“Then you’ve come to the right place.” I smile back. “Let me get you an application from my office in the back.” I stretch out my hand. “My name is Miriam Murphy, by the way. Welcome to my library. I could really use an assistant.”
“I hoped you might say that.”
THE VAMPIRE END…
(Resurrection is always possible.)
But keep reading for a special message from Baby Nice!
(OR skip GO. Head straight to FANGED LOVE! Yes. The actual book Mr. Nice loves is here!)
→→→ www.mimijean.net/fangedlove
MESSAGE FROM BABY NICE
Waaah!
Waaah!
Waaah!
Just kidding. I may be a baby once more, but I am fully aware of what has become of me. Now, some of you may wonder why I took that serum, and I can only tell you this: When you are an evil con artist and a vampire, one must recognize when you have been checked but not mated. I believe you humans call it a Hail Mary.
I knew Vanderhorst had bested me. But as I always say: Live to fight another day! Survive to jive another century. Push, push in the bush, to garden one more season.
In the meantime, Vanderhorst will have to change my shitty diapers, and that hot librarian will soon be holding me close to her bosom when I cry.
Who’s the winner now, Vanderhorst?
Me. Baby Nice.
In twenty or so years, I will find a way to be a vampire once more and make her my fanged love.
I happen to like older women, but do you, Vanderhorst?
Time will tell.
As for you blood bags—I mean, humans—I feel a reward is in order for your patience while I grow big, evil, sexy, and strong once more. I shall instruct this Mimi Jean person to send you signed rectangles bearing a book cover, which shows Gretta and Freddy! Anyone worth their weight in Nice Tea knows that my fanged love, Miriam, would never dress like that. She is all things wholesome.
STEP ONE: Email her at [email protected]
STEP TWO: Provide your NICE, neat, and complete shipping info.
STEP THREE: If you wrote a NICE review for this spectacular story, and you loved it more than bloody ice cream, be sure to provide a link or screenshot. Mimi Jean will do her very best to include extra goodies. It is first ask, first get! So do not cry to me—or maybe do! I love crying!—if she runs out.
STEP FOUR: Give her about 3–4 weeks.
Be sure to sign up for her very tacky and scary newsletter so you do not miss out on updates from me, Baby Nice.
SIGN UP HERE → www.mimijean.net
With Evil Hugs,
Baby Nice
P.S. The Librarian’s Vampire Assistant, Book 5 Playlist! Here on Spotify!
P.P.S. Book 5 on Pinterest.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A BIG FANGY thank-you to my readers, especially the Mimi Jean Junkies! You don’t know how much I appreciate all of the support and encouragement you give. Your posts about hotties, unicorns, squirrels, and books are like fuel for my soul. Never a dull moment and always smiles to be had.
Also, I must give the usual accolades for Team Mimi! Su, LD, Pauline, Paul, and Kelli! It’s so, so wonderful to know I can always count on you guys to help me get these books to readers.
As usual, a big thanks to my dudes and parents. It’s been quite a year for us all, but the challenges we’ve faced are proof of how much we all love each other.
With Love,
Mimi
COMING SOON!
THE DEAD KING, The King Series #6
Click here for updates, links, and maybe a cover!
www.mimijean.net/deadking
In the meantime, are you caught up?
EXCERPT – From the USA TODAY Bestselling Book KING’S
“I am the man who can find anything or anyone. For a price. And my price is you.”
When Mia Turner’s brother goes missing in Mexico while on an archaeological dig, she believes that life couldn’t get much worse. But when she’s blocked at every turn from finding answers, by both local and US authorities, she must turn to a man she swears is the devil.
Others might be fooled by his private jet, fine tailored suits, and disarming smile, but Mia knows something dark, sinister, and unnatural lurks behind those penetrating pale-gray eyes. And the more she learns, the more she realizes she may never be free again.
Chapter One
San Francisco.
Present Day. 5:57 P.M.
I squirmed in my tight gray pencil-skirt from behind the antique desk and forced myself to look away.
Three minutes to go.
But I didn’t need a clock to tell me that. I knew it. My stomach knew it. And the sweat trickling beneath my fitted white blouse, down the small of my back, knew it.
Focus on something else, Mia.
I glanced at the drizzle of rain collecting outside on the office window, but I couldn’t see past the film of dirt. Even if I could, I wouldn’t see clouds or the long-overdue rain. I would only see him. Or, really, the mental ghost of his tailored black suit, jet-black hair, and pale-gray eyes powering through me from the darkened doorway, cautioning me not to speak. That was how he greeted me each evening before he walked directly to his private office and shut the door, leaving behind a subtle trail of delicious cologne. There would be no other exchange between us. His cologne. My nose. Oh yes, I almost forgot. The phone calls.
At exactly 6:02 p.m., he would call my desk, a mere five feet from his door, and say in that deep, mesmerizing voice that sent prickly chills to my bones, “That will be all, Miss Turner.”
Those five feet felt like a thousand miles of scorching desert. One I dared not cross. Because while some people might be fooled by the exquisite lines of his handsome face or by his European arrogance that reeked of old money, I was not. I saw right through that rapturous smile. He was a cruel, sadistic son of a bitch. That was the only explanation as to why he kept me waiting
