader of the Lykae Clan, is enraged to find the predestined mate he's waited millennia for is a vampire. Or partly one. This Emmaline is a small, ethereal half Valkyrie/half vampire, who somehow begins to soothe the fury burning within him.

Sheltered Emmaline Troy finally sets out to uncover the truth about her deceased parents - until a powerful Lykae claims her as his mate and forces her back to his ancestral Scottish castle. There, her fear of the Lykae - and their notorious dark desires - ebbs as he begins a slow, wicked seduction to sate her own dark cravings.

Yet when an ancient evil from her past resurfaces, will their desire deepen into a love that can bring a proud warrior to his knees and turn a gentle beauty into the fighter she was born to be?

A piece from the book:
Sometimes the fire that licks the skin from his bones dies down.
It is his fire. In a recess of his mind still capable of rational thought, he believes this. His fire because he's fed it for centuries with his destroyed body and decaying mind.
Long ago - and who knows how much time has toiled past - the Vampire Horde trapped him in these catacombs deep beneath Paris. He stands chained against a rock, pinned at two places on each limb and once around his neck. Before him - an opening into hell that spews fire.
Here he waits and suffers, offered to a column of fire that may weaken but is never-ending - never-ending, just like his life. His existence is to burn to death repeatedly, only to have his dogged immortality revive him again.
Detailed fantasies of retribution have gotten him this far; nursing the rage in his heart is all he has.
Until her.
Over the centuries, he has sometimes heard uncanny new things in the streets above, occasionally smelled Paris changing seasons. But now he has scented her, his mate, the one woman made for him alone.
The one woman he'd searched for without cease for a thousand years - up until the day of his capture.
The flames have ebbed. At this moment, she lingers somewhere above. It is enough. One arm strains against its bonds until the thick metal cuts into his skin. Blood drips, then pours. Every muscle in his weakened body works in concert, striving to do what he's never been able to for an eternity before. For her, he can do this. He must. . . . His yell turns to a choking cough as he rips two bonds free.
He doesn't have time to disbelieve what he's accomplished. She is so close, he can almost feel her. Need her. Another arm wrenches free.
With both hands he clenches the metal biting into his neck, vaguely remembering the day the thick, long pin was hammered into place. He knows its two ends are embedded at least three feet down. His strength is waning, but nothing will stop him when she'd so close. In a rush of rock and dust, the metal comes loose, the recoil making him fling it across the cavernous space.
He yanks at the bond wrapped tight around his thigh. He wrests it and the one at his ankle free, then begins on the last two holding his other leg. Already envisioning his escape, not even glancing down, he pulls. Nothing. Brows drawn in confusion, he tries again. Straining, groaning with desperation. Nothing.
Her scent is fading - there is no time. He pitilessly regards his trapped leg. Imagining how he can bury himself in her and forget the pain, he reaches above his knee with shaking hands. Yearning for that oblivion within her, he attempts to crack the bone. His weakness ensures that this takes half a dozen tries.
His claws slice his skin and muscle, but the nerve running the length of his femur is taut as a piano wire. When he even nears it, unimaginable pain stabs up its length and explodes in his upper body, making his vision go black.
Too weak. Bleeding too freely. The fire will build again soon. The vampires return periodically. Will he lose her just when he's found her?
"Never," he grates. He surrenders himself to the beast inside him, the beast that will take its freedom with its teeth, drink water from the gutters, and scavenge refuse to survive. He sees the frenzied amputation as though watching a misery from a distance.
Crawling from his torture, abandoning his leg, he pulls himself through the shadows of the dank catacombs until he spies a passageway. Ever watchful for his enemies, he creeps through the bones littering the floor to reach it. He has no idea how far it is to escape, but he finds his way - and the strength - by following her scent. He regrets the pain he will give her. She will be so connected to him, she'll feel his suffering and horror as her own.
It can't be helped. He is escaping. Doing his part. Can she save him from his memories when his skin still burns?
He finally inches his way to the surface, then into a darkened alley. But her scent has faltered.
Fate has given her to him when he needs her most, and God help him - and his city - if he can't find her. His brutality had been legendary, and he will unleash it without measure for her.
He fights to sit up against a wall. Clawing tracks into the brick street, he struggles to calm his ragged breaths so he can scent her once more.
Need her. Bury myself in her. Waited so long. . . .
Her scent is gone.
His eyes go wet and he shudders violently at the loss. An anguished roar makes the city tremble.

I'm the Vampire, That's Why by Michele Bardsley

What's on the back of the book:
Does drinking blood make me a bad mother?
Broken Heart is the city with the highest rate of divorce and highest percentage of single parents in Oklahoma. A I, Jessica Matthews, have been a member of that club ever since my husband dumped me for his twentysomething secretary and then had the gall to die in a car accident.
Now I'm not just a single mother trying to make ends meet in this crazy world. . . .I'm also a vampire. One minute I was taking out the garbage; the next I awoke sucking on the thigh of superhot vampire Patrick O'Halloran.
But though my stretch marks have disappeared and my vision has improved, I can't rest until the thing that did this to me is caught. My kids' future is at stake. . .as is my sex life. Once a vampire does the dirty deed, it hitches her to the object of her affection for at least one hundred years. I just don't know if I'm ready for that kind of commitment. . . .

A piece from the book:
The night I died, I was wrestling a garbage can to the curb.
I had a perfectly healthy fourteen-year-old son who should have taken out the garbage after dinner, but he, and let me quote him directly here, "forgot."
Every Sunday and Wednesday night we had the same conversation, usually five minutes after he crawled into bed. Here's the script:
Enter the Mother into the Pit of Despair. I refuse to walk more than a foot into the Pit because I'm afraid a radiated tentacle might emerge from a gooey pile of papers and clothes and drag me, screaming and clutching at the faded carpet, into the smells-like-lima-beans clutter. I open the door, try not to inhale any noxious boy-room fumes, and delicately scoot one Keds-protected foot inside. Cue dialogue.
"G'night, honey. And Bry? Did you take out the garbage?"
"Oops."
"It's twice a week. It's your only chore. I pay you ten bucks every Friday morning to do it."
"It's a heinous chore."
"I know. That's why I pay you to do it."
"Sorry, Mom. I forgot."
At this point in the twice-weekly argument, variations occurred. Sometimes, Bryan faked snores until I went away, sometimes he actually fell asleep mid-lecture, and sometimes he whined about how his nine-year-old sister Jenny didn't do chores, and I still paid her five dollars every Friday morning.
So, yet again, just after ten p.m. on a Wednesday night, I found myself pulling first one, then the second thirty-gallon garbage can down the driveway, and trying to align the grimy plastic containers near, but not off, the curb. Do not get me started on sloppy, lid-flinging, half-trash-dumping garbage men who are extraordinarily picky about the definition of "curbside pickup."
When huge, hairy hands grabbed ny shoulders and heaved me across the street and into Mrs. Ryerson's prized rose bushes, I didn't have time to scream, much less panic. The whatever-it-was leapt upon me and ripped open my neck, snuffling and snarling as it sucked at the bleeding wound.
Good God. What sort of man-creature could hold a grown woman down like a Great Dane and gnaw on her like a favorite chew toy? It slurped and slurped and slurped . . . until the excruciating pain (and honey, I've suffered through labor twice) faded into a feeling of weightlessness. I felt very floaty, like my body had turned into mist, or like that time in college when I took a hit of acid and had the "Tinkerbell" episode. I knew that if I just let go, I'd rise into the night sky and free myself from gravity . . . from responsibility . . . from Bryan and Jenny.
Just thinking about my kids slammed me down to earth. My husband had passed away little more than a year ago in a car accident. Don't feel to sorry for me though. I was in the middle of divorcing the son of a bitch.
I couldn't scream. I couldn't lift my arms. I couldn't open my eyes. But I felt my body again, every aching, pain-throbbing inch of it. The heavy, smelly thing pressing my limp body into thorny branches and noisily smacking against my throat grunted and rolled off. Dry grass crunched and leaves rattled as it moved, growling and groaning like a well-fed coyote. I didn't flicker an eyelid for fear it would try for a killing blow, though if the state of my neck wound was as bad as I thought, I was dead anyway. Then I heard the sounds of bare feet slapping against pavement and realized the thing was running away. Fast.
I don't remember how I disentangled my sorry self from the bushes. I have vague memories of the roses' too sweet scent as I crawled across the street and collapsed near my knocked-over garbage cans.
For those who know me, meeting my end amid muttered curses and spilled refuse was not a great shock. But, shock or not, it was still a crappy way to go.

Fanged & Fabulous by Michelle Rowen

What's on the back of the book:
My name is Sarah Dearly, and I've got major problems. Last month, I was turned into a vampire by the world's worst blind date. Then I may have, totally by accident, started a war between the mostly peaceful bloodsuckers and a bunch of sociopathic vamp hunters who have nicknamed me Slayer of Slayers. Now I'm being used as bait to draw out the hunters' bad-ass leader, while my gorgeous 600-year-old boyfriend Thierry seems to be blowing me off, and my sizzle-hot, fanged friend Quinn is trying to turn my self-defense lessons into make-out sessions. So you know what? I'm done. I've had it. There comes a time when a vamp has to just suck it up and go after what she wants. And as soon as I figure out what that is, that's exactly what I'll do...

A piece from the book:
Thierry kissed the back of my hand. Then he kissed the injured finger and slowly drew it into his mouth.
I gaped at him, frozen in place. Heat flooded my body.
This was finger sucking the way it should be! Hell yeah! This was definitely the way to go.
He gazed at me as he concentrated on my injured finger. There was an expression on his face I don't think I'd ever seen before. His eyes narrowed slightly and appeared to darken until they were fully black.
He pulled me against him, hard, and crushed his lips against mine, taking my breath away.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, hoping that I had enough time to explore black-eyed Thierry before somebody walked in on us. That would be extremely embarrasing.
But, hey, I think it might be worth it. I was beginning to like this Thierry a whole lot. And he wanted me to stop him? Like hell, I say.

Hush, Hush Becca Fitzpatrick Book Trailer

Evernight by Claudia Gray

What's on the back of the book:
Bianca wants to escape.

At the eerily Gothic Evernight Academy, the other students are sleek, smart, and almost predatory. Bianca knows she doesn't fit in.
When she meets handsome, brooding Lucas, he warns her to be careful - even when it comes to caring about him. But the connection between them can't be denied. Bianca will risk anything to be with Lucas, but dark secrets are fated to tear them apart . . . and to make Bianca question everything she's ever believed.

A piece from the book:
The burning arrow thudded into the wall.
Fire. The old, dry wood of the meetinghouse ignited in an instant. Dark, oily smoke filled the air, scratching my lungs and making me choke. Around me, my new friends cried out in shock before grabbing weapons, preparing to fight for their lives.
This is because of me.
Arrow after arrow sliced through the air, stoking the flames higher. Through the haze of ash, I desperately sought Lucas's eyes. I knew he would protect me no matter what, but he was in danger, too. If something happened to Lucas while he was trying to rescue me, I could never forgive myself.
Coughing from the soot-thick air, I grabbed Lucas's hand and ran with him toward the door. But they were ready for us.
Silhouetted against the flames, a dark, forbidding line of figures stood just beyond the edge of the meetinghouse. None of them brandished weapons; they didn't have to in order to make their threat clear. They had come for me. They had come to punish Lucas for breaking their rules. They had come to kill.
This is all happening because of me. If Lucas dies, it will be my fault.
There was nowhere to go, no place to run. We couldn't remain here, not with the blaze around us roaring, already so hot that it stung my skin. Soon the ceiling would collapse and crush us all.
Outside, the vampires waited.

Glass Houses by Rachel Caine

What's on the back of the book:
Welcome to Morganville.
Just don't stay out after dark.

Morganville is a small town filled with unusual characters - when the sun goes down, the bad come out. In Morganville, there is an evil that lurks in the darkest shadows - one that will spill out into the bright light of day.

For Claire Danvers, high school was hell, but college may be murder. It was bad enough that she got on the wrong side of Monica, the meanest of the school's mean girls, but now she's got three new roommates, who all have secrets of their own. And the biggest secret of all isn't really a secret, except from Claire: Morganville is run by vampires, and they are hungry for fresh blood . . .

A piece from the book:
Shane was in the doorway, ready for action, when Eve screeched the car to a stop; if he was still mad, at least he wasn't letting it get in the way of a good fight. Eve frantically signalled for him to stay where he was, on safe ground, and checked the street on all sides.
'Do you see anything?' she asked Claire anxiously. Claire shook her head, still sick. 'Damn. Damn! OK...but you know the drill, right? Asses and elbows. Bail!'
Claire fumbled open the lock, bolted out of the car, and hit the sidewalk running. She heard Eve's door slam and running footsteps. Deja vu, she thought. Now all they needed was for Brandon to show up and act like a total asshole...
She nearly ran into Shane as she pelted across the threshold; he stepped out of the way in time, just far enough to let her pass, and grabbed Eve to pull her inside as he slammed the door and locked it.
'You have got to get a better job,' he said. Eve wiped at her ruined make-up with the back of one hand and threw him a filthy look.
'At least I have a job!'
'What, professional blood donor? Because that's all you're going to be if you -'
Claire turned, ran into a vampire, and screamed her lungs out.
OK, so she wasn't a vampire. That was established in about thirty more seconds by a combination of Shane doubling over with laughter, the vampire screaming in fright and cowering, and - last of all - Eve saying, in blank surprise, 'Miranda! Honey, what the hell are you doing here?'

Vampire Kisses by Ellen Schreiber

What's on the back of the book:
The mansion on top of Benson Hill has been empty and boarded up for years. But a new family has moved in. A family that never ventures out during the day. Who are these creepy people - especially the handsome, dark, and elusive Alexander Sterling? Or rather, what are they? Could the town gossip actually be true? Are they vampires?
Raven, who secretly covets a vampire kiss, both at the risk of her own mortality and Alexander's loving trust, is dying to uncover the truth.

A piece of the book:
It first happened when I was five.
I had just finished coloring in My Kindergarten Book. It was filled with Picasso-like drawings of my mom and dad, an Elmer's-glued, tissue-papered collage, and the answers to questions (favorite color, pets, best friend, etc.) written down by our hundred-year-old teacher, Mrs. Peevish.
My classmates and I were sitting in a semi-circle on the floor in the reading area. "Bradley, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Mrs. Peevish asked after all the other questions had been answered.
"A fire fighter!" he shouted.
"Cindi?"
"Uh . . . a nurse," Cindi Warren whispered meekly.
Mrs. Peevish went through the rest of the class. Police officers. Astronauts. Football players. Finally it was my turn.
"Raven, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Mrs. Peevish asked, her green eyes staring through me.
I said nothing.
"An actress?"
I shook my head.
"A doctor?"
"Nuh, uh," I said.
"A flight attendant?"
"Yuck!" I replied.
"Then what?" she asked, annoyed.
I thought for a moment. "I want to be . . ."
"Yes?"
"I want to be . . . a vampire!" I shouted, to the shock and amazement of Mrs. Peevish and my classmates. For a moment I thought she started to laugh; maybe she really did. The children sitting next to me inched away.
I spent most of my childhood watching others inch away.

Guilty Pleasures By Laurell K. Hamilton

What's on the back of the book:
I don't date vampires. I kill them.
My name is Anita Blake.
Vampires call me the Executioner.
What I call them isn't repeatable.
Ever since the Supreme Court granted the undead equal rights, most people think vampires are just ordinary folks with fangs. I know better. I've seen their victims. I carry the scars.
But now a serial killer is murdering vampires - and the most powerful bloodsucker in town wants me to find the killer.
A piece from the book:
Willie McCoy had been a jerk before he died. His being dead didn't change that. He sat across from me, wearing a loud plaid sport jacket. The polyester pants were primary Crayola green. His short, black hair was slicked back from a thin, triangular face. He had always reminded me of a bit player in a gangster movie. The kind that sells information, runs errands, and is expendable.
Of course now that Willie was a vampire, the expendable part didn't count anymore. But he was still selling information and running errands. No, death hadn't changed him much. But just in case, I avoided looking directly into his eyes. It was standard policy for dealing with vampires. He was a slime bucket, but now he was an undead slime bucket. It was a new category for me.
We sat in the quiet air-conditioned hush of my office. The powder blue walls, which Bert, my boss, thought would be soothing, made the room feel cold.
'Mind if I smoke?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said, 'I do.'
'Damn, you aren't gonna make this easy, are you?'
I looked directly at him for a moment. His eyes were still brown. He caught me looking, and I looked down at my desk.
Willie laughed, a wheezing snicker of a sound. The laugh hadn't changed. 'Geez, I love it. You're afraid of me.'
'Not afraid, just cautious.'
'You don't have to admit it. I can smell the fear on you, almost like somethin' touching my face, my brain. You're afraid of me, 'cause I'm a vampire.'
I shrugged; what could I say? How do you lie to someone who can smell your fear? 'Why are you here, Willie?'
'Geez, I wish I had a smoke.' The skin began to jump at the corner of his mouth.
'I didn't think vampires had nervous twitches.'
His hand went up, almost touched it. He smiled, flashing fangs. 'Some things don't change.'
I wanted to ask him, what does change? How does it feel to be dead? I knew other vampires, but Willie was the first I had known before and after death. It was a peculiar feeling. 'What do you want?'
'Hey, I'm here to give you money. To become a client.'
I glanced up at him, avoiding his eyes. His tie tack caught the overhead lights. Real gold. Willie had never had anything like that before. He was doing all right for a dead man. 'I raise the dead for a living, no pun intended. Why would a vampire need a zombie raised?'
He shook his head, two quick jerks to either side. 'No, no voodoo stuff. I wanna hire you to investigate some murderers.'

After Dark: A Vamps Novel by Nancy A. Collins

What's on the back of the book:
It's the most important event of the season in New York's upper-crust vampire society. The Rauhnacht Ball has everything you need for a night of scandal and intrique: gala dresses, stolen boyfriends, forbidden love . . .
Then a team of vampire hunters shows up and ruins everything! The surprise attack by Van Helsings is the worst gate-crashing ever.
In the aftermath, half sisters Lilith and Cally scramble to regain their footing at the exclusive Bathory Academy - and in the world of high fashion, where both have star potential. When new suitors turn the romance up a noych, It's almost enough to make the half sisters forget their intense rivalry. Almost. But shared blood between vampires is not easy, and before long Lilith and Cally find themselves face-to-face again.

A piece of the book:
Finally out of the tear gas, Cally staggered across the stone terrace toward the wide, curving stairs that led to the gardens below.
"Fire!"
Cally looked up just in time to see dozens of crossbow arrows flying toward the terrace. She ducked, putting a marble replica of the Venus de Milo between her and the deadly rain. As she watched from her hiding place, she saw one of the other guests jump atop the balustrade's railing, instantly shapeshifting into his winged form.
With a beat of his eight-foot wings, the transformed vampire shot up into the night sky in a desperate attempt to escape the Van Helsings' crossbows before they could reload. At first it looked like he had succeeded, but then a shadow soared from the roofline of the building.
With just a few beats of it's own leathery wings, the gargoyle easily overtook the feeling vampire, who screamed as the beasts slashing talons destroyed his right wing. Unable to maintain balance, the vampire spun out of control and crashed a hundred feet down into the hedges that ringed the gardens.
Cally's guts tightened as she listened to the gargoyle shriek in triumph. Things had just gotten a whole lot worse: both the Van Helsings and their pet were out for blood.

Spirit Bound Is Coming Soon...

Blood Promise: A Vampire Academy Novel by Richelle Mead

What's on the back of the book:
Guardian Rose Hathaway's life will never be the same.
The recent attack on St. Vladimir's Academy devastated the entire Moroi world. Many are dead. And, for the few victims carried off by Strigoi, their fates are even worse. A rare tattoo now adorns Rose's neck, a mark that says she's killed far too many Strigoi to count.

But only one victim matters ... Dimitri Belikov. Rose must now choose one of two very different paths: honoring her life's vow to protect Lissa - her best friend and the last surviving Dragomir princess - or, dropping out of the Academy to strike out on her own and hunt down the man she loves. She'll have to go to the ends of the earth to find Dimitri and keep the promise he begged her to make. But the question is, when the times comes, will he want to be saved?

Now, with everthing at stake - and worlds away from St. Vladimir's and her unguarded, vulnerable, and new rebellious best friend - can Rose find the strength to destroy Dimitri? Or, will she sacrifice herself for a chance at eternal love?

Shadow Kiss: A vampire Academy Novel by Richelle Mead

What's on the back of the book:

Rose knows it is forbidden to love another guardian. Her best friend, Lissa - the last Dragomir princess - must always come first. Unfortunately, when it comes to gorgeous Dimitri Belikov, some rules are meant to be broken . . .

Then a strange darkness begins to growcin Rose's mind, and ghostly shadows warn of a terrible evil drawing nearer to the Academy's iron gates. The immortal undead are closing in, and they want vengeance for the lives Rose has stolen. In a heart-stopping battle to rival her worst nightmares, Rose will have to choose between life, love, and the two people who matter most . . . but will her choice mean that only one can survive?

Frostbite: A Vampire Academy Novel by Richelle Mead

What's on the back of the book:
A massive vampire attack has put St. Vladimir's Academy on high alert. With the deadly creatures closing in, this year's trip to the wintery peaks of Idaho has just become mandatory.

But Rose Hathaway can't escape her (guy) troubles. Her relationship with gorgeous tutor Dimitri can never be and her closest friend has just confessed to his huge crush on her . . .

The glittering winter landscape may seem like the perfect hideaway - but Rose, and her heart, are in more danger than she ever imagined.

Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead

What's on the back of the book:
Lissa Dragomir is a Moroi princess: a mortal vampire with an unbreakable bond to the earth's magic. She must be protected at all times from Strigoi; the fiercest and most dangerous vampires - the ones who never die.

The powerful blend of human and vampire blood that flows through Rose Hathaway, Lissa's best friend, makes her a Dhamphir. Rose is dedicated to a dangerous life of protecting Lissa from the Strigoi, who are hell-bent on making her one of them.

After two years of illicit freedom, Rose and Lissa are caught and dragged back to St. Vladimir's Academy, hidden in the deep forests of Montana. Rose will continue her Dhampir education. Lissa will go back to being Queen of the elite Moroi social scene. And both girls will resume breaking Academy hearts.

Fear made Lissa and Rose run away from St. Vladimir's - inside the Academy's iron gates, their world is even more fraught with danger. Here, the cutthroat ranks of the Moroi perform unspeakable rituals, and their secretive nature and love of the night creates an enigmatic world full of social complexities. Rose and Lissa must navigate through this dangerous world, confront the temptation of forbidden romance, and never once let their guard down, lest the Strigoi make Lissa one of them forever . . .

A piece of the book:
I can't really put anything from inside the book because I wouldn't want to spoil it for anybody. This series is absolutely amazing. If your looking for vampires, it's got it; it your looking for love and romance, it's got it; if your looking for a weepy book, to me it's definitely got it. Trust me just read the series and you will fall in love with them. :)