From The Importance of being Prudence:

Massachusetts. It pops up in the history books every now and then. You know, Salem, Witches, and all that. Funny how there aren’t any Salem vampires mentioned. If there were, Prudence McDaniel might not have been so shocked when several particularly fine-looking members of the species decide to visit her New Age store, the Celtic Moon. Come to think of it, Scotland’s history doesn’t mention much about vampires either, but that’s where Prudence ultimately ends up, after being abruptly turned and then almost simultaneously declared the savior of the disappearing race. Wildly sexy men and fabulous castles aside, Prudence isn’t so sure she wants to carry the burden of an entire people on her shoulders, but it seems she doesn’t have much of a choice. The heavy load is eased by the ultra-hot vampires who introduce her to the new world she now inhabits and all the pleasures of an undead lifestyle. Unfortunately, as soon as she becomes attached to almost-immortality, her own life suddenly hangs in the balance. It will take every inch of Prudence’s stubborn streak to pull her through. And even if she does survive, it might be at the expense of the man she has fallen for, fangs-over-heels. Can anything be worth that?

 

From The Virtue of Prudence:

When last we met Prudence McDaniel, dear reader, she had just survived unfathomable odds to give birth to her vampire daughter and not lose her life in the process. But, as baby Alexandra was born, Prudence’s love, Mordecai, went to ground, believing his beloved had died. In a short ten years Alexandra has grown with supernatural speed becoming a beautiful, powerful, young vampire. As much as Pru loves her child, her heart still aches for Mordecai. As she sets out on a quest to find him, she is keenly aware of the hidden dangers engendered by the wakening of an old enemy. With so much on her plate, there is little time to focus on her transition-this time not from human to vampire, but to something else. Something so sacred that every time people look Pru’s way, they bow (and Pru fights the impulse too scream). With no desire whatsoever to take her place as her people’s rightful ruler, Pru remains determined to find Mordecai-even when legend says it is not to be. One thing Pru has never liked was being told what to do. And now that she commands all manner of power … well, things are about to change

 

From A Study in Scarlytt:

Milk, when consumed in massive quantities, could give a Faerie a slight buzz. Cream was even better, but cream wasn’t easy to come by anymore. On rare occasions when cream was freely offered, Faeries of all kind fought to get through the veil. Cream was the only liquid that could get a Faerie tipsy. A tipsy Faerie was a sight to behold. But then…so was an irritated one…

Fallen Angels were not known for their intelligence. In fact, the only thing they were notorious for was their love of all things paper.

The all-male race…all male, muscular race was never happier than when sitting behind a desk with reams of paperwork in front of them.

The beings were never seen in public without at least one notebook and a pen. They were also ravenous bibliophiles. That being said, they did not seem to gain intellect from their reading. Any Fallen Angel could spell any word in any language. The irony was that they lacked the ability to define said word.

 

From Beauty Bedamned:

It was Callie Halloway’s eighty-first birthday. She stood in front of the buffet table watching as her family fussed over the food. It was a heartwarming, if not bittersweet scene. In five hours or less, she would go to sleep and wake up someone else, with a new, twenty-five-year-old body. It was her curse. Her hex was in fact the only thing she consistently remembered from life to life. Being enlightened to the fact she was living a cursed life didn’t mean she had a clue as to why.

Whatever she had done resulted in her walking the Earth for over a hundred thousand years. Most lives were cut short by disease or accident. Even with only sketchy memories of other lives, she was sure eighty-one years was the longest she’d been able to sustain one life.

Upon waking that morning, she instinctively knew it would be her last day as Callie.

 

From Seraphina’s Phyre:

We all lived with our mother until Serosity turned eighteen. On her birthday, we began to accept what we were destined for. I honestly don’t think any of us believed Mother at first. We all knew we had a special relationship with the elements, but hearing you held some power over the whole of everything inside yourself was overwhelming, to say the least.

Mother sat us down and repeated, for close to the millionth time, the story of her journey. Each of us took turns rolling our eyes, sighing deeply, and crossing our arms. She was unswayed by our disbelief and boredom. We were not bored after she informed us we would all be moving to new homes. (Still real skeptical though.)

            Looking back, I remember the suggestion of having our poor mother committed for a psych evaluation being thrown into the conversation at least once. That didn’t go over well. In fact, after we calmed her down and she stopped throwing books at us, we learned what she was ranting and raving about.

When the four of us accidentally touched while we reached out to calm our mother, the room was washed in a clear, blinding white light. When we broke our connection, mostly to cover our eyes, a wave ripped through the room and we all landed on our asses.

 

From Roy, Vampire:

“J, you aren’t gonna kill me … you’re my best fuckin’ friend. So … knock it off and quit playin’,” I suggested, nervously backing away.
“Playing? Is that what you think I’m doing? This is real shit here. I’m only doing this because I love ya, man. I can’t let an abomination like you live. What would my congregation say?”
My friend was clearly conflicted. But I didn’t give a shit about his followers; never had, never would. So, him bringing them into the conversation was not going to change anything. In fact, after what I had just done for him, I expected a thank you, not, “I’m trying to kill you for your own good.”
But, in all honesty, his reaction wasn’t out of character. However, instead of pointing out his personality flaw, I continued to easily evade the stick-wielding preacher.
The wooden dowel being thrust about willy-nilly was the most problematic issue in the scenario, but I was determined to talk it out. Therefore, my plan was playing cat and mouse with my lifelong friend until he was worn out. J’s enthusiastic outburst wouldn’t last long; they never did. It took quite a bit to get his Right Worthiness pissed, but once he was, he turned Tasmanian devil for a few minutes.

 

From Date with Death (aka Agnes):

The change being so drastic, it took me a few hundred years before I was calm enough to be approached. They were ugly years that I try not dwell on. Anyway, not long after I accepted the fate I’d been handed, I was informed that for the foreseeable future I would be assigned the enviable job (if I believed the powers of light and dark. And I didn’t) of being the newly appointed Deaths service cat. The job sounded surprisingly simple if I thought what I was hearing was true, and we have already covered that. But it really didn’t look like I had a choice in the matter. That coupled with the fact that as soon as I returned to sanity I’d learned just how boring sitting in a cage with felt toys was. Still, I wasn’t convinced helping Death was going to be enjoyable either. I was seriously pondering submitting a counteroffer of staying in my cage and requesting new toys. I like to think the two beings in charge sensed my reluctance and decided to return my long dormant voice. Whatever their reason, once I realized I had regained the ability to communicate, I was putty in their hands. After I cleaned my paw again.