"Bloodborne by Brandon Jones. I'll start by saying that I love vampires. Given the option of being a supernatural, that's what I would choose hands down every time, no question about it. So when Brandon and I started chatting about this book, I was just immediately sold. It was the dream for me to be able to play a vampire. The book focuses on Kate Carter, a somewhat reluctant hero, a definite alcoholic, and the first vampire. It's got a brilliant supporting cast of characters. It's set mainly in London and honestly made me laugh out loud throughout and keeping me massively gripped with the sometimes gory action. The sample's straight from the beginning, and you can hear more when the audiobook comes out this autumn. It was raining the day I died. I still remember the roar of thunder, the blinding white flashes of lightning, the rain that hammered the ground around me relentless. I remember how cold and weak I felt as my heart fluttered and then stopped. The warmth of my blood pooling beneath me and my final breath as it slipped past my dry, cracked lips. I remember the surprise when the cold bronze blade pierced my heart, feeling not pain, but joy. A twisted, unexpected joy in death that far outweighed anything I'd felt in life. But above all, I remember my killer. His long, dark hair cascading down his back and over his shoulders. Claw-like scars running down the right side of his face, glistening like trophies from a forgotten war. His night-black eyes burning with madness, framed by mahogany skin that glowed in the firelight. And his smile. That smile will haunt the quiet moments of my life until the end of days. Row upon row of needle-like black teeth stained red with my blood. A smile born of ghost stories, of ghouls beneath your bed and demons in your nightmares. His smile was death. It was my 20th birthday and I lay on a glowing symbol etched into the stone like fire, a full moon overhead. The man before me was a monk of a strange religious sect performing a ritual to summon their god or so they believed. It didn't work that way. The years of torture and abuse they had inflicted on me had been for nothing. My skin was split and bruised, stretched tight over a skeletal frame where ribs and spine jutted out like jagged peaks. My eyes were sunken, hollow. I'd given up long before the dagger found my heart. My body had endured all it could and I thought it was finally over. I was wrong."