Valentine's Day Sucks by Michele Bardsley Page A

were used to all kinds of weirdness because we were vampires and most of our friends were paranormal creatures and we lived in a place filled with zombies and ghosts and shape-shifters. Still, “attack of the Cupid” was a new one.
    Patrick took my hand and looked at me, and in that silvery gaze, I saw love for the all ages. When I met him, Patrick believed we were soulmates. The concept had scared me, especially since I’d been sunk into the mire of divorce when my husband was killed in a car accident. Suddenly, I was no longer a soon-to-be divorcée, but rather a widow with two young children to raise alone in the small town of Broken Heart, Oklahoma. After the arrival of Patrick and his paranormal pals, several of us single parents had been turned into vampires.  Being undead had its perks, but it sure as hell didn’t make parenting any easier.
    As we quickly dressed, I told Patrick everything I knew about Mom-aggedon. We didn’t have time for a car ride, or even for the faster travel mode of flying by vampire (which is cool and fun). No. We were gonna have to sparkle our way over there in a burst of ancient vampire and fae magic. (Did I mention Patrick’s lineage was fae before the whole undead thing?)
    Anyhoo.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              
    “Why do you suppose Eros ended up at your mother’s cabin?”
    I never tired of hearing my husband’s Irish brogue. It was like he was singing me a love song every time he opened his mouth. And that made me want to do things to him. Naughty things. I guess I was doing that opened-mouth drooling thing again because he quirked an eyebrow at me, his lips lifting into a wicked, wicked grin. I can hear your thoughts, love. There’ll be time enough later for being naughty.
    That whole soulmate thing? Well, for vampires, it meant we could get inside each other’s thoughts. You know, undead couple telepathy.
    “ Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving my hand. “We have other priorities because Cupid’s stalking my mother.” I tapped my chin, and thought about the problem. “Well, I would’ve said he was some drunk who wandered into in the wrong yard, and passed out. But he’s ignoring bullets like I ignore calories, so he’s probably not human.” I glanced at my husband. “Cupid wears pink?”
    “ Occasionally,” said Patrick. He wrapped his arms around me, and we began the magical transference of our atoms from Broken Heart to Lake Tenkiller. “I wonder who we might be rescuin’, love. Your mother … or Eros.”
     
    “ HE LOOKS DEAD,” I said, leaning over the unconscious god. The guy was good-looking. He had blond wavy hair, chiseled features, and a body that belonged on the cover of