Praise for Mark Henry and Happy Hour of the Damned !
Dark, twisted and completely hilarious. I loved this book!
Michelle Rowen, author of Lady & The Vamp
Call them the splatteratiwerewolves who always know what to wear, zombies with bodies to die for, and vampires who know their fang shuijust dont call them late when it comes to happy hour, or the drinks might be on you.
David Sosnowski, author of Vamped
Happy Hour of the Damned is it a comedy? An urban fantasy? A whodunit? Who cares! Mark Henrys written such a clever and engaging story that fans of any genre will totally adore it. Amanda Feral is the freshest, funniest character to come out of fiction since Bridget Jones and my only regret is shes not real and we cant go out for drinks. (Because, really? Zombies are the new black.) In short? I loved this book!
Jen Lancaster, author of Bitter Is the New Black
More brisk, batty, raunchy, and catty than a room full of cougars with a margarita machine. Happy Hour of the Damned is funny as hell.
Cherie Priest, author of Not Flesh Nor Feathers
Gruesome, ghoulish and utterly groundbreaking. Mark Henry is daring and scathingly funny.
Jackie Kessler, author of Hotter Than Hell
And praise for Road Trip of the Living Dead !
What can I say about Road Trip of the Living Dead ? Its irreverent, gross and disgusting. All in a good way. I LOVED it!!
Jeanne C. Stein, author of Legacy
In turns hilarious and twisted, Road Trip of the Living Dead is a book Ill never forget. Who knew fashion-obsessed flesh eaters could be so engaging? Fans of any genre wont be able to put this book down as they fall into the darkly comedic world of Amanda Feral and her undead companions. Edgy and evocative, Road Trip is a must read! Im looking forward to reading future works from this talented author.
Anya Bast, author of Witch Heart
Hilariously wicked, Road Trip of the Living Dead s Amanda Ferals antics had me rolling on the floor with laughter. Between the snarky footnotes and the quirky, sassy voice, this book rocked my world.
Tate Hallaway, New York Times bestselling author of Romancing the Dead
A spew-licious snark fest straight from Winnebago hellMark Henry drives this adventure with masterful wit!
Dakota Cassidy, author of The Accidental Human
I didnt see how Mark Henry would be able to top Amanda Ferals first adventure, but Road Trip of the Living Dead is even more raucous, lewd, and hilarious. How could I have doubted his genius? His savoir faire ? His ability to create scenarios so horrifying and guilt-inducing funny? Amanda Feral rules the urban fantasy landscape. To miss out on this novel would be trs gauche!
Michele Bardsley, nationally bestselling author of Wait Till Your Vampire Gets Home
B ATTLE OF THE N ETWORK Z OMBIES
MARK HENRY
KENSINGTON BOOKS.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
For Kevin
(on the occasion of taking a joke too far)
Acknowledgments
Thanks to everyone who supports me and puts up with my bullshit during the course of writing and promoting a book, particularly
my darling Caroline, who not only deals with the snarky mood conjuring up Amanda inevitably brings, but also edits the crap out of my first draft.
Jaye Wells and Leah Sharp Hodge, who wrestled with my writing demons right alongside me, for much of this book.
my agent, Jim McCarthy, and editor, John Scognamiglio, for not calling me a hack every time I turn in a manuscriptor anytime, for that matter.
my lovely and talented beta reader, Stacia Kane, for getting the jokes and giving it to me straight.
the South Sound Algonquins, whose tireless efforts make me a better writer and who listen to the vilest of the vile right out in public.
the members of Team Seattle and The League of Reluctant Adults for making going on book tour, and conference and convention off-hours such a fantastic time.
Todd Thomas, Synde Korman, and Terri Smythe, whose time would probably be better spent not having to deal with the League forum.
all the awesome booksellers and librarians Ive met over the past few yearsyour efforts are much appreciated.
the readers who consistently surprise me with their depravity and hunger for the foul-mouthed undead.
my friends and family who barely see me when Im in the home stretch and only give me a little shit about it.
and, finally, all the online folks, Glamazombies, yahoos, tweeps, and Facebookerswithout you, I might actually be more productive.
Wheres the fun in that?
B ATTLE OF THE N ETWORK Z OMBIES
CONTENTS
CHANNEL 01 Saturday 2:002:30 A.M .
Tapping Birchs Syrup
The remaining ladies share a group date with Birch and another challenge: create evening gowns with the local florapoison ivy! Plus, Ludivine reveals a secret deformity.
Its official name was the H & C Gentlemans Clubthats what it said on the tax statement, at least, and in the phone bookbut everyone in Seattle knew it as the Hooch and Cooch, the Northwests first hillbilly-themed titty bar, and it certainly lived up to its backwoods inspirations. The exterior was dilapidated, a hodgepodge of boards nailed up at weird angles and intervals as siding, while rust from the corrugated-metal roof striped the building a gritty orange. It clung to the hillside above Fremont on pilings so rickety, the slightest bump threatened to dump the shacks smutty guts onto the quiet neighborhood underneath.
Id applaud the audacity, if the owner werent Ethel Ellen Frazier, vampire, mega-bitch and, worst of all, my mother.
I considered leaving the car idling in the spacea sound getaway plan was looking like my best optionthen fished out my cell and hammered in Mariths number.
Seriously? I asked the second she picked up, fondling the address shed written on the back of my business card.
What? My assistants voice always sounds annoyed, so its difficult to assess her tone. A good rule of thumb is just to assume Ive interrupted something very important like saving time in a bottle, writing the Great American Novel or ending the plague that is zombie crotch rotmore likely, at that hour, shed be using the Wite-Out to create a budget French manicure.
The Hooch and Cooch? Since when is one of my mothers strip clubs an appropriate meeting place? My eyes took in the stories-tall cowgirl on the roof, lit up old schoolin lightbulbs rather than neon. Several were burnt out, but most notable were the cowgirls front teeth. On closer inspection, those seemed to be blacked out on purposeits nice to see attention to authentic detail. The ten-foot-tall flashing pink beaver between her legs was a subtle choice, if I do say so.
He insisted, she said, her voice echoing on the speakerphone.
Fucking pig.
The pigs name was Johnny Birch and he was famous for three thingscrooning jazz standards like that Bubl or Bubble guy or whoever, screwing anything with a hole (including donuts) and doing it all publicly on his own reality show, Tapping Birchs Syrup (shown exclusively on Channel SS12). He was also a wood nymph, but even though thats all ethereal and earthy, its really secondary to the pervert stuff. Apparently he had a proposition, and from the look of the Hooch and Cooch, I had a pretty good idea it wasnt business related.
Seriously, this better be a for-real deal or Im gonna be one pissed-off zombie.
Karkaroff was very specific that this was a priority meeting. I could imagine her sitting in the cushy office chair, making air quotes, leaning back with her ankles crossed on the desk, admiring her trophy shoes.
My business partner was already fuming from our recent clusterfuck with Necrophilique. How was I supposed to know the fecal content of the cosmetics? Do I look like a chemist? Still, we needed the money after word spread and the launch tanked. What was the saying, beggars cant be choosers? Not that I was a beggar, by any count, butshit, mamas got bills to pay.