So, here I am in a pseudo-quaint cottage on the grounds of Nightwine's Fort-Knox-secure Sunset Road estate, surrounded by Hobbity English charm mixed with high-tech convenience. And if you are a fan of old movies, like I am, you will enjoy these books a lot. One midsummer night's window-clinging bat shouldn't set me screeching. The raven-size wing rustling increased to a California condor-size woosh, with a wingspread of, say, ten freaking feet. I set the grille aside and crawled in headfirst.
Whichever, it was all about me and the desperate spot I was in. I just phoned the Yellow Pages today to order the ad. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before. Delilah can still travel through mirrors. I am the resident attraction at the Love in Vein Social Club. He could choose to crush you like one of that pathetic Renfield's bugs. Carole Nelson Douglas has penned an intoxicating mixture of fantasy, suspense, mystery, romance, and the paranormal.
I could think clearly, but sat paralyzed-just like all those passive silver-screen victims-my fingers curled into the sheets. The black fell back, revealing an ash-gray satin lining framing a man's black evening suit of elegant antique cut. I was warmer than a toasted English muffin from my formerly cold feet to the top of my brunet head. The Enchanted Cottage is a charming little place from the 1945 film of that name. So I didn't want to get up. Despite the probable danger, this outing was fascinating to an investigator.
Old Drac must have some spell to put animals asleep, even big supernaturally strong wolfhound-wolf crossbreeds. This is even worse than the first one. I love Carole Nelson Douglas's work, but this one is not one I'll reread. Rumor had it he was an albino vampire, the obverse of my current partner. You don't know where and you don't know who.
Even as he ogled my throat, it looped itself into a solid wide dog collar around my neck, blocking all ports of entry. So, onward toward the voices. I only wanted to take a tiny symbolic taste. Then there's the confirmation on the skeleton lovers Ric and Delilah found in Sunset Park see. That scrawny, long-clawed leech and lech was all too reminiscent of the real-life crackpot Howard Hughes in his current undead state to conjure. Even as he ogled my throat, it looped itself into a solid wide dog collar around my neck, blocking all ports of entry. Now, though, they finally were.
Ric, aka the Cadavar Kid, with his shocking scars and the reveil of his illict past. I hankered for any one of a dozen pop culture reinventions of the father of all vampires as a sex symbol. The pupils had expanded into black bottomless pools, the gemstone facets a mere ring of glitter around them. The raven-size wing rustling increased to a California condor-size woosh, with a wingspread of, say, ten freaking feet. We're all on to you. During those literally magical minutes, Ric and I had accidentally tapped the borrowed emotions of the Sunset Park lovers killed during their most ecstatic moments.
I wriggled deeper into the warm covers, but the insinuating snare-drum rhythm of that exterior scratching kept me from sliding into sleep. At least Drac and I were once more on solid ground. Then you can have anything you ask. A stray vine was probably blowing against the window glass. As Brimstone Kiss jumps right in without covering any background, reading Dancing with Werewolves first is an absolute must.
It's as safe as fairy tales and Nightwine's state-of-the-art security technology can make it. Delilah discovers a new power which enables her two walk through mirrors into other realms where she interacts with the inhabitants. From the stairs came the faint whiff of dinner's garlic chicken. This may be Las Vegas, but I'm cold-natured. She's also got the appearance and coloring that make her vampire bait in the new millenium where all the fairy tale creatures came out of the closet. The Cover and Title The cover is Vegas, baby, with a miniskirted Delilah wearing a V-neck, sleeveless top, dangling handcuffs from one hand as a white tiger charges at her side against a sky view of a lit-up Vegas Strip and flames are flaring in the upper left against a collage of Vegas signs.