Fangs for Nothing (The Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven, #1)

by Steffanie Holmes

And by hitting the gas, I mean, Reginald goes balls out pedal to the metal. The car jerks forward with a roar like a pissed-off cougar. The radio comes on, blasting loud hip-hop. Reginald sings along, slapping the steering wheel. I grab the door and hold on for dear life as we hurtle through the village.

Even though this place looks like a junk store had a drunken hate fuck with a Jackson Pollock painting, it has a personality, a vibe, a presence

“Let us have drinks and we can discuss the details. Winnie, you may join us if you wish, or wait for me in your chambers. I won’t be long.” “I’d love a drink.” “But weren’t you saying how sleepy you were?” His eyes beg me. “I’ve found a second wind.” I smile. I know that Alaric’s trying to get me away from them so he can do damage control, but he doesn’t get to make all the rules in this fake-engagement. Plus, if I’m being honest, I’m enjoying seeing him squirm.

“Vlad the Impaler didn’t start impaling people until his thirties. I still have time to become the son you always wanted.”