Friday, May 29, 2009

Lunar magic

Blue Moon...New Moon on Monday...Bad Moon Rising...Moonshadow. So many songs have been sung about the pearly white goddess that it got me thinking about that old lunar magic and its control over shapeshifters. Movies of old put the onus of a shapeshifters change on the moon. They had no control over their shift and were in most cases, bad guys.

Nooooooo....I didn't like that idea.

A shifter is a thing of beauty. The ability to go from one form to another, to run through the night or day paws barely touching the ground or wings pulling you into the sky...pure freedom.

So when I sat down with my characters and listened to them tell me about their world I found myself relieved to find that they didn't rely on the moon to shift. My jags, were in full control of their powers - most of them anyway.

What then is the deal with this blog you might ask. Well, just recently another character from an entirely different story idea whispered in my ear, "there's a full moon coming, and I want to plaaaaay."

Shoot. I think I'm in for a big surprise.....

So what about you out there...are your shifters tethered the moon, or are they free to change whenever they darn well please?

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

How they shift: Magical or Biological

Let's face it, when it comes to shapeshifters, everyone has their own level of plausible acceptance. I’ve always found the shifters who leave their clothes behind easier to accept than those who transform back into human form and are miraculously, or magically, clothed again.

In The Combat, my Guardians and vampires alike have specially tailored slits in the shirts and jackets to allow their wings to emerge without ripping them. When my vampires transform in their demon form, the clothes rip away or need to expand to accommodate their shift in size.

Here’s a little tidbit from The Combat to whet your appetite. My hero, Davin, is a Guardian, able to transform into animal form, or stone, or both, or simply bring out wings while in human form. Okay when I say it like that, it doesn’t sound very plausible at all. But Davin is a gargoyle sentinel, his kind created by Merlin. Of course, Davin is shirtless in this scene :)

* * * * * * * *

      “What did you say you were?” Gabrielle swayed on her feet. He reached out to steady her. The contact brought a rush of pure bliss. A low sound escaped her throat, halfway between a gasp and a sigh.
      “I am Davin McCain. Humans refer to my kind as ‘gargoyles.’ We are called upon to protect the innocent.”
     Somehow, this came as no surprise. “Gargoyles, as in—”
     “Made of stone.” He held up a hand, closed it into a fist. Before her eyes, it transformed into a lion’s paw and turned rock solid.
     “My God.”
     “I am a sentinel in the Order of the Guardians. We are an ancient sect created to police vampire kind.” The gray stone stopped its advance halfway up his forearm, then receded to flesh again. He flexed his fingers as though it had been unpleasant. “When a vampire attacks an innocent, my order is awakened.”
     “Awakened?” She stared at his glorious chest, finding it easier to concentrate on his delectable male perfection than try to make sense of the nightmare taking over her life.
     “Transformed from stone to flesh.”
     She gaped, not sure how much more she could take. Her mind reeled with information overload. She stared at him so long she began to feel awkward.
     “Does it hurt?” she finally asked.
     He smiled, and she would swear his eyes twinkled. “No. My transformation is like a state of sleep. I need to rest, just as you do.”
     “Evan really is a vampire.”
     “And what he did to me was illegal? That’s why you helped me?”
     His brows drew together. “Drugging you without your consent is illegal, but Tourin itself is not. It is a popular drink in the vampire clubs for humans and vampires both.”
     “I was called to protect you when it was discovered the coven leader has an interest in you.”
     She frowned, trying to fight through the fog in her brain. Vampires. Coven leader. Blood cocktail. She shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it onto the floor, her body surging between too hot and too…aroused. He was so gorgeous, she wanted to lick every inch of him.
     What the hell is wrong with me?
     He went to the window and shoved it closed, then dragged the curtains across. She stared at his gloriously broad back, watching the muscles bulge and flex. Drool.
     Wait a minute.
     “You had wings. Or did I imagine all that?”
     He turned around and dipped his head in a curt nod.
     “Show me?” she asked, almost afraid to see.
     His expression hardened. For a long moment, he considered her. Then, dragging in a long breath, he closed his eyes.
     With a papery rustling of flesh, two awe-inspiring wings unfolded from his back and stretched as wide as her small studio apartment would allow.
     The sight helped sober Gabrielle. But where Evan’s monstrous transformation had been terrifying, Davin’s was magnificent.
     A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes.
     She crossed the room to him on numb feet. Gabrielle reached out and touched his shoulder, marveling at the amazing transformation. He felt warm, his skin soft but his muscles firm, just like any other man. Any other gorgeous, muscled hunk of a man.
     She slid her palm over his back and onto the firm wing.
     It was beautiful, a glorious sculpture of otherworldly splendor. The flesh was as smooth and golden as the rest of his body. The webbing stretched between a powerful architecture of muscle and bone, quivering under her touch as though ultrasensitive. He drew them close and tight, allowing her to circle him. She stepped behind him, dragging her fingertips lightly over the incredible limbs.
     Davin turned his head, watching her from his peripheral vision, seemingly as awed by her exploration as she was. She moved to the other side, staring in amazement when he folded them into himself again. They melded into his superbly muscled back and vanished.

What's your preference, magical or biological?

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Third, a Black Cat Seduction Tail for Halloween

Recently, I participated in Belinda McBride’s Halloween celebration for the Month of May on her author blog ~ Wylde by Nature ~
I’ve learned some fascinating things about Halloween/Samhain I never knew, especially around the origin and real history. The other featured authors have all made wonderful contributions. So, if you have a sudden yen for those creatures of the night stories, check them out.
Anyhoo and boo, I thought I’d share my bloggie here as well.

The Fun of Halloween

Since I didn’t know the true meaning and history of Halloween-Samhain as a kid growing up in the 1950's, Halloween night for me was just a whole heck of a lot of fun. My sisters and I would end up with big fat sacks of candy, a wondrous thing in a large family where the goodies were rationed. Wearing the costumes was a fun thrill, a fantastical escape from the everything ordinary. I got to be anything from a black cat to Annie Oakley to a ballerina princess. I won’t go into all my “fun” adult fantasy costumes.
No, it wasn’t only the *gathering* of the candy by running from door to door, it was the freedom, the sheer freedom of being able to roam the surrounding neighborhoods with good friends. I felt like a horse allowed to run wild... yep, I had a horsie costume, too... with a long flowing tail.
Later, when I lived in a suburb with 2 acres per lot and lots of land around it, Halloween night was even more exciting. And the sense of freedom was bigger. It was also a salvation for me as an emotionally troubled teenager. The constraints of society has never been my thing.
Okay... fast-forward to the call for Halloween stories from Liquid Silver Books. I couldn’t resist. There she was! My Black Cat Beauty girl, Sable Kiki, yowling her demand for her story to be written. The naughty feline girl seduced my imagination just as she initially seduces the hero, Devon Zant.
After all, what would it be like to shift into a black cat for Halloween? My goodness, fun and adventures would ensue... like walking in front of the scaredy humans... or arching your back and hissing at the trick-or-treating kidlets... then, there are all those haunted houses.
Of course, Sable’s story is much more complicated... but that’s life and the stuff of fantasy, isn’t it?

Black Cat Beauty

Blurb: A private Halloween party in a gothic mansion hidden in the Hollywood Hills. Add one party crasher, Sable Kiki, a naughty black cat with a sexy wild human side.
Her covert assignment from her devious, always-cunning father: use her seductive wiles to find out the truth from Devon Zant, a movie star on the rise to super stardom.
Posing as the superhero actor, Devon Zant, D’Torr has arrived on Earth seeking revenge for the capture of his younger brother, and to assist in stopping a powerful enemy.
The leviathan warfleet of the Altirrux wants rule of all intergalactic trade routes to Earth, endangering the survival of D’Torr’s race, and all the inhabitants of the rare blue jewel, Earth.

Excerpt ~ Sable Kiki and Devon Zant meet ~

Sable flipped her ear forward, noticing Devon Zant had halted high on the stairway, his attention clearly on the “accident” commotion. Although concealed by shadow, the bold strength of his physique could easily be seen. His dark shirt and pants skimmed his superbly muscled body as if the materials had been poured over him.

“Every inch the superhero,” Sable whispered, wondering how he would look flying on screen as the son of Super Ace. She hadn’t bothered with the movie trailer or the website. Especially since she’d only learned about the assignment late yesterday afternoon. A catnap in the sun had seemed much more enjoyable.

“Of course, I haven’t viewed those meaty ‘inches’ yet. So who knows if his cock is supercharged and heroic in action?” Sauntering unimpeded to the stairs, Sable briefly scanned her surroundings. Evidently Mr. Rising Superstar didn’t require beefy cow muscle to protect him ... just PETA to protect him from wandering pussycats. Maybe I should offer him personal protection from all pussies ... if he’s worthy.

Once she placed her foot, encased in the supple black leather of her sleek shoe, on the first step, his gaze fastened on her. Slowly she smiled at him. She lingered her Mae West smile on him as she provocatively swayed up the stairs.

Riveted, almost standing at attention, he trained his gaze on her.

Sable drew in his scent, careful not to overwhelm herself--easily done in this topsider culture. Ignoring the expensive men’s cologne he’d used, she inhaled his virility, raw and rivers-of-lava volcanic. Give me some more of him--yum.

Sliding her hand along the polished wood banister, she gradually mounted the stairway. As his gaze smoldered over her, Sable swayed even more teasingly. Her breasts rounded, becoming heavier, her nipples peaked into tight buds, and she knew they were outlined by the black gleaming stretch fabric of her costume. For a human male, his allure was far more ferocious than she’d ever experienced.

Smiling seductively, she tipped her face upwards, keeping her gaze beneath his as she approached, and halted one step away from him. Instead of blatantly perusing his masculine assets--yet--she studied his classically carved features through her half-lidded gaze. The god Hermes and the half-god Hercules, blended as one--and definitely more handsome than either--that was Devon Zant’s face.

From on high, his gaze scorched over her. Glints of lightning sparked in the depths of his eyes, and she was surprised to see how blue his eyes truly were--not sky blue. Not Paul Newman blue. No, they were deep iris blue, and so brilliantly luminous that for a moment she thought she observed an aurora of color slide over them.

No wonder a movie camera, even in the age of digital, couldn’t completely capture the actual color of his eyes. Nor could any camera do full justice to his hair. His auburn mane just brushed his shoulders and was nearly black, with fine streaks of burnt gold and bronze. She could analyze by the smell he hadn’t dyed the color. It was all natural, and obviously, a hairdresser’s dream.

Flirtatiously Sable smiled widely, then flashed her gaze over him admiringly.

“Sable,” she softly rumbled her name for him.

Excitement skittered along her skin like electrical currents as she waited and wondered if the sound of his smoky strong voice would be beyond the capacity of digital mikes.

“Your hair?” His gaze broke away from hers, moving pointedly to her own auburn tresses, which were not quite as dark as his and flamed with reddish tints.

“Not colored and like my name.” She enticed her voice over him, then languidly moved her hips back and forth so the thick waves of her hair rippled over her back and bottom. The Cat Goddess, Bastet! His voice was smoky and sinfully rich--yet pure as a clear mountain stream. If she had willed it, Sable could have orgasmed over his voice. Right there on the steps. In full view of him.

Excerpt - encounter with a witch ~

Warning ~ x-rated language

...the woman suddenly appeared, stepping in front of her.
Halting instead of gliding around the woman, Sable ran her gaze up from the stiletto black heels she wore, to the woman’s gaunt face, decorated like an Egyptian cat statue. Unblinking eyes that reminded her of dirty pool water analyzed her face.
“What black arts’ technique did you use?” The woman’s tone spiraled around her, cast from a cauldron spell.
“And why would I share anything with you?” Sable didn’t bother disguising her utter disregard. When she moved to walk away, the woman stepped in front of her again.
“He’s mine.” The sinister woman’s voice coiled like a serpent in Sable’s belly.
Placing her fist on one hip, she faced the woman fully. “Is that so?” Sable seized the attacking energy, then twined it around the woman’s throat.
Sinister woman blanched for a moment, her eyes dilating mummy-style before she dispelled the energy, and scowled ruthlessly at Sable.
“I knew it.” She growled, her voice like an inner-world gargoyle.
“Knew what?” Sable envisioned batting her head around like a play toy, but didn’t throw the energy at her.
Narrowing her eyes, then pointing a bony finger with a dagger nail that could slice open many a sardine can, sinister woman intoned, “I’m not done, if you’re smart you’ll get out of my way. Everyone gets out of my way...eventually.”
Sable idly slid her gaze over the woman’s scarecrow features, her enraged glints for eyes. “If Devon was interested in fucking a woman with a body designed by Skeletor, I would be more than thrilled to send you in his direction.” Casually, she regarded her own nails, popping out one claw. “As it is, I would advise you to express your sorcery talents elsewhere.”
“Everyone in Hollywood bows before me. I’ve ruined countless careers, and decreed countless others into existence. You’re no match for my sorcery talents, you fat ugly toad.” A sparking black cloud emanated from the center of sinister woman’s forehead.
Creating a gale-force wind in her third eye, Sable blew it, dissipating the nasty soupy stuff before it could cause a second’s harm. “Since I have no wish for a career in Hollywood, your dire threat is just so much jibber jabber to my ears.” Sable remembered not to flick her ear. Or her tail in haughty satisfaction.
“Do you think your amateurish use of magick can stop me from getting what I want? I can enslave you to my will as easily as crooking my little finger.” Demonstrating, sinister woman thrust her Grim Reaper hand in front of Sable’s eyes.
“A big ole’ oops, witchie poo, but you’re too late.” Sable languidly tossed her waves of hair. “I’ve already been enslaved. Any advise for removing this collar?”
For an instant, mean ole’ witchie poo gleamed her gaze directly on the collar, then stared at the matching bracelet.
“Want to give it a magickal try?” Sable held up her wrist twisting it in front of the woman’s eyes. To further taunt sinister woman, she glittered the bracelet in the spooky illumination of the neon disco lights. “Maybe a tiny bolt of lightning. Want to try?”
Silent long enough for Sable to hear the lyrics ‘love to love you, baby’ of the sensual disco chant behind her, witchie poo finally looked up from the bracelet. “You’ll regret angering me, you cunt stupid bitch,” she snarled, her eyes gleaming greenish streaks of demonic hatred.
Sable smiled widely, her most I’m-going-to-make-you-prey grin. “Spells at dawn? Since I’m the challenger you can choose your favorite weapon from your black arts’ bag of tricks.”

Happy Early Halloween!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

BLACK CAT BEAUTY ... She has the claws and the cattitude to prove it... He has the super-powered strength and passion she fights, but needs... available from Liquid Silver Books ~ ~ ~

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Here's to the Warrior Heroes!

Willie Nelson sang "My heroes have always been cowboys." Well, unlike Willie, MY heroes have always been warriors. Literally and figuratively. When I was young, I looked for the proverbial "knight in shining armor." After years of looking for one and not finding one, I decided to write one. Writing one let me make him exactly what I wanted him to be.

Diarmid Redwolf, the hero of Protect and Defend, is a warrior cop. A man willing to fight for a cause or die for it. He's also willing to fight or die for his loved ones. That's one of my favorite aspects of the warrior archetype - that core of honor.

I continued the trend when I wrote Seeking Truth. Eaduin Kempe may be a baron and a man of power, but at his core he's a warrior. Eaduin is willing to face the king's possible wrath in order to protect his people. Ultimately, he's willing to fight for love. His utter commitment to what's right is one of the things I love about him.

On this day, then it seems most appropriate to honor the warrior. Those willing to fight for what's right. To fight with honor. Those willing to give everything so that others may be free.
Personally, I find the phrase "Happy Memorial Day" to be an oxymoron. How can a Memorial Day be happy? It can be solemn. It can be intense. But I'm not sure it can be "happy" except in one way. I'm happy to honor those who have served this country. Both the living veteran and the fallen one.
Regardless of whether I agree with the conflict in which they served, I honor those who have sacrificed so that I can choose. I respect those that have fought to afford me the freedom of conformity or dissent. Most of all, I thank them for their hard work, sacrifices, and service.

The Eyes Have It!

Eyes are very expressive. I know, it's the "gaze" because as writer's we learned that bit about roving body parts, but work with me here. If you've ever been around many animals, you know that you only have to look into their eyes to see what they're feeling.

I write shifters and although my shifters can speak while in their third nature, a hybrid human and jaguar form, I rely heavily on body language to convey what's going on in the scene and the eyes are one body part that's a no-brainer for me. You want to use the whole body for anger, fear, joy or my personal favorite, desire but much like the "smile that never reaches the eyes", if there's no corresponding response in the gaze, the emotion you think you're seeing, as with humans, just might be a lie.

I've often seen the villain portrayed as having "cold, dead eyes or a cold, dead, gaze", in other words someone without a conscience. I've been lucky enough to never encounter an animal with the gaze of a serial killer but there might be one out there. Hmmm...I think I'm getting an idea for a new plot.

You only have to look into the soulful gaze of an abused animal to know they're suffering. They're looking for compassion, they need to be rescued. I question the humanity of anyone who could abuse an animal but I realize that their lack of humanity stems from either a need to subjugate, or a lack of compassion for anything they feel is inferior to humans.

Whether you're portraying a human or an animal, I believe the eyes are the window to the soul. As an erotic paranormal author I've tried to convey my jaguar shifters as beings whose natures, while distinctive on some levels, overlap when push comes to shove. You only have to look into their eyes.

Friday, May 22, 2009

The Challenge, The Twist and The Rub

Happy Friday all!

So how do you like that title for today's blog...pretty clear what I'm going to talk about today, right. Yep, I can hear ya'll now "Clear as mud, Serena"

Hey, I heard the eye rolling too...LOL

Thing is I've been having a terrible time deciding what to blog about today. A situation not unlike my current WIP status. So I figured I'd tell you a bit about the new WIP - The Submission

The Challenge

Unlike my first story, The Challenge, which seem to take me for ever to wrap my head around, TS jumped from my brain and onto the storyboard relatively quickly! Rick and LeAnn knew what they wanted me to share about their journey into love and all was good, they were happy, I was happy, we were ALL happy...ah huh

The Twist

See, there is always a twist in my writing life, but I apparently neglected to remember that with TS. I was busy pulling together the bits and pieces of scenes I had already know the scenes from the middle that will undoubtedly change, but just won't wait to be written. I had already started the story in a couple of different ways each time with an "oooh this will be a better place to start."

~this really should have been a clue of what was to come, but I never claimed brilliance as one of my better qualities, just bull-headedness and stick-with it-ness.~

Anyway, with every new start Rick and LeAnn got quieter, waiting I'm sure to spring on me their six foot tall surprise... Trent

Another hero, guys? Really?

Yep, a complete 360

The Rub

While the story is perfect(I think so anyway), the conflict de-lish and the sex is bound to be most enjoyable to write, here's the rub...

I'm nervous! There, I said it. ~nibbling my nails~ I've never written a menage story before and IMHO, a good one is about more than just three people hopping into the sack and throwing down several times in the book...I need the emotion, the angst, the realism of trying to make three people happy at once... Add to that the fact that we are talking about two alpha male jaguar shapeshifters and one female they both want to mate...Oh man!

Are Rick, LeAnn and Trent biting off more than this author can chew?

Who knows, but I can hear my cp won't know until you get it on the paper. True. I guess I'll just have to write it and see...

Wish me luck!

Have a great weekend!

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

If I Were A Shapeshifter, What Shapeshifter Would I Be?

When I was asked what animal (or creature) I would most want to be, my very quick answer used to be Peregrine Falcon. I’ve always wanted to fly, and if I was any kind of bird, it would be one that brought home raw, bloody meat to its young. The idea of eating barfed up food didn’t appeal.

Then I decided I would rather be something top-of-the-food-chain fearsome, like a grizzly or a tiger.

Then I learned that for the most part, man is the top of the food chain, and I would not want to be a grizzly or tiger because of the horrific way man has nearly eradicated these majestic creatures. It has gotten to the point where I cannot even watch Animal Planet anymore. Even with the sound off, the mere commercial advertisement for Escape To Chimp Eden breaks my heart. How can anyone do such horrible things to higher order animals? Hell, these are tool-using, social-network creatures. Just like us.

So now if you ask me what I’d most like to be, the answer is most definitely Vampire. Because as a vampire, I could exact vampiric justice over animal abusers, and I would do it in a Very Vampy Way.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Second, the Prince of a Stallion

Tangerine Carnal Dreams is the title of my second e-pubbed shapeshifter novella.
Actually, my heroine, Kattalonia, showed up first in my imagination and the story revolves around her. However, I had to create her a perfect mate, whether she believed it or not. She didn’t, I can tell you.
Katta’s hero had to be especially strong, boldly determined and unwilling to give up, a true match for her. She’s a kickassitude woman used to taking care of herself and dealing with intergalactic villains.
So, who better than a stallion shifter, a Prince of a Stallion, who has decided she is his one woman. Heck, Zio has already chased her around the galaxy when the story begins.


...a fire-shooting fierce woman...a shapeshifting prince of a stallion...and the tangerine aphrodisiac winds on a world far away...


Corporal Kattalonia is a galactic enforcer-agent for her home world. Her father has just been accused of treason. She chases after the villain in an old rickety craft. Recovering her father’s stolen data cube will exonerate him, and halt the sale of top level secrets. The trouble, the villain’s trail leads to Yemisque, a world of tangerine carnal dreams. Great place to hide out. Great place for the erotic adventures of your choice.

Prince Ziocese, Bad Boy Extraordinaire has discovered his one woman. She shoots fire from her palm and is not an equine shifter, a mate his royal parents won’t accept.. Renegade from his world, he still honors his sacred tradition, chasing her half-way across the galaxy. He will do anything to help her, to protect her. Whether she lets him or not. Trouble is he can’t catch her to prove himself. Or, to possess her with extreme pleasure.

Excerpt: From Chapter One ~

“Katta! Where are you? I’ve lost your blink on the netscope.”
“I’m here, Jessa. Power-divert to tracking. I’ve got him, sis. I’ve got the son of a wormhole.” Katta struck her relay panel forcing more power to her speed system. The old spacecraft jerked forward, into a new warp level-humming loudly, vibrating roughly.
“Come on, you bucket of silicon bolts. You know I luv ya.”
“Katta, where are you?” Jessa’s voice bounced in and out, shrill with concern.
“Looks like our personal villain is on the fast trail to Yemisque.”
“Yemisque! Katta, no. It’s not worth it.”
“I don’t care. I’m going to get him.”
“He can hide, do anything to you–almost anything.” Jessa amended, having enjoyed Yemisque’s free wheeling sex pleasures often.
“I’ve gotta get it back. I’m not letting Dad go down the devil’s asshole. He’ll lose everything...”
“Katta, even you can’t–”
“I see it, Jessa. Tangerine as those gumdrops you gobble. Yep! His vapor fart swirls down to that planet lust-playground.”
“Come back...” Her sister’s worried voice crackled faintly.
“Sorry, sis. Gotta cut you free.”
Katta hit communications’ access with a swift hard slam of her fist. Then punched on the opening to Yemisque.
“Tangerine carnal dreams, here I come,” she muttered fiercely, on fire with capturing her prey.
Automated landing instructions flowed, a sensual male crooning, translated into her birth language.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m coming for, a really hard-lunging time. Oh baby, give it to me, harder, oooooh harder,” she mocked. Quickly, she set the rickety, but plucky craft on cruise.
Katta stretched, relieving the tight anticipation of her muscles. “I don’t suppose it’ll be a flush-out run to the nearest fornicating mecca. Get my quarry. Then get out. I wish. Upon a trillion zillion stars.”
“Corporal Kattalonia Svelle of Windsworld, an interview once you land.”
The Adonis male beamed a sensual smile from her antiquated screen. Her breath caught in her chest. Just for a moment. His clear blue lake eyes transfixed her, tripped her heart beat. Just for a moment.
“Sure, Master of Security. Could use your assistance. And you’re not half-bad to gaze longingly upon. How’s the wife?”
“In rambunctious heat. I’m in carnal paradise. Still playing the ice spinster, Corporal?”
“Too much chasing the bad galactic guy. No time for rambunctious lusting. See ya on the ground, handsome.” Katta raised one brow. “No men hiding in the bushes, right? Ready to abscond with my unwilling body?”
Yemisque’s Master of Security merely fondled her with his smile, then blipped free of her screen.
Katta shook her head, then her entire body, freeing herself. His presence was all passion- encompassing. And a reminder she required a garment change to undercover gear.
“Trashy space babe coming up, or going down to...” Stretching, she slowly combed her fingers through her hair. “Oh, my goddess!” she whispered, an image of a male cock coming up, the idea of her going down on him. “I’m already ruined."

Tangerine kisses...

And may your most romantic dreams come true...


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Katta & Zio invite you to read their love story ~
TANGERINE CARNAL DREAMS...a fire-shooting fierce woman...a shapeshifting prince of a stallion...and the tangerine aphrodisiac winds on a world far away...Available from Aspen Mountain Press ~ ~ ~

Monday, May 18, 2009

Growing up paranormal...

I've been thinking lately about what inspired me to write paranormal stories. I've always been drawn to romance, but my first romances were Regency romances. Those are the stories that will stay in the boxes they now inhabit for very good reason although I'm going to try my hand at Regency romances again one day.

I realized as I considered why I write paranormal, that I was inspired by my parents. My sister (who's ten years older than me) and I sometimes joke that we had different parents. It's a joke...and it isn't. Her parents were traditionalists who attended church every Sunday. My parents (at least once we hit the late 1960s and early 1970s) were the free thinkers.

My father posed the question first. What do you think of reincarnation? My mom was horrified and she told him so. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. Meanwhile, I think my dad just read up on his own. Finally, my mother went out with a woman friend. They were sitting in a car chatting and started asking questions about religion. Years later, mom told me they seriously feared the car would be struck by lightning because they had the temerity to "question God." They didn't question God. They questioned what they'd been taught all their lives. It was with this set of parents I grew up.

Both Mom and Dad investigated religious thought, but they came at it from different directions. I think Dad read books on eastern religions first while Mom went exploring what she didn't know about early Christianity. I remember her getting two freaking huge books through interlibrary loan with bizarre names. They were called the Apocrypha and the Pseudepigrapha. She poured over these books. Her intense interest fascinated me.

My parents had long conversations about what they'd found. My mom's best friend also researched and I remember hearing mom talk with Valda about all kinds of things. Most of it was over my head back then. Stuff like automatic writing, spirit guides, reincarnation, and psychic phenomena. As I got older, Mom talked to me about it.

All of this made me very open minded about the possibilities of anything paranormal or New Agey. I read the Shirley MacLaine books avidly and books on astrology and reincarnation. I didn't know if I believed it all, but I knew it fascinated me. When my dad died in the late 90s, we had unfinished business between us. Angry stuff. Lots of fighting. I kept wishing I could communicate with him so we could work things out - but it was too late. Well, I was wrong about that.

Dad chose to be cremated and so Mom and I had to drive across the state of Iowa in order to get to his memorial service. The car was NOT in good say the least. I was driving along a main drag in the town we lived in then and I was thinking "where do I get this stupid car fixed?" I looked over to the right and saw a repair shop and could hear in my brain that I should get the repairs done there. I was sure it was my dad, but you know how you have those thoughts - I thought maybe I just made it up.

Well, a few months later. Mom and I had moved to another city and I was attempting to put together a cabinet to hold some of my mom's clothes. She was standing over me offering "suggestions" about how to do the job while I grumbled. I was so struck by the thought of dad at that moment and suddenly heard, "Now, you know how I felt." I burst into laughter and mom asked me what was funny. I told her and we both laughed. That definitely came directly from my dad. The words were in his speech patterns, his was him. I know it. Hearing from him off and on has repaired the pain of the past. In fact, I feel like we've come to an understanding. Maybe it's nuts, but hey, it works for me.

Years later, after my mom passed away the mental conversations stepped up because I hear my mother's voice often. No, I'm not schizophrenic. The voices I hear don't tell me I'm terrible or that I should hurt myself or others. Instead, the voice I hear is a cheerleader and she's full of humor. She says, "yes, you can." She says, "I told you so." When the voice says I told you so - I know it's my mom.

It's wonderful to hear her, but it's bittersweet too. I love knowing she's nearby and she cares about me, but I can't give her a hug anymore. I really miss that. Just like I miss her. In fact, when I wrote Seeking Truth, there's a character who is dying. I used the feelings I've had about losing my parents to make the story emotional. Every time I read the scene I cry. If not for them, I don't think I would have taken the chance to write. I also don't think my writing would have the depth of emotion I feel it has.

Growing up paranormal was good for me and I'm really glad I have a chance to express myself through my writing. So what made YOU read or write paranormal stories? Is it just for fun or do you think anything is possible and some of this stuff might be real?

Saturday, May 16, 2009

The Cranky Muse

My Muse has been cranky lately. Apparently she needs more sleep than I've been getting. And she doesn't like deadlines, even the ones I impose upon myself. Her job is to create, not be on time, on demand. Uh, no; that would be my job. And her job is to help me with my job. She doesn't seem to get it.

It takes discipline to be a writer, hard work and planning. She doesn't like any of those qualities either, doesn't understand them. I asked her once if she thought all she was supposed to do was stand around and look like the bored little goddess she is while I rant and rave. She looked at me like I was crazy, which, technically I was at the time. I'd been sick for a month, it was the week before Christmas and I'd just received the edits from my new editor for my very first story. It was not party time at my house, I can tell you.

I've tried placating her with the promise of a mini-vacation, a trip to the day-spa, or some much needed retail therapy after I've turned in this book. Nothing, nada, zip. She knows deep down that I'm already thinking about my next deadline. All she has to do is tempt me with one tiny idea and I won't be able to resist working.That's what I get for trying to fool someone who has been around long enough to know I'm a workaholic.

At least it's a two-way street. She's snickering in my ear right now, teasing me with the solution to a scene problem because I haven't been paying attention to her this morning. Did I mention she was an attention-whore. A cranky, attention-whore. I need more coffee to deal with this and her.

How do you deal with your muse? I've learned not to ignore mine, so it's back to work.

Growling and snarling (I told you I needed more coffee)

Friday, May 15, 2009

Where do these ideas come from anyway?

While waiting for my darling kidlet to emerge from school the other day, a story idea dropped down, from that magical place where stories come from, upon me. Out of no where this lovely "what if" filled my senses. The smell of mesquite trees perfumed the air as my cowboy hero stepped from the barn, whip in hand and a twinkle of hidden truths in his eye.


I shivered as my wolf king took gentle steps over the Russian snow, his fur becoming a coat as he raised from four legs to two. I smirked as a fiery redhead out-shot her brother with some really awesome gun while their sister collected herbs and flowers around them. But how does it all fit together? I'm not sure yet and my bigger question....

Where do these ideas come from anyway?

I tried to think back to when I "knew" I'd be a paranormal writer. I'm quoting knew because really I could wake up tomorrow with a perfect idea for a historical or a comedy or a young adult or...well you get the idea, anyway why paranormal?

Honestly, I don't know.

Was it because my dad took me to see The Amityville Horror at the tender age of ten? Could it have been the tattered copy of Stephen King's Skeleton Crew that I still have in my "I need another bookcase, honey" box?

Batting Eyes Pictures, Images and Photos

Or maybe it was my first Carpathian novel, to which I say "Kudos, Ms. Feehan, Kuuuu-u-doooos!!" I guess it could also be the past co-worker I watched sitting on the shipping dock, her Laurell K Hamilton book in hand, telling me with drool on her lips ~no kidding~ "Start with Guilty Pleasures..."

Maybe it's all of these things or maybe it's none of them. I don't know.

Here's what I do know, the worlds spinning in my head everyday are filled with the unexplainable. In my head my characters are an assortment of animals, some cat, some wolf, some undeniably dark(my vamp, I think, hiding in the shadows waiting his turn). Most of the ideas I find myself jotting down live to the far left of reality. And I think that is really cool!

So, Where do these ideas come from? I have not a clue, and you know what?

~I don't care, as long as them keep coming!!~ hehe

What about you out there, any sneaking suspicions as the where your ideas come from?

Have a great week-end!

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Crystal Kauffman

I've been writing romance since 1997 when I joined Romance Writers of America and my local chapter, the Sacramento Valley Rose. My books all have different levels of steaminess, depending on what I feel fits the story. My first published book, The Combat, Book I in the Guardian's Realm series, was released by Loose-Id.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Intro ~ Savanna Kougar

Okay, animal shifter lovers, it’s time for an intro... which this Big Cat girl really doesn’t like doing... why? No tail-twitching clue... *languid shrug over the mystery*
So, here’s meowing at you... this is the intro on my Author’s page at Siren-BookStrand publishing.

Baby boomer and redhead, I've always danced to the beat of a different drum. I'm single and living on the tame cattle prairie of the Midwest with my beloved doggies. My interests are eclectic, and anything creative. And my imagination has always played a huge role in my life. Once, I lost my shoes when I was daydreaming ~ my second grade teacher decided I needed to learn a valuable lesson.
When I write, my imagination dwells in the mysteries, magic and mayhem of life and love. My romance stories also travel into the far reaches of space, time and other dimensions, where the past often meets the future. Think the Renaissance meets Buck Rogers. Think Romancing the Stone entwined with Stars Wars. Think extreme passion and the enchantment of love, cut with a fine erotic edge, like the finesse and fierceness of a blade during swordplay.
Most of all, as an author, I love my heroines and heroes. I love writing their stories, the various worlds they inhabit, and their adventures together.
Me as a blurb? Imagine a wild child of the sixties dancing as one with a silver screen' sex kitten. Imagine, if you will, a woman with a strange other-worldly fondness for words and pens, who is destined to write paranormal romances only for your personal pleasure.
Oh, by the way, I did graduate college with a B.A. in History, Summa Cum Laude, and I was one of the ten finalists in the American Title IV for my entry, Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis.

Purring and lounging... here’s an interview that’s also on my Author’s page ~

Author's Profile

Q: What are your favorite romance genres to write?

A: Anything and everything in paranormal, sci-fi, futuristic, fantasy, and magic with pre-history thrown in, especially Atlantis.

Q: How long have you been writing paranormal?

A: As I recall, it was about age sixteen, inspired by all the romance novels I'd read (that was the era of sweet, keep-the-bedroom-doors-closed romance). Also, inspired by War and Peace, and of course, by Dr. Zhivago (Omar Shariff – oh be still my beating heart!), I began writing about an alternative timeline in Russia, where the hero rescues the heroine after she escapes from her abductors. My heroine is in need of a bath, so the secluded ice-cold pool it is, before he takes her back to his grand estate, since he's been in love with her for a long time.

Q: Did you continue writing paranormal fiction during your college years?

A: I took the creative writing classes available. Since that was ages ago, there was no actual degree, and the classes were newly offered. But yes, I wrote a short story about the day Atlantis was destroyed, sinking beneath the ocean waves. In an advanced writing class, I wrote a short story about a white witch who casts a spell for her 'perfect man'. One of the media students wanted to use my story as his final exam project, which was to produce a cable TV video. Unfortunately, my story was labeled as 'having no socially redeeming value' by the supervising professor. Gee, come to think of it, there went my promising script-writing career.

Q: Since you were writing paranormal romance stories before they became a mainstream staple, when did you realize you might have a chance to be published?

A: My sister gave me a book by one of her favorite romance authors (and mine), Jayne Ann Krentz. It was Sweet Starfire, published in 1986 under her pen name, Jayne Castle. Not only did I thoroughly enjoy the story, I thought, My Gawd! I might actually have a shot at getting something published now.

Q: Do you have a favorite paranormal subgenre you prefer to write? Or is it a free for all?

A: With me, it's a free for all, definitely. I love combining various elements of all the paranormal subgenres, futuristic and magical, shape-shifting and sci-fi, the goddesses and gods of myth living in alternate timelines. If it's out there, I want to write it. Well, as long as it fits within the world I'm building for my heroine and hero.

Q: As a published author now, how did your career begin?

A: It was two almost simultaneous opportunities. Becoming a finalist in the American Title IV, the Romantic Times contest sponsored by Dorchester, for my entry, Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis. And! Signing my very first contract with Siren Publishing for All Shades of Blue Paradise [World of the Blue Pearl Moon, Book I].

Now you know too much about the Kougar cat... yowl-however if you’re intrepid enough to continue, these are my current titles ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise ~ the blue fantasy of world of Lady Sheridan and Baron Zaggry.
Red Lioness Tamed ~ the sci fi adventure of lioness shifter, Sun Rocket, and Captain Draxen Z.
When a Good Angel Falls ~ the 2012 endtimes story of the incarnated angel, Sedona, and her carnal cherub, Volcano.
Tangerine Carnal Dreams ~ the Otherworld suspense story and erotic romp of Corporal Katta and her shape-shifting stallion prince, Zio.
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ set in the year, 2051, on New Atlantis, this is a complex suspense story starring 100 year old, Sheriff Kalypso Sun Wing and Fed Agent Zryphus Vasquoz, a Zerculeon.
Black Cat Beauty ~ the Halloween seductive tail of shifter, Sable Kiki, and rising movie superstar, Devon.
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes ~ How many Superheroes does it take to satisfy SlashFlame Kitten, the one woman who dances like a fire goddess? Answer: the four Dark Valorous Brothers of Chrontropolis.

Monday, May 11, 2009

A wolf in any other clothing is still a wolf...

Greetings everyone,

I just wanted to introduce myself today. My name is Francesca Hawley and I'm pleased to join the Shapeshifter Seductions line-up.

My first published work was a shapeshifter story in an anthology called Paranaughty. My story, Alpha v Alpha, introduced a shapeshifter universe which exists alongside our normal existence.

In January, my first novel Protect and Defend was released by Ellora's Cave. I used the same universe and created a crime scene investigator named Lt. Diarmid Redwolf who finds his True Mate, Mikaela Laughlin.

Here's the blurb for my novel:

Mikaela Laughlin discovers a whole new world, and an entirely new species, when she tours the crime lab to meet Lieutenant Diarmid Redwolf while researching her next book. She’s lusted after “Delicious Diarmid” from afar for a long time, but meeting him sets her body on fire. It doesn’t take long for Mikaela to discover there’s more to Diarmid than meets the eye. He is far more delicious up close than she ever dreamed.

Diarmid has bad guys to catch, but one look at the voluptuous writer has him wanting to catch her instead. His shapeshifter blood recognizes his True Mate and he wants her naked body arching beneath his. Now. But with a cold-blooded serial killer on the loose, Diarmid has one shot at his future and he will not fail. Because this time, the killer wants Mikaela.


I had a blast writing this story and received quite a few really positive reviews for the book.

Five kisses from Two Lips reviews
A great review from The Romance Readers Connection
Four Cups from CoffeeTime Romance Reviews
and a 4 1/2 star rating from Romantic Times Magazine!!

To tempt you, here's an excerpt. I hope you enjoy it...

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.
If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Copyright © FRANCESCA HAWLEY, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Just wait there while I come around to help you down,” Diarmid ordered. Miki bristled at the tone of command in his voice.

“I am perfectly capable of getting out of a vehicle myself.”

“Indulge me.” Diarmid grabbed his garbage, shoving the SUV door open.

He stalked around the vehicle where Miki waited for him. She didn’t know why she waited, but she did. He opened her door and lifted her to the ground. He grabbed her garbage along with his and she moved out of the way so he could close the door. He stopped at the back of the SUV to grab his kit then headed for the front entrance. Miki ran to keep up as he crossed the street. He slowed to accommodate her shorter legs and from that moment on, she didn’t have to run anymore.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“No problem.” She glanced at his kit. “You weren’t kidding about keeping it stocked were you?”

“No, Mikaela, I wasn’t.” Diarmid raised a red-gold brow at her as his lips twisted into a wicked smile. “I keep my weapon clean and ready for use whenever it’s needed too. You’re welcome to inspect it at length if you’d like.”

Miki blushed a fiery red from his suggestive banter, almost tripping up the stairs as they climbed the steps to the entrance.

“Yeah. Um… Right. I’ll take your word for it, Diarmid.” Miki could almost visualize his weapon ready for use and had to look away when he chuckled at her as he pulled open the entry door to allow her to precede him.

“Too bad. I was looking forward to showing it to you.”

His gravelly voice sent chills down her spine making her clit throb in response. Damn him, he was enjoying this. She stopped to slug him in the shoulder before breezing past him through the doors. His laughter echoed behind her.

Half a dozen cops stared at her as if she had two heads when Diarmid followed her inside. He tossed the garbage into a trash can, motioning her toward the elevators. Miki sucked down the last of her shake and threw it away. She glanced around the lobby. Miki had the impression the cops in view wondered how she was still alive after whacking him. She raised her brows at one or two of them. They looked away, pretending they had other business to conduct. She shook her head.

“Do they think you’re a god or something?” Miki asked curiously after the elevator doors closed behind them.

“No, but I do outrank them.”

“Your rank wasn’t the reason they looked at me like I’d just taken my life in my hands by smacking you, though I think you will admit you deserved it.”

Miki turned to him. Diarmid pressed the stop button, set his kit on the floor and stalked her into the corner of the elevator.

“All I did was offer to let you inspect my weapon.”

His grin teased her as his hand went to his waist. He unsnapped his holster and rocked his gun out then he pulled the clip and emptied the remaining shell from the chamber leaving the slide open, then Diarmid handed the unloaded weapon to her for her perusal.

Miki blushed because she’d been thinking about something else and she knew he’d meant something else when he’d said it. She took the gun from him, blinking because it was heavier than she expected. She lifted it in his direction, but he gently, but firmly, pointed the muzzle at the floor.

“I never point my weapon at someone unless I intend to use it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She eyed the weapon, deciding two could play this game. “It isn’t as big as I expected, but I suppose it gets the job done. After all, it isn’t the size of the weapon that counts, but how it’s used, so they say.” She lifted her eyes to Diarmid’s, raising her brows tauntingly.

His suggestive grin widened as he leaned closer. “It isn’t the size of the weapon but the caliber of the ammunition that does the job. I can assure you, my shot can do any job you need doing.”

Miki couldn’t stop a flirtatious laugh from escaping. “I’ll let you know if I have any jobs I need you to do for me, Lieutenant.”

“I can think of one or two I’d be happy to volunteer for.” Diarmid took the weapon from her hands, reloaded it and reseated it in his holster.


“Really.” Diarmid leaned toward her to nuzzle her neck, taking a deep breath of her scent. He nibbled her earlobe. “I can show you how to shoot a weapon, how to clean it, and I think we’d both enjoy the process of holstering it deeply and thoroughly. Over and over.”

“You don’t just put it in once and leave it there?”

“Oh no. You have to slide it in and out to make sure it’s seated just right. Do you want me to teach you?”

Miki groaned arching toward him, sliding her hands over his chest and up around his neck. “Yes, I think I might like that part the best,” she whimpered when his hands cupped her bottom lifting her toward his hips.

He slid a leg between her thighs. Miki ground herself against his leg just as he caught her mouth with his. She opened her lips so they could taste one another. His tongue dueled with hers until they were both breathless. Diarmid lifted his head and Miki stroked his cheek softly.

To ease the sexual tension, she joked, “I told you if both of us ate onion rings it would cancel out.”

Diarmid smiled, dropping an affectionate kiss on the tip of her nose. “So you did, but I think we’d better stop now because the security officer on duty is probably tired of staring at the ceiling.”

Miki gasped as she realized there was surveillance in the elevator. “Oh my God.” She found the camera easily and wanted to sink through the floor. She buried her hot face against his shoulder.

Diarmid caught her chin gently in his hand. “Don’t be embarrassed, Mikaela. After all, I’m the one who works here. I can assure you they’ve never seen me seducing a woman in an elevator before.”

Miki giggled. “Poor baby. How will you ever live down the damage to your reputation as a hard-ass?”

Diarmid threw his head back and laughed; Miki felt as if she’d won the lottery. “I’m sure I’ll survive it somehow. You’ll just have to find a way to console me.”

He gave her a wolfish grin, waggling his brows at her then stepped over to the control panel to set the elevator running again. He picked up his kit, winking at her when the doors opened. The reception officer stared at them both, blinking and speechless.

Miki chuckled as Diarmid escorted her down the hall. “So, where are we headed first, Lieutenant?”

“Let’s go visit Vasha in the morgue.”

Sunday, May 10, 2009

No Holds Barred

Sunday's are promo days at Shapeshifter Seductions and even though there isn't a shifter in sight I've been invited to promo my February release from Ellora's Cave. I hope you enjoy it!

by Paris Brandon
Copyright 2009

Here's the blurb:

What's a woman to do when the younger man she can't forget tracks her down after a night of passion, meant only to celebrate her fortieth birthday? If you're Raphella Dotti, you succumb to a year of Sunday morning, long-distanced phone calls with thirty year old Jake Truhorn and end up agreeing to celebrate your next birthday with a week of unbridled, no holds barred, anything goes sex. No problem, right?

Unless you have a few trust issues, gravity challenged breasts, the hips of a Sicilian peasant and are prone to gut wrenching, chest constricting panic attacks. Unless the man you’re spending that week with looks like he walked off the cover of a romance novel and has an agenda that includes Sex Toy Poker, the joys of uninhibited outdoor sex, painting you nude, cellulite and all, a fantasy three-some for two and entrusting him with a heart you’re afraid of losing.

And here's the excerpt!

Ella set her empty champagne flute on the passing waiter's tray. She didn't need champagne to appreciate the large tuxedo-clad Viking stalking across the room but another glass would be all it took to talk her into believing that she, Raphaella Dotti, the handsome Dotti daughter, had put the determined glint in Jake Truhorn's blue-gray eyes.

She'd caught a glimpse of the reclusive young artist's back earlier. His signature dark blond braid trailing between his very broad shoulder blades had fascinated her and then he'd turned around. Tall, muscular and Nordic didn't hurt. Oh yum. And it was her birthday.

He walked past beautiful women in designer dresses who touched him in passing, a group of Fortune 500 donors who'd flocked to the trendy Chicago gallery Snap! to support the local Inner City Youth Center by bidding on donated artwork including New York artist Truhorn's newest mural entitled The Forgotten. He passed a harried tray-laden waiter, deftly snagging a flute of champagne while he still pinned her with his gray-blue gaze.

Happy Birthday to me, Happy birthday to me,
she hummed quiety as her panties dampened.

"You you can't decide what to do next," he said, insinuating the flute into her hand.

The timbre of his voice vibrated through her and her nipples tightened. She couldn't keep the smile off her face. "And you look interesting." And young. Happy Fortieth, Ella!

An hour later she found out just how interesting and young he was while they were enjoying a glass of wine and oysters on the half-shell in one of Chicago's lesser known treasures, the Wine Cellar. Jake was thirty, impressed by her passion for her job as style editor for the local magazine Whimsy and everything from his infectious smile to his velvety voice lulled her into her favorite bit of foreplay--the chase. He was still looking into her eyes and smiling when he suggested a little exercise.

The line charmed her until they actually walked the six blocks to his hotel, his arm around her at her first shiver. The September breeze had nothing to do with her body temperature. A delicious ripple of anticipation and the Viking marauder with the hungry glint in his very determined gaze was what made her pull her black silk shawl tighter.

She thought he'd kiss her in the elevator but his hand barely brushed her fingertips and the little zing was like an electrical shock sizzling through her. When the doors opened he took her hand and drew her down the hall into his room, backing her against the door as he closed it.

Delicious heat radiated from somewhere behind his very starched shirt and the thought that she'd never be cold again slipped through her mind before she could stop it and then his hot insistent mouth was on hers and she stopped thinking.

Have a great day,

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Hello from Paris!

I'm really thrilled to be part of Shapeshifter Seductions! I'm new to the paranormal world, shapeshifters included. Several years ago I had an idea for a shapeshifter novel and I've always loved the big cats so I knew that's where I was headed.

My first jaguar shifter novel, tentatively titled "Blood on the Moon" is a finalist in Passionate Ink's, Stroke of Midnight contest and I couldn't be more thrilled! Passionate Ink is an Erotica Chapter of Romance Writers of America. If RWA is the voice of romance then Passionate Ink is the voice of erotica. They give erotica authors a place to celebrate.

On a personal note, after years having family members shake their heads over my little "hobby" I finally got to tell my mom that I my erotic novella was being published by Ellora's Cave. Something must have gotten lost in the translation because my brother called the next day and his first words were, "What the hell are you writing that I can't read!"

I then explained, very patiently that Ellora's Cave was publishing me electronically. He thought it was cool and asked when he could buy it! My hubby and sons have always been very supportive. In fact, they tell everyone what I do!

Although I'm not new to writing; I've been with RWA for thirteen years, I am new to being published. My first contemporary novella, "No Holds Barred" was published this past February by EC and was the culmination of a life-long dream. This one doesn't have shifters but don't hold that against it!

Hopefully I'll have an update on my shifter novel, soon. very soon.

Happy writing,

Thursday, May 7, 2009

A quick intro, a bit of a ramble and a short little tease...

It's Friday!! The work week has come to an end...Yay! The week-end is just beginning...double Yay!! And it's my turn to blog...Woot!

So I thought I'd do a quick intro, ramble a bit and leave you with a short little tease...

Hi, I'm Serena. I like warm summer days, hot summer nights and sexy men that turn into animals, literally! Huh, that sounds suspiciously like a 70's pick-up line, next thing you know I'll be off on a tangent about Pina Colada's and some deep-seated need to get caught in the rain.


Now if I could get caught doing this in the rain with the hero of my story, well I say deluge!

What else can I tell you about me...

I write paranormal, erotic and contemporary stories. I don't take myself too seriously. And I'm super excited to mention that my book The Challenge, coming soon from Liquid Silver Books, is also a finalist in the Passionate Ink, Stroke of Midnight contest! Photobucket

Well, there you have it, a really small amount of info about me...Check
yeah, erhm, a lot of rambling ~oops~ ...Check
And, Oh the tease...

Marina Jamison is a mystery. As a half-breed shapeshifter, she lives on the fringe of were-jaguar society. Though her love for pride leader Bastian LaRue is forbidden, she finds herself tied to him by a bond stronger than their individual wills, a psychic link born from their one-night stand. When her secret is revealed, she is scorned and excluded. Neither Bastian nor the pride can accept a half-breed queen.

She was in trouble.

Something changed her two years ago. Their first night together had been out of control. He’d dominated her, spanked her, and brought her release after erotic release. Somewhere amidst the orgasms, she’d formed a connection. She could sense his emotions. Her body tingled with sensations that were not her own, but his. Impressions of ownership flowed into her, marking her as his, and in the end what had she done? Rather than running, as any sane woman over her head would, she’d reveled in the attention and begged for more.

Only when he’d fallen into a much-needed sleep had she hobbled away, sick with the knowledge that her one-night stand had gone drastically wrong. Two things became clear as she’d left the warmth and safety of his arms: one, a single night of sex with Bastian ruined her for any other man, human or shifter, and two, she’d become strangely attached to him.

Thankfully, the bike’s rumbling pipes covered the sob slipping past the barrier of her lips. No doubt about it, she was in trouble.

Marina tightened her hold as the bike shot onto a familiar dirt drive leading to his cabin. Thighs wide, her bare flesh nestled the top of his ass and the vibration of the bike drove her arousal higher. How typical of her to be both afraid and aroused at the same time.

The tease...Check
Have a great week-end everyone!

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Getting Vampy

Hi’yall, I’m the vampire writer of the group. Actually, the hero of my first book is a gargoyle, the sworn enemy of the vampires by blood and battle, but after I wrote “The End,” my vampire villains wouldn’t let me go.

When I started writing The Combat I was a Stokerist. Everything I knew about vampires I’d I learned on t.v. And that’s a pretty confusing smorgasbord of facts. I stuck to my Bram Stoker roots; the vampire is the villain. He tries to seduce the heroine away from her true hero.

So when I wrote The Combat, I gave my heroine Gabrielle her own hero; a Guardian protector. He’s a gargoyle who comes awake when called to protect an innocent. I wanted to write a scary story, and vampires provided a perfectly horrifying bad guy.

But that didn’t stop me from having problems. Other than the whole “I vant to suck your blood” and “sunlight will make me burst into flames” thing, I felt a little bit lost when it came to writing my vampires. Could they eat garlic? Touch silver? And what about their physical form?

I consulted two girlfriends who are die-hard Buffy fans. What do you call it when a vampire gets all evil looking? Is this his demon form? Is he technically considered a demon when he gets all “vampy” as my friends call it?

My husband and I are huge fans of Reaper. I absolutely love Sam, Andy, Ben, Sock, and whoever cast Ray Wise as the devil is absolutely brilliant. Ben’s girlfriend in season two is a demon--not a vampire, but a true demon. She’s a fallen angel, and a shapeshifter who takes the form of a really cute girl, but her demon form is quite monstrous. So if demons are technically fallen angels, what do you call a vampire when he gets all eviled-out?

These may sound like unimportant issues, but when you’re trying to write a book (that turns into three books) and keep your facts straight, you gotta know what you’re talking about.

Because vampires have always been bad guys in my world (and gave me nightmares as a kid) writing a book where a vampire wasn’t a bad guy took some effort. But The Combat broke me in, and The Collision was born. Vampires are still bad boys and it takes a special kind of woman to match them, but thanks to romance novels and HBO’s True Blood, I’m beginning to see the appeal.

Vampire novels are hugely popular, so I’m curious to hear what fans of romantic fiction think. Who are your favorite authors, and what do they call their vamps? What are your favorite vampire traits? What is plausible to you, and what isn’t? What do you want to see in your next vampire hero?

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

First, the Red Lioness

Meow-greetings, everyone. Since this is my very first bloggie with our brand spanking new... *and I’m certain some of our authors have sexy spanking scenes in their books*... purring-back on topic, my lovely kittens, I’ll begin with my very first e-published novella available from the wonderful Liquid Silver Books.
RED LIONESS TAMED is also my first shapeshifter story. True, I have tons o’ WIPs which features some form of shapeshifting, including a goddess who can transform into any animal she desires... but, tail-flicking I digress again... Sun Rocket Kahoqua, my heroine, has a human form, a cat-human form and she can shift into full lioness. Not to mention if she’s sexually aroused she shifts her into ‘gotta-mate’ catwoman form, as seen depicted on the cover art.
The cover art, by the exceptionally talented painter, David Burton, is a story unto itself, and was one of most fun parts in getting Red Lioness ready for publication. David spent a lot of time and energy painting my red lioness girl just right. She’s so perfect it’s as if she stepped out of my imagination and onto his paint brush. I get the happy shivers every time I look at my red lioness woman with her tassel tail.
This action, sci fi story of seduction in space was an absolute blast to write. Sun Rocket is a kickass, ball-busting, chase-down-the-bad-cats woman who suddenly finds herself trapped by the hero, Captain Draxen Z, a space-faring loner, who is all about protecting his homeworld.
Yowl-enough said... here’s the intro, blurb and an excerpt.

Intro ~

If yer partial to a futuristic adventurous romp of lust and love on the high celestial seas of space...if you have a yen for those cat shifter types, lament no longer...
And watch out if yer a bad kitty shifter roaming the galactic ports, there’s a kick-ass Lioness on your fleeing furry tail.
Year 3051, the Earth calendar used on Terra-Mars, a terra-formed moon orbiting Mars, the home world of ‘Sun Rocket’ Kahoqua of the Windgrass Clan.

Blurb ~

What does a lioness shifter do when she's suddenly trapped in an unknown space cruiser's cargo hold? Then, despite her ability to savagely defend herself, she's trapped beneath the handsome human Captain. And next, cat-scratching ridiculously, she finds herself carnal-trapped, and meow yowl! bound by leather straps in his bed?
Answer: She fights tooth and claw. Problem: The loner Captain is nova-hot at seducing her.

Chapter One excerpt:

"Frax! My brain feels like it’s been spun out of cobwebs," Sun Rocket muttered. She squeezed her eyelids open and shut several times, shifting slightly on the hard metallic surface. Expelling a breath, she attempted to open her eyes. "Frax it to the sun! More cobwebs," she angrily complained.

Pressing her hand over her eyes, she sniffed carefully. Sterile, her surroundings, except for harmless micro dust--except for her--about half a day away from a bath or a good tongue licking. Experimentally she shoved with her foot. Half her usual body weight. She was probably inside some cargo hold, orbiting or...

Sun Rocket shot up to a sitting position. Her head spun at some undefined warp speed. Blinking rapidly, she forced one eye to remain open, seeing ubiquitous gray cargo containers randomly stacked around her. "How the friggin’ frax...?"
She fought to stand upright, assisted by the lessened gravity, and crashed into a tall stack of empty containers. Stumbling into more containers, she kicked at them, managing to knock them out of her way while her head whirled like a new-forming galaxy.

"Not like there’s going to be a port window in here," she muttered derisively. Both eyes open now, she watched the wall circle before her impaired vision like a dimensional portal.

Steadier and steadier on her feet, her brain cobwebs clearing, she automatically reached for her left flank phase pistol. Gone! "Dang the villain! Of course!" she reminded herself. All her weapons would have been stripped during transport into the cargo hold by the beam.

What cargo hold?

Frustrated, wild, she lashed out at the nearest containers with her combat-trained feet--scattering them, semi-floating them away from her. Spying a dark, glass-looking monitor at the top of thehold, Sun Rocket shoved the nearest containers beneath it. Rapidly she threw containers together like a tower. Heedlessly she leapt up the huge makeshift steps, leaned her palms against the wall. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to examine the convex reddish monitor--not a type she knew.
"Get down from there!" a highly irritated male voice commanded in third galactic vernacular.

Wobbling precariously, Sun Rocket knelt on one knee. "Not like I can’t land on my feet like a cat," she murmured, amused for an instant. Gazing down toward the voice’s origin, she saw the fierce male’s flowing locks, well past his shoulders--dark red amber. The humanoid-appearing male glared up at her, hands planted on his hips like a holo-romance buccaneer. From her view, the rest of him could be compared favorably to a lean, yet beautifully muscled hero. Even his garments--a style unknown to her in her far-flung galactic travels tracking down, taking in or eliminating cat shifters who had gone bad--even his garments were reminiscent of swashbuckling ancient Earth.

"Who are you?" she called down to him, resting on her haunches. It was her good luck moon, she was still in human form. Not every galactic race "appreciated" feline shifters. To put it tuna-fish mildly.

"This is my vessel. Get down now!"

Sun Rocket was surprised smoke didn’t billow forth from his ears and his mouth. If he’d been a dragon shifter--well, she could be coughing out lungfuls of nasty smoke.

"You failed to answer my question," she flung down to him, tensed herself to do battle.
Ominously he pressed his belt, eliminating the gravity field. Her tower of containers floated, as she now floated, helpless. The next moment she fell downward, the gravity restored. Forcing herself not to shift, and land on her four cat paws, Sun Rocket twisted to land in a roll.

For the entire first chapter ~ RED LIONESS TAMED.

Have a Merry Month of May
And may your most romantic dreams come true...


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Sun Rocket & Captain Draxen Z invite you to read their love story ~
RED LIONESS TAMED ~ Lioness shifter lost in space with a loner captain who will do anything to keep her, even seduction by leather ~ *5 Flowers* from Book Cravers ~ Available from Liquid Silver Books, Molten Silver ~ ~ a spicy sci fi ~ ~

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Sun morning snip-it...

So I couldn't resist starting my Sunday with a snip-it of my upcoming book, The Challenge. See, I've been playing over at the LSB forum as well as reading some awesome free reads on our friend Savanna's blog. ~sigh~ Do stop by and check them out, you won't be sorry...

Anyway, I decided to post a little tease of my own and where better than the Shapeshifter blog.... Enjoy!

The smell of sunshine and sex rolled him. Sounds dimmed and lights flashed brighter. His stomach hit the floor with his body soon to follow if he didn’t do something quickly.

“Bast, you okay? You’re looking pale, dude.”

“Yeah.” No, he wasn’t all right. His freaking knees were weak. “Uh, Gun, I’ll need you to smooth things over with the casino manager, ‘kay?” At least one body part didn’t share the absurd weakness of his knees—he was half-hard from the delicious smell of a woman made only for him.

“Sure, no sweat, I’ll play nice to the casino manager. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” His response came with a bit more gravel than he’d hoped, but all he could focus on was the smell and getting the other male far away from what was his.

“Solid. I’m out.” Thankfully, the enforcer had paid enough attention to his leader to know when it was time to go. They couldn’t afford to have a go at it here in a public venue.

There was another cat in the pile and she belonged to him. Hell, he’d found his mate at the bottom of a mass of smelly humans, in a noisy casino and miles from pride land. Amazing.

In a flurry of action, he dug into the remaining humans piled before him, moving them and their scents away from the smell of his woman.

“Please. Get. Off. Me.” The husky voice finished the job started by her scent. His cock stretched to full length and swelled fiercely against the zipper of his jeans. If he weren’t careful, he’d be a eunuch before he was a mate. Not a happy thought.

Auburn hair, tangled from the recent struggle, came into view as the last human in the pile fell away. Olive green eyes sparkled as he offered her his hand. A shockwave of sexual heat raged from his balls to his head. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but her pinchable cheeks and real womanly curves spoke of her earthiness. This was the kind of woman able to take a man of his size and cushion him in her femininity; wrap him in her scent and take his breath away only to give it back with her kiss.

“Thank you.” The tips of her fingers barely touched his, but the spark shot clear to his toes and out the top of his head.


Sunshine, sex and human scents flooded his system. The closer he pulled her to him, the greater the smell. The sunshine warmed him. The sex thrilled him, but the human chilled him. Where did the human smell come from? Could she be...?