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About the author:
Brenda Sparks has always loved all things spooky and enjoys incorporating paranormal elements in her writing. She refuses to allow pesky human constraints to get in the way of telling the story. Luckily the only thing limiting her stories is her imagination. Her characters are strong, courageous, and she adores spending time with them in their imaginary world.
Her idea of a perfect day is one spent in front of a computer with a hot cup of coffee, her fingers flying over the keys to send her characters off on their latest adventure.
What inspired you to write your book?
When I began writing this story, I wanted to see how my characters would deal with an unplanned pregnancy. Needless to say, much like a human family, this vampiric family had a wide range of reactions to the news about the blessed event, some reactions were comical, some were in awe, and yet others were in disbelief. It was a lot of fun to see how each character reacted.
Here is a short sample from the book:
She lifted one arm in his direction. He raised a hand to still her movement. “Don’t…touch me.”
Well, damned if that didn’t smart. He didn’t want her to touch him, even to offer him a little comfort. My, how things changed. He certainly hadn’t minded her touch the night of her brother’s wedding.
Fine. If he doesn’t want me touching him, so be it.
Natasha turned around, sending her harlequin colored pigtails twirling about her face and retrieved the bag of blood from the floor. Without looking in his direction, she stalked through the room and sat in the only padded chair. She punctured the bag with her fangs and drank, glaring at him over the top of the bag.
The blood seeped into her cells, nourishing both her and the baby. The baby moved as she continued to down the bag quickly. Her hunger pangs eased a little with each gulp of the life-sustaining liquid.
Vlad slowly straightened to his full height. The expression on his face, a cross between disdain and pain, softened her eyes. With an awkward gait, he gingerly moved in her direction.
“We need to talk,” he barked, his voice still rough with pain.
She just bet they did. No doubt, Vlad would tell her to leave. It was there on his face. He obviously didn’t want her in his home, and she didn’t blame him.
She had run out after they made love, avoided him for months, and now she had injured his manhood. If the tables were reversed, she probably wouldn’t want him around either.