This book showed that R.L. Stine, unlike his readers, has never grown up in his writing. His descriptions were very shallow, and the story was very predictable. Sure, the actual events weren't predictable, but you always knew that someone wouldn't believe the main character, they'd have to prove it, and in the end, there would be a massive twist.
Both stories had all of that, along with terrible descriptions of "Milky white skin," and "hollow eyes." We get it, they're hot vampires.
I picked it up because I wanted to reminisce on my childhood. I just never thought I'd be reading a book at my childhood level.
I sat through the whole book because I can't ever give up on books in the middle of them incase they get better, but I can tell you that if you're half way through it, and don't like it, it doesn't get better. Give it up, and read something good like The Mortal Instruments or Heroes Of Olympus.