Holiday Bites: A Collection of Vampire Paranormal Romances Read Online Free Page B

in his eyes. Now, all she had to do was believe in him. In them. Early in Swelter , the tortured Warick had asked Derina, “How do you love a vampire?” And she had responded, “With your whole heart.”
    Eve tossed aside the pillow and crawled to Steven. She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him. Then she pulled away and said, “Mark me.”
    He responded by embracing her and sinking his fangs into her neck. As he drank her blood, her body responded in a primal way. Closing her eyes, she felt her nipples harden, her pussy swell, and her skin prickle. Her whole body tingled with pleasure. Then his hand her between her thights and two fingers delved inside her sex, curling upward to press her g-spot.
    The orgasm caused stars to burst behind her eyes.
    Then it was over.
    Steven kissed the spot on her neck where his mark would be seen by any who knew where to look. Eve felt changed somehow, as if her soul had forever-bound to his. He gazed at her, love in his eyes, and said, “Merry Christmas, Eve.”

Candy for Valentine
     
    VALENTINE CARTER SAT down at a corner table and watched the merriment around her. Every year, the Heart of Romance Readers’ convention was held the second weekend of February. The party started on Friday evening and continued through Sunday afternoon. Tonight was Friday, and the Rock n’ Roll Rave kicked off all the fun.
    She sighed. Since she’d checked into the hotel at 4 p.m. she’d been snubbed by authors and readers, approximately 142 times. Her “posse,” the loyal women who posted comments on her review site, The Blog Bitch, and who emailed her daily, were not here.
    She was alone. At least until Eve and Steven arrived. Valentine surveyed the dancers bopping around at the front of the ballroom. A DJ was set-up in the far left corner, spinning songs such as “Rock Around the Clock,” “Tutti Frutti,” and “Peggy Sue.” Sitting by herself at the large table with its shiny white plates, folded napkins, and sweating water glasses, she drank a glass of Chablis and moped.
    A flash of red caught her attention and she looked up. Madra Milton. The author’s novel, Take Me Away , was up for a Reader Heart award. In December, Val had reviewed the book, recommending that readers use it for kindling. Now, she felt a sliver of shame. Not for the first time she wondered if her friend Eve was right about the reviews on The Blog Bitch. Do I really get more pleasure out of trashing the books than I do reading them?
    Madra, wearing a red-and-white cheerleader’s outfit, sauntered toward a table filled with people. She posed then shook her single pom-pom in a pseudo cheer. Her audience clapped and laughed.
    Val looked away. She couldn’t recall ever having a moment like that—where a bounty of friends and fans welcomed her. She felt that way online, when others gave her cyber high-fives and added their own cutting opinions to hers. She’d been disappointed when none of her Internet pals could come to the conference. She had envisioned snark sessions at parties like this one, laughter and joke-telling, and doing in-person what they did on the blog.
    Once again, doubt fluttered in her mind. She had always thought of herself as a romance reader. And so, she believed her blog had attracted other romance readers. Like her, these readers were tired of the same old plot devices, cheesy dialogue, skinny, simpering heroines, and heroes who were either Navy SEALS or ancient vampires.
    But maybe she’d merely attracted other cynical women who didn’t believe in love anymore. Her negativity had gathered more negativity. Was The Blog Bitch a service to readers who wanted the real scoop on romance novels? Or merely a place where she could use romance novels as scapegoats for her bitterness about love?
    “Hi there! Looks like you need a friend.”
    The southern drawl belonged to a pretty woman with platinum locks pulled into a ponytail; she was dressed in a white sweater and blue poodle skirt. As Elvis