Yes. But not everyone has wings.

  So why no girls for awhile, Fang?

  Because I was in love with another woman.

  So who’s the lucky woman?

  There was a long delay. A very long delay. I wrote: Fang?

  And then on my computer screen appeared a single red rose, followed by the words: I love you, Moon Dance.

  I stared at my monitor. More words appeared.

  I fell in love with you instantly. I know this sounds crazy because I’ve never met you, but I have fallen in love with the image I have created of you in my mind. There will never be a woman on the face of this earth who can compare to this image. All will fall short.

  He stopped writing, and I read his words over and over again. Finally, I wrote my response.

  We are both crazy, Fang. You know that, right?

  Yes, I know that.

  Goodnight, Fang.

  Goodnight, Moon Dance.

  The End

  Samantha Moon returns in:

  Vampire Moon

  Vampire for Hire #2

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK * Paperback * Audio

  Return to the Table of Contents

  Interview with J.R. Rain

  Question: Where does this interview find you now, J.R.?

  JR: At present, I’m in a quaint little town called Leavenworth, deep in the Cascade Mountains of Washington, surrounded by tall, craggy peaks, twisty rivers, immense evergreens, and, of course, Bigfoot. He’s here, watching us, probably confused as hell, wondering why we don’t run free in the woods, naked. Like him.

  Question: Tell us more about Leavenworth, and not so much about running free in the woods naked.

  JR: Leavenworth is modeled after an Old World Bavarian village, which makes taking pictures here a lot of fun (not that any of us ever really go back through our phones and look at our pictures, right?) Leavenworth is a theme town, meaning, it had been a struggling lumber town, until it adopted the Bavarian theme, and they ran with it. You should really see this place at Christmas! Anyway, if you like steins of beer, bratwurst, and lots and lots of tourists, this is the place for you. Did I mention the beer? And yeah, you should definitely come here during Oktoberfest! Good times.

  Q: Do you live in Leavenworth?

  JR: No, it’s a working vacation. I live, in fact, on a small island, in a small house, with my small dog, Sadie.

  Q: How long have you lived in Washington?

  JR: On and off for 13 years. I first moved up in 2004, and lived in Seattle. Now, I prefer the solitude of an island.

  Q: When did you write Moon Dance?

  JR: I wrote Moon Dance in October 2003 while living in a one-bedroom apartment in Orange County, California. In fact, I lived in the very same city Sam Moon lives in now!

  Q: What inspired you to write about a vampire?

  JR: Ha, good question! One day I was watching an episode of Bewitched and it just sort of dawned on me that the series was about a witch living secretly in suburbia. After that “doi!” epiphany, a question popped into my mind: How could a vampire mother and wife live secretly in suburbia? What sacrifices would she have to make to successfully raise her kids, be married, and have a job? From there, I just ran with it, and six weeks later, out popped Moon Dance.

  Q: Was writing from a woman’s perspective a challenge?

  JR: It was and it wasn’t. No, I have never been a mother, but I have a caring and loving mother. I have spent a lifetime observing a mother’s love for her children. I was able to tap into my own love for my family and friends... and kick it up a notch or two. Or three.

  Q: When you wrote this book, how popular were vampires?

  JR: Not very popular at all. This would have been two years before the first Twilight book was published and five years before the first movie. Charlaine Harris’ Dead Until Dark came out in 2001, but I hadn’t heard of it or read it yet. The only vampire novels that I was aware of were those written by Anne Rice, Brian Lumley, Dan Simmons, and Laurell K. Hamilton. Of those four authors, the first three were considered horror. I was vaguely aware of The Vampire Diaries book series, but hadn’t looked into them. To sum up, back in 2003, I really thought I was part of a new genre... one that featured vampires, family life, and even a mystery.

  Q: When did you first publish Moon Dance?

  JR: I self-published it September 2009, exactly eight years ago (it’s now September 2017).

  Q: So, what happened during the six years between writing Moon Dance and publishing it?

  JR: It made its rounds to all the major publishers. One nearly bought it, then backed out. A Hollywood studio nearly bought it, too, then backed out. (Yes, my agent was busy; he really believed in it.) Meanwhile, I lived in basements and slept on couches. I went bankrupt and received free food from the local Help Houses. Eventually, I started working as an editor, and, in 2009, I started self-publishing my unsold novels as paperbacks, determined to sell them at the local street fairs. That’s when a friend of mine said, “Amazon just opened their doors to independent writers. Why don’t you try publishing on Kindle?” I’d heard about Kindle, but hadn’t a clue where to start. So, I Googled, “How to publish on Kindle?” and the rest is history. Well, my history, haha.

  Q: Can you tell us more about those early days with Kindle?

  JR: Funny, it’s only been eight years, but what a dramatic eight years! Back in those days, there were only about 400,000 Kindle ebooks. I’m afraid to look at how many are published now. Last I checked, it was about 4 million, I think. (Okay, I just peeked: 5.6 million ebooks, yikes.) So, competition was less.

  Q: Today, there are dozens of series that feature vampire detectives. What is your opinion of that?

  JR: Oh, I love it. I remember an editor once telling me, “We just don’t know how to market a female vampire mystery novel written by a man!” Well, I’m glad they couldn’t figure it out! Because Amazon sure did!

  Q: This interview will more than likely be read by new readers. What would you like to say to them?

  JR: Thank you for giving Moon Dance a chance. It’s not a perfect book by any means, but it’s the best a 32-year-old, non-female, non-mother could write. (I’m 45 now.) Sam’s story is about to get crazy over the next 14 or so books, so hang on for the ride!

  Q: Thank you for visiting with us today, JR!

  JR: The pleasure was all mine!

  Return to the Table of Contents

  MOON QUIZ

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  Moon Quiz

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2017 by J.R. Rain

  All rights reserved.

  Moon Quiz

  “Next question, Sam.”

  “No, please. No more questions.”

  “C’mon, just a few more. Pretty please. This is fun.”

  “For you,” I mumble into my glass of wine.

  We are at my sister’s house, drinking white zinfandel and watching Big Brother while the kids play video games upstairs. Rick, Mary Lou’s husband, is in his office, grading papers. Danny, of course, is AWOL. So, a typical night.

  “Please, Sam.”

  “Fine. One more.”

  “Yay. There’s just a few left.”

  “I said one—”

  “Okay, let’s see...” My sister is reading from a tattered copy of Cosmo that she’d swiped from her dentist’s office. I reminded her that that was stealing. She’d shrugged it off and said, ‘So, sue me,’ which led me to remind her that the police didn’t sue; they arrested. She’d only waved me off and poured us more wine.

  At the moment, I can’t help but notice that my face doesn’t reflect in my half-empty wine glass. I hold it up a little higher, looking deeper into it. Nope. Nothing. Maybe a hint of some of the makeup I’m wearing, but that’s about it. I stick my tongue out... and still nothing. How the hell is my tongue invisible, too?

  I sigh, suddenly depressed.

  “If you’re done screwing around with your glass, we can continue.”

  “I need something stronger,” I say.

  “Stronger how—oh, no. You mean blood?”

  “Yup.”

  “No blood for you!” she says suddenly, slapping her hand on the counter, and imitating the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld.

  “Oh, brother.”

  “Next question: Would you like to be famous?”

  “Not anymore,” I answer.

  “Did you used to want to be?”

  I think about that. “No, not really. I was happy being a federal ag—”

  “No, I mean before that.”

  “How much before?”

  “When you were a kid. Say, in middle school. You know, before you became jaded by life.”

  “Who said I was jaded?”

  “Who just said they needed something stronger?”

  “Fine,” I say, and think back. Way back. “I wanted to be a singer. And a clown.”

  My sister giggles. “A singing clown?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “How did I not know this?”

  “Because you were in high school, and you had boobs, and you were dating boys. Oh, and you never asked.”

  “Still, I think I would have known if my kid sister wanted to be a clown.”

  I shrug. “Next question.”

  “We’re going to circle back to this clown business.”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  She scans the magazine, finds her place. “Ooh, here’s a good one. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

  I blink. “That question is in Cosmo?”

  “Sure is.”

  She flips the magazine around and points with a freshly manicured nail. I give it only a passing scan, since I obviously believe my sister. I wave my hand. “Fine, fine.”

  “Well? What’s your answer?”

  I had, of course, noticed that the first few questions had two tick marks next to them, and the remaining questions only had one. Meaning, my sister had already taken the questionnaire. My sister needs to get a life.

  “Doesn’t apply,” I say, shrugging. “I’m immortal. I’m going to live forever.”

  “Ooh, look at me,” teases my sister. “I’m immortal. I won’t die.”

  “Well, unless someone stabs me in the heart with a silver dagger,” I say.

  “Okay, this just got dark.”

  “Just saying.”

  “What about a wooden stake?” she asks, eyes narrowing.

  I shake my head. “I honestly don’t know. I’m new at this, remember? Silver, I know, hurt like hell.”

  Truth is, my pal Fang believes that the whole wooden stake business is all wrong. According to him, only silver can harm vampires—or other immortals. Still, a wooden stake to the heart would hurt... so... damn... much.

  Mary Lou sets her pen down. “You’re never going to die.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “You really are going to live forever.”

  “That’s what they say. This is news to you?”

  “Well, I never... Sam, do you have any idea how long that is?”

  “Pretty long.”

  “Think about it, sweetie. Five hundred years from now... you’ll still be alive. And I will be only a memory. All of us will only be a memory. Me, your kids, everyone.”

  “Unless you join me,” I say.

  “Oh, posh. I would make a terrible vampire. No thank you. I mean, look at your nails.”

  I shrug. “Your loss.”

  She grabs her pen again. “Next question. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?”

  “If my kids will be okay.”

  My sister nods. “I get that. But what about for you?”

  I think about it long and hard, sipping from my wine and listening to our kids upstairs. I can hear Anthony laughing and slapping the floor the way he does when he’s happy. Tammy is up there, too, but I can’t hear her. Maybe because she’s not a hyperactive boy.

  I shrug. “Nothing else matters.”

  “What about between you and Danny?”

  “What about me and Danny?”

  “Don’t you want to know how things will turn out?”

  I set my empty glass down. I suspect I know how things will turn out. “No. Next question.”

  Mary Lou takes some air and clearly doesn’t approve. What she doesn’t approve of, I don’t know. Maybe my outlook on life. But if you’re going to live forever, why worry about yourself? And why worry about a cheating husband I’m going to far outlive anyway? Like she said, Danny will someday be a distant memory. Of course, I can say that about my kids, too, which breaks my heart more than I can handle right now.

  “Last question,” says Mary Lou. “Are you an arm girl or a chest girl?”

  The question makes me laugh, thankfully. It also gets me thinking about Kingsley Fulcrum’s arms. Those inhumanly big arms. I briefly wonder what they would feel like wrapped around me, holding me close. They would, I think, feel perfect. And hairy.

  “I’m definitely an arm girl,” I say.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “What about butts... chests?”

  “Give me a pair of loving arms, and I’m good.”

  Mary Lou makes a final check in the magazine and tosses it aside. She also makes a face. “Other than sounding like a bad Western song, we’re done here.” She picks up her glass, raises it, then pauses halfway to her mouth. “A clown, really?”

  “Clowns are fun,” I say. “Even blood-sucking clowns.”

  “Thanks for that,” says Mary Lou. “Now, I’m going to have nightmares.”

  Upstairs, the laughing turns to yelling, and the thumping on the floor turns into a full-on wrestling match. Mary Lou sighs. “Am I taking this one, or are you?”

  I wink. “I think we both know the answer to that one.”

  “Bitch,” she says, but leans over and hugs me.

  Super tight, and with a lot of love.

  Yeah, I needed that.

  The End

  Return to the Table of Contents

  TEETH

  (Fang’s Story)

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  Teeth

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2010 by J.R. Rain

  All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  To Randy, who always likes to talk shop.

  Teeth

  (Author’s note: “Teeth” is Fang’s story. Or, rather, his back story, in which the question is asked: What happens when a child is born with a rare throwback gene, a gene that produces two exceptionally long teeth?)

  The defense attorney circled the witness box and studied the killer. The young man, with his head bowed and hands clasped loosely before him, looked as if he were in a confessional. The attorney nearly chuckled at the image.

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sucked my girlfriend dry.”

  He stopped circling and now stood directly in front of his client. As usual, the young man ignored him and stared down into his lap.

  Remember, Aaron, thought the attorney. Your fate rests with me. I’m your friend here, not the enemy.

  The crowd was silent; so silent, in fact, that the attorney actually heard a pen drop, clattering loudly on the polished tiles. The lawyer, however, was not so delusional as to believe that those in the courtroom were holding their collective breaths and waiting for him. Indeed, he knew they were spellbound by the young man. The killer. Hell, the whole damn world seemed spellbound by the young man, whom the press had dubbed the American Vampire.

  The attorney removed his glasses dramatically—he always removed them dramatically—and spoke loudly enough for all to hear. After all, this was his big moment, too. This case would make his career.

  “Aaron, you have been found guilty for the murder of Annie Hox. Now a new jury must decide your punishment. In particular, they will decide if you are worth more alive than dead. The ball is in your court, Aaron.”

  The young man continued staring down at his hands, almost petulantly, like a scolded kid.

  A hell of a scolding, thought the attorney.

  Aaron Parker had always been a quiet young man, the very definition of introverted. Long ago he had learned never to trust anyone, especially not to open up to anyone. Now, sitting here for all the world to see in the witness box, he felt uneasy at best. The uncomfortable chair didn’t help, either.

  As Aaron shifted again, the lead defender paused in front of him, smelling of expensive cologne and looking, if anything, like he was enjoying himself. Aaron hated him. Aaron hated most people, but he especially hated his own attorney. The polished man looked like the older version of all the kids in school who had made fun of him. All the good-looking kids who had it good and easy.

  Aaron never had it easy. Ever.

  And so he hated the man, just like he hated all the others.

  Despite himself, Aaron inhaled deeply, drawing in the man’s cologne. Aaron always had a thing for scents and smells. In fact, he often thought of all his senses as being highly attuned. Especially his sense of taste.

  He looked past his attorney, his small darting eyes finding the faces of those sitting in the courtroom beyond. Hundreds of faces, belonging to everyone from family members and friends, to the media and the damn curious. Expressions ranging from revulsion to amusement to horror. And all were staring at him. Every one of them.