I treat eating pancakes on patios like it's a personality trait. Brunch is my jam. I like the beach, shopping, carbs, and reading naughty books on the train during my commute. I wear pink. Lots of it. If Tinder were an olympic sport, I'd take home the gold. I can rock stilettos like they're a pair of Nike joggers. I'm basically basic. I'm in the prime of my life. I've got my dream job as the head of marketing at a huge company, and I've been steadily dating myself for the better half of the last decade. I'm thirty, flirty, and thriving! Or at least I was, until some jerk had the audacity to turn me into a vampire. I don't do blood and doom and gloom. I sure as hell don't like sleeping in a coffin, avoiding garlic bread, and these ridiculous vamp politics. And don't get me started on Diego. He's vampire royalty and a pain in my butt. A very sexy pain in the butt. When he's not driving me crazy with all his rules, he's turning my panties into Niagara falls. I absolutely refuse to live the rest of my immortal life in some wannabe nineties grunge music video. THIS SUCKS