A Date With a Vampire
Love Bites, Paranormal Dating Agency Book 1
by Abbey MacMunn
Genre: Paranormal Romance
You are cordially invited to join Love Bites, Paranormal Dating Agency. Where fur, fangs, feathers, and the occasional human, meet their match.
Witch Harper Clarke is pretty sure misfortune follows her around like a bad smell. Her spells end in disaster, her dating agency for supernaturals has an embarrassing lack of clients, and her love life is a washout. So when a vampire signs up to the agency and she can’t find him a match, she agrees to date the vamp herself.
Charmer Damon Vertefeuille has it all; power, status, wealth, but becoming a vampire to get his errant brother out of trouble isn’t what he expected. Newbie vamps aren’t supposed to be dangerous, but one look at his witchy date and he has a sudden desire to sink his fangs into her neck.
Thing is, she wants his bite.
Chemistry sizzles, but when Damon’s brother threatens to tear them apart, the lines blur between loyalty, love and dark desires.
Abbey MacMunn writes paranormal and fantasy romance. She lives in Hampshire, UK, with her husband and their four children.
When she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows – anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.
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“Does my bum look big in this?” Harper Clarke twisted her torso, casting a critical eye over her appearance in her bedroom mirror.
“You look fantastic,” said Zarya. “Stunning, in fact.”
Coming from Zarya, who had no trouble getting any man she desired with a mere flutter of her eyelashes, and that haunting siren’s song of hers, was indeed a compliment of great magnitude, but Harper still wasn’t convinced. “This is supposed to be my lucky black dress, but I don’t remember it being this tight the last time I wore it.”
“Lucky? That would be a first for you,” her friend jibed. Then she choked on her drink.
“Yeah, okay, so I’m not the luckiest of witches, but I can live in hope, can’t I?” She grabbed a cushion off her bed and threw it at her. “I thought best friends were supposed to be supportive.”
Zarya fended off the cushion assault with her arm. “I am. I said you look stunning, and you do.”
Harper drained her glass of prosecco. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. So, who are you going on a date with? A Fae? An angel?” Her eyes widened like an excited child. “Ooh, a werewolf, maybe? I’m a sucker for an alpha male. Does he have a friend?”
“No, he’s not a werewolf, he’s a vampire.”
“A vamp? Are you mad?”
“No, I’m not mad. His paperwork says he only turned four months ago, which means he won’t be dangerous.”
“What paperwork? Wait…” It didn’t take her long to suss it out. “Oh my God, he’s a client from your dating agency, isn’t he?”
Bingo. Harper might have known she couldn’t keep a secret from her friend for long.
“No… yes. He might be.” She glanced at Zarya, noting her disapproval. “Don’t pull that face at me. I know it’s not exactly professional, but I haven’t been on a date in goodness knows how long, and he sounded so charming on the phone, and not at all ‘Vlad the Impaler—”
“Wait, you arranged a blind date with a vampire?” she interrupted. “What if he is dangerous, or worse, ugly?”
“Vampires are never ugly, everyone knows that.”
Maybe it was a witch thing. Not that Damon had ever met a witch before, but maybe she was putting some kind of spell on those around her, him included, a spell he seemed powerless to resist.
Is that possible? Could a witch render a vampire weak to her charms? There was no denying the desire to taste her blood was like the promise of an exquisite wine, but he would never, never bite anyone without their permission.
According to his maker, Nerissa, in order to keep their existence from the humans, it was ruled that vampires must be discreet at all times, bite only those who were willing, and then draw no more than a few drops of their blood, not even enough to make them dizzy, but enough to satisfy a vampire’s bloodlust—when it came. Being a fledgling, he was more than content with the odd blood bag or two and wouldn’t experience the bloodlust for a long time.
His maker told him there were a few vampires, especially the ancients, whose bloodlust had turned them into soulless monsters, and thought themselves above the ruling, but with Nerissa’s guidance, he had no intention of becoming a monster.
Harper opened the menu and studied it for several seconds. Her shoulders dipped a fraction. She looked up and waited for the maître d to get out of earshot. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what any of this says.”
Damon raised his eyebrows. Well, that was refreshingly different. Most women he knew would pretend to read the menu, order something with the worst French pronunciation, then proceed to pick at something they didn’t want. But not Harper. She’d come straight out and confessed.
He smiled, admiring her honesty. “Don’t worry. I can translate if you want, but I recommend the Filet de Bœuf écossais ou Roquefort—the steak. It’s to die for,” he lowered his voice and leaned forward, “but I already did that.”
She rolled her eyes and whispered back, “Is that the best vamp joke you have?”
“No, I have plenty.”
“Terrific. But the steak? Really?” She grinned. “I wouldn’t have thought you would go anywhere near a stake.”
He laughed, but only now did he wonder why she’d agreed to date a vampire, or why the owner of a dating agency for supernatural beings hadn’t matched him with one of her clients. He’d thought it odd, and a little unprofessional at the time, but something about her, even on the phone, had intrigued him. So, was she merely here to check him out, to make sure he wasn’t dangerous before she matched him with someone more suitable? If that were the case, then she wasn’t interested in him at all. The thought disappointed him more than he cared to admit.
Returning his attention to Harper, he asked, “Would you like me to order something for you?” He winked. “Something light? A sand-witch, perhaps?”
Harper rolled her stunning, pale grey eyes again, her long eyelashes brushing her eyelids. “Witch jokes too? Magic powers that be, give me strength.”
She looked at the menu again, hiding what he was sure was another smile behind the pages.
“Okay, you can order, but no snails… or frog’s legs. Definitely not those.”
“No frog’s legs or snails, I promise.”