Blog Tour: My Vampire Plus-One Excerpt
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| Pub Date: 9-17-24 Adult - Contemporary |
WHEN I GOT TO THE GUY’ S TABLE, I DUG MY FINGERNAILS
into the meat of my palm, willing the pinch to ground me.
He hastily slammed shut the notebook he’d been writing in and set it to the side. Then he fixed me with those startling bright blue eyes. “Um. Hello?”
I hesitated, teeth worrying at my bottom lip. “I need a favor.” I hated how small and nervous I sounded. Too late to back out now, though. I pulled out the chair across from his and sat down.
His eyes widened in surprise. “You need a favor?”
I gathered my courage as he continued to gaze at me. Up close, I couldn’t even lie to myself and pretend he was unattractive.
I reminded myself that that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he said yes.
“I do,” I confirmed.
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t usually do favors for people.”
His voice dripped with condescension. I stared at him, astounded that someone reading a literal dragon magazine could sound so cocky.
“You know what? Forget it.” I’d come up with some other way—some grown-up way—to deal with this situation. I didn’t need to resort to pranking my family. I was an adult. I was an accountant. This was beneath me.
I pushed back from my chair and stood to leave.
“Wait,” he said. It sounded almost like pleading. “I didn’t finish.” “Was something going to come after telling me you don’t do favors for people?”
He shook his head. “No, what I said was I didn’t usually do favors for people. But I did disrupt your evening last night, and I did say I’d make it up to you.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d take me up on that since I didn’t think I’d see you again. But since here you are . . . I’d be willing to consider it. Depending on what the favor is, of course.”
He motioned for me to join him. I hesitated. What sort of person had a default no-favors policy? But I was without options.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the chair I’d just vacated. “You’re welcome. So . . . what do you need, Amelia Collins?” I could do this. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders,
and said, “I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend at a family wedding.”
He stared at me. A group of noisy teenagers filed past our
table and made their way over to the counter. We paid them no mind.
“I’m sorry, but . . . what?”
“I know this sounds bonkers—”
“It does,” he agreed. “Very deeply bonkers.”
“I swear this will all make sense after I’ve explained.” I paused, considering. “It’ll maybe make sense,” I amended.
“I am all ears.” The corner of his mouth quirked up into an amused half smile. Damn it, his lips were extremely distracting. It occurred to me that I didn’t know his name. I hadn’t put know his name on the list of fake date criteria I’d just made, but it suddenly felt like important information to have.
“Actually, could you tell me your name first?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“You know my name, but I’ve just been thinking of you as Mr. Fedora Asshole.” That earned a surprised laugh from him. Dammit, did even his laugh have to be attractive? “It puts us on unequal footing.”
His half smile slid into a smirk. “So you think about me, do you?”
I’d always thought blushed to the roots of her hair was just a figure of speech. Turns out I’d been wrong. If my shoes could blush, they’d have been doing it. “Not at all,” I lied. “I mean, except for last night, when you nearly killed me when you mowed me down on the sidewalk.”
“You have an exceptional flair for the dramatic for an accountant.”
“I have a completely average flair for the dramatic for an accountant,” I said, feeling a little unhinged. Talking to this man felt like trying to walk in a straight line on a listing ship. “Which is to say, I don’t have one. And you’re certainly one to talk. Last
night you were wearing a fedora and a trench coat when it was, like, twenty degrees outside. You were dressed like you . . . like you . . .” I trailed off, flailing for the right words.
He winced. “Like I wanted to be seen?”
“Yes,” I said. “Exactly like that. You seem dramatic as hell if I’m being honest.”
“Ordinarily that observation would please me,” he said, looking very displeased. “But given present circumstances, I’m not thrilled that my best attempts at blending into the background didn’t work.”
I had no idea what that meant. It didn’t matter. We were get- ting off topic here. We were wasting time.
“Listen,” I said. “Are you going to tell me your name or not?” “Oh,” he said, as if just remembering I was there. “Sure. Reginald.”
“Reginald?” That was . . . certainly an unusual name for someone my age. “Is that actually your name?”
“Why would I give you a fake name?”
I shrugged. “You seem the type.”
He snorted. “Fair. But Reginald is my actual name.” “And your last name?”
He sighed. “My last name is Cleaves. My full name is Reginald Cleaves. So. Now that you know who I am, will you explain to me why you need me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”
I read Jenna Levine's first book and I thought it was fun. I'm all for more paranormal romances.
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