Vampire Book Club is running a fun little contest for some swag, wherein you write a Valentine’s love letter to your favorite book hero. Fun stuff. I honestly don’t have a favorite book hero to write a love letter to, though I suppose Eve Dallas might do. However, I couldn’t resist coming up with something, so I had Jackie from my Deadworld series write a Valentine to Nick, with a little help on the side from Laurel and Shelby (significant side characters). Jackie probably wouldn’t know romance if it bit her on the ass, but she’s game to give it a go, even if through thinly veiled threats. Here is her letter. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.
I know. Why the hell am I writing a letter? Laurel says my mouth and brain don’t always work well together, so I should say the things I want to say on paper so that I can get my thoughts out without interference. What the fuck does she know? Shelby said she would make you write one if I didn’t, so think of this as saving your ass from all this sentimental bullshit. Anyway, I don’t even know if you do Valentine’s. Do you?
By the way, I started this damn thing two hours ago, if that’s any indication of my writing prowess. I might be lucky to finish by morning at this rate. I have no fucking clue what to say. I’ve never done Valentine’s stuff before. Do we do dinner or something? I’d like that. Just thinking about your kitchen makes my mouth water. You also look pretty good in an apron. God, I just realized that I don’t even know if you want to do Valentine’s. It’s the day for love and romance and all that shit. I mean, I guess we have some of that going on, don’t we? God, I sound like an idiot. Well, maybe not, but Laurel just told me to erase that and I’m not going to.
Shelby told me to pretend you wouldn’t actually read this letter, and to be honest, I may not give it to you. These things are stupid. I mean, really. If I wanted a repeat of what happened on the kitchen floor last weekend, I could just tell you, right? Problem is, I tried that, and my mouth locked up on me. Maybe there’s something to this letter thing after all.
So, can we do something nice for dinner? Seafood maybe? I’d like that. I love watching you cook. Hell, I love watching you do most anything. You have the ease and confidence of motion that makes me always feel like you know what you’re doing. You have this stability about you, like your soul is rooted deep into the ground. I need that. You keep the world from spinning on me. Christ, I sound like a babbling school girl, and Shelby just threatened to post this on facebook if I tried to erase it. She really is a bitch.
Is food and sex too much to want from this damn holiday? I think it makes me sound kind of lame. You have so much to offer beyond that, but I don’t even know what to ask for or what I even want. Just feed me, ok? And be there, like you always are. I still don’t get you and why you insist on not going away, but I can’t complain. Being with you makes me feel secure, which I can’t say I ever remember feeling. I get to relax around you and not be afraid you’ll judge me. Shit, this day doesn’t do you justice at all. You’ve made me feel like really living again, and there is no holiday worthy of that.
So, I guess what I really want is just to be with you. Can we have a whole day, just you and me? Your kitchen and your bed. That’s all I need or want. I’ll figure out how to show you how much you’ve come to mean to me when I get there. If it’s one thing I know I’m good at, it’s just fucking winging it. You know, like the other day in your barn. That was, well, that rocked. We could do that again. So, let’s say kitchen, bed, and barn? Simple enough, right? You cook the food and get naked. I’ll do the rest.
Love, (Laurel added this, she says I can’t send it without it)