The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

tomatoes and a box of leaf lettuce. Now I work for the League and live in the suburbs on the Eastside, with a big backyard where I grow my own vegetables. I remember being very disappointed that I didn’t get any green-thumb superpowers to deal with plants when I Ascended. But I suppose turning my body into living metal and reading minds aren’t too bad as far as superpowers go. What about you? What does Carrie Vinson like to do?”
    “Ceramic arts. It’s extra easy, what with the telekinetic thing. I’ve even had a couple of pottery shows in local galleries,” she confessed.
    “Vinson . . . wait, Vinson Pottery? Isn’t that the shop on the corner of Fourth and Stewart?”
    “Yeah.” She smiled. “It’s a nice change from throwing around villains with my mind, or having to probe into the future. So you’ve seen my work, then?”
    “I’ve bought your work. I bought one of the bamboo sculptures for my father’s birthday—” Rio was interrupted by another knock on the door, cutting off their exchange of personal information. Sighing, they both squared their shoulders, preparing themselves mentally for the waiting public.
    Carrie glanced at her partner as she reached for the door lock. “No rest for a superhero, and all that,” she said. “Are you ready to face the public?”
    “Not really. But now that I have tonight to look forward to, I can endure almost any torture,” he quipped. “Bring on the crowd of adoring thousands, fellow Ascendant. The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner we can run away and be an adoring little crowd of two.”
    “I’m looking forward to that.” In a much, much lighter mood than at the beginning of her evening, Carrie opened the door.

Daniel
C.T. Adams and Cathy Clamp
One
    “Jenna! Ohmigod, Jenna Cooper! Is that you?” I made my voice a girlish squeal. Inwardly I was wincing, but I played the role to perfection, running up to the mark like a long-lost acquaintance, making sure everybody in the restaurant would be watching so that there’d be witnesses later if she tried to deny what was about to happen.
    A gorgeous woman in a lavender silk suit and pearls the size of gumballs leaned back from her salad plate and eyed me suspiciously. But she didn’t bolt or try to deny it, so I ploughed on.
    “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. Nobody ever does. But it’s you, isn’t it? You are Jenna Cooper?”
    She blinked a few times, and I could see her trying to match my face with a memory and failing. I mean, let’s be honest, the Jennas of the world are beautiful, and popular enough that from the day they’re born there are hangers-on and wannabes enough that they really don’t remember. Was I that girl from high school or college? The quiet mousy one? Maybe from that office she worked in briefly before marrying well? The other woman at the table gave her a sympathetic look. It’s always so embarrassing to be caught flat footed.
    “Yes. I’m Jenna, but it’s Jenna Ross now. I’m sorry, I really don’t seem to remember you.”
    “That’s all right,” I assured her as I pulled a stack of folded papers from my fashionably large purse. “You wouldn’t. We’ve never met.” I dropped the pages onto the napkin in her lap. “My name is Karen James, and you’ve just been served.”
    I turned and walked away, my high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. All eyes were on me as I made my way through the restaurant. Not because I looked good — I did, but I will never be in the same league as the Jennas of the world. I’m short and stocky, rather than tall and elegant, my suit was black polyester, my necklace tiny seed pearls. But I’d done my job, and done it well. Mrs Ross had been served her divorce papers very, very publicly, just the way her husband wanted.
    Nobody bothered me on my way out. Since I hadn’t bothered with the valet, I waved him away when he started to approach, walking to the farthest end of the lot where the employees park. I’d left my car there, because my battered, twelve-year-old subcompact would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb among the shiny new BMWs and Mercedes.
    I walked confidently up to my car, keys in hand. I’d parked directly under the street light. I could see every detail in that flat, orange light. He didn’t step out of the shadows. There were no shadows. He simply appeared. Like smoke, in thin air.
    I didn’t scream. I’ve seen the show before. Only this wasn’t Daniel. Which meant I was in