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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781101158821 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Penguin Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 08/03/2004 |
| Series: | Undead (Queen Betsy Taylor) Series , #2 |
| Sold by: | Penguin Group |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 304 |
| Sales rank: | 99,446 |
| File size: | 274 KB |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
Hometown:
Minneapolis, MinnesotaDate of Birth:
1969Place of Birth:
Minot, North DakotaWebsite:
http://www.maryjanicedavidson.netRead an Excerpt
Chapter 1
When I’d been dead for about three months, I decided it was past time to get a job.
I couldn’t go back to my old one, of course. For one thing, I’d been laid off the day I died, and for another, they all still thought I was six feet under. Plus, a job during daylight hours just wasn’t going to work anymore.
I wasn’t starving or homeless, at least. My best friend, Jessica, owned my house and wouldn’t let me pay rent, and she had her team of super accountants pay the other bills despite my strenuous objections. I sure didn’t need to grocery shop for much except teabags and milk and stuff. Plus, my car was paid off. So my monthly expenses were actually pretty low. Even so, I couldn’t live off Jessica’s charity forever.
So here I was, on the steps of the Minnesota Re-Employment Center. They had evening hours every Thursday—thank goodness!
I walked through the doors, shivering as I was greeted by a blast of air-conditioning. Another thing about being dead that nobody warned me about was that I was cold pretty much all the time. Minneapolis was having a severe heat wave, and I was the only one not hating it.
“Hi,” I said to the receptionist. She was wearing a stiff gray suit and needed her roots done. I couldn’t see her shoes, which was probably just as well. “I came to the unemployment center to—”
“I’m sorry, miss, that’s RE-Employment. Unemployment centers are an anachronism. We’re a responsive twenty-first-century re-employment one-stop center.”
“Right. Um, anyway, I’m here to see one of the counselors.”
For my audacity, I spent the next twenty minutes filling out paperwork. Finally, my name was called, and I was sitting in front of a counselor.
He was a pleasant-looking older fellow with dark hair, a gray-flecked beard, and chocolate brown eyes, and I was relieved to see the wedding ring as well as the photo of his pretty wife and de rigeur adorable kids. I fervently hoped he had a happy marriage, so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself once my undead charisma smacked him in the face.
“Hi, I’m Dan Mitchell.” We shook hands, and I saw his eyebrows go up in surprise when he clasped my clammy palm. “Elizabeth Taylor, right?”
“That’s me.”
“Are your eyes all right?”
I was wearing my sunglasses for two reasons. One, the fluorescent light hurt like a bitch. Two, men didn’t fall under my spell if they couldn’t see my eyes. The last thing I needed was a slobbering state employee humping my leg.
“I was at the eye doctor’s earlier,” I lied. “He put those drop things in.”
“Yeah, been there. Elizabeth Taylor—just like the movie star!” he enthused, obviously having no idea people had been drawing that conclusion since the day I’d been born.
“Betsy.”
“Betsy, then.” He was flipping through the reams of paperwork I’d handed him. “Everything looks right . . .”
“I hope so. I’m here for Unemployment—”
“We’re the RE-Employment Center,” Mitchell said absently, still flipping.
“Right, right. Anyway, I need a new job, and while I’m looking, I’d like Unemployment Insurance. In fact, I have a quest—”
Mitchell looked vaguely alarmed. “Um . . . I need to stop you right there. We can’t do that here.”
I blinked. Not that he could tell behind the Foster Grants I was wearing. “Come again?”
“We’re a re-employment office. That’s what we do.”
“Sure, okay, I get it, but don’t you . . .?”
“If you want unemployment benefits, you need to call the hotline. Or use the Internet. I’m sorry, but we can’t answer your question here.”
“Let me get this straight. This is the place I go to when I’m unemployed . . .”
“Yes . . .”
“And you have unemployment benefit applications here—”
“Absolutely!”
“But you don’t have any staff here who can help me get unemployment benefits.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Oh, okay.” This was weird, but I could be cooperative. Probably. I leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. “Okay, so, can I use your phone to call one of these hotlines?”
Mitchell spread his hands apologetically. “Ah, jeez, you know, we used to let people do that, but some folks abused the phones, and so—”
“So you’re telling me I can’t call an Unemployment Hotline using a telephone in the Unemployment Office?”
“Well, technically, remember, we’re not an Unemployment Office anymore”—I suddenly wondered if a vampire could get drunk. I decided to find out as soon as I got out of this bureaucratic hellhole—“and that’s why we can’t let you do that.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”
I whipped off my sunglasses and leaned forward, spearing him with my sinister undead gaze. It was a rotten thing to do, but I was desperate. “I need. To use. Your phone.”
“No!” He hunched over and clutched the phone protectively to his chest. “It’s against policy!”
Amazing. I was sure my vampire mojo would leave him putty in my hands, but apparently his bureaucratic training was stronger than ancient evil.
“You’ll just have to go home and contact them on your own dime,” he snapped.
I stomped back to the waiting area. Outrageous! I wasn’t just any undead tart, I was the queen of the vampires!
“Don’t forget to fill out a customer satisfaction survey on your way out!” Mitchell yelled after me.
God, kill me now. Again, I mean.
What People are Saying About This
"Entertaining, wicked and delightful."—Romance Reviews Today
"Chick lit meets vampire action in this creative, sophisticated sexy and wonderfully witty book."—Catherine Spangler
Interviews
An Interview with Betsy Taylor, Queen of the Undead
Long live the Queen! Betsy Taylor is back as Queen of the Undead in this delightful sequel to Mary Janice Davidson's fresh and funny Undead and Unwed, and it's a rollicking good read. To put it another way: What Janet Evanovich has done for bounty hunters, Mary Janice Davidson is doing for vampires. This time, Betsy gets her dream job in the shoe department at Macy's (working only at night, of course). The only obstacle on her road to happiness -- besides the ubiquitous presence of the sexy vampire Sinclair -- is the number of dead vampires piling up in St. Paul, and Betsy is soon deputized by her subjects to stop the murdering. Once again, Betsy copes with life on a liquid diet while she adeptly juggles the unexpected demands of a human/vampire life, the affections of her human friends, and her growing relationship with Sinclair.
Since Betsy Taylor is such an appealing character, Heart to Heart decided to bypass the author and go straight to the source for a special tête-à-tête with the shoe-loving vampire herself.
Heart to Heart: Do you remember your first pair of shoes? When did the passion for shoes begin, and did your mother have it, too?
Betsy Taylor: Don't you always remember your first? Ah, I can picture them now. My mother took me to Italy when I was 14...sort of a "sorry I'm divorcing your dad, but here's a trip to Europe to cheer you up" kind of thing. I was walking off some hazelnut gelato when I ducked into a Gucci store and...whoa! I mean, talk about heaven on earth! For your feet! It was the first time I realized shoes were, like, art, you know? I mean, people study to be able to design them. I can still remember the pair I begged my mom to buy...I had to, like, mow a zillion lawns to pay her back. They were eggplant-colored pumps with an inch heel, hand-stitched, and the inner soles were forest green. I still have them. That's the secret. People freak out about paying 300 bucks for a pair of shoes, but those suckers last forever. And these days, for me, that's a really good thing.
My mom isn't into shoes like I am. She's into the Civil War. If she needs a new pair, she goes to Payless. That's really all I've got to say about that.
HtoH: As an American growing up in a democratic society, how do you feel about being addressed as Queen?
BT: I can sum it up in one word: Bogus! I mean, come on. There's a reason we fought the Revolutionary War and kicked ass. Because being the king or queen of something is, like, the dumbest job in the world, and we didn't want any more of 'em bossing us around. Not to mention, I didn't do a single darned thing to deserve being called "Your Majesty." I got run over by an Aztec, for God's sake.
HtoH: What's the worst thing that's happened to your life since you've been dead?
BT: Oh, God, where to begin. Let's see, there was getting fired...oh, wait, that happened before I died. There was losing all my shoes when my stepmonster stole them, stupid Sinclair, my mom thinking I was dead (I was, but it wasn't, like, permanent), my dad being scared of me, stupid Sinclair, my friend Jessica having to buy my car and house back from the bank, stupid Sinclair, and finding out vampires REALLY need a leader and, incomprehensibly, they decided I was it. And stupid Sinclair.
HtoH: What's the best thing that's happened to your life since you've been dead?
BT: Uh...best? Um. Let's see...best...best...well, I met my friend Marc after I died. He's a doctor and he is just too cool for school. Let's put it this way: I told him I was a vampire and he didn't totally freak out. These days, that means a ton. Oh, and my stepmonster is scared of me. Yeah, that one's probably it.
HtoH: Did you always have that green-eyed siren mojo, or is that a new feature?
BT: Not hardly! Let's put it this way, I was Miss Congeniality, not Miss America. I always, you know, tried to look nice and used various products to make sure I didn't smell or have greasy hair, but I was never able to make men swoon just by glaring at them. I mean, please! That's probably been the hardest thing to get used to, because I feel kind of bad when I'm just asking for, like, directions or whatever and all of a sudden I've got a new slave for life. Talk about bogus.
HtoH: Would you rule out dating a "normal" man?
BT: Never! I totally dig on normal. Now more than ever. But sometimes I wonder...I mean, how could I ever do that now? What would I say to him? How would I tell him? There's just no way to say, "By the way, I'm a vampire and the Queen of the Undead" over, like, a steak dinner without sounding like I skipped my medication.
HtoH: What are the most commonly held stereotypes about vampires that are patently untrue?
BT: Let's see...that they're all beautiful and cool, that's probably the big one. Or, on the other hand, that they're all evil. I've noticed vampires are kind of like the rest of us. I mean, the rest of you. There's some really great ones, and some real lame-o suckwads. But most of them are somewhere in between. Like people, you know?
HtoH: Do you see any possibility that Sinclair will evolve?
BT: Never. Not in a thousand years. A million. Next question.
HtoH: What are your plans for the immediate future (and in the next book)?
BT: Oh, man, I have so got to get a job. I mean, my friend Jessica's great, but she's paying all the bills right now, and she pretends like it's no big deal, but come on. You can only be supported for so long before you start to feel like a major loser. Oh, and I'd like to ditch this whole Queen of the Dead thing. That's big number two. And lock stupid Sinclair in a sunroom next chance I get. That's big number three. Honestly, my biggest goal is to get back to a normal life. A normal, liquid-diet life.
HtoH: Is there any rumor or question about your current lifestyle that you'd like to address here?
BT: Yes...I'm not the Queen. No matter what that stupid, lame, "bound in human skin" grody Book of the Dead says. Oh, and if anyone is looking for a good secretary (night shift only), I'm your girl. I type 100 words a minute, can get office supplies at cost, and I don't need to take a lunch break. Oh, and I don't need health insurance, either. So give me a call. I'm in the book.
