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Werewolf in Las Vegas by Vicki Lewis Thompson

Werewolf in Las Vegas

  • Ebook $7.99

    Mar 04, 2014 | 336 Pages

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Praise for the Wild About You Series

“Count on Vicki Lewis Thompson for a sharp, sassy, sexy read.”—Jayne Ann Krentz

“Humorous and romantic.”—USA Today

“A fun frolic…witty.”—Midwest Book Review

Author Q&A

Werewolves Love Downton Abbey Too, by Vicki Lewis Thompson

Recently I was delighted to discover that Mr. Thatcher, the werewolf butler with a starring role in Werewolf in Los Vegas, shares my love of the BBC series Downton Abbey. I asked Mr. Thatcher if I could interview him about his fascination with the show and with humans in general. He graciously agreed.

VLT: Why does the Downton Abbey series appeal to you so much?

Mr. Thatcher: Elegance, my dear lady. Elegance. Ah, to have been in service as a butler at a time when grace and style were expected in every aspect of life! Nowadays we have artificial candles with batteries instead of pure beeswax tapers. Even on dining tables, mind you. Disgraceful!

VLT: Would you have preferred to work for a werewolf family back in the early part of the twentieth century or a human one?

Mr. Thatcher: A human family, of course. Humans have intrigued me since I was a lad in Hertfordshire. Sadly, I doubt that would have been possible in England at that time, or even now, for that matter. Our British packs are less open to allowing a pack member to work in a human household. It isn’t done, you see. I had to move to America in order to obtain my post with the Dalton family.

VLT: That brings up an interesting point. I understand why you would watch television since you’re so fond of humans, but how about the rest of the Thatcher pack in Hertfordshire? Does television interest them at all?

Mr. Thatcher: Distressingly, it does not. Television and film in general has portrayed werewolves in such a bad light that my pack members choose to boycott it entirely. If I still lived in Hertfordshire, I’d have to sneak into a human pub to watch Downton Abbey. My pack would not approve. Living in Las Vegas with a human family allows me much more freedom in that regard.

VLT: Tell me about your favorite character on the show.

Mr. Thatcher: Well, you know it has to be the butler, Carson. The part is played most admirably by Jim Carter and I am a true, if somewhat reserved, fan. A rather composed groupie, if you will. We are of an age, and I fancy we look something alike, as well. I have, um, sent him a letter.

VLT: Really? To congratulate him on his excellent job on the show?

Mr. Thatcher: Well, yes, that, and to . . . well, to request a photograph, perhaps with his signature.

VLT: How exciting? And has he responded?

Mr. Thatcher: Not as yet, but I feel sure that he will, now that the fourth season has been completed.

VLT: What will you do with the photograph when you get it?

Mr. Thatcher: Oh, I know exactly where it will go, right next to my framed photograph of Sir Michael Caine.

VLT: You have an autographed picture of Michael Caine?

Mr. Thatcher: Indeed I do, dear lady. In my opinion, no one can touch his portrayal of Batman’s butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Superb acting.

VLT: Interesting! Any other fictional butlers you’ve admired over the years?

Mr. Thatcher: Several, although I only have one other photograph on my Butler Wall of Fame.

VLT: And who that might be?

Mr. Thatcher: Lurch.

VLT: From The Addams Family?

Mr. Thatcher: The very same. I identify with him as a butler, but also as a type of creature who receives very bad press on the whole. As do werewolves.

VLT: All the more reason for me to interview you today, Mr. Thatcher. It’s been a pleasure, and I promise to give you really good press.

Mr. Thatcher: Thank you, dear lady. Anytime you wish to view an episode of Downton Abbey, do let me know. I have them all. In fact, I believe I’ll start over with Season One this very evening. Elegance. Pure elegance!

Author Essay


10. Your local grocer is always out of filet mignon. Contrary to popular belief, werewolves no longer hunt for food. They get it at the store and they buy a LOT of steak.

9. Trader Joe’s ditches the three-buck Chuck and stocks more pricey French wines. A werewolf likes to accompany his steak meal with a high-quality red, preferably from France.

8. Your curbside recycling program improves dramatically. Remember how you used to decipher those little triangles to figure out what goes in the bin and what doesn’t? No more. Throw it all in. Werewolves are environmentalists who insist on comprehensive recycling in their neighborhood.

7. When an ambulance goes by, you hear an echoing howl. Werewolves would be embarrassed to admit this, but they can’t help themselves. It’s like when we hear somebody laugh, we laugh. When they hear that ambulance howl, they howl. Too funny!

6. An anonymous donor gives fifty trees to your local park. The trees are good for the environment and good for the werewolf. It gives him a more forested place to run at night.

5. Your dog refuses to go near that grove of trees in your local park. The inevitable side effect of having a werewolf in your park is that he will mark his territory by peeing on perimeter trees. Your dog is no fool.

4. Your cat spends more time staring out the window at night with her hair standing on end. True, cats do this a lot anyway, so this might be nothing. Or it could be that a werewolf is strolling through your front yard on the way to the park.

3. A cute guy at Starbucks is reading WEREWOLF IN LAS VEGAS. Another dead giveaway – he’s drinking his espresso out of a recyclable Starbucks cup. A werewolf makes the eco-friendly choice whenever possible, unless it has to do with his ride.

2. The cute guy from Starbucks leaves and gets behind the wheel of a Lamborghini. Werewolves love their fancy cars. They just do. By this time you have enough clues to be reasonably sure you’ve spotted a werewolf. Follow him. If you’re lucky he’ll head for the park.

1. You find a neatly folded pile of clothes tucked under a tree in the park. Bingo! Before he shifts, a werewolf must remove his clothes. If you discover clothes flung around helter-skelter, that was not a werewolf disrobing. Human hanky-panky was probably involved. But if you come upon a carefully folded pile of clothes and care to hide behind a tree and wait, you might glimpse your friendly neighborhood werewolf returning from his run. Introduce yourself. He may not be of your species, but he reads, he recycles, and he drives a hot car. What more could you want?

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