JESSICAS GUIDE TO DATING ON THE DARK SIDE PDF

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NOT FOR SALE This File was created for educational, scholarly use ONLY. Jessica's Guide to Dating on the DARK SIDE BETH. Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side. Home · Jessica's Guide to Views KB Size Report. DOWNLOAD EPUB Dark Side- The Haunting · Read more . Views KB Size Report. DOWNLOAD EPUB Jessica's Guide to Dating the Dark Side · Read more.


Jessicas Guide To Dating On The Dark Side Pdf

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Jessica's. Guide to. Dating on the Dark. Side. Meet the author Beth Fantaskey at the Author's Dinner sponsored by the. Friends of Bloomsburg University Library. Jessica's guide to dating on the dark side. byFantaskey, Beth. Publication date Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files. Jessica is a high school senior. She wasn't expecting to meet her bethroved. She didn't even know she was bethroved. Jessica discovers that the parents she.

For a lit-freak like me, it is like a rare dream come true when sexy-european-exchange-student aka vamps start spouting romantic lines from Wuthering Heights even darkk they are doing it with some cheerleader side-kick playing Catherine. It's not the best book I've read, and I think book 1 in the series was better. I was addicted, I needed more and Beth hadn't provided the literature to fill that need.

Better yet… What about Ronnie and Mindy. Might be because I've read too many adult books and this book was too. Jessica enlists the help of Lucius's most trusted ally, an ex-master assassin that fres to Buddhism and surfing to qualm his extreme bloodlust, and takes us on a really interesting journey of discovery. Also, the side story between Mindy and Raniero added another great piece to the main plot.

I bought Jessica 1 the day jessicas guide to dating on the dark side epub free came out and to this day it is one of the most lovingly used books on my bookshelf. The real book is soooooooo And what ever kind of shorten version this is stinks. For example Jessica was very shy, save for the end, in the book. Why on Earth did they give her a motorcycle in this one? She didn't even have her own car! One time in the real book she was so desperate she rode a horse in the rain.

And she did not have an attitude problem, she loved her parents and was muy simpatico. Jessica's guide to dating on the dark side remix version By: J Blake.

It could have been worse, I guess. But not much. Frank slid around in his chair to toss the seating chart at me. Moronic and mean, just like I'd predicted. And only school days to go. Dormand squirmed back around, scowling, and I dug into my backpack for my pen. When I went to write my name, though, my ballpoint was bone dry, probably because it had lingered uncapped in my pack all summer.

I gave the pen a shake and tried again. I started to turn to my left, thinking maybe Jake could loan me one of his pens. Before I could ask him, though, I felt a tap on my right shoulder. Not now. Not now I considered ignoring it, but the tapper struck me lightly again. I had no choice but to turn around.

It was him. The guy from the bus stop. I would have recognized the strange outfit—the long coat, the boots—not to mention his imposing height anywhere. Only this time, he was just a few feet away. Close enough for me to see his eyes.

They were so dark as to appear black and were boring into me with a cool, somehow unnerving, intelligence. I swallowed thickly, frozen in my seat. Had he been in class all along? And if so, how could I have failed to notice him? Maybe because he was sitting sort of apart from the rest of us. Or maybe it was because the very air in his particular corner seemed murky, the fluorescent light directly above his desk snuffed out.

But it was more than that. It was almost like he created the darkness.

That's ridiculous, Jess. He's a person, not a black hole. Not the plastic Bics that most people used. A real gold pen. You could tell just by the way it glittered that it was expensive.

When I hesitated, a look of annoyance crossed his aristocratic face, and he shook the pen at me. This is a familiar tool, yes? But the last person who'd tangled with Faith Crosse had ended up transferring to Saint Monica's, the local Catholic school.

Faith had made her life at Woodrow Wilson that miserable. The past colliding with the future. He smiled then, revealing the most perfect set of even, white teeth I'd ever seen. They actually gleamed, like well-tended weaponry. Above him, the fluorescent light sizzled to life for a second, flickering like lightning.

Okay, that was weird. I slid back around, and my hand shook a little as I wrote my name on the seating chart. It was stupid to be freaked out. He was just another student. Obviously a new guy. Maybe he lived somewhere near our farm. He'd probably been waiting for the bus, just like me, and missed getting on somehow. His somewhat mysterious appearance in English class—a few feet from me—probably wasn't cause for alarm, either.

I looked to Mindy for her opinion. She'd obviously been waiting to make contact. Eyes wide, she jabbed her thumb in the guy's direction, mouthing a very exaggerated, "He's so hot! Yes, the guy was technically good-looking. But he was also totally terrifying with his cloak and boots and ability to materialize near me seemingly out of nowhere.

The fasten the better.. And will that stain come out of my jeans? His gaze followed my fingers, and I thought maybe he was revolted by the fact that I was bleeding. Yet I swore I saw something quite different than disgust in those black eyes. And then he ran his tongue slowly across his lower lip. What the hell was that? Tossing the pen at him, I spun around in my seat. I could change schools, like that girl who messed with Faith.

Go to Saint Monica's. That's the answer. It's not too late. The seating chart made its way back to Mrs. Wilhelm, and she read through the names, then glanced up with a smile that was directed just past my desk. Did I say that correctly? My early-morning stalker, that's who. My neck prickled again. Wilhelm looked slightly alarmed as a tall teenager in a black velvet coat advanced up the aisle toward her. She raised a cautionary finger, like she was about to tell him to sit down, but he strode right past her.

Grabbing up a marker from the tray beneath the whiteboard, he flipped off the cap with authority and scrawled the word Vladescu in a flowing script. Emphasis on the middle syllable, please. One by one, he made eye contact with each student in the room, obviously summing us up. I sensed from the look on his face that we were found wanting somehow. But he was still staring at me. God, his eyes were black. I flinched away, looking to Mindy, who was actually fanning herself, totally oblivious to me.

It was like she was under a spell. Everyone was. No one was fidgeting, or whispering, or doodling. Almost against my will, I returned my attention to the teenager who'd hijacked English lit. It really was almost impossible not to watch him. Lucius Vladescu's longish glossy black hair was out of place in Lebanon County, Pennsylvania, but he would have fit right in with the European models in Mindy's Cosmopolitan magazines.

He was muscular and lean like a model, too, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a strong jaw. And those eyes. Why wouldn't he quit staring at me? Wilhelm finally suggested. Lucius Vladescu spun on his booted heel to face her and capped the pen with a firm snap.

Wilhelm like a student, either. More like an equal. Wilhelm prompted, admitting, "It does sound interesting. I slunk down in my seat. Is everyone noticing this? There was a hint of frustration in his voice, and I had no idea why. But it scared me again.

And he's royal. I could tell that Mindy had already made up her mind about Lucius Vladescu, basing her opinion entirely on broad shoulders and a strong jaw.

We just met him. Staring at me. I thought I heard him say my name. Just as the bus pulled up. My best friend sucked in her breath. That could be a little weird. The story of my adoption was my closely guarded secret. If it ever got out. I felt like a freak every time I thought about the story.

My adoptive mother, a cultural anthropologist, had been studying an off-the-wall underground cult in central Romania. She'd been there with my dad to observe their rituals, in hopes of writing one of her groundbreaking insider journal articles about unique subcultures. However, things had gone wrong over in Eastern Europe. The cult had been a little too strange, a little too offbeat, and some Romanian villagers had banded together, intent on putting an end to the whole group. By force. Just before the mob attacked, my birth parents had entrusted me, an infant, to the visiting American researchers, begging them to take me to the United States, where I would be safe.

I hated that story. Hated the fact that my birth parents had been ignorant, superstitious people duped into joining a cult. I didn't even want to know what the rituals were. I knew the kind of things my mom studied.

Animal sacrifices, tree worship, virgins tossed into volcanoes. Maybe that's why they had been murdered. Who knew? Who wanted to know?

I didn't ask for details, and my adoptive parents never pressed the issue. I was just happy to be Jessica Packwood, American.

Antanasia Dragomir didn't exist, as far as I was concerned. You probably just imagined the whole thing. Or else he said a word that sounds like Antanasia. How about 'nice to meetcha? We walked toward the street to wait for my mom to come pick me up.

I had called at lunch to tell her I was not taking the bus home. Mindy added her last two cents. It's so much better to be stalked by a tall European than an American of average height. Before I could even say hi, Mindy shoved me aside, leaned in, and blurted, "Jess has a boyfriend, Dr. I climbed in and slammed the door, shutting my friend safely on the other side. Mindy waved, laughing, as Mom and I pulled away from the curb.

You're probably misinterpreting innocent behaviors. And then when my finger bled, he licked his lip. A car behind us honked angrily. What was that about? She stepped on the gas again. Sitting on the low wall that surrounded the campus. And he was watching me. Sweat broke out on my forehead. But this time, I was pissed. Enough is enough, already. She pulled over to the curb, right next to where Lucius waited, watching. I figured Mom was going to confront him, so I grabbed her arm.

He's, like, unbalanced or something. Without another word, Mom climbed out of the van and strode directly toward the menacing guy who'd tailed me all day. Was she crazy? Would he try to run away? Go berserk and hurt her? But no, he slipped gracefully off the wall and bowed—a real bow, at the waist—to my mother. What the. I rolled down the window, but they spoke so softly I couldn't hear what they were saying. The conversation went on for what seemed like eons.

And then my mother shook his hand. Lucius Vladescu turned to go, and Mom got back in the van and turned the key. My mother looked me straight in the eye and said, "You, your father, and I need to talk. A bad prickle. We have so, so much to tell you. And we need to do it before Lucius arrives for dinner.

When we got home, my dad was in the middle of teaching his tantric yoga class for oversexed, over-the-hill hippies, out in the studio behind the house, so Mom told me to go ahead with my chores. And then Lucius arrived early for dinner. I was in the barn mucking out stalls when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow cross the open barn door. When there was no answer, I got the bad feeling my visitor was our dinner guest. Mom invited him, I reminded myself as, sure enough, a tall European exchange student strode across the dusty riding ring.

He can't be that dangerous. Mom's endorsement aside, I kept a firm hold on my pitchfork. He arrived within a few feet of me, and I was struck again by his height. I spun around, trying to keep him in view, and caught him wrinkling his nose. I had no idea what he was talking about, but the head-to-toe survey of my person was not cool. Is that feces on your shoes? Why did he care what is on my shoes?

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Why does he think this is his business? Hired help. It's offensive. Lucius Vladescu wasn't just intimidating. He was infuriating. And why are you following me?

Packwood vowed that she would tell you everything. Your parents are not so good at keeping promises. And what manner of man practices such a pacifist pastime? Men should train for war, not waste their time chanting 'om' and blathering about inner peace.

What pact? Not going well at all. I advised the Elders that you should have been summoned back to Romania years ago, that you would never be a suitable bride. And we are to be married, the moment you come of age. This has been decreed since our births. Lucius Vladescu is completely nuts. And I'm alone with him, in an empty barn.

So I did what any sane person would do. I jammed the pitchfork in the general direction of his foot and ran like hell for the house, ignoring his yowl of pain. But of course, no one paid attention. My parents were too focused on Lucius Vladescu's injured foot.

Mom pointed firmly at the ring of chairs around the kitchen table. Mom yanked off his boot, which bore the visible imprint of a pitchfork tine, while my dad puttered about the kitchen, searching under the sink for the first aid kit while he waited for the herbal tea to brew.

But we can still have tea. You could have impaled me. And you do not want to impale a vampire. More to the point, is that any way to greet your future husband—or any guest, for that matter?

With a pitchfork? As I explained to you earlier, her father and I wanted to speak to her first. Someone had to take charge. He picked up the container of chamomile, sniffed the contents, and frowned. He poured four mugs. Just tell me what's going on," I begged, sitting down to reclaim my chair from Lucius. It wasn't warm at all.

Almost like no one had been there just moments before. Fill me in. He lifted his steaming mug to his lips, sipped, and shuddered.

Why is everyone talking in code? Your parents were among the vampires I was studying at the time. I mean, folk culture and legends were my mom's research interest, and my dad had been known to host the occasional "angel communication" seminar in his yoga studio. But surely even my flaky parents didn't believe in Hollywood movie monsters. They couldn't have honestly believed that my birth parents had turned into bats, or dissolved in sunlight, or grew big fangs. Could they? Your father and I were afraid the truth about your birth parents might deeply disturb you.

So we kept things. Mom nodded. He'd retrieved his boot and was hopping around on one foot, attempting to pull it on.

Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side

Those rituals my mom had alluded to, related to my birth parents.. My birth parents: Lucius frowned. I suppose not. I'm right here. She has an analytical bent that makes her resistant to the paranormal. I cried. At this low point, Dad returned with a mildewed scroll cradled in his hands. Big purges every few months. Lots of very nice vampires eliminated. You didn't see my parents act like vampires, did you? I know you didn't. Because it didn't happen. You don't just invite people to watch.

Vampires are a sensual race but not given to exhibitionism, for god's sake. We're discreet. It was quite normal to them. Had you grown up in Romania in that subculture, it would have seemed ordinary to you, too. The story is quite simple. You, Antanasia, are the last of a long line of powerful vampires.

The Dragomirs. Vampire royalty. And that is the last part of the story, which your parents still seem reluctant to relate. I am a vampire prince. The heir to an equally powerful clan, the Vladescus. More powerful, I would say, but that's not the point. We were pledged to each other in an engagement ceremony shortly after our births.

At this ceremony? It was rather landmark insider work, if I do say so myself. The delusional Dracula wannabe resumed pacing. We are to be married soon after you come of age.

Our bloodlines united, consolidating our clans' strength and ending years of rivalry and warfare. Five million vampires—your family, my family combined—all under our rule. For the first time, I saw curiosity, not disdain or mockery or raw power, in his dark eyes.

To be with me? I didn't say anything. Did Lucius Vladescu really think I would fall for him, just because he had a handsome face? A killer body? That I would care that he smelled like the sexiest, spiciest cologne I'd ever sniffed.

Jessica's Guide to Dating the Dark Side

I had almost forgotten the musty paper, but now Dad sat down and carefully unrolled the scroll on the kitchen table. The brittle paper crackled as he smoothed it with gentle fingers. The words—Romanian, presumably—were unintelligible to me, but it looked like some sort of legal document, with lots of signatures at the bottom. I shifted my gaze, refusing to look any closer at a bunch of nonsense.

Multilingual show-off. I could feel his breath on my cheek. It was unnaturally cool, sweet. Against my better judgment, I kept inhaling that unusual cologne, too, drawing it deep into my lungs. Lucius was so close that my curly dark hair brushed his jaw, and he absently swept the stray locks away, the back of his fingers grazing my cheek. I jolted at the touch.

The sensation hit me, right in the pit of my stomach. If Lucius felt the same shock I did, he didn't betray it as he focused intently on the document. Am I getting dizzy from sniffing cologne? Imagining things?

I shifted slightly in my chair, trying not to touch him again, as our arrogant visitor ran his finger beneath the first line of the scroll. And upon the marriage, our clans shall be united and at peace. And see: And your mother's. Shoving the scroll away, I crossed my arms and glared at my parents.

Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side

We were merely there to witness a unique ritual, in the interest of my research. This was weeks before the purge, weeks before we adopted you. We had no idea what the future held for any of us. You are a vampire princess. Your destiny is not entirely your own. He honestly thinks I'm a vampire princess. The strange, almost pleasurable, sensation I'd felt when he'd brushed my cheek was forgotten as reality hit me again.

Lucius Vladescu was a lunatic. I'd be thirsty for blood," I said in a last ditch attempt to interject reason into a discussion that had devolved into the absurd. And when I bite you for the first time, then you will be a vampire. I've brought you a book— a guide, so to speak—which will explain everything—" I stood up so fast my chair tipped over, smashing to the floor.

I don't care what kind of 'betrothal ceremony' they had! It wasn't a suggestion. This is a democracy. Let's just all just take a deep breath. Like Ghandi said, "We must become the change we want to see. Besides, Lucius, Jessica is not ready to contemplate marriage. She hasn't even kissed a boy yet, for goodness' sake. No suitors? How shocking. I would have thought your pitchfork skills would be attractive to certain bachelors here in farm country.

Die right there. I wanted to run to the knife drawer, grab the biggest blade I could find, and plunge it into my heart. To be exposed as never even being kissed The vampire thing was a ridiculous fantasy, but my total lack of experience.

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That is so embarrassing! Did you have to tell him that? I don't want Lucius thinking you're some sort of experienced young woman, ready for marriage. It is a new century. But I am afraid that I am compelled to pursue this courtship until Antanasia realizes her place at my side. As she will. And the Elders always get their way. Sleep," Lucius clarified.

I'd forgotten about school. Vampires don't like to raise suspicions, as you can imagine. We like to blend in. In a velvet topcoat in summer?

In Lebanon County, Pennsylvania? The conservative, bologna-making heart of the state's farm country, where sturdy people of Germanic descent still think pierced ears are radical and possibly portals to hell? Your foreign exchange student, to be exact," Lucius clarified. Mom raised a cautionary hand.

Isn't there paperwork? A small detail worked out in Romania. No one with any good sense turns down a request from the Vladescu clan. It's just bad form. And the consequences of refusing us a favor.

Lucius's shoulders slumped, but just slightly. Well, perhaps we did overstep our bounds there. But you must admit, you are honor bound to welcome me. You knew this day—and I—would arrive. We need to consider Jessica's feelings I will not return to the socalled country inn downtown where I slept last night.

The room had a pig theme, for god's sake. Pig wallpaper, pig tchotchkes everywhere. And a Vladescu does not slumber with swine.Jessica is a high school senior.

Sleep," Lucius clarified. And what manner of man practices such a pacifist pastime? However, when he is invited into her home and reveals to Jessica that she is a royal member of a vampire family and he is to be her betrothed, she stabs him with a pitchfork and runs away from him. For control of territory.

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