Guest post and excerpt! Don’t Drink the Holy Water by Bailey Bradford

Don’t Drink the Holy Water by Bailey Bradford



This series, The Vamp for Me, started on my blog, as some of my other series have done. I’ve been writing stories there for years, and have a great group of people that make every day special.

When one story ends, everyone votes on what the next will be. Majority rules. That’s a lot of fun, but sometimes they pick something I’m not sure about. These vamps were like that.

Decades ago, I loved vamp stories. There was a certain musically-inclined vamp I was fascinated with until something went wrong for me in the series and I stopped reading them. From time to time, I picked up another vamp book here and there, but for the most part, they were relegated to my past.

Then suddenly, the bloggees wanted a vamp story, and I had a real, ‘Oh shit!’ moment. I wasn’t sure I could pull one off. But they had faith in me, and that gave me courage when I needed it.

I dove into the first book, My Life Without Garlic (truly a tough row to hoe, in my opinion. I love garlic) and took on every vampire cliché I could remember. I didn’t snub them, but dragged them right on it and let the snark and good times roll.

And oh my gosh! It was so much fun! More fun than I’d had in a while, and I’m a pretty fun-embracing person. Suddenly, I wasn’t nervous, I was sailing on that smooth-writing, no-blocks skyway that makes it hard to stop writing for the day. Or night. Or middle of the night. You get the idea J

That’s how this series began, and I’ve added one all-new story to it, with the intentions to add at least two more. We’re on book four, Don’t Drink the Holy Water, and it was as much fun to write as all the prior stories have been.

I hope y’all will come along for that wild ride. And stop by the blog, if you get the chance. There’s a new story starting up there, voted on by the fabulous people who’ve encouraged me in so many writing adventures.

Meanwhile, y’all take care, and have a wonderful day!


Excerpt from Don’t Drink the Holy Water:

Copyright 2015

Bailey Bradford

“Aw, come on, Axel! You got a head start! Let’s go again!”

Roger ‘Axel’ Majors rolled his eyes at his ex-boyfriend Jukie. It’d been that kind of competitiveness, along with the whining, that had put an end to their romantic relationship. Luckily, their friendship had survived, though with the way Jukie was pouting, it might not make it for much longer.

Jukie tossed back his glossy brown hair, pushing it out of his sweaty face. He swiped at his brow and continued arguing. “You didn’t really win, you know. You got an early start—”

“No, I didn’t,” Axel snapped, his patience worn thin. Sandboarding in the desert heat was enough to make anyone cranky especially if it entailed listening to hours of complaining too. “Yolanda was clocking us, and she’ll tell you the same thing.”

“Yup,” Yolanda agreed. “Jukie’s a sore loser, nothing new there.”

“Fuck you,” Jukie muttered, flipping Yolanda off as well.
Yolanda threw the clipboard at Jukie in a movement so fast, Jukie didn’t have time to duck.
“Fuck!” he yelped as the impromptu weapon made contact with his chest. “Ow!”

“Learn some manners, asshole,” Yolanda snarked, turning away from them. “I’m done here. We’ve been practicing for hours and I’m ready for a long, cool bath and some good food and booze. See y’all at Concho’s.”

“You cheated,” Jukie muttered, kicking the clipboard.

Axel wanted to tear his hair out. “I did. Not. You’re slower, that’s it. Maybe you need a better board.” Or more patience and practice. “We’ve got three months before the next competition—”

“Fuck that. You’ll cheat there too.” Jukie narrowed his eyes at Axel. “Maybe someone should make sure the judges know what to watch for.”

A chill washed over Axel. “Jukie, what’s going on, man? You know I don’t cheat and I couldn’t in a competition anyway. I’d be DQ’d for jumping the start. You know that. Are you…” Axel hated to bring it up because it was just going to piss Jukie off more but they needed this shit worked out. “Is this about us breaking up?”

Jukie snorted. “Us breaking up? Nah, not at all.”

Axel sagged a little in relief.

Jukie whacked him with the clipboard, catching Axel on the jaw with the flat back of it.

“Hey!” Axel threw his hands up to try to avoid another blow to the face.

“This is about you dumping me, you fucking fuck!” Jukie caught him on the side twice.

Axel wasn’t a violent man. He hated blood and boxing and anything remotely involving violence.
And now he knew he really hated being on the receiving end of it. It was just too bad he didn’t know jack shit about defending himself.

“You don’t get to ditch me, asshole,” Jukie snarled.
There was an insane light to his eyes, and spittle flew as he shouted.

Axel had known Jukie had a temper, but not like this.
“Jukie, stop. Stop—” Axel grunted as the edge of the clipboard was slammed into his belly. “Fu…”

“You were lucky to be with someone as hot as me.” Jukie hit him again then backed away when Axel fell onto his butt. “You’ll never get another guy as attractive as me. You can’t beat this.” He slapped himself on the ass.

Jukie had been a lazy and selfish lover. Axel doubted now was the time to point that out.

“Have fun finding your way back.” Jukie looked at the clipboard, then at Axel, before turning on his heels and leaving.

Axel didn’t even have the breath to plead with Jukie, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have bothered. Hopefully, now that Jukie had thrown his hissy fit, he’d get over it. That was the way the idiot had always acted in the two years that Axel had known him. Tomorrow Jukie would be full of regret and sweet as sugar.

And Axel would let whatever this was go, because that would be easier than arguing. He sighed and watched Jukie ride off on his ATV. Axel was fairly certain he knew his way back. They weren’t too far off the main road. He could also follow the tire tracks Yolanda and Jukie left behind.

That was the theory, anyway, but he yelped when he tried to stand, his ribs aching like a mother. Well, he would call Yolanda. She’d had plenty of experience with Jukie and his fits, since they’d been friends before Axel had come along. Maybe she wouldn’t mind coming back to help him get up.

Axel dug his cell phone out of his pocket and cursed when he saw the shattered screen. Of course he couldn’t have just cracked it. The screen was a mess of fractures and spiderweb- like lines. He also noticed it didn’t light up when he pressed the buttons on the side.

“Oh, come on!” Axel shook the phone. Pieces of the screen went flying. “Crap!”

It took him a while, but he finally got to his feet. “I gotta have better taste in men,” he mumbled as he slowly made his way to his ATV.

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Twitter: @BaileyBFun4Me





About Bailey Bradford:

I never know what to write in these bios. I’ve been happily married for over twenty years to my soul mate, have three daughters and four grandkids, lots of cats, dogs, and tarantulas—those are all outside. I hope. I spend my days writing, reading, and doing things with family, including homeschooling my youngest daughter. I love road trips and hiking, and days at the beach, and laughing with those I love.








EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT: Accidental Hero by RJ Scott

Sanctuary 8

Accidental Hero

by RJ Scott

(Sanctuary #8)


Chicago Cop Simon Grant and Sanctuary operative Cain Brodie, have to be the heroes of their own stories, just to stay alive.

Everyone wants Chicago cop, Simon Grant, dead. Armed with an address, he is on the run and heading for Sanctuary, only to end up at the wrong end of a gun. Is it possible the tall amber-eyed man holding the gun is actually going to be able to help him?

Cain Brodie is in charge of Sanctuary’s new Chicago office, C-Tower. His well organised administration day takes an unexpected turn when he has a man wanted for murder right in his gun sights. Thrust into a situation he has no control over suddenly he needs to be the one in control.

Accidental or not, Simon and Cain have to be the heroes of their own stories, just to stay alive.

Sanctuary Series:

Book 1 – Guarding Morgan
Book 2 – The Only Easy Day
Book 3 – Face Value
Book 4 – Still Waters
Book 5 – Full Circle
Book 6 – The Journal Of Sanctuary One
Book 7 – Worlds Collide


Cain switched to record whatever Simon said. It was up to him to collect information to support the operatives in the field and push it up the line to Manny Sullivan, whom he reported to.

Simon looked defeated, his hands flat on the desk, his demeanor screaming that he didn’t want to be doing this. For a long time, Cain stared at him. The man clearly had some interesting genes. His hair was black, his eyes a dark brown, and he was muscled and strong. Cain considered how difficult it must have been for him to get a uniform that fitted him. There was Latin heritage somewhere in this man’s blood for sure, and his tanned skin was a testament to that.

Cain imagined his mother’s shock if he brought Simon back for the next family picnic. Simon was just this side of rough around the edges, a hint of danger in his tired, dark eyes. Cain guessed no one argued with Simon when he was out on the streets patrolling.

Then there was the tattoo. Cain’s mother would hate it, his dad would close his eyes in disbelief, but Cain loved tattoos. One thing Cain was good at: observation. The tattoo was on Simon’s right wrist—some complicated twist of shapes that he couldn’t place—and his arms were dusted with dark hair. His nails were short and blunt, his fingers long, and his hands large. But that wasn’t all that interested Cain. Simon’s lips were perfect, tip-tilted, plump and kissable. Not like Cain’s, which he swore had a permanent downturn into a critical-frown position. His ex had called it pouty, and Manny called it girly. Cain called it his cross to bear.

When Simon got into the elevator, Cain couldn’t help his visceral reaction of interest. If you liked your men brooding and in shock that was. And hell, not in a sexual way—Cain didn’t do that instalust shit, and to be fair to his libido, he’d just been told this guy had broken into the garage and was acting very un-cop-like. Still, even with work at the front of his mind, he loved compartmentalizing men in an objective way, and this was one fine-looking man. At that point—in the elevator—Simon had been a person of concern, hence Cain taking Manny’s gun and concealing it, but still, that didn’t mean Cain couldn’t look.

Added to which, Simon had held his weapon with exact purpose, and sue him, but Cain loved that sexy confidence.

He had to push all that aside when the “suspected of murder” thing happened.

“For the record, what’s your name?” Cain asked. That was at least somewhere to start.

Simon looked up. “You know—” He stopped, and the confusion on his face vanished. He had evidently recognized this for what it was, an official record of what was going on. “Simon Grant. Chicago PD.”

“And your partner, Jamie Harrington?”

Pain flickered on Simon’s face. “Yeah, Jamie.”

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About RJ

RJ ScottRJ Scott has been writing since age six, when she was made to stay in at lunchtime for an infraction involving cookies. She was told to write a story and two sides of paper about a trapped princess later, a lover of writing was born.

As an avid reader herself, she can be found reading anything from thrillers to sci-fi to horror. However, her first real true love will always be the world of romance where she takes cowboys, bodyguards, firemen and billionaires (to name a few) and writes dramatic and romantic stories of love and passion between these men.

With over seventy titles to her name and counting, she is the author of the award winning book, The Christmas Throwaway. She is also known for the Texas series charting the lives of Riley and Jack, and the Sanctuary series following the work of the Sanctuary Foundation and the people it protects.

Her goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.  (some NSFW (not safe for work) photos)