Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
Just finished reading Death becomes her and I highly recommend it! It starts out rather slow as the backstories are built, but once the action starts, get ready for a great ride. I just hope the second book is released soon!
MIKE >> This review is probably responsible for me mainlining Coke (a cola) to push out book #2. I was now officially hooked on fulfilling the massive desire for the fans of Bethany Anne to get out book 2.
I might have been a bit premature on that second book, releasing a slightly immature product… Ok, majorly but what’s a few editing mistakes?
A whole lot, I figured out. ;-)
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ByKindle Customeron November 6, 2015
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
Excellent book. New take on things with a good developed cast of characters, Good Plot and good Pacing. Looking forward to book 2
MIKE >> The first, the review that started it all… The avalanche of awesomeness. Well, for me anyway! I can remember when I got this first review and I felt 10 feet tall. Then immediately hit head on door frame leaving room.
P.S. - If you like these comments and want to see more, or tell me to ‘f#cking drop them’ - let me know on Facebook!
Are you one of those people who just have to stay until the very end?
Yes?
Well, I guess I can share something with you, then.
KNEEL OR DIE
WE WILL BUILD
ITS HELL TO CHOSE
RELEASE THE DOGS
SUED FOR PEACE
WE HAVE CONTACT
MY RIDES A BITCH
(MORE)
Still here? D@mn,
It’s the credits… I don’t have anything else…
YET >>
— The future —
One hundred years later, on a planet with only a number, a Kurtherian clan successfully over powered a small contingent of the Queens Wechselbalg Guardians. When they finally killed the last, the aliens with purpose and malice desecrated the fallen bodies. The next day, a Spec-Ops group was called in to retake the position. Finding the desecrated bodies, they called in and explained in voice, audio and video what had been done to their brothers.
That video was sent up the chain until it reached the top Guardian in Command. He immediately walked down the hallway and up a flight of stairs to meet with the Queen who was discussing the strategy for the fronts across the galaxy. The meeting she was having, once it was explained what had been done to her Guardians, was immediately ended. She told those she was working with that they should move ahead as they thought best. She would be back, “Sometime, but probably not too soon.”
The Queen and the G.I.C. arrived within forty-eight hours on planet and with honors laid her fallen to rest. A video was made of the Spec-Ops group with the Guardian in Command and the Queen, her eyes glowing red, ripping into the military and then the political infrastructure for three weeks on that planet. By the time the Queen was finished, there wasn’t a representative of that clan alive and she issued an edict to fight all battles with that clan ‘to the knife’. Within six weeks, any sentient being got the message that you did not dishonor the Queen’s Guardians and may your deity have mercy on your soul if you should.
The Queen’s military, especially her Guardians would seek that clan any chance they had. Within a year, the clan sued for peace asking to be adopted by others of their kind. None would take them. The last heard of the clan was of their effort to reach into unknown space, forever fleeing the wrath of the Queen and her Guardians.
— The future —
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AN EVENING OFF
Bethany Anne finally had a few hours to herself and was standing in front of her suite’s TV.
Why don’t you have a coven?
Excuse me?
I asked, why don’t you have a coven?
Bethany Anne was nonplussed. She had been looking through the DVD’s that Ecaterina had ordered for her. She had expected to watch a little more Star Trek, or maybe Star Wars (four through six, she didn’t want to ruin the story for TOM right off the bat).
What the hell are you talking about?
Well, and don’t get upset with the kitchen crew…
Stop right there.
Gott Verdammt! She had already decreed they weren’t supposed to watch bullshit TV up in the kitchen because TOM could hear it, and then he got ideas. Usually annoying ideas he would pull out and ask her about at the most fucked up inopportune times.
Like right now.
When did they do this thing which I’m not supposed to get upset with them for?
Possibly over the last few days…
Bethany Anne sighed. That meant she would have to throw every fucking one of the kitchen help off the Polarus… preferably while they were underway. Dammit, that wasn’t going to work. Bethany Anne didn’t require food, but she did enjoy it and tossing off the whole group was, perhaps, a little much. Well, depending on what TOM had to discuss.
What happened? What were they watching?
They weren’t watching anything, they were listening.
Ok, what were they listening to?
A book.
Bethany Anne was getting frustrated, not an unusual occurrence when trying to pull information out of TOM. She rubbed her face.
Does this book have a name?
Yes.
What is it?
Bill the Vampire.
Bethany Anne searched her memory, nope. She didn’t remember any vampire books with ‘Bill’ in the name.
Who is the author?
Rick Gualtieri.
Another nope. Anne Rice, check. Bram Stoker, of course. Hell, she had even heard of Stephanie Meyer and Jim Butcher but not a ‘Rick’ in the bunch.
And I take it this book had vampires who were in covens, correct?
Yes.
She was making headway.
Did the vampires sparkle?
Don’t be ridiculous, but they did go up in a big ball of flame if you staked them.
Damn, that would be un-fucking-believable if that only worked in real life. Maybe she should see if she could find the Blade Trilogy to watch with TOM.
Beautiful ladies, handsome men cavorting all around?
Ah, no. Bill is slightly overweight and is a closet nerd and swears as much as you do, perhaps not as creatively, but parental guidance is suggested.
So why didn’t you get permission from me to listen to the book?
I’m 35 times older than you. Why would I need your permission?
So I don't decide to just end my life when you ask me stupid-ass question in the middle of picking out a movie.
I don’t consider it a stupid question, it is a fair question related to the organizational structure of vampires. Since you are now the Queen, I thought it might be a relevant question.
Bethany Anne put the DVD she was looking at back in the box and walked over to her bed. She grabbed her iPad and got comfortable. Apparently, she was going to need to speed read the damn book so she could have a coherent conversation.
It had better not put her to sleep.
Ten minutes later, she closed her iPad.
Ok, TOM. Not bad.
You laughed thirty-two times.
Ok, but he was fucking funny and Sally was just the sort of vampire I…
Well, don’t let Bethany Anne and TOM ruin the story. Rick has been nice enough to let me insert part of the Story TOM listened to here at the end. If you like it, there is a link at the end to go check out the reviews and pick it up for yourself. Hopefully, it will tied you over until UNDER MY HEEL Releases in a few weeks!
Bill the Vampire
The Tome of Bill
Part 1
Rick Gualtieri
The Day I Died
*Thud, thud* Okay, somebody needs to turn off their goddamn stereo before I put my foot up their ass. God forbid a guy be allowed to sleep off a major bender without some dickhead blasting their bass to eleven. At least, I think it was a major bender. I know I’m asleep, but I can still feel the room spinning. Yeah, I’ve gotta be drunk off my ass.
The funny thing is, I don’t remember getting shitfaced, although that doesn’t mean anything. The best parties are sometimes the ones you don’t remember. Still, I’m not even sure I went to a party last night. It is morning, right? I can’t see anything. Well, duh, my eyes are closed.
Okay, my eyes aren’t opening. I guess I must be pretty trashed.
*Thud, thud* There it is again. For fuck’s sake! Some days I hate living here. There’s always some little white bread, teenaged douche pumping out Tupac from his daddy’s Beemer because he’s sure he can relate to life on the streets. Although why is it so loud? Maybe the window’s open. I should get up and close it. Oh yeah, that’s right. I’m out cold. I can’t really check the window in my current state. Oh, well, maybe I’ll get lucky and some real gangstas will come cruising down the block and pop a few caps in homey’s upper middle class ass.
*Thud, thud* ARGH! It’s really starting to piss me off now. Huh? What the hell was that? Holy shit, are those voices? Maybe I'm not at home, after all. If that's the case, I must still be at a party. Oh, crap. I hate passing out at someone else's place. I really hope they aren’t drawing dicks on my face. The last time that happened, the fuckers used a permanent Sharpie. Let me tell you how much fun that was to scrub off. Probably took off five layers of skin, and you could still see it. Tom was an asshole about it, too. He kept pretending to be helpful just to get a laugh. “You want me to go to the store for you, dickface?” “I’ll get it. Hello? Oh, Bill? Sorry, he can’t come to the phone right now. He's too busy trying to wipe cock off his face. Can you call back later?” One of these days, I’ve really gotta get my own apartment.
*Thud, thud* Okay, it's getting a little lower now. The song must be ending. I still can’t make out what the voices are saying, but at least it doesn’t sound like laughter. That’s good. Hopefully it means they haven’t started using my face as an easel yet. Maybe I can still wake up before that happens.
Jeez, my body still isn’t responding. Man, what the hell was I drinking? Even passed out, I still feel seriously fucked up. I’m wondering if maybe I was doing a little more than drinking. I vaguely remember Ed saying something about scoring a few joints. Shit! I hope they weren’t laced with Drano or something - although that might explain why I’m lying here, having an internal soliloquy. Hold on, though, didn't that happen last week?
*Thud, thud* Why does that sound so familiar? I don’t usually listen to any shit rap music, but damn if that doesn’t ring a bell. It’s right on the tip of my tongue...UGH! Speaking of my tongue, what the hell is that taste in my mouth? Oh, shit. Please don’t let me have puked. There’s nothing worse than puking at a party and waking up in it. Nobody ever gets laid after that. Well, okay, puke or not, it’s been a while since I scored at a party, but it could still happen...maybe. Although not if I’m lying in a swimming pool of my own spew.
Crap! I hope someone turned me on my side. The last thing I want to do is pull a Hendrix. Okay, okay, relax. No one is that big an asshole. If I can hear them talking, then that probably means I’m all right.
*Thud, thud* It was weird tasting puke, anyway; kind of coppery. Oh, okay. Maybe I didn’t puke. I probably bit the inside of my mouth instead. That makes sense. Hopefully, I just bit the inside of my mouth. Damn! What if this is some kind of seizure? I could have bitten off my own damn tongue, and these assholes are just standing around debating the artistic merits of penises on my face. Maybe that’s why I can’t wake up. I popped a blood vessel in my brain and even now, I’m spiraling into a coma.
Still, I don’t think I’d be quite as lucid if I were in a coma. Then again, I haven’t been in enough comas to know what it'd be like. All right, calm down. I'd probably feel it if my tongue was bitten off. I think that would be a wee bit on the painful side. Okay, I need to try and concentrate. Let's see...I can still taste that crap in my mouth, but I can sorta feel my tongue, too. At least I think I can.
I tried moving it around a bit inside my mouth. Yeah, I still had a tongue...OW! What the hell was that? Had my tongue a second ago, but I’m not so sure now. What the hell? Did someone stick a razor blade in my freaking mouth?
*Thud, thud* Thank God. The music was barely a whisper now. That damn song just went on forever. It’s funny that I can hear the bass, but nothing else, though. It still sounds so familiar. Almost like a...
Oh, no.
That can’t be right.
*Thud, thud*
It can’t be.
Please don’t let that be my heart that I’m hearing.
*Thud*
Oh, shit!
I am choking on my own puke.
Or having a seizure.
*Thud*
Or a goddamn brain aneurysm.
*Thu...*
Ohcrapohcrapohcrap!
Okay, I shouldn't worry. I’m sure someone will start CPR on me.
Any second now.
Any minute now.
Come on, people. I only have a few minutes here before that whole brain death thing.
FUCK!
Please start beating again.
Pretty please.
It’s not fair. I still have so many reasons to live. I was going to go out with Sheila. Well, okay, maybe. One of these days, certainly. Hell, I would have gotten to it eventually. You don’t just walk up to an insanely hot chick like that and ask her out, especially when you look like me. You have to work your way up to it. Sure, it’s been two years, but I was almost there, dammit. Now it’s all gone.
Or it will be all gone.
Any minute now, it’ll be all gone.
Jeez, this death thing isn’t quite like I thought it would be. I can still taste whatever is in my mouth. Yep, I can still move my tongue, too. Can dead people move their tongues? I don’t know. I haven’t Frenched too many corpses.
Okay, this is starting to get a bit odd. Shouldn’t I be seeing a tunnel with a light at the end? Maybe I’ll see Grandma and Grandpa - hell, maybe even Elvis is waiting for me at the end of it.
Nope, nothing.
No, that’s not quite true. Is that...yes. I can feel my left arm now. Do dead people start getting sensation back? Hmmm, I can’t move it much, but it feels like I’m lying on something soft. No, I’m not in my bed. It feels like carpet. Yep, I’m definitely on a floor somewhere. It feels thick...kinda like a...oh, no...a shag carpet. Either I’m stuck in a bad seventies’ flashback, or I’m at that...
Loft!
Oh, fuck! And with that, the fog suddenly clears from my head. I can remember where I am and how I got here. If I’m right about what’s going on, then a face full of dicks isn’t going to sound all that bad in comparison.
Before I Became the Dearly Departed
Okay, let’s back up a little bit. I’m probably getting ahead of myself. Before I bore you with little things, like, say, my death, I should probably fill you in on the basics first. How’s that sound? Okay, then let’s start over, shall we?
My name is Bill, Bill Ryder. William Anderson Ryder, if you want to be formal, although I’m not sure why you’d want to be formal with a dead guy. It’s a pretty cool name, if you ask me, although it did get a little annoying a few years ago when The Matrix came out. For a couple of months, I had to deal with every single person I know ending everything they said to me with, “Mr. Anderson” in a deadpan voice. It was funny the first time, much less so the five-thousandth time. Anyway, I’ve always liked how my initials spell out WAR, kind of like W. Axl Rose, if a bit less cool, maybe. Not that much less cool, at least these days, but a bit. Although, since I go by “Bill” my friends have always pointed out that BAR might be a better acronym. I can�
�t really complain about that one either, since under duress I might admit to spending a decent amount of time pounding back cold ones on the weekends.
Now, I’d love to tell you that I’m a private detective, maybe a boy wizard in training, or even a normal Joe by day/superhero by night, but that would be stretching the truth just a bit. As with all things, reality tends to be less exciting than what we would hope it would be. Here are the basics: I’m twenty-four, currently single, and with no real potential hopefuls in sight. Well, there is Sheila, but we’ll get back to her later, especially since I’m not one hundred percent certain she’d be able to pick me out of a police lineup, not that she has any reason to. It’s not like I’ve been stalking her these past few years. Sure, I know where she lives, what time she gets to work, what her favorite perfume is, but I assure you I’m definitely not stalking her. Really.
Oh, yeah, and she has this super cute ass that shakes so nicely when she walks...
Okay, sorry. Sometimes I get caught up in the moment. Where was I? Oh, yeah, the basics...I’m twenty-four; I think I might have mentioned that already. I have short brown hair, brown eyes, glasses, am maybe an inch or two above average height, and about twenty...well, okay, maybe thirty pounds overweight. I’m not quite a hideous mutant, but I don’t exactly have the ladies swarming all over me like pigs in shit, either. That might have something to do with the fact that I probably look like someone who’d be right at home sitting around a D&D game (which I might admit to doing occasionally...or every Sunday, whichever comes first).
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