With the release of Knight Moves this week, I thought I’d drop a little sample in here for you guys. As always, the book is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Once I get print copies formatted, they will be available online, at cons and here.

Chapter 1

I woke up with a beautiful woman staring down at me, her brown curls cascading over my face. I smiled into the dark eyes of Detective Sabrina Law. “This is a nice way to start an evening. I love the way your hair smells.” She straddled my waist fully dressed, but I had faith in my ability to fix that. Then I noticed she wasn’t returning my smile. Her expression wavered between betrayed and furious, and her green eyes were red-rimmed. I smelled the salt on her cheek and raised my head a little, surprised when she pulled back, scowling.
“Don’t move,” she said in a low, tense voice.
Not being one to listen much, I tried to sit up, then realized I was handcuffed to my bed. While not my normal thing, I wasn’t going to ask questions until I realized that the handcuffs were silver-plated, and that my skin was starting to blister from the exposure. I pulled experimentally at the restraints, got nowhere, then tried to move my legs with a similar lack of results. I started to get a little worried. When I saw that Sabrina still hadn’t so much as cracked a smile, I really started to worry. When I noticed the silver stake she had pressed against my chest, I became downright concerned.
“I didn’t mean it. Those jeans definitely do not make your butt look big.” I smiled, giving my best disarming look, to no avail. No surprise there. I’d always been the guilty-looking one, even before I became an undead creature of the night.
Sabrina looked down, disgust and anger coming off of her in waves, and poked the stake a little harder into my chest. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shove this overgrown toothpick into your heart right now.”
“Ummm… my sparkling personality?” I tried one more time for humor, but my jokes were falling flatter than usual.
“Not even close, you parasite.” She pulled her arm back as if to jam the stake home, but just before she perforated me, she very quietly asked, “How could you?”
“How could I what?” I asked, just as quietly. I figured if a little quiet time was what the situation demanded, I shouldn’t argue. Besides, I had no idea why she was angry. I was no stranger to inspiring violence in other people, especially women, but this time I couldn’t come up with anything I had done to her specifically. And since it was close to impossible for me to get blackout drunk anymore, my memory was pretty solid.
“You know what, you monster!” She poked the stake into my chest a little. I couldn’t see what was going on, but I heard a sizzling sound as the silver came into contact with my blood.
I hadn’t known my blood would boil when touched by silver. “No, really, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about! And you know my “stupid face” by now!” I tried again to twist away from the pointy bit.
“You murdered a girl tonight, Jimmy. You drained her dry and left her in a construction site. I saw the body, and I know a vampire kill when I see one. She was just a kid, and you threw her aside like a piece of garbage. I thought I knew you. How could you do that?” The look of betrayal in her eyes hurt almost as much as the silver stake. Almost, but not quite. Really, not even close to as much, but it still hurt.
“Sabrina, what the hell are you talking about? You know me better than that! I could never do that to someone.” I pulled against my restraints, desperate to do something, anything to make her stop looking at me as though I were a monster.
“I don’t know anything about you.” She just kept looking at me, eyes full of betrayal. That part hurt the worst, the look.
I twisted around again, then looked her in the eyes. “Sabrina, I swear to you, I didn’t kill anyone tonight. I didn’t even eat takeout! I was here all night with Greg watching Being Human reruns on Netflix. Go ask the svelte avenger if you don’t believe me!”
“No need to go anywhere, Detective. He’s telling the truth. And please get off of my partner. You’re distraught, and I’d hate for you to make a mistake and let him live.” Greg Knightwood, my partner and roommate, stood in the doorway to my bedroom wearing, of all things, baby-blue footie pajamas. A forty-year-old vampire in footie pajamas.  I wasn’t sure which was worse, that I had to be rescued by the fat half of our Laurel and Hardy duo, or that he did it wearing footie pajamas. I finally decided that the pj-wearing was the worst part.
“Besides, I think he’s starting to enjoy it a little too much,” Greg added.
Sabrina blushed and got off of me, but she didn’t remove the cuffs. “Why should I believe you, Greg?” She got right up in my partner’s face. To be precise about it, she got way over my partner’s head because she had a couple inches on him, especially in her ass-kicking, dark red leather boots. I guessed when you were going to kill your friend, you dressed for the occasion.
“Because I didn’t shoot you in the back of the head.” Greg raised his 9mm, then holstered the weapon. I wasn’t sure where he kept a holster in his jammies, but right then I wasn’t interested in asking a whole lot of questions. “Now, shall we have a drink and talk about this like civilized people?” He turned and walked toward the living room. Sabrina watched his retreating back for a moment, looked back at me, then followed him.
“Hey kids, not for nothing, but you wanna uncuff me first? I gotta pee.”

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