Drop Dead Gorgeous, book 2 in the Bite Nights series is out now!!
About the book:
Swipe right for Mr. Bite
Mila Hart’s first experience with the hot new vampire dating site is a complete disaster. Turns out, her date is wanted for murder! But things turn around when she’s rescued by dashing vampire cop Vincent Ferrer. Dangerous and drop dead gorgeous, he’s just the vampire hottie Mila was hoping for.
Haunted by his past, Vincent can’t risk falling in love again, even if Mila charms him more than anyone he’s ever met. But when the killer from Mila’s first date seeks her out, Vincent is the only one who can protect her. Protecting his heart is a different story…
Vincent doesn’t stop apologizing the whole way over to his apartment in Farringdon.
“I should have smelled it,” he repeats for the hundredth time. “I don’t understand why I didn’t.”
I glance across the car at him. The streetlights illuminate his features, accentuating the exquisitely carved lines of his profile. There is a tiny bump on the bridge of his nose I haven’t noticed before, an imperfection that only heightens his masculine looks.
“I only smelled it because I was under the bed pulling out my suitcase,” I explain again. After noticing the rat and reading the note, there had been an awkward moment when Vincent stepped forward to put his arms around me. He froze, hands midair, as if realizing what it was he was about to do. The alarming thing is, I was going to let him.
When we stop at a traffic light, he turns to me. “I’m a vampire. I should have realized it was there.”
“Even if you had, there wasn’t a lot you could do. Besides, I’m sorry to say it’s not the first rat I’ve had in my bed.”
Vincent lets out a hearty chuckle. “Are you always like this?”
He drums slender fingers on the steering wheel. “Prone to making light of serious situations.”
Of course, I’d been absolutely terrified—and still am—after seeing that dead creature rotting away on my fifty-quid Egyptian cotton sheets. Even without the note, I would have known it was left there by Lopez.
I shiver, a cold dread settling around my shoulders like a fog. “I think maybe it’s a defense mechanism.”
He nods, tearing his eyes from me as the traffic lurches forward again. “It’s incredibly lucky you stayed out all day.”
We lapse into silence, each of us contemplating what would have happened if I had been home when he showed up. I begin to wonder what happens from here. Will they shut me up in some witness protection program? Change my name to Mandy and ship me off to Scotland? Laura is right—this could only happen to me.
I sigh, sinking low into the buttery leather of the seat. “This car really doesn’t suit you,” I say suddenly, staring out the window at the shuttered shop fronts.
He glances across at me. “How so?”
“You’re too young. In looks, anyway,” I add, as his brows shoot up with amusement. “Usually men who drive cars like this are middle aged and bald, and they’ve ditched their wives for some younger woman. Trust me, every time I see a fancy car and check out the driver, that’s what they look like. Every time.”
His eyes twinkle. “So I’m an anomaly, is that what you’re saying?”
“A total anomaly.”
Somewhere between the dead rat and the Porsche, I’d lost my shyness around him. Now it’s full steam ahead on the babble front. He doesn’t look like he minds too much though.
“What car should I drive, Miss Hart?” he asks.
“An Audi,” I say, not missing a beat. “A black or dark blue one. And there should be a space for your suits to hang in the back.”
He laughs. “I’m a cop, not a traveling salesman. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you got the right car for your image?”
I look down at my frayed gray top and jeans. I still haven’t had a chance to change since this morning. “Considering how I’m dressed now, I’d say it suits me to a T. Not that I dress like this all the time,” I’m keen to point out. “I was too traumatized to coordinate clothing this morning.”
“That’s understandable,” he says, pulling off the main road onto a deserted side street. We roll to a stop beside a metal barrier. “This is where I live.”
I glance up at the building. It’s one of the newer ones, all sharp angles and gunmetal-gray panels with glass balconies jutting out of huge oblong windows. In the glow of the city lights, the whole building glistens like iron. An iron home for an iron man—well, an iron vampire.
Though I’ve never hankered after one of these serviced places myself, I know enough to appreciate that living in one costs a small fortune. I’d put money on it that inside there is a range of luxurious facilities—gym, spa, pool. It’s an unusual choice for a Met Police inspector who claims not to be home much.
Vincent maneuvers the Porsche down a spiral ramp into a low-lit parking garage and pulls into a space. The other cars down here are just as impressive—Maseratis, Ferraris, and Lamborghinis line the concrete walls.
“Oh, how the other half live,” I mutter as he shuts off the engine before slipping from the vehicle in a gray blur of movement.
Before I know it, he’s beside me, opening the passenger door and offering me an outstretched palm as if we’re courtiers arriving at a ball. Not needing to be asked twice, I give him my hand. His warm, rough fingers briefly curl around mine as he helps me to my feet. I stand on the concrete, slightly dazed, while he lifts my suitcase from the tiny trunk and pulls up the handle.
“The elevators are that way,” he says, motioning across to a pair of red double doors. It takes a few seconds to catch on that he’s waiting for me to walk ahead. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this good-manners thing. Scott’s idea of gentlemanly behavior had been occasionally closing the door while he was on the toilet. But then, that’s to be expected from a total douche.
Vincent follows me through the door to the elevators. “Which floor?” I ask, jabbing the call button.
“Top,” he says.
I shake my head, smiling.
“Like in Pretty Woman—it’s the best.”
He narrows his eyes in confusion, murmuring, “pretty woman” under his breath.
“The movie,” I explain. “Julia Roberts is a call girl and Richard Gere is this rich but lonely man she falls in love with, and he stays in a penthouse suite even though he hates heights, because it’s the best.”
“Never seen it,” he says, shaking his head.
“You really need to stay in more.”
He chuckles. “I don’t own a TV.”
I widen my eyes dramatically. “Oh my God. No wonder it took you people so long to be accepted into society.”
What the critics are saying about the BITE NIGHTS series:
"Snarky, sexy, and steamy as a sauna, Dating the Undead will have you throwing out your vampire slaying kit." - Katie MacAlister, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Dragon Fall and Aisling Grey, Guardian series
"Quick, sharp wit that sinks its fangs into the reader and doesn't let go!" - Molly Harper, acclaimed author of Sweet Tea and Sympathy and the Half-Moon Hollow series
"Combines the familiar with the new to bring a fresh spin on the vampire romance." - Kirkus
-A madcap adventure of biting humor, steamy chemistry, eclectic characters and some over-the-top antics. A strong and personable heroine delights as she navigates her way through the treacherous waters of online dating.- - RT Book Reviews
-Charming and racy romance meets rousing mystery . . . relatable characters and a well-crafted setting make this a promising start to an intriguing series.- - Publishers Weekly
"Lyons delivers with hot and heavy scenes that take the sexy vampire trope to an all new level." - Booklist
"If you're looking for a story both light and sexy, this may just be the one for you." - Heroes and Heartbreakers
"Guaranteed to keep you reading well into the night." - BookPage
Juliet Lyons is a paranormal romance author from the U.K. She holds a degree in Spanish and Latin American studies and works part time in a local primary school where she spends far too much time discussing Harry Potter. Since joining global storytelling site Wattpad in 2014, her work has received millions of hits online and gained a legion of fans from all over the world. When she is not writing, Juliet enjoys reading and spending time with her family.