Divalicious darling of the undead Lil Marchette is this close to finding her own happily-ever-after with hunky live-in bounty hunter Ty Bonner. Unfortunately, reality is biting back in a big way. Lil’s got mounting bills to pay and clients to keep happily hooked up courtesy of Dead End Dating, the ultimate meet-and-greet for New York’s fanged, furry, and fabulous. But leave it to a drop-dead gorgeous eight-hundred-year-old warlock with a big-girl fetish to take the biggest chomp out of Lil’s happiness by kidnapping Esther Crutch, one of Lil’s plus-size clients, now stamped as Grade-A Ritual Meat. Leaving Ty warming the bed, Lil races to rescue Esther’s curvy behind before she’s turned into a Mayan sacrifice. The trail leads to Texas–hell by any other name–and as if dust, demons, and hopelessly outdated fashion weren’t bad enough, fate gives Lil an unexpected partner: her mom, who is on a mission to meddle (as usual) and grab a little mother-daughter time. Will Lil remain calm in the face of smotherly love and save Esther–or will her client bite the dust? Kimberly Raye is the bestselling author of more than thirty novels, including Dead End Dating, Dead and Dateless, Your Coffin or Mine? , and Just One Bite . She’s been nominated for several Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Awards, as well as two RITA Awards. Her books have been featured in several major magazines, including Better Homes & Gardens and Glamour , and her novel Sometimes Naughty, Sometimes Nice was a Cosmopolitan magazine book club pick. She lives deep in the heart of Texas Hill Country with her husband and their young children. Chapter One Are you tired of nursing down that bottle of O +  all by your lonesome? Did you spend the last full moon drinking Cosmos and lusting over the American Kennel Club finals? Do you spend every eve - ning scarfing a Hungry Man (or woman) and watching TiVo?  If your first reaction was Uh- oh or How’d she know that? to any of the above, then you are cordially invited to a meet and greet dinner party, hosted by Dead End Dating, Manhattan’s number one matchmaking ser vice for vampires, humans and Others. Join fantabulous host (and incredibly well- dressed vampire) Lil Marchette for a night of dinner and dancing and romance in the pent house of the Waldorf Astoria. Disclaimer—DED is an equal opportunity dating service that does not discriminate based on race, sex, looks (or lack of) or appetite. Net worth, however, is an entirely different matter— i.e., don’t forget the checkbook, debit card and/or Visa Gold.  I propped up the framed copy of the engraved vellum invitation I’d mailed out to every appropriate single in Manhattan and tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach.  I’m the Countess Lilliana Arrabella Guinevere du Marchette (Lil for short), a five- hundred- year- old (and holding) born vampire. I’ve got super- fab taste in clothes, a to- die- for collection of MAC cosmetics and a hot, hunky, bounty- hunting boyfriend. I so  had it going on.  Ix- nay the nerves, right?  Wrong .  I’m also the own er of Dead End Dating, Manhattan’s primo matchmaking ser vice for vampires, weres, Others and even the occasional human. As of five minutes ago, I had exactly one week to match up over a dozen paid- in- full clients, otherwise I failed to make good on my Find- your- one- and- only- in- sixmonths- or- get- your- money- back! guarantee.  Since I didn’t do refunds (not unless I wanted to return half my wardrobe and say bye- bye to my new iPhone), I had to pick up the pace. Pronto. Hence, my latest super- fantabulous brainstorm— the meet and greet dinner party about to happen right here. Right now.  I drew a deep breath (not because I had to, but, hey, when in Rome . . . ), straightened my green Roberto Cavalli dress (a floor- length, strappy chiffon number à la Rihanna) and finished setting up the hostess table. I added DED business cards, name tags, promotional pens, koozies and calendars, even a few pics and testimonials from previous clients. I sprinkled some rose petals and debated whether or not to hand out the Viagra samples in my bag or just spike the drinks when no one was looking. I knew none of the born vamps in attendance would need a little penis pick- me- up (our entire existence revolved around sex— we were conceived via the nasty, we stopped aging when we lost our virginity, we chose an eternity mate based on orgasm quotients and fertility ratings), but what about the dozens of Others out there? FYI: While I’d been spreading the love to the wealthy and weird for several months now, I’d led a very pampered, sheltered, elitist existence in all the 499 plus years before then (emphasis on elitist ). In other words, I wasn’t exactly Dr. Drew when it came to mating habits of the various species.  The only thing I did know for sure? The hornier the clients, the lower the standards, the sooner everyone paired up.  I eyeballed the bag a split second before stashing it, complete wi