Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Prim & Proper (An Eva Prim Novel) by Jordan K. Rose Excerpt

Prim & Proper (An Eva Prim Novel) by Jordan K. Rose

A formal vampire reception is just that- formal. There are rules. There are expectations. There are certain security measures that must be taken.

The list of things that should not occur includes, but is not limited to: duels for subjugation, bar brawls, and accidental, er, unintentional, well, not-meant-to-happen-at-that-moment demon calling.

Drinking from other master vampires, turning new vampires without permission, and reliving your first kiss, which happened to be with a serial killer are absolutely inappropriate.

Having your demon-vampire-husband-master end up with an incurable case of vamnesia adds another level of complexity to the festivities, not to mention your marriage.

But Eva Prim has caused...experienced…survived, yes, that's the word. Eva and Stefan have survived other difficult challenges and she's confident they'll laugh about this some night. She thinks. Maybe.


“Darling, stay calm.” Stefan hustles me toward the bar and a heavy wave of power swamps me, keeping me in my current feminine state. “A drink will help us all. Wouldn’t you agree, Tarek?” He pushes me behind the bar and blocks my path to leave, and if not for his strength and our bond, I’d be in my hairless, stinky gargoyle state by now.
“Yes, yes. Though, no hard liquor, probably not a beer, and maybe we should stay clear of wine.” Tarek wrestles Penelope onto the couch. “Penelope, what the hell were you thinking?”
“Right. We’ll stick with blood.” Stefan’s cape flaps around us as he swirls me into the corner beside the giant wine cabinet. He opens the glass door wide and reaches for a bottle. Chrysanthemum, remain calm. Stay focused. You don’t want to shift now.
I bang on the glass separating us. “Why’d she hit me?”
“Ah! The bottle of AB I saved for this very special occasion.” He closes the door and holds me around my waist. “Darling, would you be so kind as to—”
“She hit me.” I point at Penelope. “Why did you hit me?” I try to shove Stefan aside.

No one hits me. No one ever hits me. At least no one ever hits me and lives to discuss it. “She hit me!”

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