Tuesday, January 27, 2015
End of January howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.
Here's another sneak peek of my current ShapeShifter Seductions WIP. My time is just so limited to write these days. Anyway, my winged horse heroine, Keina, and her more-than-human hero, Drev, are getting to know one another after another steamy lovemaking session.
This very unedited scene is a compilation of the end of one chapter and the beginning of the next chapter.
Much later their tongues twined...
Much later their tongues twined, seductively twisting, stroking. Each slide and caress was a slow dance to be savored, to be enjoyed as a beautiful eroticism.
"Drev, wow." Her words came out as breath against his lips pressed tenderly against hers.
"Wow," he echoed. Drev spread his fingers, slipping them up the back of her head in a sensual caress.
Keina answered, gently running her fingertips along the side of his handsome face.
"You know," he began, "I have enough supplies here for a thirty year standoff."
A naughty grin formed on his sexy lips. "Naw, filly girl. I heard that said once, and grabbed it. I do have plenty of everything here, if we were to get snowed in until the spring thaw."
Keina twirled a strand of his hair around her finger, relishing the vibrant silkiness -- and loving that they were still joined together, his cock still filling her pussy. "Is that an invitation?"
"It is." His eyes flared, their jeweled sharpness penetrating her. When she didn't immediately respond, he continued. "I do have a safe hideout at Dante's, just in case the world goes bad. Or there's some major emergency in the Peak. It's at what Dante's calls his subterranean survival wing. Couple of years ago, he had an underground shelter built that could house everyone in Talbot's Peak."
"I know his Pleasure Club is humongous. Palatial as we would say." Keina hesitated. She brushed a lock of his hair from his forehead, rethinking what she'd been about to say.
At his earnest and rapt expression, she continued. "I've never been inside, but I did fly above."
"Were you invisible?" he asked. Threading his fingers through her hair, Drev continued sensually combing her tresses.
Keina nodded once. "I sort of aerial mapped the Pleasure Club with my, my supernatural senses. But I had not a clue Dante built an underground survival area. For the entire population?"
"Yep. 'Course, new shifter and paranormal folks keep moving here, so Dante hired a staff that continues to build and keep it supplied. Right now, the central gathering room is a kiddie playground for the parents who work and have businesses at the club. For anyone who needs it, they have a place to stay."
Keina frowned, considering what Drev revealed. Soar the clouds, as the saying went in her realm, there was so much more to Talbot's Peak than she'd initially imagined, could ever have believed.
She flowed her hand over Drev's fine mane, saying, "That's noble. But, is Dante that wealthy?"
Drev kissed the tip of her nose, and Keina's inner horse appreciated his affectionate lip nuzzle, tossing her tail. "He's wealthy enough. Dante pours most of the club's revenue into good maintenance and new projects. A group of us contribute regularly to the survival wing's expansion -- to have our already-prepared rooms."
"Oh. Then if there's a catastrophe, you have a safe home."
"The unprepared man is no man at all." Drev's gaze switched to somber, and sadness lurked like a hidden predator in his eyes. "My father used to say that whenever my brother and I complained about the work we did to keep the ranch stocked up with extra supplies."
"Your sire sounds like a wise man."
"In many ways, yes. I'd like to mend some fences with him. Someday..." Drev touched his lips to hers. "What about your family, little filly girl?"
Emotion trembled through Keina followed by a sharp longing, like a hoof kick to her midsection. "I miss them. Both my sire and dam have been nothing but caring and wonderful...unlike what I hear while in this dimension."
Drev's gaze hardened, and Keina witnessed his stud-protective nature. "What about the man who assaulted you...and your King? Did they have a good upbringing?"
"We call it herd-arrogant politics. When stallions believe they're more powerful than everyone else in the kingdom."
"A few well-aimed kicks to the head would end that."
Amused by the scene unfolding in her head – of the prince and the King being mightily smacked in the head by Drev's kicks – Keina giggled. She palmed his stubbly jaw. "You know, hunter, you remind me of the god statues."
Drev buzzed inside. A live electrical wire might as well have run the length of him. "God statues?"
Keina scrunched her brow, and he watched her memory surface in those sparkly incredible eyes of hers. He raised from her a few inches so he could fully see her face.
"The Garden of Ancients...it's a bowl-shaped area of land in the midst of a mountain range that stretches like a serpent across our northern rangelands. You can't see the Garden from the ground. Only by flight. The carpet of grass is always a bright shade of green, but isn't munchable."
"Munchable?" He couldn't help but grin. He slipped his fingers from her gorgeous hair, and traced her fragile-looking cheekbone.
"It tastes sour." Keina's expression mirrored her words. "The ancient ones must have designed it to discourage grazing. The fountains are the same way. The water won't hurt you, but the taste is almost vile." Her nose wrinkled adorably.
Tearing his gaze away before her sheer loveliness distracted him, Drev asked, "What kind of fountains?"
"The fountains are with each statue, thirty-three of them. Hmmm..." she absently stroked the nape of his neck, "the closest would be the most beautiful fountains in your country of Italy. Have you seen them?"
"Some, while on a mission. That's a story for another day," he added quickly.
"Yes, your military missions," she began.
Drev didn't ask what she'd seen when touching his mind. The woman was here. That's all that mattered to him. Obviously, she hadn't been frightened off by what she'd glimpsed of his special-ops past.
"Your facial features, the structure of your body...it's like these gods." Keina paused, roaming her gaze over his face. "Only they're twice your size."
Intrigued to his core, Drev uttered, "Giants." Horrific pictures flashed before his mind's eye of the giant's stadium as the staff at the black-project facility had called the immense room inside the compound where he'd been held -- and experimented on like a damn rat in an impossible maze.
"Genetic farming." The words used by one of the more forthcoming scientists -- at least, one who would talk to him on the sly -- escaped Drev's lips before he could stop them.
Drev shook his head, suppressing his nasty recall of those times. "I didn't look like the genetically farmed giants, the ones I saw inside tubes," he explained.
"There are many humanoid breeds, hunter. Over a hundred thousand as recorded by our Wise Ones. At what you would call a university. However, the god statues remain a mystery to us. We only know they were the origin race of the Celtic gods."
"Celtic gods." Drev spoke more sharply than he intended. Every muscle and sinew of him tightened brutally. "I feel like a guitar that has been strung too tight," he forced out at Keina's look of concern.
He'd learned the hard way that women needed such communication or... Christ, he didn't want to lose her.
"You are resonating." Keina smoothed her hand over his painfully bunched shoulder muscles, soothing him with her soft touch.
"Resonating?" he asked, though he well knew what she meant.
"There must be a family connection to these gods," she stated. "Your powers, hunter, are greater than most Earth humans. I mean, during this current time period on Earth."
"How do you know..." Drev bit his tongue as a dozen different questions piled inside his head.
"By the way, hunter," Keina whispery crooned, "Skin to skin, your body covering mine, I adore it." She lazily shimmied beneath him.
"Me, too. Especially when you move like that."
Wishing you love and passion on the wild side in the New Year
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance
Monday, January 26, 2015
Posted by Pat C.
Hal Turpin slouched on a barstool, one heavy arm leaning on the bar. He sipped his ale and swept his narrowed gaze around the common room of the Best of Breed Tavern. Every so often he sighed.
His mood did not go unnoticed by Duff McDuff, proprietor of the tavern. “It can’t be the liquor that’s got ye so down,” McDuff said. “Be a good patron now, and confide in yer bartender.”
“The ale’s acceptable,” Turpin allowed. “Or would be, had I a comely lass to share it with. One night of no strings, to break the monotony. Is that too much for an old axe-slinger to ask?”
“You might do better with the ladies had you not worn your armor.”
Turpin shifted on the stool. Iron clinked beneath his cloak. “You know me, Duff. I feel naked without a shell on my back. Show me the right woman and I’ll doff it quick enough.” He tipped his mug discreetly toward the fireplace. “Like that one. The Amazon by the fire, drinking them boys under their chairs.”
Duff hid his grin. “Fancy Black Agnus, do ye? Cullen Ramsay’s daughter?”
“Red Cullen’s girl? That’s her?” Turpin instinctively ducked his head between his shoulders. “Saints above, no. I prefer both my heads where they sit. Might there be a less bloodthirsty girl in this beer-soaked joint of yours?”
“Ye’re speaking of Scots, y’know. And the Irish. There’s not a woman here couldn’t acquit herself in battle if pressed. No woman drinks in the Best of Breed unless she knows she can defend herself.”
“I’m not looking to wrestle her, dammitall. I was hoping to relax tonight.”
“Well then,” Duff considered, “I might have one in mind. I’ll warn ye now, she’s no spring blossom.”
“And I am?” Turpin snorted. He looked to be in his forties but was at least twice that. His breed of shifter lived long and aged slowly. “I’ll take a seasoned woman over some dewy little girl any day.”
“Let me ask her then if she’s interested. Otherwise ye might be wanting to try Dante’s Pleasure Club.”
“I said I wanted a woman,” Turpin growled. “It’s all skinny girls over there. I’m barely started and they’re already done. The young are too speedy for my blood.”
“That’s not what you said to the hare.”
Turpin sniffed. “Point me to a lass who appreciates patience and I’ll forget ye said that.”
Duff laughed and walked away. Turpin sourly sucked on his ale.
Not long after, a woman approached him. She had beef on her bones and a big bonny smile and a head full of bright orange locks. Turpin sat up on his stool, his sour mood gone in a blink. Now here’s what a man was talking about when he said he wanted a woman!
She leaned a brawny arm on the bar beside his and looked him square in the eye. “The name’s Clover,” she announced herself. “McDuff says you’re looking for a roll in the hay, no strings. I’m in the mood for a bit of fun, but the pickings are skimpy tonight.” She gave him the once-over and nodded. “You look like you might last a bit.”
Turpin slowly grinned. “More’n a bit, provided ye’re not as delicate as yer name.”
“Ye should be asking yerself if ye think ye’ll keep up. Ye know what they say about tortoises?”
Her dark brown eyes lit up. “You’re that Turpin? The one who—”
“No need to advertise it, woman.”
“I should say not! I’d be all night fighting off every cow in the place, when there’s other things we could be doing all night.” She leaned in close to him. She smelled of meadows and malt ale. “A word of warning,” she whispered. “I’m no bawling calf.”
“Compared to me, ye’re a bonny babe.”
He told her his age. Her eyebrows shot up into her mop of hair. “To be sure, you don’t look it. Is the rest of you … ?”
“Still willing and able. It just takes a while for the gears to get grinding.”
Clover grinned broadly. “I’ve got all night, and nowhere to be in the morning, if it comes to that. Just no singing of ‘Roll Me over in the Clover,’ or I may have to take a hand to you.”
“I save my breath for better things. See how long you hold onto yours.”
Clover held out her hand. Turpin took it and slid off his stool. They led each other to the stairs and the guest rooms Duff kept in the loft.
# # #
The sun was well up when Clover finally stirred and stretched. Every last inch of her tingled happily. “That was amazing!” she gasped. “There’s more to slow and steady than I ever dreamed.”
Turpin lay on his back, likewise smiling and satiated. “Did I not tell ye so?”
“Aye.” She twined her fingers through his long, graying hair. “I’m sorry now we agreed on no strings.”
“That’s the beauty of no strings, lass. We can agree over and over. To dinner, perhaps, or a walk by the river. Or another night. Anything ye choose.”
“We can talk about the possibilities over breakfast. My treat,” Clover said. “But first … can I ask about the hare?”
Turpin’s homely face scrunched up. “Always with the bloody hare. Ye run one race in yer life and everybody wants to talk about it.”
“But you won. Against a hare.”
“I did nothing of the kind,” Turpin said. “The story’s wrong. Of course the hare won the race. How else could it have turned out?” His lips quirked upward. “I won the hare’s wife. She told me he was too speedy.”
Clover giggled. “Have you always been wicked?”
“Still am.” He gathered her against him. “If you’ve another hour, I’ll show ye what got me run out of Wales.”
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys
Note: this week features a deeper insight into my heroine, Sherilyn.
The first six paragraphs from ~
Sherilyn shook her sleep-tousled hair...
Sherilyn shook her sleep-tousled hair out of her eyes as she pushed herself upward. Leaning on her hands, she tried to mentally shake away the foreboding she'd awoken with.
But, that proved to be difficult. "Damn," she muttered, "it's like a heavy shroud of fog that refuses to lift."
Once she'd blinked the sleep out of her eyes, a sense of calm washed over Sherilyn. She wanted to believe that meant a good outcome, despite her intuitive warning.
However, her life had been so cruel at certain times, and so brutally disappointing, any hope she harbored remained in short supply.
Sherilyn thought of it as smaller than a mustard seed.
"Dontoya. Zance," she murmured, simply to hear their names, to know they were real.
For more Sunday Sneak Peaks ~sneak-peek-sunday.blogspot.com~
Blurb & Excerpts for HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS are on the page above.
Wishing you shapeshifting cowboy love on the wild side...
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Posted by Solara
Gill handed Louie the other shovel as he spoke. “Vernon said he’d be back with food for everyone. At the rate this snow is falling we’re going to be keeping company for a while.”
Louie laughed and began clearing the section closest to the fire pit. “Yes, Bettina sent her boys off to find the lab tech who houses their emergency stash of blood. They’ll be here for sure with what they can carry in their packs.”
Gill shook his head, wishing he hadn’t insisted the council meet this month. Three babies slept unaware of the older tots who kept looking at them while they played close by. Rachel and Tyburn’s two dozed close by as well. Clothes and entertainment weren’t too difficult to manage. Former Mayor Link’s extensive video collection and books he left behind were keeping many out of trouble. A few muttered from time to time about munchies and when was the next meal. Bettina and Miss Ellie had the potential troublemakers under their dual scrutiny.
Chloe sat with the wives that came with their spouses sewing squares for a community quilt. Some brought out their needlework stitching and talking as they worked. Other crocheted as their counterparts knitted.
Another set of screeches sounded right over Gill’s head. He looked up and jumped back as two large burlap sacks hit the patio. Their loud thud brought Miss Ellie and Bettina running. As they reached the top of the steps, a large grey wolf bounded on to the patio. He ran up the steps, nuzzled Miss Ellie’s legs, and traipsed over to where Louie stood with his mouth hanging open. Even with its tail wagging, and a huge wolf grin, Louie backed away.
“oh Vernon, you bad boy,” Miss Ellie began making her way down the stairs, smiling and shaking her finger. “Stop scaring Louie.”
She leaned down hugged the wolf and began unfastening the large dual saddlebags he wore. “Good you got the spices we need. Where’s the pots I asked for?”
As if on cue, two large industrial cooking pots rolled on to the patio and clanged together as they banged into each other. Two wolf youths skidded to a stop near the pots. Miss Ellie clapped her hand over her mouth, not muffling her laughter very well. “Loki and Thor, does your parents know where you are?”
Their heads bobbed up and down as they leaned against Miss Ellie.
Two more sacks hit the patio as the more wolves and dogs outline the edge of the patio. The flutter of wings sounded as loud screeches sounded behind Gill. He jumped and back away slowly. “Are they who I think they are?”
Bettina snorted as she made her way down the stairs. “That Lucas and Starla, Tyburn’s cousins. Everyone helped bring what we need to survive until this blizzard is over.”
Back inside with the foodstuff unpacked, stored as needed and animal forms replaced with their human counter parts, meal planning and work assignments began. Starla helped with laundry since she owned a dry cleaning business in town. Bettina held court with the children reading them stories and conducting an impromptu school session. Louie along with Vernon and several other carnivores gathered round the fire pit roasting haunches of meat. Miss Ellie--accompanied by the vegetarians in the crowd--chopped and diced along with the cooking oversaw the preparation of the fruits and vegetables present.
Midway through the third hour since the supplies arrived, Louie bellowed in the large dining room, drawing everyone’s attention. As they circled around him, he spoke. “We made broth bowls as part of our Thanksgiving feast.”
Heads nodded, as he continued speaking. “In order to stretch everything, we’re doing broth bowls again. This time we’ve got pasta, quinoa, rice, lentils and other nutrients to help out.’
Gill rapped on the table drawing eyes to him. “No one goes hungry. Take enough to sate your belly without wasting. Tomorrow we’ll see what the roads look like.”
Tyburn spoke up as many turned to enter the kitchen. “There’s a huge pot of Phoenix Hot Chocolate to go with dinner. Sweet, chocolaty, and smooth with a touch of milky goodness.”
As lines formed to enter the kitchen, Vernon slipped his arm around Gill’s shoulders saying, “Who said we can’t all get along?”
Happy Weekend Gang!
Weather is affecting all of us in some fashion. We've got snow, sleet, and rain here at the Spice Homestead. Colds and sniffles abound too. We're holding our own otherwise. Health and good spirits are claiming first place again.
Sounds as though our Peakites are finding ways to share their wealth even as the snow and cold abounds. Who knows maybe some of those stories that get told around camp fires might be told as everyone gathers around the fireplace or out by the fire pit. What interesting tales from your youth do you remember? Ones you told or made-up for your children?
Keep a good story, a few excellent books, and your imagination handy as you share these with your loves and spice. I know I am!
Until next week,
Friday, January 23, 2015
Posted by Serena Shay
“Juliet, Gina, or Katie?”
“No, Nope and definitely not!” Ziva looked at Nick over the bassinet where their twins slept, convinced her mate was just throwing names out there at this point to get on her nerves. “They’d call her Kat, Nick, Kat! Our beautiful girl is an Alpha wolf, not a cat.”
“No, you’re right about that, Katie is a no go, but fracking Lupa, Ziva, work with me here. This girl needs a name.”
“I know.” Did she ever. She also knew what she wanted the name to be and for some reason she had no give in her about this one. “I already told you what I want it, no, need it to be.”
Nick paced the length of the room, running his hands through his sexy locks. The reds and browns were strong today, tempting her to add her fingers to his and tug, hard, to bring his lips close enough to nibble on. Hell, only weeks after delivering the dynamic duo and her libido was tapping out a strong, incessant beat. Even though she was a shifter, and healed faster than the normal human, she would still be out of commission for the next few weeks. Time to pull it together.
“But Z, why does it have to be that?”
“Is the name that bad, Nick?”
“No, I guess not, but…”
“But what?” She asked, resetting the cover her little girl was determined to push away.
“Well, think about those initials…G.B.M.”
“So? Everyone would know of her connection to the Gazette.”
“Ziva, really think about the initials. Say them out loud.”
“Fine, G.B.M.” Horror filled her when she heard how they would sound together. She hadn’t been thinking about the initials, just the beautiful name, Galina Brielle. “Ah, er, okay…I see your point, damn it. Back to square one.”
She walked out of the nursery, disheartened by the loss of that name, but Nick was right, they could not do that to the next alpha of the pack. She had to think.
“How about Molly?”
“Jan, Carly or Hannah?” Nick huffed.
“No, Nope, and definitely not!”
Have a wonderful weekend!
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Posted by Rebecca Gillan
Not much to post today. I’ve been writing my butt off, trying to get “Witch’s Moon” ready to be edited again no thanks to losing a huge chunk to a file corruption error. It took me a long time to write this book in the first place; I don’t know why I thought it would only take me a few weeks to re-do it from first draft form… Also, I recently quit my day job and have been busy getting myself going as a tech support contractor (jury’s still out if I can make a go of that, but it’s looking good so far), had a family medical emergency, and I am also taking advantage of being home during the day to fix stuff around the house that has not been getting done on account of me not getting home until dark. Today, I am installing a new front door because the old one could only be closed if you jiggled it just right.
All of that being said, I do have a little something for you today. Did you know that today is officially Squirrel Appreciation Day? From the DaysOfTheYear.com website, “Red, grey or even black, what’s your favourite colour of squirrel? Squirrel Appreciation Day reminds us to enjoy these nut-burying, scampering animals respectfully and with consideration. Why not visit your local park and spot some squirrels?” This means everyone is supposed to give Mayor Gil an extra bag of nuts in his goody basket today, right?
Yeah, it’s not much, but I promise to have more next week. I'm off to install a door in the snow. Have a great day!