Monday, October 5, 2015

Mob Scene

At first Ginny Goslin didn’t think anything of it. People hung out in the town square all the time, at all hours of the day and night. However, as a goose-shifter, she was especially sensitive to the signs of flocking behavior. When the same faces kept drifting past Java Joe’s front window, she started to notice.

She noticed also how others appeared, so that what had been pairs quickly grew to small groups. That the groups consisted primarily of carnivore shifters didn’t do any good for her already-jittery nerves.

She continued to watch, growing more nervous by the minute. No doubt about it. There were predators in the town square, and they were congregating.

Naturally, once she reached this conclusion she immediately ran to Marissa. The coffee shop’s owner took the news with remarkable calm. But then, she could afford to be calm. Besides being a witch, Marissa was married to a wolf-shifter. Both kept her off the prey roster.

Marissa and Ginny kept an eye on the gathering by pretending to wipe down the tables near the front window. “You see what I mean?” Ginny hissed. “That bunch by the fountain. There were only three of them twenty minutes ago. Now there’s eight. At least five of them are wolves.”

“And all of them are teenagers,” Marissa said. “Maybe it’s a school thing. Does the football team have a home game this Friday?”

“That group by City Hall isn’t high schoolers. They’ve been circling the square for half an hour.”

“That is odd,” Marissa agreed. She squinted through the window. “Two of them are cats for sure, and … a porcupine? Now it’s getting weird.”

“And maybe dangerous,” Ginny put in. She nodded toward several older Peakites headed for the coffee shop at a brisk clip. Other folks were quietly getting off the streets. Every one of those in flight were herbivores. Ginny swallowed a nervous honk.

Surveillance had to go on hold while she and Marissa saw to their customers. Ginny nonchalantly asked if anything was happening in the square. “We just came in for coffee,” was the standard response. “It’s getting chilly out.” But no one took any of the window seats.

Once everyone was served Marissa drifted back toward the window. Ginny followed closely. If scat was about to hit the fan, she figured the safest place would be next to Marissa. Even big cats left the witch alone.

And speaking of which …

“Omigod.” Ginny’s hand flew to her mouth. “Is that Guri Ghan?”

“And Sanjay,” Marissa confirmed. She visibly relaxed. “I think it’s safe to say we’re not under attack. Those two are the good brothers.”

“But some of the stuff they’ve come up with … ”

Marissa tensed up again. “True.”

“Should we call somebody?”

“Who? And why? They haven’t done anything. There’s no law against peaceful public gathering, even for predators. Anyway, I’ll bet Vern’s watching from the Grease ‘N’ Grill. He’s probably notified Gil already.”

“Uh-oh.” In spite of her worries, Ginny leaned toward the window. “That leopard’s got something.”

“I see it. It looks like … ” Marissa squinted. “A boom box?”

The leopard set the boom box beside the square’s central fountain. All over the square, pedestrians suddenly consulted their cell phones. As if at a prearranged signal, they converged on the street.

And started dancing.

Ginny honked in astonishment. “What the flock?”

Marissa caught on first. “It’s not an attack. It’s a flash mob.”

She cracked open the coffee shop door. Immediately the unmistakable strains of Michael Jackson’s Thriller blasted at them. At least three dozen “zombies,” with Sanjay in a red leather jacket at their head, lined up in the street to perform a surprisingly well-choreographed recreation of the famous video.

“It is a school thing,” Marissa guessed. “Has to be. I heard Sanjay volunteers with the theater group. I’ll bet this was his idea.”

“Why is Guri wearing a smoking jacket?”

“He’s probably Vincent Price.”


“Before your time.” Marissa shrugged. “Heck, before everyone’s time. I’ll bet nobody out there was even born when the album came out.”

“What’s an album?”

“Just watch the show.”

Now reassured that no harm was intended, the customers crowded up to the window to watch. The “zombies” danced through the streets while Guri perched on the fountain and lip-synched to Price’s rap. As the Master of Horror’s laughter rang out, the dancers dispersed at a run. Guri snatched up the boom box and hustled after them. The audience, both in the coffee shop and out on the square, burst into relieved applause.

“And that officially opens the Halloween season,” Marissa announced. “We’d better stock up on the pumpkin latte.”

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Plunging into Fall Talbot's Peak Style

“Vernon, you wanna run that by me one more time?” Gill looked up from the pad where he’d jotted several lines of notes.

“Sure,” Vernon, ex-deputy mayor, replied.  “Instead of chunking pumpkins and making a massive mess all over town, we have a pumpkin carving contest, a bake sale, a pie eating contest, and a town wide sidewalk sale.  Merchants put out pre-fall and winter items at discounted rates.” 

“Ya know doing the fall festival thing before the snow flies makes sense,” Louie chimed in.  “Besides there’s plenty of charcoal left over that could be used for a bond fire that allowed different sections of town to have a story telling night along with block party barbecue too.”

Gill looked from Vernon to Louie and back.  Both sat at conference table grinning and nodding.  Talk about seeing double.  It was like twin Cheshire cats inhabited his two best friends.  Gill tossed his pen on his desk.  He closed his eyes and inhaled.  Halloween, the one night where all chaos broke out all over town.  Of course, the last couple of years with more children out trick-n-treating, the revelry makers held off until curfew for the younger citizens came and passed.  

“Do you think an organized celebration will keep things to a low roar?”  Gill almost laughed at his own pun.  Noise levels around the Peak ranged from decibel ear blasting to so quiet that even he wanted to check on everyone.  Once the snows came, the partiers turned into hard workers.  What could one last hurrah hurt?

“Dante and his gang are ready to spread the word about low level merriment.  Since the incident with the boys from the state, quite a few more humans moved closer to town.  Don’t blame ‘em.”  Vernon leaned forward and picked up his pad.  Louie read over Vernon’s shoulder nodding a couple more times.

Louie pointed at the pad.  “Moon-Moon is willing to set up the carnival rides free of charge.  His carne pack wants to winter here.  They know there’s money to be made even if it’s our currency.  They can set up housekeeping at the abandoned school out on highway six.”

“Is the building habitable?” Gill picked up his pen.  “Last I heard the place reeked from the mammoth attack.”

“Let them clean it up.  They got the man and woman power.  In turn, we get rent off the place.”  Vernon slid his pad across the table.  “Number four also makes sense too.”

Gill pulled the pad to him.  He trailed his finger down the pad, grinning from time to time, until he reached Vernon’s number four.  Gill snorted and looked up.  “Community hot tubs and bath houses?”

“Yes!” Louie and Vernon exclaimed together.  “Remember last winter when we all ended up at your place.”

“Lord do I!  Chloe asked me if that was going to happen again.”  Gill slid the pad back to Vernon.

“Rather than running out of hot water, we create our own from the snow.  People get to bathe and commune with their neighbors. Also, wash their clothes too.  Add a few washers and dryers,” Louie said.

‘How do we pay for all this?” Gill wrote a list of possible figures on his pad.  

“Revenue from the state for the repairs their boys visit caused.” Vernon leaned back in his chair.      
“From the state?”  Gill laid his pen down again.

Louie whistled as he read the figure Vernon wrote on the pad before he slid it back across the table to Gill.  Looked like some top notch improvements were coming to the Peak.


Happy Weekend Gang!

My muse has me hard at work on another story that I'm working on the last third of.  Once that is done I can pick up with Lilly and the boys.  I got an inkling where the next chapter is going with them.  Looks like this week's flash may be the intro for that. Perhaps one of my blog mates will take a turn at the Halloween preparations.
I hope you're staying warm and dry. Wet cold weather arrived at the Spice Homestead.  We turned the heat on inside.  I got out a jacket too.  Even tossed a light weight fleece jacket in the car to keep handy for those chilly mornings and afternoons.   

Time turns back soon, November 1.  Keeping some books handy to read and share with your spice and loves will help as night lengthens.  Discussing a passage or two, nude and joined can be very interesting.  No, I'm not letting out secrets.  Try it you might find your reading perspective changes.

Until next week,


Friday, October 2, 2015

A Mighty Grip to the Rescue

So, it's an ultra shorty from me today.  Illness is alive and well in the Diva household, only now it's Alpha and Mama Diva down for the count. Happily, Darling Diva is back up and running, but I guess the cold had to go somewhere...


Shouts from above echoed Ziva’s internal scream for her mate.  He was falling to his death and she was unable to do a thing about it.  She prayed to the Lupa, to the forest gods and even to the big guy the humans all talked about—anyone who could keep her mate safe.

She watched as Nick wiggled and attempted to move out of the jagged peaks path, all to no avail.  He would be impaled and she would have to go on without him.  It was an impossible task except for their young.  She would remain here for them.

Even as flashes of a lonely future raced through her head, Ziva rolled to her stomach tried to rise—to get to her mate—to change fate, an inch at a time.  A powerful gust of air pushed her back and forced her head down, but she persisted.  She tipped her chin to the side and caught the sweetest sight she’d seen since the birth of her twins—a monstrously-sized dragon, taking her mate into its mighty grip, seconds before he’d reach the tip of the rock.

Nick was safe was her last thought as she slipped into the darkness.
Have a wonderful weekend!


Thursday, October 1, 2015

This is the kind of blog I like: when an author has a new release and wants to promote it, and all I have to do is run the article. Today I’m featuring J. J. Collins, who shares my love for M/M stories and all things Supernatural. Her first release, Lost and Found, comes out today from Evernight Publishing. Collins writes shorter works than my preferred novella/novel lengths, and if she’s smarter than I am, she’ll write faster.

Lost and Found is a paranormal tale of two shifters, an arrogant alpha wolf and a freewheeling hawk, who come together and learn to rely on each other. There’s sex between two guys in this one. Be warned.

This story had its start here on Shapeshifter Seductions; you can read the original opening here. You can check out the book page at Evernight at this link. Maybe next week I’ll have J. J. do an interview. Take two weeks off in a row. I am evil. And lazy.


Injured and driven out of his forest pack, wolf-shifter Declan escapes to the prairies. Here he encounters hawk-shifter Killian. The hawk is snarky and annoying, but he's Declan's only hope for survival. Alpha Declan needs a pack. Solitary Killian doesn't need anyone. The two form a partnership, based on hunting and their unacknowledged mutual loneliness. The relationship quickly deepens into something stronger, maybe something lasting. Then Declan gets the chance to regain control of the wolves. Will he return to the pack he lost, and give up the love he's just found?


 After fish and mice and rabbits, the antelope—proper wolf food, finally—tasted like the venison of the gods. Declan crammed in as much as he could before he even thought about talking. “This is how a wolf pack eats.” He patted his belly contentedly. “How do you like it so far?”

Killian didn’t answer. He couldn’t, with his mouth stuffed with antelope. Declan chuckled and waited him out. Killian chewed hurriedly, gulped, and said, “I’ve never tasted anything like this.”

“Hell, this is nothing. There’s this herb in the woods…the she-wolves know where to find it. You get some of that, some mushrooms, make a sauce from the blood…damn.” He licked the drool from his lips. “Told you I wasn’t a savage.”

“No. No, you most definitely aren’t.” He leaned back against the earthen support of the bluff, where Declan already reclined with his legs stretched out before him. Their kilts made rounded humps over their full bellies.

Not only their bellies, Declan noticed idly. That little bump on Killian’s thigh wasn’t a twig. It wasn’t all that little, either. Declan had romped with wolves who had less, and wolves who had more but few ideas on what to do with their bounty. His own kilt tented as his wolf raised its head in a tentative howl.

“Your she-wolves cook for you, then? Of course they would. You’re the alpha,” Killian answered his own question. “Or does being alpha mean you cook for them?”

“The women do most of the preparation. Those who are good at hunting, hunt. The rest forage. Some have learned how to grow things. I think that’s a good idea. Even when there’s no meat, there’s still something. No, I don’t cook, but I can. I pay attention to everything the she-wolves do with the food. I like to eat, and I like to eat well.” He flashed a hearty grin. “Do you cook? You carry flint.”

“Not often. I just don’t take the time. Too hungry. Bird. High metabolism.” Killian whistled a happy sigh. “Though not just now. I won’t be flying for hours."

Grounded, eh? Good to know. Declan wondered if Killian was aware of how close he was sitting to the wolf. Or how absolutely lovely he looked—full-fed, his lazy smile at last devoid of snark, his nervous energy momentarily calmed. Even the wild ferocity in his eyes had mellowed. Perhaps he might be in the mood for a little after-breakfast fun. Nothing ventured…

Recalling how the man had flinched at even a casual touch, Declan made his move slow and easy. His tentative rub of Killian’s shoulder sparked another flinch, though not a violent one. Killian slanted a wary look at him through hooded eyes but said nothing. More importantly, he didn’t move away.

Emboldened, Declan slid his hand from Killian’s shoulder to the back of his neck. Dammit, he was stiff as rock back there. He rubbed and kneaded until he coaxed a bit of grudging relaxation out of Killian’s muscles. “So tense,” he teased. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask.” He took a risk and leaned in closer. “Do you bite?”

For answer, Killian rested his hand on Declan’s leg. His nails pricked the skin of Declan’s thigh, even through the protection of the kilt. “I’m more of a scratcher. You might want to remember that.”

“Oh, I will. And you’re going to remember this for nights to come.”

Their lips were barely a breath apart. He closed that tiny gap and laid claim to Killian’s mouth.

Killian stiffened but didn’t pull away. Nor did he respond, not at first. Declan nibbled at his lips. Killian seemed to reach a decision and kissed back.

Great gods above and below. Kissing the hawk was like putting his lips to a lightning storm. The man was pure energy, electric and wild, like some primal god of the sky. Desire shot through Declan’s entire body as he drank it in, this fierce font of passion that was Killian. All of a sudden he wanted—no, needed—to climb aboard this feathered whirlwind and ride to its end, all the way to the clouds if need be.

Encouraged by Killian’s reaction, Declan pulled the smaller man into his brawny arms. His hands explored the angular geography of Killian’s narrow body, mapping every wiry inch. That downy not-hair covering extended from his clavicles downward, where it formed a dark, cozy nest for his dick. Similar down coated his arms, his legs, and—oh fuck yeah, his balls. Its enticing softness, contrasted with the rocklike solidity of Killian’s muscles, was driving Declan over the edge.

Most of all, he wanted to ram his mighty wolf into the hawk-shifter’s hole. He had no doubts what he’d find in there: wet heat and a grip like talons. He almost came right then just thinking about it.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

New Beginings

Gloria was spending the evening as she spent most evenings, gazing adoringly at Moon-moon, her sexy brainiac werewolf boyfriend. She wasn't sure what turned her on about him most. His body was any woman's wet dream, all tall and sinewy. Lots of rolling muscles tucked under velvety smooth light skin, and toffee colored hair that was always shaggy and messy, making her think he'd just rolled out of bed and wouldn't mind taking her back into his bed to play. She'd be lying, though, if she didn't admit to being totally seduced by his exceptional brain. He was both a friggin' genius with anything electronic--literally--and he had a very sophisticated sense of humor most people were too full of themselves to understand. He was playful, finding joy in every moment. And then there was the thrill of danger. Hello, he was a wolf!

The only thing she didn't understand about him was what he saw in her. She was a short, thin little weregoose. Not a mongoose or an eagle or any other fierce, noble animal. A goose. Her hair was the same odd brownish-gray of her feathers, and so fly-away that the only hairstyle that worked with it was a long, layered shag cut reminiscent of Goldie Hawn circa nineteen seventy-one. Except not in pretty blond. Sure, her chest was seriously built, but that was a common feature of all avian shape shifters. Seriously built chests look a lot better on men than women, in her opinion. On her, it made her look like bubble-boob Barbie, the stuff of pre-teen boy fantasies and pervs.

 She wasn't even all that smart. She graduated high school last year with a 4.0 GPA mainly through slavish study habits and careful consideration to her class selections. Now that she was in college, her lack of natural scholastic talent was becoming painfully obvious. She sighed and forced herself to get back to her writing assignment. Why she'd chosen Modern Creative Writing 101 was a mystery.

No, that wasn't true. She knew why she chose it. Being able to tell people that she was a writer had seemed so smart and sophisticated, someone worthy of Brian's love and attention. She may not be able to keep up with an electrical engineer like Brian when it came to science, but writers were known to be very cerebral people. Then she made the mistake of believing her professor when he said they could pick any genre they wanted for their semester writing project. They had until Thanksgiving to hand in an original rough draft of a novel length book. She'd chosen romance. Apparently, romance was not a respected genre in literary circles.

She could have changed her genre. Professor Greene did offer to let her do so after he handed her the composite genre tip sheet for romance, which she was expected to follow, when he saw the look on her face after reading it. She might have accepted his offer had he not used a disparaging attitude. She was a goose, damn it. No one could out stubborn a goose with her feathers up! She was going to write the best goddamn romance novel ever!


Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Did the man lift mountains as a hobby?

End of September howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Here's another continuation of my recent flash scenes, *One Shade of Silver Wolf* and *Thundercloud yanked on his mental leash.*.  Thundercloud and Kailla are at Talbot Peak's BBQ cookoff and faire, standing at one of the arts and crafts booths.


Did the man lift mountains as a hobby?

Kailla willed her feet to move, to become unglued from the sidewalk. She needed to walk away, walk anywhere...leave! ... there was just something about the man standing behind her. That 'something' tingle-shivered through her as if she suddenly found herself naked on a iceberg. What the hell?!

'Move!' she commanded her feet, even as the man began to answer the carver.

"Perfect, Carl. Those silvery shades are most popular with our customers. Count on my brother, Storm, to be in touch soon."

With the man's towering low voice doing the silky dance through her, Kailla twisted around to get a glimpse of him. Yeah, she'd failed. But, who had a brother named Storm? And he was called Thunder...

Her gaze kept rising. Eye-to-eye with his fab-abs at first—covered only by the stretchy clingy, dark gray material of his muscle shirt—Kailla stopped at the over-large breadth of his chest. Did the man lift mountains as a hobby?

"New in town?" the man pleasantly inquired. Although, the undertone of his voice was electric, just like a coming thunderstorm. And her body reacted.

"Yes." Somehow the word croaked out of her constricted throat. Her gaze found his face, having halted again at his neck... a strong corded column, yet not bulky. He wasn't the prize fighter type as her Dad would say.

Kailla absolutely stared at his bold features. Viking...the stuff of a woman's fantasies. Oh, damn...

"Thundercloud," he introduced himself. He started to raise his hand, as if he would shake hers. But there wasn't enough room between them.

Good thing. If she touched him... well, his hand might feel way too good ... and she really, really didn't want to get involved. Besides, who knew what manly mojo he possessed? And, who could miss his interest in her—shining like a neon sign in his lake-blue eyes.

"Kailla." Yeah, involuntarily her name had escaped. What now? She could say something like 'I need to go' ... 'nice meeting you' ... then just turn away...

"Which carving is your favorite, Kailla?" he conversationally asked... yet that *lightning in the air* feeling still zapped her. And why did her name have to feel so good when he said it?

And why couldn't he be a dolt with pathetically few brain cells. No, oh no, a super intelligence lurked behind those Viking eyes. Double damn. Her only saving grace, the hormone thing hadn't kicked in... well, not fully. She could still walk away.

Instead... "They're all beautiful. Amazing, really. I take it you like wolves."

Something flickered in the depths of his eyes. A secret? Kailla usually knew when someone lied, or was being deceptive. She'd been that way since a small child.

She'd also learned the hard way, as a kid, that some secrets should be kept hidden. To protect the innocent. Yeah, some secrets could be misinterpreted, then used like machine-gun ammo to take someone good down. Throughout her life, she'd watched it happen, time and time again. And been victimized herself a few times. Enemies were around every corner, especially in the current super-surveillance climate.

"You could say I like wolves," he smoothly responded. "There are several packs around here. I've seen them in the wilds."

Eeriness washed over Kailla. "I saw a wolf just before arriving in town. A huge silver one. It was strange," she tacked on, even as goosebumps slithered down her arms.

"How so?" Again that flicker, and a speculative darkening of his eyes.

"I didn't think wolves chased vehicles. I know he wasn't a dog. Unless, he was less than half wolf." Kailla paused, assessing the man's expression. "Are the wolves in this area aggressive toward people?"

"In the last several years there have been a few incidents of wolves being aggressive. However, so far, it's been against bad guys. Those who have hurt others." Thundercloud's stance eased. His penetrating gaze remained the same. "No one was killed or hurt seriously. Although..."

"Although?" Kailla quirked a brow, sensing there was a complexity to the situation he wasn't revealing.

An audible whoosh of breath passed between his admittedly gorgeous lips. "Some years ago before I and my brothers arrived, there was a change in the power structure of the town." After a hesitation, he continued. "As I understand, a woman named Kitty was threatened after she wrote a letter to editor of the G & B Gazette. She complained about the change in the paper. The word 'roadkill' was used, and some charged, believed a werewolf pack had taken over Talbot's Peak."

"Wow... that is, is unusual." Taken aback by his words, Kailla wondered that she didn't take actual steps backward.

"That story brings in the tourists," Carl, the wood carver, piped up. "Nowadays folks believe the wolves are like spirit-animal protectors. Right, Thunder?"

"Right. Like you say. Kailla, if you'd like to meet Kitty, she runs the library in town. She's also Dante's girl. He owns the business complex where my brothers and I have a nightclub."

Nightclub. Images ran rampant through her head. A Viking hunk who apparently owns a nightclub. Did his brothers resemble him?

"That's why all the wolf art?" Kailla figured she'd go down that trail, for now. That is, instead of explaining she'd already met Kitty, by phone, by Skype, and was about to teach computer research skills at the library. "People think of the wolves as protectors?"

Thunder gave a short nod. "Would you like a spirit wolf in wood form? I'd like to buy one for you."

A gift. Double oh no! The man was real serious about getting to know her. Decision time.

'Walk away,' Kailla told herself. Repeatedly told herself. Say anything, make any excuse. Just leave.

Was she nodding in acceptance? Good God! What was she doing? Every particle of her wanted to cocoon for awhile. Lick her wounds. Adjust to life in Talbot's Peak.

But no... other parts of her sparked to life. Unable to prevent her next words, Kailla heard herself speak. "Thank you. I'd like a spirit wolf, given I'll be living in Talbot's Peak. I'm sure I need the good luck, the protection."

Did Thunder's features just transform? What appeared to be a satisfied smile flashed across his face. His eyes glowed bluer, the gleam almost supernatural.

"Let's find out which one is your favorite." He pivoted and swept his arm over the display.

Still attempting to talk herself out of accepting a gift from him, Kailla tore her gaze from his face. She turned around, and with deliberate care studied the lovely carvings. Was there one that closely resembled the enormous silver wolf she'd seen charging her minivan?

"How about this one?" Carl reached beneath his table producing a carving that was substantially larger than the ones on the table. The running wolf had been carved out of a silvery wood.

"Oooh, I like it. Wait. Isn't this too expensive?" Okay, her thrifty nature had surfaced. But, she didn't want this Thunder guy thinking he could buy her, either.

Still, as Carl handed the beautiful powerful wolf to her, Kailla took hold. She wanted a closer look at the magnificent wood sculpture. She wanted to feel it. Yep, she was tactile by nature also. Studying the carving's detail, she stroked over the wolf with one fingertip.

"Hardly too expensive." Thunder spoke in a magnanimous growl.

"I'll put it on your bill." Carl's enthusiasm at the sell couldn't be missed. Okay, who was she to deny him a living? Not like artists had it easy. Usually.

"Why don't I wrap that up for you?" Carl retrieved one of his attractive bags, and reached for the tissue paper.

Kailla handed over the wolf carving. The deed was done. She'd have to deal with the consequences. With that in mind, she faced Mr. Viking Thundercloud.

'Thank you,' formed on her lips. But before she could speak, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

Embarrassingly, her stomach growled. "Obviously hungry like a wolf." Kailla grinned a little at him. "Missed some meals on my drive to Talbot's Peak."

"Why don't we do a tour and decide which BBQ stand to try first." Thundercloud offered his arm.



Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance