By Jennifer Rardin
Jaz Parks has sufficient difficulty in her own existence. What she doesn't want is extra difficulty together with her vampire boss and one other project. This time she has to retrieve a necessary piece of biotechnology through killing the maniac who stole it: an historic chinese language vamp. Their conceal during this challenge: specialist entertainers on the Corpus Christi's iciness pageant.
The crew's all the following: a psychic, a techno-wizard, a making a song vampire, a juggling PI, and Jaz. Holy crap in a bottomless good, Jaz goes to bellydance. It's certainly, most likely, particularly in all likelihood going to be the top of the realm as we all know it.
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Extra resources for Another One Bites the Dust (Jaz Parks, Book 2)
As Catherine and Cassandra chatted of fashion, Jane pretended to listen while observing the crowd of women engaged in putting the finishing touches to their appearances, jostling to see themselves in the large mirror propped against the wall. The room rang with the patter of leather-soled dancing shoes on the plank floor, the chatter and giggles of feminine voices, the rustle of muslin and silk. A young woman exclaimed as her wreath of silk flowers slipped over one ear and she reached behind her head to twist the wire into a more secure shape.
He smiled, his canines brushing his lower lip before turning her so that she faced Mr. Hughes. She was shocked at such a blatant display in public, but realized that the steps of the dance, each dancer gazing into their partner‧s eyes, made the moment as intimate as though they were alone together in a room. Probably no one else had even noticed. “You know why, Miss Jane. You suspect we have nefarious designs upon the good people of Hampshire,” he said when they faced each other once again. ” His dark, handsome eyes narrowed slightly.
That he should refer openly to his—his condition—was provocative in the extreme. They passed each other in a hey, shoulders brushing, and she caught his scent, a stronger, muskier version of Miss Smith‧s. So Miss Smith had not been wearing an expensive perfume; it was the essence of the woman, and now of her brother (if indeed that was who he was), that had captivated her senses. And Mr. Hughes—as she passed him, he too had a distinctive scent, overlaid with a sandalwood cologne—but his was not nearly as attractive as Mr.