You may know how to create suspension in fiction (novels and short stories). A blog is a different category altogether. In normal fiction you might use time constraints (the ticking time bomb), keep the stakes high, apply pressure, create a dilemma and so forth. They don’t always work well in a blog. Here is how to apply suspense in a blog:
 Keep the stakes high. Example; I accidently overdosed, and the medics are on the way. I must finish this blog before I lose conscientiousness or die. I’m writing as fast as I can – no time to proofread. I’m fading fast…
Apply pressure. Example; My wife says I must quit this blog or she will leave me. I stuck out and went to the library. I know she’s out looking for me now. She will walk in any minute and catch me. As luck would have it, I have writer’s block.
Create a dilemma. Example; My house is on fire. I’m torn between saving myself and my family or writing this blog. I have many loyal followers, so I have to finish the blog. The heat is getting unbearable. The smoke is making it hard to see my monitor. Almost done.
Use time constraints. Example; This blog will self-destruct in five minutes.
​Good luck and keep writing those blogs.

My latest wip is a novel, Night Predator (working title), about an FBI agent who is a vampire and his human partner. I posted the Prologue and the first chapter earlier, so if you missed them, scroll down. I need feedback. Here is the draft of Chapter 2.
Chapter 2
Branko returned to his apartment tired. He had decided to order Chinese food and relax with a cold beer. All that changed as he arrived at his apartment. He noticed the security system was disarmed. His vampire senses shifted to high alert. As he entered his apartment, he left the lights off to allow his night vision to adjust to the dark. If his intruder was human, he would have the advantage in the dark apartment. He stood still and inhaled deeply. He could smell perfume floating down the hall toward his bedroom. He thought he knew it. It wasn’t the everyday work variety but more like the Saturday-night date-night variety. His mind began to mask the stronger odors: the smell of the carpets, the furniture polish, the garbage in the kitchen needs to be emptied. He began to detect more sinister odors like gun oil and black powder. Branko drew his weapon.
Vampires have a strong sense of hearing. Branko stood still and listened. Once again, his mind began to mask the non-threatening sounds: the refrigerator, the air conditioning, his own heartbeat. He tried to detect the tell-tale signs of an intruder – breathing and a heartbeat. He heard something but couldn’t pin point it.
Branko remained still as his eyes adjusted to the dark. During the day, he always wore red-tinted sunglasses. His helmet that he wore outside had a red-tinted visor, protecting his night vision. Vampires have 200% more rod cells in their eyes than humans to enable them to see well in the dark. Even with that advantage, he knew it would normally take fifteen to twenty minutes for his eyes to fully adapt to the dark. In the years he spent hunting and fighting at night, he had learned techniques to improve his night vision. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes to apply slight pressure. He off set his vision when he looked at an object to engage more rods cells. So far, he saw nothing.
Branko decided it was time to find his intruder. He smiled. He knew the air flow in his apartment would spread the odors. He decided to follow the perfume trail down the hall. He removed his shoes and began to tip toe down the hallway. He froze when he felt the barrel end of a pistol at the back of his head. It was not the first time someone held a gun to his head. It was a classic amateur mistake -- never put your weapon within reach of your prisoner. His mind raced as he thought about his next move. He could raise his hands, then quickly spin around to disarm his intruder. He decided to wait.
A woman’s voice whispered, “Freeze or you’re a dead man.” He froze. “Now toss your weapon onto the couch. Branko did as he was told. “Now remove your clothes – all of them.” He stripped down and stood naked. He felt two erect nipples against his back, so he realized his adductor was also naked. She reached around and felt his erection. “Good. Now go into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. Again, he did as he was told. No sooner had he lay down, and she was on top of him. Foreplay was over.
Several minutes later, Branko smiled and sat up on one elbow. “I did not know you were coming over.”
She laughed. “I needed you tonight – stressful day. Besides, I wanted to surprise you -- to get the drop on you.”
Branko laid back down. “Zoe, was your gun loaded?”
Zoe laughed. “Of course. I thought you might resist. Was yours?”
“Of course. I was not sure if it was you.”
Zoe rolled over to face Branko. “You liar. You knew it was me, didn’t you? I didn’t take you by surprise.”
“Yeah, I knew it was you. First, you did not reset zhe security system. And I could smell you.”
Zoe sat up. “No way. I took a shower when I got here.” She laid back down. “That damn nose of yours. Okay, take a whiff and tell me what you smell.”
Branko inhaled deeply. He paused for a moment. “I smelled your perfume when I came in. I thought I smelled it in zhe hall too. You left your scent trial all zhe way to zhe bedroom. I also smelled gun oil and gun powder residue. Now I can smell your deodorant, shampoo, tooth paste, and… and garlic.”
Zoe laughed. “I had target practice today and cleaned my pistol. I also had pasta for lunch.” They both laughed.
Branko got up and stepped over to the dresser. Out of the top drawer, he removed a black pouch that contained a syringe and a small vial of hemin panhematin -- an enzyme inhibitor derived from processed red blood cells.
Zoe sat up in bed. “Why don’t you take a sip of my blood?”
“I told you before, we aren’t that kind of couple.”
Zoe shook her head. “I have friends who date vamps, and they share blood.”
Branko turned around to face Zoe. “It’s an act of submission – not love.”
“Maybe in Romania, but here it’s just another body fluid that lovers share. You’re just old fashion.”
“Maybe… but whether it is love or submission, zhe wounds will not heal quickly and may leave a scar. Your next lover might not approve.”
​“You might be right,” Zoe said. “I’ll ask him tomorrow night.”

​Did you hear about #Oumuamua, the first interstellar object that just missed us? It was discovered back on 19 October 2017 and is considered a new class of interstellar objects. You may wonder (or not) how it was named. Oumuamua (meaning “scout” in Hawaiian) was designated by the International Astronomical Union, which assigns designations for astronomical objects. Oumaumau should not be confused with “Oh Mama” which the astronomer who first saw the object is rumored to have said. Nor should it be confused with a phrase that Harvey Weinstein used to say nor with the hit song "Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow" from 1962. The name has no relationship to the Mau Mau which was the name of a violent native uprising against the British in Kenyan nor with the Hawaiian Island of Mokumanamana (Necker). Before it was named Oumuamua was selected, the name Rama was considered. How dull.

Rumor has it that the International Astronomical Union now has a super-secret list of names for such object. How do I know it’s super-secret? Have you heard of it? There you go. I was able to obtain a copy of the list from a super-secret confidential source (is there another kind of source?).
Here is the rumored list of names for the next interstellar objects:
1. Nanaumissedus
2. Omghereitcomes
3. Damnthatwasclose
4. Kissuassgoodbye
5. Datonebigguy
6. Easycomeesaygo
7. Wehadagoodrunwhileitlasted
8. Tooclose2call
9. Holymackerel
10. Ugot2bshittingme
​
If you don’t like these names, suggest another.
​

My latest wip is a novel, Night Predator (working title), about an FBI agent who is a vampire and his human partner. I posted the Prologue earlier, so if you missed it, scroll down. I need feedback. Here is the draft of Chapter 1.
Chapter 1
Mike Castillo sat at his desk in the New York City Counterterrorism Division of the FBI watching a group of agents file into his boss’s office, led by Branko Renner, the senior vampire of the department and the agent with the highest record of arrests. He was followed by four agents Mike didn’t know but had seen around the division. The buzz around the office was that there would be a big announcement today.
Mike’s boss, Senior Special Agent (SSA) Zoe Francis, stepped out of her office into the bull pen and scanned the room. Her eyes focused on Mike and with a nod of her head, she motioned for him to come into her office. Mike was surprised. He was the newest rookie in the Division and didn’t expect to ever be included in any conferences in her office. Mike walked in and looked around. Branko was leaning on the window sill while the others sat in chairs around the room. There were no other chairs, so Mike just stood by the door.
Francis sat down at her desk and opened a thick file. “You may or may not know why I’ve called you together this morning, so let me start by saying we are forming a new task force to investigate the Jägerregiment and the VFF terrorist organizations. Our intelligence tells us both groups have cells operating here in the City, and we need one or more teams to work full time on rooting them out. You five will make up the first task force. If this works, we’ll form more as needed. Your territory will be all of New York City.” She let that sink in for a few seconds. “You may not know each other so, I’ll make introductions.” She pointed at Branko who was standing by the window with his arms crossed. “You may all know Branko Renner. He’ll be your team leader.” Mike could never tell whom a vamp was, except he knew they tended to be older and somewhat bigger than sapiens. He guessed Branko was a vamp.
Mike didn’t know how old Branko was, but judging from his weathered face, he guessed he was at least one hundred. Then again, it was hard to tell which were wrinkles and which were scars. He stood at least 6 feet 2 inches, tall for a sapiens but average for a vamp. His hair was grey around the temples, and he wore it in a short ponytail. He wore a black shirt with matching trousers. A pair of leather gloves was tucked into his belt.
Pointing to a man seated next to Branko, Francis said. “Burke Tucker, commo.” Burke was a thin man. Mike thought he had the thinnest fingers for a man he had ever seen. He looked as if he was always nervous. He wore the traditional grey suit with a power red tie. Francis continued around the room. “Marty Robards, driver.” Marty was short with a barrel chest. He reminded Mike of a guerrilla. He was born and raised in New York City and learned his trade on the streets. He had a reputation for driving like a stunt man but with the nerves and daring of Evil Knievel. His grey suit was ill fitting.
Pointing next to one of the women, Francis said, “Alessandra Vermillion, computers.” Mike guessed Alessandra was a vamp only because she was dressed like Branko except she wore her hair even shorter. He wondered if they were a couple. Mike knew very few women vamps. Alessandra fit the stereotype: tall, strong, confident, and arrogant.
“Call me Alex, please,” she said.
Francis continued the introductions. “Judy Harring, liaison. Judy’ll be your link to any other agencies outside of the FBI.” Mike had seen Judy going in and out of Francis’ office, and he always marveled how she had no butt. Her pants hung straight from her waist down to her ankles without a break. She was also flat chested. Except for a hint of lipstick, she looked like every other guy in the department. She wore a grey suit like the men. Francis smiled. “And the kid by the door looking like a scared rabbit is Michael Castillo, our newest agent.”
“Oh, he’s so cute,” Alex said. “Can we keep him?”
“He’ll make a good mascot,” Marty said.
Everyone, including Mike, snickered for a moment. Mike straightened his tie. He felt out of place. “Call me Mike. Ma’am, I’m not sure what skills I have that qualify me for this team. Are you sure you want me?”
Francis smiled at Mike. “Branko requested you, but it might have something to do with you graduating number one from the FBI Academy. The fact that you were on Notre Dame’s marksmanship team and still hold two national records didn’t hurt either.” Branko just nodded in agreement. Francis closed the file and folded her hands. “Here’s the thing. We’re thinking outside the box on this one. You’ll be working out of a large van. That’s why you have the best driver in the division. Marty’s the best. I don’t want you hanging around the office drinking coffee. You’ll be on the streets. This is also the first team I know of where vamps and sapiens are working together on the same team. It will give us an advantage against these terrorists. Look around and pardon me if this sounds racist, but it is.” She pointed with her finger at Branko with her elbow on her desk. “Experienced male vamp.” She pointed at each agent in turn, “female vamp, inexperienced male rookie sapien, male sapien, female sapien, and whatever Marty is.” Everyone chuckled. “We’ll get results. In fact, I’m counting on it. Branko, you take over.”
Branko straightened up and took two steps forward. “I will go into more detail once we are in zhe van. This division has so many leaks, it is like sieve. Zhe van is secure. Alex and Burke have been working euth Marty on zhe van.  Marty, tell Mike and Judy about zhe van and then lead zhe way there.”
Mike thought he distinguished an Eastern European accent. Branko’s accent wasn’t too bad, indicating he had been speaking English for a while. Mike smiled when he detected a New York accent mixed in.
Marty stood up. “Calling it a van is an insult. It’s a Heavy Armored Mobile Command and Control Center – HAMC3 for short. If it had any more armor, we’d have to classify it as a tank. It’s shielded against any type of ease dropping equipment. Follow me and I’ll give you the grand tour.” Everyone stood and followed Marty out the door. Branko brought up the rear.
As the team left, Francis shouted, “Good luck, team.”
The HAMC3 was parked outside in the main parking garage. Most federal agencies stopped using underground parking after several suicide bombers drove explosive loaded vehicles inside and detonated them. Branko and Alex stopped inside the exit to open small umbrellas before stepping into the daylight. Both dashed through the sunlight and ducked inside the HAMC3. The inside of the HAMC3 looked a lot better than the outside. While the outside looked like a dumpster with wheels, the inside resembled the main deck of a Star Ship. There were five captain chairs fastened to the floor, each with its own console and monitor. Two chairs were arranged on either side facing the fifth chair in front behind the driver’s compartment and facing the rear. Each side of the HAMC3 had a small bench for additional seating. There were no windows. The walls were lined with computer monitors, TV monitors and communication equipment—all on and muted.
Marty beamed. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the HAMC3, the most technologically advanced command center in the FBI. I have only two rules: no smoking, no eating and no sex inside the HAMC3.” Everyone looked at Alex.
Alex shook her head in disbelief. “Why is everyone looking at me? That happened only one time. Give me a break.”
​“That’s three rules,” Mike pointed out. Marty glared at the rookie.
“Grab a seat everyone,” Branko said. “Zhe chairs are configured zhe same so it does not matter where you sit.” Everyone sat down. “Before you start fiddling euth zhe controls, let Alex and Burke explain what is what. First, I want to give you zhe big picture. I will be brief.” Everyone turned their chair to face Branko’s chair. Branko sighed. “It is good to have you on board. As you know, our primary targets are zhe extreme militant terrorist groups: zhe Jägerregiment made up of sapiens, and zhe Vampire Freedom Fighters made up of vampires. Zhe CIA has informed us that both groups have active cells operating in Neu York City. They have similar objectives -- both need money and weapons. Both are recruiting neu members. Of zhe two groups, our first priority is zhe VFF. They are more experienced and better organized. Headquarters believes they are behind recent robberies at gun shops and banks. They will be tougher to crack and difficult to infiltrate.
Zhe Jägerregiment makes a lot of mistakes. We will bring zem down quickly. They seem to be concentrating on recruiting. They send zhe neu recruits to a boot camp in Montana for basic training. We have informants who tell us zhe names of every recruit. However, at some point they disappear and weeks later show up in Bucharest. From zere it is a short trip to zhe Jägerregiment headquarters which we still have not located. Zhe CIA believes their point of departure is here in Neu York City. We need to shut it down. Okay, enough for now. Burke, you first. Show everyone how things work.”
Mike held up his hand. Branko nodded toward him. “Why the van?” asked Mike. “The computers and equipment in the office are pretty advanced.”
“Not a van!” erupted Marty. “A HAMC3.”
Everyone chuckled except Branko. “We have a mole,” he said. “Or at least a sympathizer. All zhe phone lines are bugged. Zhe computers may be hacked or, at least, zhe data has been leaked. Everything up to six months ago has been compromise. We have not had a major arrest for nearly a year. Zhe terrorists know all of our names.”
“Except mine?” Mike asked.
“Except yours,” Branko agreed. “That is one reason you are on the team.”
“This HAMC3 is independent of the FBI mainframe,” interrupted Alex. “We have access, but we have firewalls. The phone lines are encrypted. Don’t use the computers in the building. Don’t use the phones. Conduct your investigations and reports strictly in this HAMC3. Understood?”
Mike nodded his head. “Do we know whom the mole is?”
“Could be more than one,” answered Branko. “We are not sure if he or she is euth the Jägerregiment or the VFF.”
“Shouldn’t we find this mole first?” Mike asked.
Branko shook his head. “Not our mission. Others are looking for zhe mole. They will catch him sooner or later. As far as we know, zhe mole does not communicate from within zhe department.”
Burke and Alex spent the next hour explaining how the equipment in the HAMC3 worked. The computers were the most advanced in the FBI. There were no visible key boards. Each work station had a small head set with a microphone on a small boom and a set of goggles. Once on an agent’s head, the headset activated virtual reality (VR). Augmented reality replaced the keyboards with holograms. Everything was controlled by brain waves. It took a couple of hours for each agent to learn to use the VR headset and to program the system. Several tutorials on the software were available.
Around one p.m., the team broke for lunch. Alex and Marty took their sack lunches out of the refrigerator in the break room as they passed by. The group sat together in the cafeteria at a table as far from other people as possible. Alex poured red liquid from a thermos into a paper cup. She looked up to notice the others watching her. “Relax. It’s tomato juice.” Everyone chuckled.
Marty removed his sandwich from a small blue plastic bag and started to eat it. “Marty, is that a doggie bag?” Judy asked. “The kind pet owners use to pick up dog poop?”
“Yeah,” Marty answered. “It’s okay, they’re sanitary.”
“But why not use a regular sandwich bag?” Judy asked.
“People were stealing my sandwiches. Since I stated using these doggy bags, no one steals them.”
Branko was pleased to see the team come together. They returned to the HAMC3 and spent the rest of the afternoon configuring their computers, testing the communications and studying the files of the Jägerregiment and VFF. Around five p.m., Branko told everyone to go home.
$$$$$

I post this story every year for #Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry if you have read it. I like it because it is 80% true, only the names have been changes to protect me, I mean the innocent.

A #Zombie’s Valentine’s Day

​I hate holidays. Not the ones with a three-day weekend, just the ones invented by greeting card companies. One year I forgot Valentine’s Day until the day it arrived. Usually, I order flowers online for my wife. After all, she is the mother of two of our beautiful children, and a third not so beautiful child. In desperation, I drove to the nearest box store.

The scene at the flower department was a disaster; flowers flung everywhere; stems bent, leaves torn and flowers missing petals. I searched desperately for a gift: a small bouquet, a potted plant, or even a single rose. Nothing.

Several other men in my predicament also searched in vain like zombies from the Night of the Living Dead. At some point, I bumped into the department manager. Her hair was in disarray, her blouse wrinkled and stained, and she wore no shoes. I asked if I could get a corsage. She gave me an exasperated look and shook her head.

I decided to use my well-developed technique that seems to help in desperate situations; I began to cry. She took pity on me, put my head on her shoulder, and patted my back.
“Perhaps,” she said. “They can make you one in the back.” As I shuffled in the direction she pointed, I heard her shout, “Dead man walking!”

When I arrived at the rear of the store, the scene wasn’t much better. I saw two women making corsages as fast as possible. Both had Band-Aids on every finger. The trash was full of flowers ruined by blood from pricked fingers. As fast as one was made they put it into a petite white box.
When I asked if I could buy one, both women immediately stopped working, and looked at me as though I was the person in the elevator who farted. I was in trouble. The bigger of the two leaned forward.

“Do you realize how many local high schools have Valentine’s Day dances tonight?” Pointing to the stacks of white cardboard boxes, “We still have to make 150 more corsages, and have them ready for pick up in one hour.”

I fell back on my proven technique and began to cry; my lower lip quivered, and tears collected in the corners of my eyes. She softened. “Oh God, not another cry baby!” she shouted. “Okay! Okay! You can have one.”

I returned home carrying the corsage like a cat with a prize bird and presented it to my wife. She looked surprised and uttered those words that every man loves to hear. “You remembered!”

THE END
For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson.
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My latest wip is a novel, Night Predator (working title), about an FBI agent who is a vampire and his human partner. I’ll post drafts of my chapters. I need feedback. Here is the Prologue.
Prologue
Historians are hard pressed to determine the start date of the war between vampires and homo sapiens, but most agree, the war had waged for centuries. For the most part, vampires and homo sapiens co-existed; sometimes living in peace and other times in violence. Historians do agree the warfare accelerated once the sapiens realized that vampires were, in fact, real, as archeologists discovered grave yards, some less than a century old. Open hostilities began when a vampire nationalistic moment started demanding a homeland for vampires somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains consisting of parts of Romania, Ukraine, Poland, Hungary and Slovakia. Homo sapiens called the war a ‘rebellion’ while vampires called it a ‘genocide.’
Open hostiles waged for ten years with both sides committing atrocities and crimes against humanity. The turning point came when scientists confirmed vampire DNA and homo sapiens DNA were 99.6% the same, making vampires (homo vampire) a subspecies of the homo genus or cousins of homo sapiens like the extinct Neanderthals. Scientists concluded the vampires were a mutation that occurred some ten million years ago. That discovery was followed by a US Supreme Court ruling that vampires had the same legal rights under the Constitution and Bill of Rights as homo sapiens.
World opinion began to change toward seeking a peaceful accord with the vampires. Negotiations bogged down in London until the vampires agreed to give up their demand for a homeland in return for a general amnesty for both sides and a guarantee of human and civil rights worldwide. In 2040, the centuries old world war between vampires and homo sapiens officially ended with the signing of the London Peace Accords.
Most people hailed the Accords and the peace it provided. However, extreme militants on both sides vowed to continue the battle. A hate group of homo sapiens formed the Jägerregiment (Hunter Regiment) to hunt down and kill all vampires worldwide. Militant vampires formed a terrorist group called the Vampire Freedom Front dedicated to forming an independent country in the Carpathian Mountains. Their members were called Vampire Freedom Fighters. The two sides waged a terrorist campaign on each other, often killing innocent bystanders. In 2050, the FBI formed a task force as part of the anti-terrorist division to hunt down both extremists and prosecute them. Michael Castillo, a rookie FBI agent and a homo sapien, and Branko Renner, a former rebel vampire, are reluctant partners on the task force.
For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson.
Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson
Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com
​

I worked as a facility manager in a hospital and two nursing homes for a few years. We were required to post numerous signs throughout the facility. Most signs were required by OSHA, Joint Commission, the National Fire Protection Association, or state and local laws. The prevalent consensus was that no one reads signs. I believed that until I saw this sign in a factory, “Do not look directly into the laser with your remaining eye.” That got my attention. I concluded people will read signs if they are written correctly. Signs must not blend into the background or be commonplace. Here is the proper way to write signs to get readers’ attention:
​
1.      No Smoking: Instead of this sign, try “Smoking in this Area May Result in an Explosion that will Blast Your Ass into the Next county.”
2.      No Cell Phone Use: Instead of this sign, try “If the Life Support Equipment Stops Working Because You Used a Cell Phone, Notify the Nurses’ Station Immediately.”
3.      No Parking: Instead of this sign, try “Cars Parked Here will be Towed, Crushed and Compacted into a 3-foot Cube.”
4.      Beware of Dog: Instead of this sign, try “Beware of Flesh Eating Virus.”
5.      Hard Hat Area: Instead of this sign, try “Do not Try to Catch Falling Objects with Your Head.”
6.      Authorized Personnel Only: Instead of this sign, try “Authorized Personnel Only, Zombies Have Not Been Feed.”
7.      Shop Lifters Will Be Persecuted: Instead of this sign, try “Shoplifters will be Shot on Sight, Dragged Through the Store and Dumped in the Street.”
8.      No Trespassing, Keep Out or Private Property: Instead of these signs, try “Property Patrolled by Armed Robots of Low Artificial Intelligence.”
9.      Alarm will Sound if Door is Opened: Instead of this sign, try “Opening this Door Will Set Off IED.”
10.  No Weapons: Instead of this sign, try “Radiation in this Area Will Cause Concealed Weapons to Discharge.”
11.  Warning Wet Floor: Instead of this sign, try “This is NOT the Olympics – Stay off the Wet Floor.”
12.  High Voltage: Instead of this sign, try “High Voltage Will Fry Your Ass.”
13.  No Exit: Instead of this sign, try “Beware of Booby Trapped Door.”
 
If these signs fail to work, no sign will work. Sorry.
For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson.
Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson
Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com

My latest wip is a novel, Night Predator (working title), about an FBI agent who is a vampire and his human partner. Here is a short description:

​Vampires and homo sapiens have co-existed; sometimes living in peace and other times in violence. The on and off wars between vampires and homo sapiens have waged for centuries. Recent scientific discovers – DNA and archeology – prove that vampires are real. When the vampire rebels drop their demand for a homeland for vampires somewhere in the  Carpathian Mountains, the war officially ends with the signing of the London Peace Accords.

Most people hail the Accords and the peace it provides. However, extreme militants on both sides vow to continue the battle. The two sides wage a terrorist campaign on each other, often killing innocent bystanders. In 2050, the FBI forms a task force as part of the anti-terrorist division to hunt down both extremists and prosecute them. Michael Castillo, a rookie FBI agent and a homo sapien, and Branko Renner, a former rebel vampire, are reluctant partners on the task force.

I’ll post chapters of my rough draft on my website (http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com) starting this Friday, if anyone would like to view them and offer some constructive critique. I hope to publish it in May, but that might be optimistic.
​
For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson.
Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson
Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com

1.      You wake up in bed with someone you don’t know.
2.      A video of you has gone viral on YouTube.
3.      You wake up in a strange town 100 miles from your home
4.      Your pet refuses to come into the house.
5.      You find a new tattoo on your forehead.
6.      You walk outside and can’t find your car.
7.      You wake up and your mouth is full of feathers.
8.      Your significant other and friends no longer speak to you.
9.      You wake up in another country.
10.  You wake up wearing someone else’s underwear.
11.  Your office is taking up a collection for your defense fund.
12.  You wake up and find a set of handcuffs on one wrist.
13.  You discover the bar you were at now has a restraining order against you.
If you see any of these signs, you may have done something stupid last night.
For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson.
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