Sunday, March 27, 2011

Katie Salidas

The youngest of four children, Katie has always had a desire to entertain. Since, early childhood, she's dreamed fantastical characters and scribbled them into pages of various journals and notebooks. Taking an interest in vampires, she devoured every book, featuring those blood sucking creatures, in any genre she could find.

It was only natural that a love of reading vampire stories, turned into a love to write them.

Katie is also a Las Vegas native, having grown up in the famed City of Sin. She loves to feature it as a recurring setting for many of her stories.

Endowed with special powers and abilities, beyond those of mortal women,  She can get the munchkin off to gymnastics, cheerleading, Girl Scouts, and swim lessons. Katie can put hot food on the table for dinner while assisting with homework, baths, and bedtime… And, she still find time to keep the hubby happy (nudge nudge wink wink). She can do all of this and still have time to write her novels.

Sorry… she can’t even write that with a straight face.

Lies all lies.

Here’s the reality. She's a sleep-deprived, overworked, mom who just doesn’t know the meaning of the word balance. She tries so hard to do it all, (be super mom, wife, & author) and at the end of the day she falls face forward into the couch.

Yes, you read that right, she tends to sleep on the couch. It’s a point of frustration for her hubby and a thing of comedy for her daughter. Imagine waking up to your little child yelling, “Mom slept on the couch again!!!”
Because being supermom (or trying to) means a lot of time devoted to family, writing is often done when said family is peacefully snoozing away. She can’t tell you how many times she's fallen asleep with her laptop, on the couch. It just happens. Then, bright and early at 7am either her hubby (on his way to work) or her daughter (getting ready for school) wakes her up.

Writing is her passion. It’s a part of her. More than just a hobby, it’s a compulsion. She has to do it. If she doesn't do at least one writing related thing each day she gets cranky.

Hopefully, her passion can be our entertainment!

(I got this bio from Katie's site: Written In Blood . I just changed to I to she and her because no one can explain what type of person she is better than my friend Katie Salidas! Thanks!)

*I have read all of Katie's work and have given each of her books a review of Five Stars *****. You can find my reviews on the home page of my blog.

Over the last two years she has written and published (via her publishing company, Rising Sign Books):

Becoming a vampire is easy. Living with the condition... that's the hard part.

Bleeding to death after brutal mugging, twenty-five year old Alyssa is rescued by the most unlikely hero: the handsome and aloof vampire, Lysander.

His gift of immortal blood initiates Alyssa into a frightening, eternally dark world filled with: bloodlust, religious fanaticism, and thousand-year old vendettas.

With Lysander as her guide, Alyssa will have to learn what it takes to survive in the immortal world. She'll have to find the strength to accept her new reality and carpe noctem; or give in, and submit to final death.

Becoming a vampire saved Alyssa from death, but the price was high: the loss of everything and everyone attached to her mortal life. She’s still learning to cope when a surprise confrontation with Santino Vitale, the Acta Sanctorum’s most fearsome hunter, sends her fleeing back to the world she once knew, and Fallon, the friend she’s missed more than anything.

Alyssa breaks vampire law by revealing her new, true self to her old friend, a fact which causes strong division in the group that should support her most: her clan.

Worse yet, her revelation entangles Fallon in the struggle between vampires and hunters and The Acta Sanctorum is ready to attack again, with a new army of hybrid creations: the Frenzy Soldiers.

If Alyssa hopes to survive and keep her mortal friend safe, she’ll have to be willing to make a deal with the enemy, and regain her clan’s support. It will take everyone working together in a precarious truce to fight against the Acta Sanctorum’s new threat.

Touted as the sexiest party of the year, the annual Halloween Fantasy Ball is the one place a girl can let loose and succumb to her wildest fantasies. Disguised as a sexy vampire huntress, Sasha captures the attention of Dante, a real life creature of the night. For Sasha, meeting bona-fide vampire is enough to fulfill one of her life long fantasies. She’s ready to go home a happy woman. But Dante has other plans. It is after all, a night of fantasies, and he has a few of his own to share
Excerpt ~

Dante admired the seemingly endless stream of people pouring out onto the dance floor from the double-door entrance: costumed characters, scantily clad vixens, masked marauders, the ghastly, and the gruesome.
It was Halloween at its finest.
Dante loved the annual Halloween Ball and enjoyed the ability to stalk his prey freely among the, all too willing, party goers.
Smoke crawled across the ballroom floor. Black lights and flashing lasers cut through the swirling fog, creating an eerie multi-colored glow in the room. Chandeliers, covered in cobwebs, hung from the ceiling, while little plastic spiders bounced up and down, dangling on thin wires above the crowd.
The syncopated rhythm of drum and bass music filled the air, reverberating off the walls. Bodies moved, writhing in time with the beat. Dancers with glow sticks of various colors weaved patterns in the air with their liquid-like movements.
A hungry grin played across Dante’s face. He let his fangs show, proudly putting them on display as he nodded at a few passersby. They ignored his sharp-toothed smile as they wandered into the ballroom, not giving him so much as a second glance.
Whether they ignored him or not, Dante knew he looked every bit like a dark and mysterious creature of the night, only he wasn’t wearing a costume. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his midnight-blue carpenter jeans and tapped the tip of one of his steel-toed black boots on the ground as he impatiently awaited his brother’s arrival.
His phone buzzed, and he reached into the deep pockets of his black duster jacket to retrieve it. Words flashed on the screen: ‘Be there in a minute.’
Trevor is always late, he thought with a frustrated sigh.
Replacing the phone in his pocket, he gave himself one last once-over. In a normal crowd, he might have seemed odd—a dark and menacing figure, dressed in almost all black. Yet here, among the dancing throng of party goers at this macabre party, he was one of the least conspicuously dressed.
A giggling group of girls wearing little more than string bikinis and gauzy wings pushed past him on their way to the dance floor. Dante inhaled their perfumed scent, savoring the fading notes of lavender left in their wake. If Trevor didn’t get there soon, he would begin the hunt alone.
A strong hand suddenly clapped him hard on the back.
“Tonight should be fun, eh, brother?” Trevor asked with a mischievous smile, flashing his own set of sharp fangs. He raked a hand through his mop of dark hair.
“My mouth is already watering.” Dante’s eyes zeroed in on a pair of entwined harem dancers, their bodies rubbing sensuously against each other in time with the music. He took in a deep breath, savoring the variety of pheromones playing at his senses. Sex was in the air, and Dante liked that. He absently flicked his fangs with his tongue as his mind played out scenarios of carnal passion and blood lust—desires he planned to act on before the night was through. Blood and sex went hand and hand in his world, and the annual Halloween Fantasy and Fetish Ball always provided a buffet of both.
“Well then, let’s get this party started,” Trevor said, nudging his brother out of his reverie.
Dante turned, his eyes widening in astonishment as he inspected his twin. “Prince Charming? That’s your costume for this evening? Brother, you try too hard.”
Trevor smoothed out the fabric of the large, ornately adorned, navy blue suit-coat with gold tassels and shrugged. “At least I made some effort to play the part tonight.”
“Ah yes. I’m sure your ruffled shirt will send the girls into a frenzy.” Dante laughed. “There is no need to play, brother. We are vampires. Our costumes are built in. Why bother dressing up in some ridiculous outfit?”
“Because I enjoy taking part in the fantasy. It’s fun. You should try it.”
“I don’t need silly costumes to have my fun.” He narrowed his eyes as he inspected Trevor, and then leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “And Prince Charming doesn’t have fangs.”
Trevor’s hand rose to cover his mouth. “Well, I can’t very well get rid of them, can I? But, no matter. I’ll have my prey focused on other things. She won’t see them until it’s time.” He winked.
Dante arched an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. “Enjoy your game then, brother.”
Trevor turned confidently on his heel and waved a hand behind him. “Happy hunting.”
Dante stood still for a moment, taking in all the scents of the humans around as he watched Trevor vanish into the sea of dancing bodies. Hunger and need beat at him, and he was ready to satiate both desires. Oh yes, tonight will be fun.  
Blindfolded and kidnapped, Daphne is whisked away to the famed, House of Immortal Pleasures, a Vampire-run Brothel in Pahrump, Nevada.

Sometimes the only way to mend a broken heart is to get back in the saddle. At least that is how Daphne's friends see it. And since Daphne isn't showing any signs of letting that happen, they take it into their own hands. With a few shots of liquid courage, a pat on the ass, and a donated gold card, Daphne is unwillingly sent into fantasy room 123 to meet her creature of the night, Connor.

The doormen left Daphne and her friends sitting in a quiet, cozy little booth in the downstairs bar. Soft music, the clink of glasses, and a mix of chatter from the other patrons filled the room. They sat perusing the house menu. Services here were ordered à la carte, and Daphne used the excuse of needing time to choose her … services to avoid being sent upstairs. She hid behind the tall, laminated menu, hiding her face from view. All around the dimly-lit bar were vampires, both men and women, working the customers, trying to get them to go up to the rooms and enjoy their erotic pleasures.

Surrounded by her friends and not being groped or mesmerized by Fabio-esque men, Daphne felt a little more like herself. No longer dizzy, she finally found the ability to articulate the thoughts floating around in her head. She set the menu down and glared at Jamie. “I want to go home, now!”

“Not until you have had some fun,” Jamie teased, swiping the menu from under Daphne’s hand. “Now, you said you wanted to look at the menu. So, what sounds good? Maybe a little tongue lashing?”

“What! No, give me that.” Daphne yanked the menu out of Jamie’s hand.

She gasped and bit her lip as she looked over the list of services to order. There it was, halfway down the laminated page. “What the hell, it’s actually called ‘Tongue Lashing.’” She read the description.

Indulge in your most sensual fantasy as your master of pleasure, using only their tongue, will explore your most sensitive places.

 Daphne gulped down a breath, trying not to show her interest, wanting to look disgusted and repulsed. She crossed her legs and set the menu down on the table. She hoped her ruse worked. Daphne knew she couldn’t bring herself to be with another man, but her body had a different idea. Just the thought of a warm, velvety tongue lapping at her skin started warmth pulsing between her legs.
“Oh c’mon, Daph. Don’t be such a prude,” Kerri said. She took the menu from the table.

A scantily clad cocktail waitress wandered by to take their orders. “Tequila,” Jamie exclaimed. “Three shots for each of us.”

“Woot,” Kerri said in agreement as she bounced up and down in her seat. Her tight, curly red hair bounced with her as she danced in the booth. “Let’s get this party started right.”

Daphne sighed and put her head down on the table.

“Oh look, they have a virgin special.” Kerri said excitedly and thumped Daphne on the shoulder. “Fun for first-timers.” She pointed to a spot on the menu. “Don’t be nervous. We will make sure your first time is magical.” She read the description with an added flair to her voice. “Start with a candle-lit bath to help you set the mood. Then retreat to one of our fantasy rooms where your creature of the night will—”

“Stop it! Just shut up.” Daphne looked up, shooting Kerri a dangerous, menacing glare.

“Well you haven’t had sex since Ken. I’m sure you qualify for the first-timers special. Your cherry has probably grown back by now.”

Jamie and Kerri high-fived. “Use it or lose it,” they cheered together.

“That’s it. I’m going home. I’ve had enough,” Daphne said, standing up next to the table. “I’ll call a cab if you won’t take me home.”

The cocktail waitress returned with nine shot glasses, a shaker of salt, and a plate of lemon and lime wedges.

“Okay, Daphne, we’ll go …” Jamie said solemnly. Daphne breathed a sigh of relief. Jamie turned to Kerri and winked. A wicked smile crossed her face “Only after you drink your shots.”

Daphne groaned. “Enough of your stupid games.”

“Look, lady.” Jamie’s tone became serious. “It’s a seventy-dollar minimum just to walk through the door here. Let’s at least have some drinks, okay?”

Daphne collapsed back into the booth. “Fine. Hand me a fucking shot.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kerri said, sliding a glass to Daphne while picking up one for herself. “To popping Daphne’s cherry.” She held up her glass. “Again!”

Daphne groaned loudly. With friends like these, who needs enemies? She tipped the glass and swallowed the harsh liquid.
 Kendra used to spend her days organizing events for Café Enigma while daydreaming about Marcus, the sexy lead singer of Normal Paradox. But all those dreams of becoming Mrs. Rock Star died, along with her mortality, the moment Hector entered her life and turned her into a vampire.

Ten torturous years later, Kendra finally escapes Hector and runs straight into Marcus. (Well, actually, he hit her with his car, but that's beside the point.) The accident leaves Marcus concussed and a few pints too low, forcing Kendra to share her blood to save him.

Sharing her blood doesn’t just heal Marcus’s wounds; it bonds him to Kendra in a magical “can’t live without you” sort of way. Now he’s professing his undying love to her, and Kendra’s not sure if he’s for real or just experiencing the side effects of their new blood bond. Either way, the two of them can’t be separated without suffering suicidal levels of depression, and the band needs to hit the road for the rest of their cross-country tour.

Kendra’s content to travel with the band and explore her new-found relationship, until whispered threats from her master, Hector, start invading her dreams. He’s tracking her down, and she can feel it. She knows the horrors he’s capable of, and if he finds out about Marcus, Hector will do everything in his power to destroy him.

If she stays, Marcus is doomed to Hector’s wrath. If she goes, the repercussions of their bond might kill Marcus. Both options will break Kendra’s heart. If they’re truly meant for each other, they’ll have to find another way....


This was a bad idea, and Kendra knew it. But she was willing to risk it. She desperately wanted to see him while she had the chance.

Marcus’s sonorous tone enthralled the crowd, while the band behind him created a mysterious, primal beat with their instruments. The audience, a sea of bodies, lifted their hands in praise as they danced and bobbed their heads to the music.

The effect was no different on Kendra, though the music wasn’t the only thing enticing her. A cool evening breeze blew through the festival grounds, mixing the air, creating a tantalizing cocktail of fragrances. Kendra sucked in a deep breath, opening her mouth wide, partially exposing her fangs. Being surrounded by so many mortals—in such a public place—went against everything her master had taught her. Vampires weren’t meant to mix with humans unless feeding.

Kendra pushed away the tempting thoughts of blood. She’d only come to enjoy the music and maybe steal a glimpse of her past, not to find dinner. Absently licking her fangs, Kendra made her way through the sea of tightly packed bodies, all writhing to the beat of the song, swaying and rocking as if under the music’s spell.
She had to get closer to the stage, near enough to feel Marcus’s heartbeat. Kendra had loved him and his music since the band had been a local coffee shop act.

That seemed like forever ago. A simpler time, before she’d been stolen from the mortal world.

Spotlights shone brightly in the blue-gray haze of twilight, casting the stage in an ethereal glow. Kendra stared enchanted as Marcus threw his head back, hitting a long, high-pitched note that sent the audience into a frenzy.

Kendra sighed, enjoying the sound of his otherworldly voice. He spanned the range of sexy, bassy notes to high-pitched trilling and back again.

Needing to be closer, she pushed her way through the crowd, edging toward the stage. Screams, cheers, and applause thundered all around her as Marcus’s song ended.

The lights darkened and smoke began to leak from the edge of the stage. Slowly it moved, twisting and curling as it crept toward the ground like some ghostly apparition.

She paused, coming to a halt only a few rows from the stage. A deafening silence enveloped the crowd. Anticipation ran thick in the air. Kendra felt it too. Her own slow beating heart sped as the quiet seconds ticked by.

Was that it, was it over? Was that the last glimpse of Marcus? She hadn’t even reached the stage.

In perfect synch with a growling power chord, the lights flashed back on, bathing Marcus in an ethereal glow.
She was lost in a state of awe. She’d been a fan since the beginning, before being turned, but her master wouldn’t let her out of his sight. She hadn’t been able to lay eyes on Marcus in ten years. Age had been good to him—gone was the emaciated, starving artist. He now stood proudly on stage, a miraculous transformed god of a man.

She longed for a second chance to know Marcus, to see him, to hear the clarity in his voice, and feel the emotion of his lyrics. His music was like magic. The lyrics touched her so deeply, it was as if he had looked into her soul, discovered her secret desires, and then written his songs just for her.

With renewed vigor, Kendra continued her push through the crowd, hoping to be near him for just one moment. Inching closer and closer, her heart fluttered with anticipation as she reached the barricade that separated the fans from the stage.

The next song started with a tribal beat. Kendra was close enough now to feel the thumping of bass and the bang of the drums reverberating in her chest like a speeding heartbeat. She found herself moving like a puppet pulled by invisible strings. The rhythm of the song commanded her body and she submitted willingly.
Marcus’s piercing voice rang out loud and clear through the large speakers. He sang of love lost, but through all the doubt and pain, a spark of unending hope remained.

Pangs of grief pulled at Kendra’s lonely heart. She wished she could reach out and touch him. She was so close she could smell his scent wafting toward her, earthy and musky with a hint of spice. In that moment, standing bare-chested before her, he seemed like a Greek god. Rippling muscles covered his well-formed body. Each small contour glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, emphasizing his masculine physique.

Immortal or not, at that moment, Kendra was no different than any other fan in the crowd. Flames of desire ignited within her. She wanted to reach out and touch him. To feel his hard body pressed against her own. She eyed him like a predator as he strutted around on the stage, praying for just one moment to be close to him.

As if she had willed it to happen, Marcus hopped off the stage, microphone in hand, and strode toward the barricade. Taken by the moment, she squealed in excitement with the rest of the fans.
Marcus reached into the mass, shaking hands and kissing cheeks as he continued to woo the throng with his voice.

Kendra gasped when he reached out in front of her. Marcus took her hand and gave a small squeeze before moving on to the next screaming fan-girl. Her heart skipped a beat. His touch was like fire to her icy skin, sending a rush of excitement through her body.

Marcus jumped back on the stage and wiped the sweat from his face with a dark shirt. He tossed it into the audience, and like a frenzied mob, people swarmed in masses piling on top of each other, shredding the shirt to claim a scrap of cloth. Kendra, however, didn’t move. She stood motionless, transfixed, unable to peel her eyes from his fit, muscular form as he took his final bow and waved goodnight to the crowd.

Her hand tingled with the after-warmth of his touch. Bringing it to her face, she smelled the remnants of his masculine scent sticking to her immortal skin. Oh God, he smelled good. Need and desire mingled with fantasies playing like a movie in her mind.

For a moment, she allowed herself to dream of his hands caressing her skin. She imagined his hard body pressed against hers and the sweet taste of his lips. She wondered what it would be like to take his neck and drink in his essence as she made love to him. She imagined sharing her blood; bonding him, turning him, making him hers forever. Secretly, Kendra prayed for the opportunity.

She knew it was a bad idea. Angry at herself for even thinking it, she tried to dismiss the thought from her mind. Kendra had never wanted to be this thing, this monster. How could she entertain the thought of cursing another living creature with this punishment? Even if it was for her own secret pleasure.

She hated life as a vampire; the never-ending night, the blood lust, and the cruel master who had taken away everything she had known.

She shook her head. No. No one deserves this curse. Goodbye again, Marcus.


A cold wind blew through the empty streets. Kendra walked alone; her only companions were the echo of her footfall and the random buzz of passing cars. The concert had ended hours ago, but she had nowhere to be. She called no particular place home. Kendra had spent the past few weeks on the move, trying to prevent Hector from catching up to her. She knew it was futile, but she had to try.

I can always find you, darlin’, Hector’s voice echoed in her mind.

No one escaped the blood bond between master and fledgling. It would only be a matter of time before Hector caught up to her and punished her for escaping. She shuddered at the thought of punishment, the vile things he’d force her to do under compulsion.

Kendra cursed herself for the mistakes of her youth. For one moment of ecstasy, she had allowed Hector to damn her and control her for eternity.

The only moment of happiness she’d felt in the last ten years was the brief touch of Marcus’s hand at the concert.

She brought her hand to her face, sucking in a slow breath, smelling a faint hint of his scent.

Was it so long ago? She remembered their last meeting, seeing Café Enigma brightly lit with afternoon sun. The oleanders, blooming red and white, stretched high to the sky, creating a natural buffer against the businesses surrounding the small garden café in downtown Las Vegas.

Marcus was setting up with his band mates. Long golden hair draped around his lean frame like a cape as he hoisted a drum stand over his head to place it on the stage.

She admired him, stealing glances between sips of ice tea, and for a fleeting moment caught him looking back in her direction.

They’d played this little game for over a month, flirting with their eyes, neither of them gaining the courage to make the first move.

“If only I had spoken to him then,” she mused, as her mind returned to the present.

Going to the concert had been a mistake. It had opened the floodgates and reminded her of the life she had lost.

A tear streamed down her face, dropping soundlessly to the pavement.

She wished she could go back and change the outcome of that day. If only she had drummed up the courage to talk to him, instead of allowing Hector to ensnare her.

Sadness crushed her spirit. Each step she took felt like it was weighed down with lead. Eyes cast down onto the shadowy pavement, she stepped into the street.

A blinding flash of light struck her before the force of heavy steel careened into her body, sending her crashing to the ground.

Her head hit the pavement with a crack. Stars danced in her vision before everything faded to black.
Pain flooded her senses, keeping her from passing out. The odd echo of a car door slamming reverberated in her aching head. She groaned and cupped her hands to her ears.

Her hands were matched by another pair cradling her head. Warm hands. A mumbling, scared voice spoke to her, but she couldn’t make out any words. They were all muffled and distorted, as if the speaker were talking to her underwater.

A coppery tang wafted in the air, mixed with a hint of alcohol. Instinctively, need slammed into Kendra. Fresh blood would begin the regenerating process, allowing her body to heal. All it took was the hint of that familiar, tantalizing scent, and the beast within her roared to life, demanding it.

Cracking open her eyes, she could barely make out through her blurry vision the person above her. It was a man, and he was frantic—that was all she could gather in her injured state.

Without a care of who might be watching, giving into her needs, she dove at his neck, opening his vein, flooding her mouth with healing blood.

The effect was instantaneous. As the sweet, thick fluid ran down her throat, the headache subsided. Throbbing in her arms and legs vanished as she fed and her strength returned. The scent of the human she fed on was overpowering; earthy and musky with a hint of spice.

Her victim moaned.

Suddenly, a dreadful realization struck her. That voice—it’s familiar.

She pierced her tongue with her fang and swept it along the wounds she had made in his neck, to stem the flow of blood and start the healing process. Pulling away, she allowed herself a good look at the man she had nearly bled dry.

Her heart slammed in her chest. She knew his face. She knew the sharp outline of his jaw. She knew the mop of golden hair, and those beautiful hazel eyes that were now rolling backwards into his head.

“Oh my God! Marcus. How did—Shit!”

His head drooped and then hung limply as he lost consciousness.

“No. Wake up,” Kendra said, shaking him. “What have I done? Of all the people I could have run into. Fucking karma!”

The car, a large, silver SUV, sat purring in front of her, the grill badly dented where it had impacted with her but otherwise apparently still in good running order.

Revitalized by the blood she had just drunk, Kendra quickly jumped up, pulling Marcus into her arms, and carried him to the car.

He moaned weakly. Kendra was thankful for that small sign of consciousness. She regretted her moment of weakness. A lump formed in her throat. Guilt squeezed her chest tight, threatening to crush her heart. She almost killed him, the man she had secretly adored for the last decade. Thankfully, she had stopped herself before it was too late. Now she had to ensure his recovery. It was the least she could do as penance.

Jumping into the driver’s seat, she slammed the dooe behind her.

“Marcus,” she said loudly, shaking him in the passenger seat. “Where are you staying? We have to get you somewhere to rest.”

Marcus moaned and nodded his head but spoke no identifiable words. A thin line of blood ran from his brow, and a matching splotch of blood stained the steering wheel.

He must have hit his head when he ran into me. No, this isn’t good at all.

“C’mon, Marcus. Stay with me! I need you to answer me. Where are you staying?”

Marcus’s head slumped again and he slid down the tan leather bucket seat.

“Fuck!” Kendra slammed her fist into the steering wheel, and the car responded with a loud honk from the horn.

After a moment of deep breathing to calm her frazzled nerves, she turned to Marcus’s limp body and put both hands on the sides of his head. “Marcus, wake up.”

His eyes cracked open just enough for her to see the darkness of his irises.

Kendra focused hard, sending out a mental command, willing his eyes to open completely.

His eye lids fluttered, eyelashes fanning as he blinked, and then finally they opened.

Kendra concentrated hard, delving deeply in through the windows of his mind. His head was foggy. The thick blanket of unconsciousness threatened to envelop him and block out her mental control. She focused hard, hunting for a small shred of consciousness to anchor him. Blood loss had taken its toll. He was in shock. Traveling through his mind was like trudging through a swamp.

“Marcus, hear me,” she commanded. “Guide me. Tell me where to take you. You’re sick and need rest.”

Finally locking onto a small hint of consciousness, his mind opened and gave her exactly what she needed. She caught the image of the hotel where he was staying, saw the room number, and knew where his key was.
Breaking the mental connection, she allowed him to slump back into the seat as she threw the car into gear. 
Katie has become a great author as well as a great friend. I will continue to read her work for as long as she puts it out there because I believe in her and I love her way of portraying one of the sexiest, provocative, mysterious creatures that inhabit my dreams.........the Vampire! Thanks Katie for keeping my dreams *sexy* to say the least! *smile*


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