Jennifer Owens had her fair share of troubles, what with being pestered by dead people, her best friend Becky being the worst witch in the history of witchcraft and being stalked by a sex mad octogenarian. She didn’t think things could get any worse... moreJennifer Owens had her fair share of troubles, what with being pestered by dead people, her best friend Becky being the worst witch in the history of witchcraft and being stalked by a sex mad octogenarian. She didn’t think things could get any worse. But that was before she became the target of a blood-thirsty band of vampires who wanted to protect a secret that only she could unlock, if only she could figure out what it was! Now she found herself bang in the middle of a mystery with dead bodies and dead people turning up all over the place, as well as one steaming hot vampire slayer determined to be her knight in shining armour. But is he real or another one of Becky’s silly spells? And would they be able to figure out the vampire secret before she became their dinner?***He told me he was a gardener; a landscape gardener, no less. Not once did he mention “slash vampire slayer”. I’m pretty sure if he had, the sexy eyes and bulging biceps wouldn’t have looked quite so appealing. Mind you, who was I to talk? When I was a child, I wanted to be a ballet dancer, or a gymnast, or even a swordfish (admittedly I was suffering from hallucinations brought on by a fever at the time). I never, ever, in my wildest moments, thought that when I grew up, I’d be the chronicler of the dead. Nor would I have wanted to. The dead don’t keep office hours and certainly don’t respect your privacy when you’re on the loo. And they don’t pay. I had to resort to selling sex aids to geriatrics just to keep a roof over my head.On the plus side, I was never out of work. There was always a queue of them (the dead that is, not geriatrics). Wherever you turned they were there, wanting to pass on the messages they hadn’t had the forethought to pass on before they did. But someone didn’t want one of the messages to be delivered. Someone who wasn’t entirely in the land of the living themselves. Someone who was willing to go to extreme lengths to shut me up. On top of all that, I had to spend my days dodging the ill-conceived spells my best friend cast in her quest to ensure I achieved the ultimate in sexual satisfaction (my advice? Don’t tell your friend if you’ve never had a Big O, especially if she’s a witch!). And now my dog’s back-answering me as well. As if I didn’t have enough to cope with, what with my father’s mid-life crisis and being stalked by said vampire slayer.Someone please give me fate’s address…I feel a strongly worded letter coming on! less
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