Real Vampires Have Curves

Table of Contents

“Fans of paranormal chick lit will want to take a bite out of Gerry Bartlett's amusing tale. Glory is terrific.”

“A sexy, smart and lively contemporary paranormal romance . . . The plot is engaging, the characters are stimulating (not to mention, so is the sex) and the writing is sharp. Glory St. Clair is one hot, curvaceous vampire! She's sassy, sexy and somewhat single . . . a breath of fresh air.”

“A vampire who even Buffy could love . . . witty and smart . . . plenty of quirky humor . . . If you love Betsy from MaryJanice Davidson's Undead series or Sookie from Charlaine Harris' Southern Vampires, you're gonna love
Real Vampires Have Curves
.”
—A Romance Review

"Nina Bangs, Katie MacAlister, MaryJanice Davidson and Lynsay Sands make room for the newest member of the Vamp sisterhood because Gerry Bartlett has arrived.”

“A real winner. Bartlett brings a fresh spin to paranormal chick lit with this clever combination of suspense and humor and wonderful style. Hang on to your seats—this book is a wild ride!”
—Romantic Times

REAL VAMPIRES HAVE CURVES
REAL VAMPIRES LIVE LARGE

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

REAL VAMPIRES HAVE CURVES

A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley trade edition / March 2007
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / February 2008

Copyright © 2007 by Gerry Bartlett.

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form
without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in
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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

eISBN : 978-1-4406-3451-2

BERKLEY® SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

One

Vampires are everywhere. Lose the all-vampires-are-rich-and -powerful stereotypes. Think Mike, the night clerk at the mini-mart. Brittany, the barmaid who brings your appletini at last call. Even the night stocker at your local superstore.

And, don't freak out now, but Mike could have looked deep into your eyes and willed you to follow him to the back room. There, he could have taken you down a pint before he sent you on your way with your cigs and six pack, and you
wouldn't have a clue.

Cool, really. Forget those telltale fang marks. We can make them disappear along with your memory. No harm, no foul. Only the most depraved vamps would suck you dry and leave you for dead. Most of us have figured out that we live longer if we're discreet.

Yes, that's right,
we, us.
I'm Gloriana Eloisa St. Clair. Glory to my friends. Did you think all vamps were pale, thin and brooding? If only. The thin part anyway. But whatever shape or size we are when we're turned vampire, that's how we are
forever.

Just my crappy luck that I was bloating the day I got the big V. I have curves, okay? At least that's my positive spin on things. I do what I can with what I've got. To look at me you'd think “healthy” twentysomething with a great sense of style, thank you very much. I'm blond, blue-eyed and tanned with the best spray on money can buy.

So how did I end up an older-than-dirt vampire? Long story short—a man, of course. Tall, dark and deliciously sexy. His name was and is Angus Jeremiah Campbell the third. After a little squabble with his father he changed his name to Jeremy Blade. His choice, not mine. When our paths cross, I call him “Jerry.” He hates that. We've been on-again, off-again for centuries, currently off.

We met in London. Jerry was checking out the action and I was an actress at the Globe, back in the days when most female parts were played by men, and how sad is that? Anyway, I'd disgraced my family and married an actor. When he was killed in a really ugly accident with a slop jar, I'd have starved if the company hadn't let me take on some small parts. And I was good, a real actress, not one of those sluts who
called
themselves actresses. Billy Shakespeare loved me.

Then Jerry came backstage one night and the rest is history. I fell hard. Lust with a capital
L
. And, trust me, you haven't experienced the big
O
until you've gotten it on with a man's teeth in your neck. Jerry is irresistible when he wants to be. I begged him to make me vampire so we could be together forever.

If I'd only known . . . Turns out the man lasted forever, the love, not so long.

At least we never married. First, he didn't want to be “tied down,” then a hundred or so years later, when he decided to do me a big favor and make it legal, I'd snapped to the fact that we were talking about literally
forever
together. No way. With a sixteenth-century man? You get the picture.

And imagine the same in-laws for
centuries.
Trust me, the Campbells weren't exactly thrilled when their eldest brought home an English actress. Two strikes right there. And we were living in sin. They didn't know whether to be relieved that Jerry and I hadn't tied the knot or horrified. I eventually brought them around, but by then I'd had enough of the Scottish Highlands and their crumbling castle. The place is in the middle of
nowhere.

I'm social. I need people, bright lights, action. So I became an even better actress, blending in, moving on every decade or so when my twentysomething looks raised some eyebrows. That's the hard part, you know. Drifting. There's a vamp network for things like IDs, so that's no problem. No, it's being rootless that gets to me.

This time I stayed longer than I should have. Even Botox and cosmetic surgery couldn't explain to my mortal friends why gravity or crow's feet hadn't caught up with me.

Yeah, I like to hang with mortals. But I have lots of vampire friends too. I've run across quite a few over the years. I can smell them and vice versa. Oh, nothing nasty, like failed deodorant. A mortal can't smell us at all, but we've got heightened senses, especially when it comes to our own kind.

Sound creepy? Get over it. Vamps can be fun, real party animals. You may be wondering how someone born in 1580 can sound so
now.
I'm an actress, remember? And addicted to HBO. I still watch
Sex and the City
reruns. The shoes! Anyway, I'm a chameleon. I can listen to people talking and within minutes I'm
one
of them.

Right now, I'm on the move again. I've done Vegas and was lucky enough to get a gig dancing in a revue in a small club off The Strip. Clever costuming disguised my “problem areas,” but my cups runneth over if you know what I mean so I was a hit. Now the club is going to be knocked down to make way for one of those megacasinos so I decided it was time to move on.

I'm going east this time. Austin. Yes, in Texas. I've heard it's a happening place. I've got vamp friends there, plus I've checked it out on the Net. There are the usual freaks. Vampire wannabes with dead-white skin, black lipstick and a total lack of fashion sense. But there's also a nice group of fellow vamps, including Frederick von Repsdorf. He's one of those fun vamps I told you about. He and his boyfriend live in a neat old house near the University of Texas. He e-mailed me pictures.

Okay, okay, I admit it. I heard Blade had been through there recently. What can I say? His folks are safely tucked away in the Highlands, and Blade without the baggage still floats my boat. I'm going to check it out. Austin, that is. Hills, cowboys, dot-com millionaires. Why not?

And there are opportunities for entrepreneurs. I'm not rich like a lot of vamps, including my ex. I've always had to work for a living because I'd never take a dime from Blade— then I'd be obligated. So I work. I made good money in Vegas but discovered I had a weakness for all-night poker games.

Yeah, I could have put the vamp whammy on the other players and read their minds, but I don't cheat. So I played fair, and found out I suck at poker. Enough said. A twelve-step program later and I've given up games of chance. Another reason Austin sounds good. No legalized gambling. The closest casino is a state away.

It's close to midnight when I hug my best gal pals, shed a few tears, then take off in my 1997 Suburban pulling a twelve-foot U-Haul. I know a cute little convertible would better suit my image, but I'm a collector. Seriously. I have a lot of stuff that I drag with me wherever I go.

I'm just crossing the Nevada/Arizona border and singing “Don't Cry for Me, Argentina”—love those Broadway show tunes—when my cell phone rings. Caller ID unknown. I answer it anyway.

“Frederick tells me you're moving to Texas.”

Blade. Who else would assume I knew who he was and dispense with pleasantries, even though I haven't seen him for four years, three months . . . Oh, God, I was
not
counting.

“Keeping tabs on me, Jerry?” I could almost hear him grinding his teeth. I flashed back to the way he would stroke those bicuspids across my body . . . He wasn't saying anything. I sighed. “Yes, I'm on the road as we speak. Why?”