SCREWED AND SCREWED AGAIN
Happy early Halloween! Hope you are enjoying TRS’s Spookapalooza!
Together in a box set at Changeling Press: https://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2422 or visit my Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/J.-Hali-Steele/e/B0131HD0SW/
By J. Hali Steele
It’s Halloween! That doesn’t mean we can hide vampire loving Purple P Rose in the pumpkin patch! This badass PI knows how to get her man… Umm, that would be men!
An irreverent poke into the world of Women’s Erotic Romance.
Private Investigator Purple P. Rose’s latest case has her visiting the city’s seediest nightspot, the Mons Venus, with partner and boyfriend, Richard E. Rection. They’re unaware there’s a new and sinister being in town — Peter Hard, a vampyre who’s chosen Purple to be his.
When Richard goes missing, Peter, the local vampyre enclave’s king, believes he knows the culprit responsible. Purp and Peter are hot on the heels of the vamp who has Dick, and he may be rogue. Peter will return him — if Purple still wants him back.
Their lives will never be the same again.
We kinda doubt yours will, either.
While reading, have a FROTHY BLOOD BATH: In large punch bowl mix 1 qt of raspberry sherbet (two of the big tubs/bowls of sherbet will work) with 2 liters of ginger ale. Mix leaving a few frozen lumps of sherbet and then float blood orange slices and/or sliced strawberries on top. Serve with or without alcohol. I add my brand of gin to my taste. DON’T let the Zombies drive home! Without gin, you have a great refreshing party drink for the multitudes!
It was the crack of dawn. Purple P. Rose woke up with a hairy one in her face — Boyd’s ass. Shit, had she had too much to drink? She couldn’t think straight. Everything was askew — even the view out of her ritzy loft’s window. The trees appeared to bow and wave at her as she listened to the shower run in her bathroom.
What the hell had happened last night? Something about the new guy. She looked back at Boyd, who still slept peacefully. Purp gazed across the park and tried to remember. She did have some memories intact — the worst being her partner Dick. She thought he’d gone soft. Maybe not. She shook her head to clear the clouds of confusion.
Richard E. Rection was a real son of a bitch known as Dick to his friends. Purp found she’d rather have no one else back her up in a tight spot. He’d done that last night. Warmth crept down her thighs as she turned over the pictures in her mind of what she could remember. She’d seen a new side of Dick. Flashes came to her in living color.
They’d checked out the club Mons Venus, a cheap strip joint on the Westside, as planned. The girls there were known to go all the way with customers. So, needless to say, the place stayed full.
Every nut-sac in town turned up at Mons Venus. Purp and Dick had met there last night to interview a bartender involved in their latest case. It wasn’t their usual type of job, but she’d taken it for the money. Car repairs had left her flat broke, and it was the first of the month, which came too fast lately.
Her real problem — so did Dick.
Now she remembered. He’d been the first to interview the bartender in question. Dick then disappeared with him to a room behind the stage.
After he’d left, Purp ordered her second gin and tonic. She’d decided to enjoy the show. The girl on stage had hair the color of a magnificent western sunset. The bush between her thighs carried the same flaming color. Red knew the pole she used intimately. Purp’s panties were soon full of morning dew. But it was nighttime and she wanted to be full of something else. A hefty dick, a sliver of tongue, it didn’t matter. Anything would do the job right now.
A tremor of premonition lanced through her. She studied the other patrons. As she looked around, her eyes lit on a dark corner table. Someone stared back at her from the table there. She could make out the outline of a body. Male. Smoke wafted around him, obscuring his face. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and her pussy clenched on itself. Who was he and why was he watching her? It wasn’t the first time she’d had the feeling lately. Shit, just what she needed — the witchy stuff following her around.
Growl and roar-it’s okay to let the beast out. – J. Hali Steele