Re-Vamping Las Vegas
Publication date: July 12th 2019
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Paranormal
Nia hates people.
She also hates vampires.
Too bad she is one.
An innocent bit of fun finds Nia tangled with a dangerous man and the powers that be send her to live with the vampire lord of Las Vegas.
Their efforts to get Nia back on the straight and narrow are almost as ridiculous as her fathers attempt to make her this heir in his bid for world domination.
It’s Las Vegas, what trouble could she possibly find?
Her life takes a sharp turn when someone tries to use her in a power struggle against her father, and her past sneaks up on her.
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“I told you I won’t take your bets anymore, Nia.”
“Aw, come on. Chicken?”
“Broke,” Ray laughed as he moved down the bar to deliver a drink.
On Saturday nights, half-drunk college kids filled the city. That’s what’s great about living in a small college town. The nightlife was young, beautiful and flocked to the local hot spots. Ray’s nightclub was large, and the bar ran along one full wall. The opposite end was a raised DJ booth and in between was a sea of bodies writhing and churning like the ocean.
Ray’s was closest to the college, and I always got in free, but Saturday night was my favourite.
My victim danced around with a drink in his hand, trying to pick up girls. Cute and soft, like a puppy, his tail flapped so fast his butt wiggled. I was sure he would strike out. The girls who came to a bar like this weren’t looking for a nice boy. Wearing their low-cut tops with their hair swept up, displaying their necks like a fisherman in a market with his catch of the day.
They were dinner on legs.
Very long legs.
I downed my drink and left the barstool to join the wild party girls. They were probably going to hell, but so was I. We might as well enjoy ourselves. Music was the great equalizer, forcing us all to move to its beat in the cramped space between our bodies. The stench of sweat and antiperspirant filled the stagnant air. My sense of smell was, unfortunately, more delicate than the rest of the people in the nightclub, but the alcohol numbed it.
My teeth ached. The sight of that wiggly boy made me ravenous, but I kept losing sight of him. There he was. His sandy hair was long enough it stuck it to his forehead, slick with sweat. Then he disappeared in the crowd. I danced with the girls until I caught sight of him again. He sat at the bar, another drink in his hand. Was that his third? Hmm, college boy might be getting tipsy.
The music changed from deep bass to a sharp pop song, and the silly girls all screamed with glee.
I wasn’t drunk enough for this. As I crossed the room, my nape prickled. A pair of eyes tracked me. Ryan. He was a moron and always had to shop at my club. There were two other nightclubs like this one in town, but Ryan still came to dinner here.
I blocked out the feeling of his eyes on my ass and slid onto the barstool beside my new puppy. I waved to Ray who shook his head when he caught sight of who I was sitting beside. He poured me another drink. Only one type of drink affected patrons like me. Ray kept it well stocked. One more reason this was my favourite nightclub.
“How are you, Nia?”
He snuck up beside me — creepy bastard.
“I’m fine, Ryan. Go away.”
Ray delivered my drink. I picked up the glass and took a long sip.
Ryan didn’t speak again. He stood beside me staring holes into the side of my head. I rolled my eyes and looked at him. He had coiffed his hair in a modern style. He looked like a pale GQ model with sharp teeth. Too bad he was a disgusting blood-sucking old guy and every time he opened his mouth, I heard nails on a chalkboard.
“I haven’t seen you around town this week,” he said, flashing me his teeth.
Like I cared about his long, pointy incisors. I wasn’t a college girl, ready to throw myself at any old, gross vampire.
“That’s because I have been busy and also, I’ve been avoiding you.” I turned my back to him, hoping Ryan would take the hint and leave me alone, only to find my puppy had left.
Jen Pretty is a well- known and prolific writer of smart urban fantasies. Her novels are character driven, witty, often violent, and with a liberal sprinkling of course language. Some of her books genre-hop into mythology, pulling characters and situations from a variety of sources.
When not writing, Jen can be found in the barn with her horses, or knee-deep in the vegetable garden at her home in rural Ontario, Canada, which she shares with her husband, three children, and a white husky dog named Salt.