Read Vampire in Paradise for Free Online

shooting Inga a dirty look.
    Inga elbowed her. “Stop being so negative.”
    “They are reg’lar jobs,” Tiffany insisted. “Ah’m applyin’ fer one of the hair salons, but Ah figure this will be mah opportunity ta get discovered. Becky Bliss got discovered in a Dairy Queen, y’know.”
    “She probably practiced her twerking while making Blizzards. All that shivering, y’know ,” Marisa commented.
    “Huh?” Tiffany said.
    Inga smacked Marisa lightly on the arm. “Keep frowning like that, and you’ll be able to plant rice in the furrows in your forehead.”
    “Ah have the best wrinkle cream. Insta-Smooth by Luxor,” Tiffany announced. “It’s expensive, but Ah get a discount at the beauty shop where Ah work. Ah could get y’all some.”
    “Gee, thanks.”
    The sarcasm passed right over Tiffany’s head as she smiled at Marisa.
    I’m getting way too cynical. And mean.
    Having a sick child does that to a person. Living in a world where some bimbo twerking her ass earns big bucks, and a hardworking woman like me can’t afford a measly Swiss operation for a sick child just isn’t fair.
    But it’s not this twit’s fault.
    “Sorry,” Marisa murmured.
    “Thass okay, sug-ah. Actually, Ah’m havin’ trouble with mah twerkin’,” she confessed. “Maybe you gals could help me practice while we’re on the island. We could be roomies and everythin’. Mr. Vanderfelt said four people are assigned to each bungalow, y’know.”
    Roommates? What next? “That is just great,” Marisa said before she had a chance to bite her loose tongue.
    “Ooh, ooh, ooh! Lookee there! Betcha that’s Lance Rocket.”
    A stretch limousine had just pulled up, and the line in front of them swarmed forward in a cluster, like bees. Four big, burly men in wraparound sunglasses jumped out of the limo—bodyguards, Marisa presumed—and held back the crowd as a tall man emerged, smiling at the screaming women. He wore a lavender silk shirt unbuttoned to the waist of his form-hugging pants. Tights, for heaven’s sake! And, yep, the guy had a rocket in his pocket, if that bulge was actually all him. He adjusted himself, causing more screams, and proceeded to sign autographs for his fans, on DVDs, grocery receipts, handbags, even on bare skin.
    Inga and Tiffany moved closer to get a better look, but Marisa stayed behind, holding their place in line. She’d seen enough.
    “What a bunch of lackwit women!” someone muttered behind Marisa. “And the men! If you can call them that! They have overstuffed their codpieces to compensate for their size. Clearly, none of them are Vikings. Remember the time Trond put an actual live cod in his codpiece? Convinced Dala the dairymaid that he had magic in his wand when it started to move.”
    Marisa pretended to look over her shoulder at something in the distance to the right, but out of the corner of her eye she surreptitiously studied the tall man speaking on a cell phone. A very tall man. She was six feet tall today in her three-inch heels and upswept hairdo, and he was at least four inches taller than that. Dark blond hair was pulled off his face and tied in a low ponytail at his nape. He wore an unbuttoned, short-sleeved black silk shirt over a black T-shirt tucked into black straight-legged jeans with black athletic shoes, the latest Adidas that cost more than most people’s car payments. His face was a work of art with the high cheekbones and sculpted planes of the Nordic race.
    He and Inga could be brother and sister, except Inga was an only child.
    Marisa turned to see if Inga had got a gander at this dude, but Inga and Tiffany were both captivated by the scene unfolding before them. Apparently, Becky Bliss emerged from the limo, too. Becky resembled a young Dolly Parton. Enough said! Turning back, still looking at something at the end of the block, Marisa saw that the dude in black hadn’t even noticed her yet. He was staring off in the other direction while talking on the phone