You can call me the spirit of hot flashes, fangs, and vengeance.
Just before Christmas my life underwent a major change. And I’m not talking about the fact I hit menopause hard—I mean, we’re talking night sweats and hormones gone wild. Nope, it was worse than that.
I almost died, and would have actually been six feet under if I’d not been transformed into a vampire. You heard me right.
At the ripe age of forty-seven, I became a blood-guzzling, sunlight-hating, fanged menace with an insatiable appetite. Thankfully, criminals taste delicious.
But the wicked aren’t the only people I’m nibbling on this holiday season.
When I’m not taking a literal bite out of crime, you will find me unwrapping the handsome vampire who gave me the best present of all. Love.
