Diary of a Narcissistic Bloodsucker has a new cover

Paranormality is a quirky, unique universe where all things paranormal can be explored. I'll be using this blog to share my journey as a writer, in addition to offering it as a space for discussion, education and creative expansion. Topics of interest: paranormal fiction, paranormal chick lit, paranormal romance, paranormal romantic suspense, paranormal mystery, vampire romance, vampire chick lit, vampire humor, vampire fiction. Visit my website: www.LyndaHilburn.com.



I found out today that THE VAMPIRE SHRINK is a finalist in the Mainstream With Romance Elements category of Colorado Romance Writers' Award of Excellence Contest! What a great surprise! YAY!
Thanks so much to everyone who participated in this contest! The suggestions are awesome! I wrote everyones' names on pieces of paper, put them in one of my manifestation boxes, and selected two winners. Here they are:


Funny about labels. I always knew I was weird. I'm the kind of person who appears to be an extrovert -- I can get up and sing or present or talk -- but the truth is that I'm incredibly introverted. Painfully shy in some situations. A basket case. Put me in a room filled with people I don't know and I zoom to the nearest corner, where I huddle until I can flee the area. Some of the intense reaction comes from my ability to sense (and be overwhelmed by) energy. You'd think that after so many years of dealing with this issue -- studying it, contemplating it, living it -- I'd have a handle on it. Not so.

Click here to buy:
http://www.loose-id.net/detail.aspx?ID=461
Here's a snippet of a scene between Psychologist Kismet Knight and the gorgeous, 800-year-old vampire Devereux, who has shown up at her house. She's dressed in her pjs and Miss Piggy slippers.
I’d just poured a glass of liquid bliss in the form of white wine when the doorbell rang.
I turned on the porch light and squinted through the peep hole. Either there wasn’t anyone there, or my visitor was hiding out of view. Or some other option I didn’t even want to think about.
After the events of the last week, none of the possibilities were good news.
I chose the “when in doubt, do nothing” approach and was rewarded by a repeat performance of the doorbell tones.
Leaving the chain engaged, I cracked open the door barely enough to scan a small area, which basically wasn’t in the least helpful. I still couldn’t see anyone there.
I was just about to close the door, when it occurred to me I should ask an obvious question.
“Who’s there?”
“It is I, Kismet. Devereux. Please let me in.”
Devereux? If it was Devereux, why was he ringing the doorbell? Why didn’t he just pop in unannounced, uninvited, as always? Why didn’t he simply swoop in like an intrusive bat and snatch me off to another creepy-crawly adventure?
“Why are you here?”
I was batting a thousand with Questions for Dummies.
“I have come to make love to you.”
“What?” I croaked. Couldn’t say I’d heard that one before.
Since I was still staring at the floor in front of my door, I recognized the black leather boots that stepped into my line of vision.
I raised my eyes but could only see more black and a flash of what could’ve been blond hair.
Apparently, he could also see the floor on the other side of the door because he said, his voice oozing amusement, “What are you wearing on your feet?”
I glanced down at the dual Miss Piggys and felt the need to defend them. Her?
“None of your business. What do you really want?” Although, I had to admit I’d rather enjoyed the previous answer.
“I spoke the truth. I have come to make love to you. Please open the door.”
How arrogant! And you just assume that’s okay with me? That I’m just going to open the door and make another deal with the devil? That I’m even remotely interested in having sex with you after our last trip to the Twilight Zone?
“How do I know it’s really you? You usually materialize out of thin air.”
“As you wish.”
I heard that familiar little pop sound, felt a rush of air and suddenly knew he was behind me. I turned, hands on my hips.
“Hey! That wasn’t an invitation!”
A dazzling smile spread across his face. “You forget I have that handy little mind reading ability.”
He bowed from the waist, wearing a variation of his usual leather-god outfit. “I rang the doorbell because I thought you would prefer me to enter your home the normal, human way. I understand you are weary of the drama that has taken over your life. I do not wish to contribute any further to your discomfort.”
He brought his hands around from behind him. They held a huge bouquet of pink roses and a ludicrously large box of chocolates.
“Gifts for you, my love.”
He bent forward and brushed my lips lightly with his. The familiar, delicious scent of him took my nostrils hostage and my lips instinctively puckered in anticipation of more of the same.
He burst out laughing.
“You have pigs on your feet!”
He thrust the roses and box of chocolates into my hands, scooped me up into his arms and walked us over to the couch. As soon as he was seated with me on his lap, he reached over and lifted my feet, inspecting the colorful porcine coverings.
“I have never seen such a thing. Do modern humans wear all animals on their feet or only pigs?”
The longer he stared at the fluffy piggy shoes, the harder he laughed. He thumped the snout with his thumb and first finger and pulled on the tail.
As annoying as it was to be laughed at, something about his mirth was infectious and I found myself chuckling, which eventually gave way to snorts and belly laughs.
Once again, whatever resolve I’d built up against Devereux had leaked away in direct proportion to the number of minutes I spent gazing at his perfect face. It was a waste of time for me to argue that I was immune to his charm, or his eyes, or whatever it was that caused my normal inhibitions to catch the first plane outta town.
At some point I must have put the flowers and chocolates on the coffee table, because my arms were free to ensnare his neck. Which then led to my being flat on my back in my Freud pjs and my piggy shoes with an absurdly gorgeous vampire on top of me, attached at the lips.
So much for a quiet, relaxing evening.
We made out like teenagers on the couch.
As always with Devereux, I couldn’t stop touching him. Couldn’t run my fingers through his long, silky, aromatic hair enough. Couldn’t feast on his lips even remotely enough. Couldn’t imagine anything more important than having him inside me.
Even counting my close call with Alan, I hadn’t technically had intercourse for two years and the muscles in my vagina contracted in gleeful, moist anticipation.
He lifted his hot mouth from mine long enough to whisper, “Will you invite me to your bed, my love?”
Geez, the guy’s voice should be a registered weapon. It could take you down in three seconds.
“What happened to all the mind reading? I’ve been sending out the welcome committee for the last thirty minutes.”
He raised himself up just enough so I could see his smile. “I know, but it is important to me to hear the words from your own sweet lips.”
He somehow managed to lift himself off the couch in a flowing motion while scooping me up at the same time.
“Shall we?”
He carried me up the stairs, the twin Piggies bobbing up and down, but my mind was no longer on footwear. In fact, my entire brain was focused on the fastest way to get us both naked.
(to be continued . . .)



I'll be doing a joint book signing with Carrie Vaughn, author of the Kitty the werewolf books this Sunday, January 13 at 3 p.m., Denver Book Mall (32 Broaday, Denver, CO).

I hadn't really intended for this photo to be a self-portrait or anything (grin). I was just looking for a picture to use in this post about needing thick skin, and this guy (he's probably taking a nap, but I'm projecting that he's temporarily overwhelmed) works. I especially love the horn.





HERE'S THE WINNER OF "THE VAMPIRE SHRINK" BOOK DRAWING ON MARTA'S BLOG:
