HOW MANY PARODIES CAN FIT INTO ONE BOOK?
Some people may wonder, “PJ, how can your plots make any sense with all those novels jammed into one?”
Time is running out for Smella’s baby, and she must escape the Australian Outback, then face down Flabio, an overweight and disgruntled, aspiring cover model, plus enraged vampire wives and their homosexual, vampire, cowboy husbands, a jealous were-gerbil, James Bond, a drunk rodeo clown and Smella’s strange boyfriend who wants to drain her blood, yet is repulsed by her smell.
His eyes widened, and he looked at her with a goofy, hopeful gleam in his eyes. “You want me to be the father of your illegitimate child?”
“Don’t be silly.” She swatted his shoulder while rolling her eyes. “I was wondering if you knew anything about Deadward Forest.”
Snake winced, a gleam of anger flashing across his features. “Why do you want to know about pasty face?”
“That’s not very nice, Snake,” she scolded. “Maybe he’s allergic to Vitamin D.”
“Are you joking?” He spat. “Deadward is a bloodsucker, just like the rest of his family.”
“Bloodsuckers? Really?” Smella perked, the visualization of heaping wads of money making her mouth water. “So that’s how he got rich. Do they handle personal injuries or divorces?”
“Neither, Smella.” Snake shook his head, while jumping out of the truck and slamming the imaginary door. “You need to stay away from The Forests,” he raged, before sweeping Smella into a passionate embrace. “Let me take care of you and the little bastard,” he begged, his eyes turning dark, thunderous.
Mouth agape, Smella stared at Snake. His body was large, strong and warm. She could get lost in his liquid molten gaze. Oh, if only he was rich and white. But now was not the time to be distracted by secondary heroes. She needed a man who could save little Wally.
“Do you have the money to pay for my baby’s heart surgery?” she rasped.
“No,” he said on an exhale, as if his chest had been crushed with the admission.
“Then forget it, Snake!” Smella pushed away, trying hard to ignore her feelings for him as she bemoaned the fact that friendship sex would count as a strike against her virginity. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She spoke without conviction then bit hard on her knuckles in an effort to quell her raging sexual hormones.
“Besides,” she confessed, “even though I don’t know much about Deadward, I’m already irrevocably and unconditionally in love with him.”