Today I have fellow Whispers Author Gail Koger. She warned me how she liked to write humor. I was not disappointed. So please read and then stick around to read an excerpt from her story, 'The Nasty Vamp,' and take a look at the trailer.
How NOT To Meet A Cop
I was sitting at my computer working on my hot, melt your panties sex scene and suddenly I hear. Cheep. Cheep. Cheep. What the…?”
I looked down and there sat Sam, my demon dog, with a mouth full of feathers. So, silly me I asked him, “What’s in your mouth?” Sam barked, “Nuthin.”
Right. Does he think I’m stupid? The poor bird cheeped desperately. In my best mean mother voice I commanded, “Spit!” Sam does and the chicken, wings flapping madly and squawking pathetically took off like the Devil himself was after it.
Sam (the Devil in disguise) thinks this is great fun and chased the poor chicken all over the house. Right into my kinda messy kitchen (hey, I’m working here). Where I had left out a bowl of hot sauce on the counter and you guessed it – SPLAT! That stupid bird slammed into the sauce, wings still flapping like crazy, splattering the stuff all over the walls, ceiling, floor and me. Arrgh!
Okay, I lost it and started screaming blue bloody murder at the crazy chicken and my hyperactive pooch. Off they went, spreading mayhem and sauce all over the living room. Mad as hell, I grabbed my broom and tried to chase the damned chicken out the back door. “You’re dinner! Do ya hear me?”
Someone pounded on my front door. “Go away,” I shouted. They shouted back, “Police! Open up.”
Crap! I opened the door and smiled all friendly like at the hot cop on my front porch. “Can I help you officer?” His hand on his gun, the officer eyed my sauce-covered body, “Are you injured, ma’am?”
A slightly hysterical laugh escaped me. “No, sir. It’s hot sauce.” At his incredulous look, I invited him in. Sam ran by in hot pursuit of the chicken, splattering the unsuspecting officer’s immaculate uniform. “Sorry,” I whacked madly at the stupid chicken. “Bad chicken!”
The nice officer snagged the broom out of my hand and with one easy swing, batted the “bad chicken” right out the back door. Without another word, he gave me back my broom, turned and walked out. I yelled after him, “You like fried chicken?”
He got in his car and drove off. Guess not.
The Nasty Vamp
Blurb: Lucky me. My perfect Prince Charming turned out to be a vampire.
All I wanted was to be a normal, ordinary girl whose biggest worry was what to wear to her twenty-first birthday party. I needed for a few hours to forget about my mother’s murder and the monsters that inhabit the night. With all my heart I wished for a little romance, for a man who could make me forget the bloodshed and death. I longed for a prince charming who would sweep me off my feet and kiss me under the stars. Then fate kicked me in the teeth and granted my wish.
My perfect prince charming turned out to be a vampire. If I hadn’t been so blasted drunk I might have noticed his fangs a bit sooner. Not when they were buried in my neck and the super nova of orgasms was tearing through me
I had given my virginity to Ian McGregor, an eight hundred year old master vampire with magical abilities, who knew I would become a slayer on my twenty-first birthday. The bastard deliberately crashed the party, lured me to his bed and took my powers. Uncle Fester’s timely intervention saved my life but my slayer powers were gone forever.
My dreams shattered and in a royal snit I tracked McGregor down and blew up a garage full of his expensive antique automobiles. Big mistake! Who knew a Highland warrior that had been turned way back in 1186 would be so rabid about his cars?
I certainly didn’t need Uncle Fester’s snarky comment that riling up a master vampire was about as smart as whacking on a hornet’s nest with a stick. You’re gonna get bit, repeatedly.
Uncle Fester dragged me to a creepy old witch and held me down while the bitch magically welded an Amalfi Medallion to my neck. I was now stuck with a freakin’ silver dog collar complete with spikes and weird carvings. The Amalfi would supposedly protect me from McGregor. What I really needed was something to protect me from Aunt Tessa.
After a two hour lecture on the stupidity of spreading my legs for a vampire, Aunt Tessa promptly shipped me off to the University of Alfred.
No. It’s not a school for butlers. Aunt Tessa’s eccentric and very dead husband had been a big Batman fan and he named the highly secretive school after the ever faithful Alfred.
My Aunt said it was the perfect place for me to put my talent for blowing stuff up to good use and the instructors would teach me some badly needed discipline.
Since I could no longer be a slayer, it was a good fit. Alfreds are weapons, explosives and surveillance experts.
My name is Ann Dragos but everyone calls me Bunny. My idiot, dead uncle stuck me with this swell nickname because I’m so itty-bitty, cute, and cuddly. Gag me. At least I wasn’t named after a Disney character like my cousin.
My psychic abilities are the only reason I’m still breathing. My mom was forced to drink from a vampire when she was pregnant with me and that transfusion has given me some pretty nifty powers.
Powers the nasty vamp couldn’t take away. I’m telepathic which lets me eavesdrop on all of McGregor’s dirty little plans and stay a step ahead of him. My ace in the hole is I can’t be mesmerized and forced to do their bidding. This allows me to get up close and personal with my Mister Pointy. Another gift is the ability to read auras and sense any supernatural beings within a mile of me. Since vampires are freakishly fast, it gives me enough time to set up my booby traps and fry their asses.
McGregor placed a million dollar bounty on my head and three years later still actively hunts me. I guess I should quit blowing up his cars.