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We’re messing around when we call our boss Santa. But the truth is, I’d die to sit on his knee. Jack is burly and bearded, with silver in his hair. He’s generous and kind, and he always knows when we’ve been bad. But the storybook Santa rides a sleigh, not a motorbike. And he runs the North Pole, not a whisky-soaked bar. Jack took me in when I was a runaway. He gave me a job and put a roof over my head. He’s given me so much already, but now… I want more. Please, Santa. I know exactly who I want this year.
Mya: One minute I’m working in a bookshop and the next minute a vampire decides to kill me. Enter the tall, dark, handsome stranger who’s been hanging around the store lately. He has a deal he says I can’t refuse. I can either a) die or b) become a vampire and Queen of the Wayward. Great choices there, hey? Obviously, I choose option b. So here I am, trying to get used to not only being undead, but to my new royal role where I’m in charge of the Home of Wayward Souls. Yep, any newly dead spirits that are wild, unhappy, and out to cause trouble. All mine. Oh, and there’s another tiny thing I need to get my head around. The guy who gave me the choices? He’s Death himself. The grim reaper took a shine to me and wants to take me on a date. Suck. My. Life.
I’ve never had a reputation for doing what I should. Tourist season is my favorite flavor. There’s no shortage of ladies looking for a good time, and I’m an excellent tour guide. But my charms don’t seem to work on the fresh-faced beauty who just rolled into town, who’s all business and no pleasure. I’m up for the challenge, until I learn she’s the niece of my dad’s biggest client, and we’re about to start renovating her house. Looks like I need to be all business too, at least where she’s concerned. That’s what I keep telling myself, but staying away is easier said than done when I have to see her every day. Those big doe eyes… The innocent smile… And the way she’s starting to look at me, like she’s curious about the pleasure I can offer. She came here for the quiet, so she can concentrate on her graduate project. She doesn’t need a distraction like me. A good guy would keep his distance, but I’m used to being bad.
