Newly Undead In Dark River (Dark River Days, #1)

by Grace McGinty

I lost fifteen minutes just standing there, stroking my sweater like an idiot.

So I was doing what I did best. I was stalling until the last possible moment.

He just oozed bad-boy troublemaker. If only that didn't make me so damn hot.

“I always choose a name that I think will sound good when shouted out in climax. Angeline!”

They were crying and praying, and I was in the middle of nowhere, with the audacity to enjoy my new life.

“The smell of your sadness burns my nose. It is okay to let it out—let your sadness be free, it is the only way to heal,”

I groaned and threw a throw pillow at him. It whacked him in the forehead. It was good to be able to see again.

I’d kissed three hot guys in less than fifteen minutes. That had to be a record, right?

But she was goddamn gorgeous. I mean, I wanted to strip naked and beg her to take me, and I was as hetero as they came. I was straight up strictly dickly. She was just that hot.

somewhere between angry and horny. Horngry. It was a thing.

Telling that to my childhood beau seemed like some kind of awkward dating faux pas. Or maybe I was just a chickenshit. Whatever.

I was going to drown in all this machismo one day.

He just grinned, with that perfect, charming, fucking ladykiller smile. Okay, so maybe angry sex wasn’t off the table yet.

“He’s not talking about lasagna, is he? Jesus, Mika, how many boyfriends do you have in this boondock town?”

As his lips brushed against mine, I realized my soul had been desperate for this contact.

“You didn’t know I was bisexual? Yeah, there’s a reason for that, Mika. My parents are super conservative Catholics, remember?”

“I figure, if you can remake yourself as an undead woman named Raine, I can at least come out, right?”

“If you’ve sucked face with someone, you have to call him by his name,”

“Do you think they could be life partners a little more to the left so I can grab a beer from the fridge?”

Beer and breakfast seemed to be a very irresponsible life choice. Then I looked around at all the handsome men at my table. Sometimes a little irresponsibility had wonderful results.

“My name is X. Collector of china teacups, savior of damsels in distress, and Vamp Nation Enforcer.”

A man who knew how I liked my pancakes? Be still my heart. Someone was getting laid real soon.

“Is Lover Boy going to get all the kisses because he’s blind? Because that just ain’t playing fair,”

“Suck it up, visually-abled person. I’m going to milk the blind card for eternity. Get used to it.”