Before I start, I want to apologize to anyone who was waiting in earnest for my continuation. Some real life issues followed by a day-long WiFi blackout ruined my plans. Now awaaay we go!

Betsy, Alice, and the Fiends charge back into the mansion. Fortunately, the Fiends seem to be willing to follow her now that they’ve had her blood, as she comments to herself, which was a huge relief–I didn’t relish trying to keep them all on leashes. Kay. That really strikes fear in your heart; the idea that these violent, feral vamps could be controlled merely by leashing them. Whatever, I know it’s a joke, I just think a lot of the jokes come off poorly.

Sinclair and Nostro are duking it out in the middle of the room. The remaining 28 or whatever vampires are all pressed up against the wall, scared and listening to Tina, who I guess got them all to stop fighting? No idea.

“–not interfere! Whoever wins this will be our new lord and you cannot interfere! That was our law when mortals were still cringing in caves!” Speaking of cringing, Betsy is put off by the visual. Also…Betsy is the foretold queen. Doesn’t that imply that if Sinclair wins, he is their leader? Instead of Betsy, whom he has been fighting to put on the throne. Yeah sure, that makes sense.

“I’m going to interfere,” I said hotly. Behind me, the Fiends were crowding me and rubbing against my legs. It was comforting (why?), if unbelievably creepy. I pointed to the blur that was Nostro and Sinclair. “Sic him!”

And oh boy is Betsy lucky that the Fiends apparently understand nuance, as “him” could be Nostro, Sinclair, or both. Well, Betsy does pull Sinclair out of the way, but y’know…they are repeatedly described as feral, vicious, mindless creatures. There is every chance they could have gone after Sinclair (maybe assuming she was grabbing them for them to attack?). She gets hit in the face by Nostro which is hard enough to make her ears ring, and then rolls onto her back to watch:

You know in cartoon fights how all you can see is smoke and whirling limbs and stars and birds and stuff? That’s what it was like. The Fiends were snarling, Nostro was screaming, and we were all staring. Then the Fiends started making wet noises, Nostro was gurgling, and then the wet noises continued. But Nostro wasn’t making any more noise. Tough to do, when you’re in pieces.

Dead silence, followed by me whispering, “That was for Karen, you piece of shit.” Again, Karen was that once-introduced British former prostitute who has a blonde pixie cut despite the earlier scene of the foursome claiming everyone had elbow-length brunette hair. Once again, I am surprised she doesn’t say ‘that was for my shoes,’ but we all know she’s thinking it. Wouldn’t do to reveal what a petty, selfish, greedy asshole you are to your new subjects…although Betsy doesn’t exactly show any sort of social intelligence. Also, by Tina’s statement, shouldn’t that make the Fiends their new lords and ladies? Some laws!

Also, it’s not even a full page of chapter 26 until Nostro is dead. Coooool. That sure was easy, for something previously described as being a great and powerful struggle, possibly an unwinnable one even with that stupid prophecy on their side!

Nobody said anything. Thirty vampires were staring at me, and the triumph on Tina’s face was almost too much to bear. Her face was like a beacon, beautiful and terrible at once. She didn’t look like a preppy cheerleader just then, but like a warrior claiming victory.

Betsy turns to Sinclair, assuming he has some cold, sarcastic remark to make, and then shrieks and scoots away. Sinclair is horribly burned. His left side is a blackened mess, all of his hair was burned off, his eyelids burned off. She can see the veins in the skin of his left arm, slugglishy trying to pulse through his system.

Incredibly, he was smiling. His cracked lips pulled back and his teeth looked even whiter and longer against his burned flesh. I should have been terrified, but this was someone I knew, even if it was someone I didn’t like. Much. I think.

“Victory,” he whispered.

She bursts into tears, as she thinks that he’s lost everything because of her, and didn’t even take the time to feed before scrambling off to her rescue, despite the fact his good-looks are ruined.

I also want to make a side note: why do vampires always have bright, white, shiny teeth? I mean yeah, it’s a vampire transition power thing I guess, but they subsist mainly or only on blood. If coffee stains your teeth, what the fuck should blood be doing to the ol’ pearly whites?

I digress. Tina insists he needs not only blood, but Betsy’s blood. She doesn’t really question it, just asks if that’s a queen thing? Which Tina confirms. She also tells her that water helps them with healing, and she thinks back to how they immediately put Nick into the bathtub earlier; at first she thought it was simply to get him clean, but now she’s wondering otherwise. Except Detective Nick is a human, and thus the whole “water heals” thing really shouldn’t apply, but fuck it. It’s some vamp power gobbledygook.

Betsy picks up Sinclair and carries him fireman-style to the pool that Nostro apparently has. They spend the entire walk arguing/bantering, of course. Finally, she gets to the pool and tells him to hold his breath (he asks why, as y’know…vampires don’t breathe. If you recall, one of the Betsy’s-funny-suicide-attempts montage including hanging out at the bottom of the Mississippi River for half an hour before giving up) and then finally she thinks of the fact that, oh yeah, chlorine ought to sting the shit out of his many open wounds, at the very least.

But nay, vampire water powers! He looks relieved, and pulls Betsy towards him. We get a lengthy description of her “losing her vampire virginity” in letting him feed from her (which is kinda not true at all–just the prior chapter, she was feeding the Fiends, albeit via her wrists so whatever). It is erotic, of course. Being lunch felt as good as drinking lunch. Oh, joy. Will she finally stop whining every time she has to feed? Nope!

Eric pulled back and smiled with a look of pure uncomplicated happiness. His face healed itself while I watched in shock and amazement. So fast, it was happening so fast! Then he was whole, perfect–a completely gorgeous male specimen. With really big canines. It had taken less than five minutes.

She laughs with joy, which causes her to choke on water. Idiot. Sinclair pulled me to him again, not nearly so gentle this time, and then his mouth was covering mine, his tongue was rubbing against mine, and his mouth was pressing against mine, and his arms were around me, pressing me against him.

We kissed for an hour…or so it felt. He pulled me free of my rags and I helped him out of the burned tatters he’d barely been wearing. Mindful that he couldn’t bear the cross, I took it off and let it float away, making a mental note to retrieve it later. When I touched his throbbing, firm length I was glad I was floating and not standing–I doubt I’d have been able to keep my feet. He was huge and beautiful and I wanted every inch inside me.

Huge and beautiful. Yeah. Most people I know pretty much all agree that penises are kind of silly-looking, and one of the reasons a great many people find naked women artistic and naked men kind of… silly-looking. I don’t know, I mean no offense to all you penis-havers, it just strikes me as a funny thing to think…especially in that the men I’ve known would take umbrage with being referred to as “beautiful,” as it’s apparently emasculating. Whatever.

I was tired of fighting my attraction to him, tired of pretending I didn’t feel it in my stomach every time he smiled. Love? I didn’t know. I’d never known anyone like Eric Sinclair, who thought I was a hopeless twit but had fought for me, lost everything for me, and secured a throne for me.

Well, that’s a bit of a 180…again. Yeah, she really goes from near-hatred of him to “derp am I in love?” that fuckin’ quickly, which would be fine I guess if she doesn’t immediately go back to insisting she hates him…but alas, she does. Also, I don’t know if I’d exactly call his actions securing the throne for her… especially considering what’s about to happen in their postcoital bliss.

So they start fucking in the pool, when suddenly Betsy develops a random new power: she can hear Sinclair’s thoughts, only when they screw. And he cannot hear her.

I’m going to quote the ridiculous thoughts MJD apparently assumes men have during sex. Seriously, it’s just…well, totally written for lovesick females who want to believe a man would only think of how deeply he loves you rather than, like…I don’t know, wishing your butt or boobs were bigger, or wanting you touch them differently, or even thinking about another woman. All the things which make Sookie Stackhouse (I’ve read the books, and have only seen season one of True Blood…at least a bit longer than six years ago, as my sister was pregnant at the time, and her fraternal boy-girl twins just turned six) unable to have sex with a fully human male, at least one with any level of intelligence. Sometimes I end up skipping the stuff people are doing while speaking, as it’s mostly bullshit like “I pressed a blend on the blender and thus blended myself a smoothie!” That’s not verbatim, it’s just the gist of it and who fucking cares about the ridiculous amount of smoothies you make and consume? MJD does, man. MJD does.

The blooddrinking/healing takes about 5 minutes (in th, which makes Betsy laugh underwater and choke. But Sinclair pulls her again, “not so gently this time,” and starts aggressively making out with her, rubbing her ass playing with her nipples, y’know all the shit authors like this specialize in,. He then “parts her lips,” but not the ones on her face, which causes her to wrap her legs tightly around his face and start to GRIND, which I’m sure must feel great on his “really big canines.” Wow, on her too, thinking of that! Whatever, the fangs don’t matter unless they do. Plot convenience fangs! Cool!

He drinks her blood again, “drinking from the very center of me,” which I think is supposed to be sexy but instead makes me think “did…did he just bite and drink from her VAGINA?!” Nothing about the story indicates any thigh bleeding, and his lips and tongue were just graphically described as, ah…in her, and then he bites and all she calls it is in the center of her. So yeah, he totally just drank some vagina blood, and after she orgasms from 20 seconds of foreplay and a vagina bite (don’t try this at home–do NOT try this at home unless expressly asked–and even then, get something signed first, jesus christ!)

Then he pulls her down to kissing range and gives her back her own fluids. Sexy! Nah, MJD doesn’t actually say that directly, but you know that’s totally what is happening! And then they fuck, and Betsy immediately hears him the second he enters her:

“She’s so beautiful she feels so good ah I can’t I can’t hold back I have to have her have to be inside her oh Elizabeth my darling my own oh oh oh…”’

I froze. I was hearing thoughts, but they sure weren’t mine. And it wasn’t like he was taking over my brain, it was more like I was…eavesdropping? Since when could I hear his mind? Anyone’s mind? Could hear me?

Eric, I have a galloping case of VD, that’s not going to be a problem, is it?

Nothing; he kept kissing me and now was now sucking my lower lip into his mouth (honestly, that’s pretty absurd, too. I know they’re vampires, but still… WHY WOULD ANYONE DO THAT? On purpose? Surely if that was ‘a thing” there would be a lot of looking at you and find themselves bewildered, swollen, bruised, unless they also want public bloody mouthsex. Afterwards, he forces his upper lip into her mouth, which gives me such a bizarre, funny visual. Way to give a new meaning for the word “liplock’!

Anyway! They apparently change sex positions every 2 seconds. That sounds…annoying. Lucky for us, Sinclair apparently doesn’t have enough thoughts to fill a tablespoon:

Now I have to now take her touch her now have her now oh please don’t let me hurt her oh Elizabeth my luminous queen I’d die for you…

They’ve turned upside down and Betsy calls her own vagina “unbelievably tight” because of course she does. One cannot graduate from the LKH School of Terrible Vampire “Romance” Fiction unless they make sure the reader knows how “tight” the main is, and how massive her love interest’s dick is–which kinda makes you wonder if she’s only “tight” in comparison to his gigantic penis…but anyway, I’ve now ruined the word tight for myself so let’s move on before I get sick.

She mouths “ Don’t Stop,” and he thinks Ah sweetheart as if I could…which is again a little unnerving, as she’s barely shown even basic interest in him up til they fell into a pool and had sex, so like…what if she said ‘STOP’ rather than ‘DON’T stop’? Would he still think as if he could? Because that is hella rapey. So rapey it made me say “hella”!

He suddenly starts fucking her with “excruciating slowness,” which Betsy infers is due to him not wanting to hurt her…which is kind of dumb and presumptuous, as he’s already been all the way up in her, sooo…? Whatever, I imagine it’s just so MJD can say, Which was all very nice, except I wanted to come again. Wanted to feel him all the way up inside her (wow, I wrote that prior sentence before rereading that part) Wanted to feel him in my throat, (not in an oral sex way, I assume) wanted to ride him until I was screaming and clawing, wanted to see his eyes roll up (what? Is that a thing?) and feel him spasm against me. I wriggled closer and he shuddered; I bit him on the throat and he shoved, seating himself within me with one thrust.

I don’t know how to feel about knowing what’s hot, supersexy sex to a number of middle-aged women who think more of themselves than seemingly they should, but of course I didn’t have to read this shit…well, some of it was more of a surprise, like how Anita was outspokenly chaste, only ever having sex one time in her life (and they start when she’s like…25, 26 I think?) then all the sudden the ardeur (it’s italicised EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. it’s mentioned–and it’s mentioned a LOT!) comes in and makes her the sluttiest woman in the universe.

I am not against sex. I like sex, as most do. I don’t throw around the word “slut” like it’s some kind of amazing insult–I don’t really think it should be an insult at all, really, as it basically just means “a woman who sure enjoys sex” anymore, and it’s dumb people feel the need to feminize all demonization of insulting sexualization, aka how people say “manwhore” if they want to be specific it’s about a dude, but “whore” is obviously feminine despite the fact it shouldn’t be. I say Anita is basically the sluttiest woman in her universe because…she is, as far as I remember. At least by the point she goes from nigh-virginal to SEXSEXSEXALLTHETIMESEXORIWILLLITERALLYDIESEXXXX…yeah. Anyway, LKH seemingly made every other female character in Anita’s universe unabashed, judgmental prudes–even her supposed best friend, who used to encourage her to get out there and start bangin’, then immediately turned against her when she did, in a pathetic display of LKH literally responding to her fans who had a problem with how extreme it went…anyway. LKH very clearly hates women. Every woman in her universe is insanely evil, much more than their male counterparts, or a fuckin’ judgey-ass BIIIITCH (or both!). Maybe supersubmissive, if she wants to keep them around but make sure you know how much better her main is in comparison, being a badass, mouthy, self-assured dynamo. Her mains never have female friends, at least once they start exploring their sexuality.

Anyway, I went way off track there, so here’s the next two paragraphs, the second being yet another ridiculous assertion MJD makes of Sinclair’s sex thoughts:

I squirmed against hi,, enjoying the sensation of being pinned, impaled. Fucked.

No oh no don’t don’t I’ll hurt hurt I’ll hurt her ah ah AH AH ELIZABETH YOU FEEL SO GOOD…

Barf! Come the fuck on. NO ONE thinks like this during sex. I guaranfuckingtee it. This is SO RIDICULOUS and this pathetic, stuttering, Betsy-worshipping bullshit happens every time she hears him during sex…for YEARS. Ohhhh she feels SO GOOD, ugh. Fuck you. This may be the most unrealistic part of these books, and yes I’m including dumbass vampire prophecy bullshit.

She continues going on and on about sex, and Sinclair’s next thought is, Can’t stop can’t stop can’t can’t Elizabeth oh Elizabeth you feel alive to me you feel like no one else to me Elizabeth, and again…BARF!

No man possibly thinks this way. No WOMAN thinks this way, and we are supposedly the more delicate, loving, impassioned gender. Which is also complete bullshit, by the way, but anyway…this is bullshit.

Charlaine Harris was entirely correct in making Sookie uncomfortable with sex with mortal men, at least ones who had an IQ of like…80, at best. Sookie can hear thoughts, all human thoughts, a bit of were, no vamps. So of course she is drawn to vamps; she makes a damn fine point of how uncomfortable, distracting, and awful it is to hear her partner wishing she had bigger breasts or a firmer ass or just thinking about some random bullshit instead of being completely in the moment with her. This is a much more accurate portrayal of sex thoughts. Hell, every woman I know agrees one of the major thoughts we have is ‘oh my god, isn’t he done yet?! I have shit to do, fuuuuck just come and get it over with!’ Sorry for revealing that secret, ladies, but I’m sure many of you know it’s true.

People don’t entirely concentrate on how “good (you) feel” or how you’re unlike any other, or “wahhhh I’ll hurt her waaahhhh” or repeating over and over my own my love I love you my own love, oh my love how I love thee, my own, my love love love ah ah ahhhhh omigosh how I love theeeeeeeee…” We just don’t. Especially if it’s been going on a while…I know everyone talks about how they want sex to last “hours” or whatever the fuck length of time, but honestly, it either gets boring, or starts to chafe, or both. Women can lose their “wetness,” as it were. Especially if they’ve had multiple orgasms…if you have multiple orgasms, you really just want the dude to hurry the fuck up and finish already, as again…CHAFING. If you’ve been wet to the point of orgasming over and over…you’re gonna end up dry, and then it hurts, and that basically ruins the whole thing. I’m sorry if this was some big ladysecret I’m not supposed to reveal, but seriously…too much sex in one long period of time gets boring and fuckin’ annoying.

Sinclair suddenly starts to just think repeating words, as the next time we hear a thought (his thoughts are bizarrely spaced out, while also being so single-minded obsessive you start to wonder if maybe he’s not the genius they all claim him to be…in comparison to Betsy? Sure! In comparison to, like…90+% of life…maaaaybe not!)…don’t worry, I counted. He thinks, MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE, yes seven times.

Anyway, Betsy has yet another orgasm, yaaaawn, and he starts thinking ELIZABETH! ELIZABETH! ELIZABETH! Before FINALLY he “found his own release,” and she starts floating away in a sea of their juices before he pulls her back to him for underwater, semen-and-vaginal-juices cuddles, which “was like being alive again!” Oh, and she just has to include this wonderful line:

His grip tightened, his tongue thrust even deeper into my mouth, and then he was relaxing, relaxing, and slipping out of me, smaller and softer, but still formidable. 

I hate to repeat myself, but BAAARF!

Once they’ve finished, she realizes, I couldn’t hear him in my head anymore, which made me sad. (why?)

Love? I had no idea. But it sure had been something.

Oh! I can answer that for you, Bets! No. No, you’re not in love with a dude you allegedly can’t stand after like, what…three to five DAYS of meeting him?! Nah. “Love at first sight” is really just intense lust. You literally don’t know anything real about each other in that amount of time. Hell, all Betsy knows about Sinclair is he sure likes power, and suits, probably power-suits, and also he has a really big dick. That isn’t enough information to use the word “love,” especially if you’re thirty fucking years old and should definitely know better. Shit, this series started when I was 18. Even back then, I knew the fucking difference between ‘love’ and ‘lust.’ Some dude claimed he loved because we had sex TWICE, and it was all I could do not to laugh in his ridiculous face. As it were, I stopped seeing him anyway, because that is entirely stupid and MADE ME UNCOMFORTABLE that this dude who knows essentially nothing of value about me claimed he “loved me,” Nah, dude. Nah.

So that’s the end of Chapter 26. 27 has Betsy freaking the fuck out as her head breaks the surface of the pool: dozens of vampires have just been standing there, patiently watching them fuck every which way while awaiting…orders, I guess? Betsy dives back down, swims around for “a few minutes,” I found Sinclair’s sisters cross–easier than I would have believed!–and put it back on. I lurked on the bottom of the pool for another minute, then gathered up my courage and swam back to the surface. Yeah, real mature queen you’ve got there. Also…why the fuck did she think it would be HARD to find a golden necklace in a basically EMPTY swimming pool, especially with vampire-enhanced vision? I mean, I know she’s an idiot, but sheesh.

Of course all of the vampires are still there, which…duh. They waited all through their sex, did she really think if she swam around for a few minutes they’d just be like, oh NOW this is too much, SEE YA?! Again, I know she’s an idiot, but SHEESH…

First dead, then a vampire, then a queen, now a whore. What a week!

Again with this “whore” shit. You’ve had sex with ONE DUDE. You’ve said you only need 3 fingers to count how many partners you’ve had. This makes FOUR. Just because it was inadvertently public doesn’t make you a whore, and stop using ‘whore’ as a damn insult you dumb bitch. “I like sex” is not an insult.

Tina gives her a robe, while Sinclair, that shameless hussy, had no problem with modesty. Heh. “Hussy.” Whatever. He stands before the crowd, naked as the day he was born, while Tina makes a grandiose statement about the pair (again I’m going to skip a lot of the between-the-scenes nonsense):

“Behold,” Tina said loudly, “your Queen and her consort.”

“Nostro is no more,” Sinclair said sternly (and nudely). “The Fiends are under my Queen’s command. As are all of you.”

“Any who do not wish to swear allegiance may leave now, tonight. We will not force your hand; you are free to come and go as you wish. Those dark days are over. But any who remain, and swear loyalty to her Majesty the Queen, will be under our protection so long as we live.”

Betsy has been sputtering inside her head, and saying “Uh…Eric?” out. She keeps focusing on the word ‘consort,’ as she should be, because no one ever mentioned anything about her being tied to Sinclair before.

She finally manages to interject and ask what the fuck do they mean, consort? Tina coughs and makes a very dumb excuse, “We–ah–didn’t get a chance to finish explaining the prophecies from the Book of the Dead. Because Dennis–and we just didn’t.”

“Soooooooo?”

“But you were foretold, and Nostro’s downfall was foretold, and Eric being–uh–being your King was also–”

“What?” I could actually feel my eyes bulge. “What did you say?”

“She said Eric being your King was also,” Alice piped up helpfully from somewhere behind me.”

“Quiet, you. And Tina, explain. Now.”

“‘And the first who shall noe the Queen as a husband noes his Wyfe after the fall of the usurper shall be the Queen’s Consort and shall rule at her side for a thousand yeares.’” And so on.

I just want to say…KING and CONSORT are not interchangeable terms. ‘King’ describes a ruling monarch, and is actually typically more powerful than the queen. ‘Consort’ is what we call the partner of the reigning monarch who is not a monarch himself. It’s why the Queen of England has a decades-long partner, but does not have a king. Because as king, he would rule over her, and they initially say ‘consort,’ and the Book is quoted as saying ‘consort,’ but hereafter everyone will call Sinclair the king. He calls himself “King Sinclair” from time to time. But he is not king. Betsy is above him in the chain. Betsy is the ruler. Betsy can override and even command Sinclair. And yet, they call him ‘king,’ He’s not. He’s her consort, and nothing more. This always bugs me. Like, I think they’ve gathered that she’s an idiot and then use language to trick her even more than they already did.

“Since fucking when?”

“Since fucking,” Sinclair said helpfully.

So yeah. They knew. They knew the whole time that if they can get Betsy to fuck Sinclair, he would gain power. Not ‘ultimate’ power, as she’s still occasionally smart enough to realize she out-ranks him, but it’s seemingly not for lack of trying, and when they do disagree Sinclair tries to throw his weight around as best as possible. Which is usually when Betsy remembers oh duh, I’m the actual monarch and he’s just here because I banged him, at least when it’s very important to her.

“Why didn’t either of you tell me? Why didn’t you warn me? For a thousand years? What?”

“Well,” he who was on my permanent shit list said reasonably, “if I said ‘Elizabeth, dear heart, I want to make love to you, but just so you know, I’ll come to the crown right after I come in you,’ then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you naked.”

GROSS! Everything about this is gross. Even the way he decided to word that was intentionally fucking gross.

Tina tries to step between them to whisper to Eric to knock it off, and claim to Betsy “it was foretold, is all. Just like your ascension to the throne. There’s nothing any of us can do about it,” because Tina is loyal to Sinclair first and foremost for the entirety of time, including tricking a woman who flat-out says if she knew this would happen, she would never had succumbed to lust, into fucking her best buddy so that he will rule. She’s all Majesty this, Majesty that, Majesty Majesty Majesty towards Betsy, but at the end of the day she is loyal to–and actively pushed Betsy to fuck–Eric Sinclair. This is GROSS. She might consider me her queen, but Eric was her sun and moon, closer than any brother. What he wanted, she would get for him. She revered me, but she loved him.

Tina just whines Betsy just has to accept it, Betsy says ‘accept my ass’ and Sinclair again has to interject with his crude bullshit, “well, if you–” before Betsy cuts in, tells him to shut up and that she wants both of them to stay the hell away from her.

Tina bit her lip and stared at the floor, but Finklair smiled at me. “Impossible, my Queen. You and I have a kingdom to run.”

And that is how the final chapter ends. They trick Betsy into sex to make him the so-called king, actually consort, and then he continues to be a smug prick. Way to get on her good side, ass!

Finally we come to our epilogue. Betsy says she’s adjusting, or trying to, having killed the bad guy to become the monarch. And I’m hopelessly attracted to, yet despise, my king. Oh boo, he’s not your king, get that shit out of your head. YOU’RE the QUEEN, dammit! He’s just your fucktoy!

But of course she doesn’t come to that realization. She keeps giving Tina the cold shoulder until (she) decides to forgive her, Jessica and Marc are apparently starting a new crime fighting business called HELP, Inc., which is seriously never mentioned again, entirely whatsoever, so that was crucial! Betsy is trying to rebuild a relationship with her dad “such as it was” and the Ant.

Not to mention finding permanent suck buddies and a paying job–I was undead and unemployed, and couldn’t live off Jessica’s charity forever except she totally does and entirely stops giving a shit about it pretty quickly, so again…crucial information you’ve got there!

She claims she intends to ‘stay unwed for a thousand years to be exact,’ but you know where this crucial information is going by now. She’s also run into Nick at a grocery store and he looked better, and “only mildly surprised” to see her.

Now if I could just get Sinclair to quit dropping off pairs of designer shoes (hahaha yeah sure you want that, bitch). In the last card he said he would drop off a pair a day until I forgave him. I’m up to fourteen pairs of Pradas, eight pairs of Manolos, and six Ferragamos.

Maybe I’ll forgive him…eventually.

I’m still waiting for this season’s red Jimmy Choo slides.

And that is that. That is how the book ends. Typically I may try to write a summary on my feelings and why this book sucks, but as I’ve said it’s the least sucky of the bunch, and I’ve pretty well explained my feelings where it’s not by now. Undead and Unwed is finished, both in life and in my reviews, and now it is time for me to start writing up the second Betsy book…

UP NEXT: Undead and Unemployed. The only other book where Betsy is said to have an actual job, and the hijinx that ensue. Woohoo!