Vampaholic. Harper Allen
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All of a sudden I was grateful to Jack Rawls.
He’d saved Megan from having to stake me, I thought as I felt more sunlight pour over me. He’d saved me from having to die by my own sister’s hand. I looked down at my arms, sure they were starting to burn now, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe.
A final wisp of smoke drifted and died in the air. The heat bubbles on my skin collapsed without bursting. Even as I watched, my skin became smooth, as if I’d imagined everything I’d seen.
Jack pulled me closer and put his mouth to my hair. “I don’t kill humans, and the only reason I can think of for you not burning is that you’ve still got some human in you. But you and I both know you’re turning, and when you do I intend to finish what I started tonight. That’s a promise, vamp.”
Harper Allen, her husband and their menagerie of cats and dogs divide their time between a home in the country and a house in town. She grew up reading Stephen King, John D MacDonald and John Steinbeck, among others, and has them to blame for her lifelong passion for reading and writing.
Vampaholic
BY
Harper Allen
MILLS & BOON
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Table of Contents
Prologue
I can’t let anyone know how afraid I am.
It has to stay my secret, one that I’ll die before I reveal. I probably will die, of course. Or maybe I won’t, and that terrifies me more. What it really comes down to is that right now I could use a little comforting…but when a girl’s let herself run out of vodka for the evening and, worse, let herself run out of men for the evening, too, she has to look for comfort where she can get it. Which sometimes means telling herself fairy stories to try to make sense of all the terrible things that have happened.
So: once upon a time there were three beautiful shop-till-they-dropped princesses named Megan, Katherine and Natashya. They were sisters—triplets, actually—who lived in a charming, upstate-New York town called Maplesburg with their grandparents on their father’s side, Grammie and Popsie Crosse.
Although their parents died when they were babies, Megan and Katherine and Tashya weren’t like orphans in other stories. Grammie and Popsie spoiled them rotten and Popsie only occasionally complained about the outrageous credit card charges the girls ran up. Oh, the sisters squabbled among themselves a bit when Megan, who was the eldest by a few minutes, got a tad bossy, or when Tashya, who was the youngest by half an hour, pouted because she couldn’t get her way. The middle sister, Kat, had her adorable foibles, too, if you want to get picky about it. Besides being partial to shoes, she was also partial to cocktails and men, but what girl isn’t?
Anyway, except for the squabbling, the Crosse sisters’ lives were perfect right up until their twenty-first year. The three most eligible bachelors in Maplesburg asked for their hands in marriage, the girls accepted, and three weddings were planned to take place that summer. Megan’s Dean was a stuffy investment banker, Kat’s Lance was a lawyer who would sell his own mother to get ahead, and Tash’s Todd was a philandering plastic surgeon, but princesses these days don’t marry for love—they marry for money and security, no? So the night before Megan’s wedding, the three princesses were looking forward to becoming