Friday, April 30, 2010

How Do Your Shifters Celebrate Their Birthdays?

Do they go hog wild and invite everyone in their pack/pride to a party, complete with games of all sorts, food, fun and cake? Is a present required for entry? Are they more circumspect than that and bury themselves far into the woods until the day is officially over? Maybe they grumble and snap at everyone around them?

LeAnn Turone, the jaguar heroine of my current wip, in very much in the circumspect camp. Every year on her special day, she grabs her camera and disappears into the woods in northern Minnesota and captures some of the most beautiful pictures you've ever seen. Creeks, unvisited by human traffic, delicate flowers just sprouting, a doe and fawn nibbling at buds and berries and so much more.

She returns refreshed, her soul renewed and ready to face another year of her life go by.

Her sister Marina, heroine from my first book, The Challenge, on the other hand takes the day in stride. A party is cool and fun for all, presents...heck yeah, and cake is a must! There are no calories or carbs in birthday cake...everyone knows that! ;) But if you ask her, her age you will get the same response. Twenty-nine, again and again.

Now as for their mouth piece, I'm stuck somewhere in the middle. I would love to have the luxury of spending the day renewing my soul and the night to spend celebrating with friends and family...

Like Marina though I will tell you, if you ask, I'm Twenty-nine ~wink~

What about ya'll is there a special way you or your characters like to spend your birthday?

Have a great day!

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Black Tiger in New York City

Arriving from the fresh mountain air of his homeworld, Zurroc paused until the travel ripples ceased. He pulled his black duster closer to his body, reacting to the sudden rage of sound around him.

As fast, the chaos of odors inside Newark airport and the scents of the human crowd hit him full force. Zurroc mentally dialed down the power of his nose, though, not enough to keep him from knowing the content of an individual’s character.

Partially concealed by a pillar, he scanned the immediate area using all of his senses, especially his psi abilities. All clear, as far as known enemies, he moved toward a group departing an airline flight. Imitating the stride of an Earth male, he joined them.

To fit in, he adjusted the shoulder strap of his large satchel like a tourist. At the same time, he scouted for the trouble he knew would come. The swamp-like smell of corrupt security officials guaranteed it.

If it hadn’t been the Equalizer Force’s policy that he follow the common practices of an Earth society, Zurroc would have simply stepped inside her domain, and waited with the stalking patience of his kind.

He’d been sent, in part, to keep a vigilant eye and paw on the tigress woman who twisted his loins into aching knots. She hadn’t dutifully checked in with her contact at the Equalizer Force, an occurrence that happened all too often. He knew, if it hadn’t been for her exemplary performance as an Earth operative, she would have been recalled long ago.

Zurroc silently growled. No matter the ferocity of his missions he couldn’t untie those carnal knots, even though she denied her mating desire for him, always racing from his presence as if he’d set fire to her tail. Oh yeah, he’d like to set her lushly rounded tail on fire with the strength of his furious thrusts taking her dark moist core.

For the longest time he’d tried to dismiss her from his thoughts. Yeah, gnashing fangs, that had worked for him. He might as well have sprang into the heavens and clawed the sun into obedience.

Keeping one eye on the ‘good citizen’ about to rat him out, he ignored his hot-as-the-sun balls, and sauntered in the direction of the corporate barbie doll. She furtively glanced at him before seeking out the nearest security person, a man who looked like he’d taken too many punches to the head.

Speaking quickly, Savior barbie turned, pointing an accusing finger at him. Zurroc continued walking as if he thought about nothing other than retrieving a bag and finding a taxi.

“You. You there, halt,” Melon Head commanded. Grabbing the butt of his sidearm, he chugged his enormous frame toward Zurroc. “I want to talk with you. Stop right where you are.”

Shrugging like his day had taken a bad turn, Zurroc halted in his tracks. Simultaneously, he lasered his gaze on Melon Head. Leaping as tiger toward the man, he mentally eviscerated him. In seconds, he’d planted the image of brutally clawing out his guts.

Melon Head stopped on the proverbial dime, his bulk quivering like a bowl full of jelly. Panic widened his eyes and he stared for an instant, then turned striding away as if he had something important to do. Corporate blond barbie narrowed her gaze at him. Giving her a smug grin, he moved past her.

Just because he felt morally compelled, Zurroc streamed a new field of energy into the airport scanner. Instead of depleting humans of their natural vitality, now everyone would be transformed, becoming ten percent faster, stronger, smarter. He smiled for the cameras as he strode into the weak sunshine, knowing his features would be nothing but a useless blur.

Scenting which taxi he wanted, Zurroc waved it toward him, and climbed in quickly. “Csentauri,” the woman driver spoke as a way of introducing herself. “Ryloth,” Zurroc identified his home solar system for her. From that point on they spoke telepathically.

After presenting the Csentauri woman with a jewel from his world, one that would heighten her powers, Zurroc unfolded his frame from the backseat of the taxi. He took long moments to survey the outside of the dilapidated warehouse that served as the isolated lair for his tigress. And, she was his, he’d decided that before agreeing to this assignment.

Since everything remained hidden from surveillance by the cloud-like field she’d cast over the building, he bounded up the steel steps. Knowing she wasn’t present, he entered and sniffed for when she’d left, not six hours prior.

Dropping the satchel, he masked his presence from her. No, he sure as fang-hell, wasn’t taking chance one his tigress woman would act on impulse and race away from him. No, not this time. Drawing in her most subtle fragrances, he prowled through her domain, a colorful mosaic of furnishings.

Her casual sloppiness let him know she felt at home here. Lucille, he rumbled a laugh at the name his tigress had chosen for New York City. Once he’d unpacked and made himself at home, Zurroc roamed from room to room straightening as pleased him. That is, until he heard her fast stealthy leap up the steps.

Prepared to spring, he lounged against the doorframe, waiting. She moved inward, and he sensed her weariness. She’d exhausted herself in the use of her powers. He’d find out precisely how later.

“Kytaira.” He pleasurably tasted her name as he spoke it.

“You!” She whirled on him. “Why are you here?” A silent snarl curled one side her lips before she rushed for the closed door.

Zurroc sidestepped in front of her, stopping her with his sheer size. He didn’t attempt to touch her, or capture her against him. She didn’t fight to escape, knowing it would be to her disadvantage.

“I didn’t contact, did I?” she murmured.

“The Equalizer Force isn’t happy. They sent me to be your partner.”

“No.” She backed away.



Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls ~ In Print
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ In Print
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes ~ In Print
Stallion of Ash and Flame ~ In Print
Branded by the Texans ~ Coming in August 2010 from Siren-BookStrand

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Plugging Away

By Pat Cunningham
(I'm going back to work on Monday, so here's another Saturday post. Just pretend it's Monday morning.)

I’m not good at self-promotion. I don’t know a thing about marketing. I don’t have a website or even a Facebook page. When it comes to tooting my own horn, I’m pretty much tone deaf.
This is not how one sells copies when one is writing for an ebook publisher.
It finally occurred to me that maybe I should do something to drum up some publicity. I mentioned possible coverage to a local reporter I know and got a tepid response. The library bulletin board only posts non-profit info. Maybe if they saw my royalty figures I could qualify.
However, they’re not the only fish in the sea, or the only bulletin board in the county. There are at least half a dozen grocery stores within 5 miles of my house, and each one features a community bulletin board for advertising everything from yard sales to church breakfasts. That’s when it hit me: why not take advantage? If people can use these things to sell exercise bikes, pickup trucks and those puppies the dog had under the porch, why not a novel?
So the other day I made the rounds with copies of my cover art and the website info. So far I’m five for five. To be honest, I was rather surprised at the acceptance rate. Lancaster County, Pennsylvania isn’t exactly a reading community. One of our school districts banned Harry Potter because they said the books promote witchcraft. I doubt if the Amish are interested in paranormal romances, but you never know.
At any rate, I gave it a shot. Did it do any good? Guess we’ll find out. I’ll keep you posted. As for the library, I intend to donate a copy to them as soon as it comes out in print. I typed the electronic version on their system, I figure I owe them something.
Having done my bit for publicity, now I’m trolling for advice. How do you promote your books? What’s the most unique thing you’ve done to sell copies? How’d it work out? Why aren’t we all rich and famous yet?
I’ll have to figure out something new for my next one, the M/M with the angel and the demon. I don’t think the Amish are ready for that yet.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Playlist Personalities

Good Friday morning all,
This last week as been very musically oriented for me.  Every day I've heard songs that bring back such vivid memories of my past.  Some were from when I was little and my parent seemed so young and wild.  Others were from my crazy teen years when every love was the deepest and every heartbreak the remember those times? ;)

So it got me thinking  about my wip.  I'm nearing the end of my rough draft and thought it would a good time to go back and re-listen to my playlist for each character.  I also thought it would be fun to here goes.  Just a few of the songs to tell you a bit of each person.

LeAnn - She is my soft, romantic music girl.  Rarely does she ask for something hard and rocking.

I Am A Rock by Simon & Garfunkel
Let Your Love Flow by The Bellamy Brothers
You're So Vain by Carly Simon
Shambala by Three Dog Night

Rick - Rick is my rocker.  He likes it hard and sometimes a little dirty, but will always let LeAnn change the channel if she desires.

I Alone by Live
Don't Misunderstand Me by Rossington-Collins Band
Sick As A Dog by Aerosmith
Hangman Jury by Aerosmith

Trent - He's my naughty boy and always trying to get a rise out of LeAnn with his musical choices.

I'm So Alive by Love and Rockets
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap by AC/DC
Pretty Vegas by INXS
Renegade by Styx

What about you guys?  Any favorite songs for you or your characters that bring back special memories?
Have a great weekend.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

RT is NEXT WEEK! Time to panic...

The Romantic Times Booklover's Convention is next week. I'm not ready. I feel like there's a million things I should be doing, yet I have little to no time in which to do it.

I've figured out what I'm taking for swag for the EC party - those little items on goody table - and display holders. I've figured out which costumes I'm going to take and I have a faboo red dress for the EC "Paint the Town Red" party. I have many pairs of comfortable shoes (some are even kind of cute). I have a confirmation on my room (I'm AT the conference hotel) and a super room mate. I'm planning to meet my crit partner - Paris Brandon - at RT. As well as renew many friendships with fellow EC authors that I met at Romanticon last year.

What am I missing? I feel like I should be doing something. Planning something. Finishing something.

So have any of you been to RT before? What were you working on right before you attended? Did you have this same feeling of "I should be doing something" that I do?

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Flying in for a quick post!

I've been partying so hard all week in celebration of my release of Claiming Lady Marianne from Ellora's Cave the time almost got away from me.

I know I've had several ideas of what kind of shapeshifter I'd be if I could shift shape, and yesterday I changed my mind again. I was out walking on my lunch hour yesterday and it was a blustery day here in California, the sky a churning cauldron threatening rain. Two hawks were flying about over the open acre or two where there isn't any housing at the moment, and I was struck with powerful envy. Not just because they can fly, although that does inspire great jealousy in me. I've always wanted to fly.

No, I was envious because of the freedom I saw these two carnivorous birds of prey sharing. They could fly off wherever they wanted. Of course wild animals live a dangerous life, and their next meal is never guaranteed, but then again, neither is mine. And I could get splattered in a car accident at any moment. So we all face our dangers. But the thing that made me most envious was their sexual freedom. Imagine having a complete lack of propriety. You could fly off and have sex anywhere you wanted, any time you wanted, and it wouldn't matter where you were, or who was watching.

Now that's freedom.

I'm off again to the Claiming Lady Marianne release party! See you next week, same hawk channel, same hawk time.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Tigress Shapeshifter... the deliciousness of the kill

Greetings, shapeshifter lovers. Per usual, I got carried away writing this particular scene. But, heck, it’s a frustrating time on the planet. Certainly, the financial stress of the times demands some fictional relief.

Warning ~ X-RATED! Gratuitous violence ahead. Grrrrrrrrrrrr...

Year of the Super Cat

Bankster. The odor of fraud clung to him like fresh dung. I sniff again, just to get an exact location. Yep, there’s the stink of spoiled meat. His demon nature is ewe-ick obvious.

On stealthy feet, despite my tall, black leather boots with chains, I stalk my natural prey. Entering the glass and steel building from the mean streets of the Big Apple, I survey my surroundings and glance over the sad-faced humans.

In line, they cower waiting to do their transactions. The little people, they reek of fear, of despair. I can’t help them individually. I can hunt down those who prey upon them as if they are worth less than a piece of stale moldy bread. When, truth to the Great Goddess, they are stars, each one a diamond sparkling blaze.

They light up the heavens.

Languidly stroking my hand onto my hip, I sway like a sex kitten toward the armed guard, only because he stands between me and the elevator. “ID,” he demands, palming the butt of his holstered gun. His gaze lasciviously oozes up and down my body, once he checks for the plastic badge that should be hanging around my neck.

I pause, bending some to show off my cleavage. “No ID. I have an appointment.” My breathless voices lingers in the air between us. No surprise, the size of his gut could feed a large litter of kittens. I ignore it, blink, then smile at him. Through the hooded slit of my eyes, I see his body’s matrix and note his weaknesses.

“You need an ID. I can’t let you on the elevator.”

I grin like a minx out for a good time. “Not even for a blow job?”

I laugh inside at the salacious bulge of his eyeballs, at the drool leaking from the corners of his the pitiful rise of his penis. Then, I claw his mind. A twist here, a prick there.

“Go on up. Must have missed your ID.” He waits for me to issue another carnal invitation.

Breezing past him, I enter the dull shiny confines of the elevator. I shrug and give him *I’m just a clueless goodtimes girl* wave before the doors slide shut. Alone, I put on a tame show for the all-seeing eye of the cameras, three of them, by stepping forward to check the panel. After a moment, I press the floor number I want, instead of tripping the mechanism with the woo-woo power of my mind.

What to do with the cameras? I tap my lips with one finger, my long blood-red nail not much contrast against my red-lipsticked mouth. Since I don’t want to change my appearance... way too much energy expended, I decide to glitch the electronics, just enough to make me unrecognizable.

Once I reach the 29th floor, the doors glide open soundlessly. A sumptuous roomscape meets my gaze, the kind that demonstrates obscene wealth, not a mere enjoyment of luxury. I slink forward silently, but like a fifties fashion model.

The women and men guarding the gate to the inner sanctum stare for an instant. I have no time to bother with the niceties, so I blanket them with an energy field that temporarily switches off their brains... you know, like unplugging a computer. Down they fall, landing on the thick, thick carpet.

Following the maggot-rotten stench of my prey, I find Mr. Snob-Trendy Suit. He’s standing behind his desk pressing a security button over and over. “Who are you?” he imperiously demands.

I fasten my predator’s gaze on him. From between his pale flaccid eyelids, his sick little eyes gleam like a petty burglar’s flashlight.

“Obviously, no one you know.” I prowl toward him, my gait becoming ever more primitive. To be somewhat fair, I say, “I am now disengaging your security grid. If you agree to change your diabolical ways, I will spare you. If not...” I leave my words hanging.

“What do you mean, bitch?” His gruff bravado covers his terror. He realizes I have cut him off from his army of security. All the tiny lights on his control panel have vanished.

I halt not ten feet from the arrogant bag of pus. “Bitch?” I smile sweetly, yet with a menace that causes him to inhale sharply and take a step back. “I consider that a lovely compliment coming from you.”

He sneers. Nothing uglier than a sneering corporate demon. I arch my brows, then give my cap of hair a shake. “My goodness, aren’t we attractive? How many whores a week do you fuck? Oops,” I stare at his crotch, “does that small pecker even do the job without the little blue pill?” I raise my gaze, penetrating his useless soul like a fang sliding through a ripe avocado. I love avocados. “Or, is it the boys you prefer?”

“Is that what you came for? A good long fuck, bitch? Bend over. I’ll give your cunt all it can handle, bleed the pink to raw.”

I roar a short laugh, sheer black amusement at his expense. I advance. He backs away. Stalking the white collar badass, I stop not a foot from his so-called power desk. His back is now against the proverbial wall. His hands seek anything to seize onto.

Silkily I snarl, “My request is simple. Stop manipulating the stock market and make amends to all those you’ve stolen from.”

He laughs, no, he guffaws as I if my words are insane. I unsheathe my claws and bare my teeth like a tigress. Oh, wait, I am a tigress.

The instant his maniacal laughter ceases, I ask, “May I consider that a ‘no’?”

“No? Hell, no!” He glowers, but not impressively. “What? Am I shit gone crazy? You’re one woman. A squad of hit men would take my ass down before I could step out of the building.”

I shrug one shoulder. “So not my problem. Or, should I say, so not my bed to lie in.” I bend at the waist and unbuckle my boots. No use ruining them, or any of my garments. Slipping them off quickly, I rise to find a Glock pointed at me. Wow, well, there’s a big *life in the jungle city* surprise.

With one swipe of my hand I knock it away, then listen to it clatter on the desk’s surface, and slide onto the floor.

“Oh God,” he shrinks back, “are those real claws?” He stares from my hand to my face. The whites of his eyes remind me of a cartoon scaredy-cat.

“Would you like a strip show?” I shimmy my purple miniskirt down my thighs. Used to managing with my claws, I take my tiny undies with it, and step free.

“Oh, God.” He pants like a goner in a slasher horror movie.

I slip off my black leather jacket, dropping it on top of my boots. “What do you think?” I don’t bother with a taunting smile, but simply tug my lycra-stretch tank top over my head, and give it a toss from the end of one claw.

“What are you going to do?” His hoarse voice cracks.

“Would you mind running for the door? You know, it sorta gets the predator instincts...”

He takes off before I can finish, running like he probably did in high school when he carried the football, the pigskin for the team. My body flows toward him, elongating, furring... shifting to ferocious beast.

In moments I’m upon him, my claws sinking into his putrid too-soft flesh. My fangs grip the back of his neck. I shake, digging them deeper, crunching fragile bones... snap, snap, snap. With a fury that is liberating, my front claws rip and tear away hunks of his pathetic body. The blood spurts, flying and pouring gloriously. I lose myself in the deliciousness of the kill.

All too soon, it’s over. I lick my chops and back away until my flipping tail tip strikes the side of the desk. Morphing into my human body swiftly, I cleanse away his dung-stinking remains as well. I’ve perfected the art. Necessity is the mother tigress of invention... well, you get the picture. I need to leave fast.

Donning my clothes, I pull on my boots and quickly stride for his tech-advanced computer. No, this ain’t your home PC or Apple. Closing my eyes, I scan the crystal-chip system and seconds later I’ve dumped billions into the bank accounts of millions.

“Good luck,” I whisper to all the little people. Heading for his hidden private elevator, I pause long enough to smile and enjoy the sight of his sloppy joe demise.



Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls ~ In Print
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ In Print
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes ~ In Print
Stallion of Ash and Flame ~ In Print
Branded by the Texans ~ Coming in August 2010 from Siren-BookStrand

Monday, April 19, 2010

Friend or Food?

By Pat Cunningham

It shouldn't come as much of a shock that the shifter species getting all the face time in novels are predators -- alpha wolves, powerful cats big and little, the occasional coyote or bear. As the genre continues to expand I'm sure we can expect to see herbivorous species (ahem) horn in on the preds' literary territory. Horses are already out there, and deer have been mentioned. There's no reason a werestag can't be as tough and sexy as a wolf or a tiger, vegan or not. And when he goes into rut -- whoa baby.

So what do werepredators think about herbivorous encroachment on their turf? Would a werewolf treat a werehorse the way he would a human, with grudging tolerance or avoidance? Or do the predator/prey instintcts still apply?

I'm not sure if this matter's been addressed yet in print since there aren't that many herbie shifters out there. I doubt if grass-eaters fully trust meat-eaters. Or maybe the prevalence of predator shifters and lack of prey shifters answers that question right there.

Which brings up the obvious: what happens when a predator shifter and a prey-species shifter find themselves attracted to each other in their human forms? Like I said, those werestags are built, and horny as all get out. Their behavior would be alpha enough to catch a she-wolf's attention. Bet it get loud in the bedroom. But -- what happens when he changes form, and his scent goes from hot male to hot meat? Could the wolf restrain herself? This scenario holds for most combos, though an elephant would have a definite survival advantage.

Seems there's plenty of life left in the shifter genre and plenty of new avenues for exploration. Happy writing!

* * *

Good news -- Siren/BookStrand's accepted my novella "Bad Boys." It's a M/M comedy about an angel and a demon who develop the hots for each other. I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for this. Anybody want me to save them a seat?

Friday, April 16, 2010

Are You A Honey, A Sweetheart Or Rawr, A Kitten?

So, pet names, do you love them or do they make you want to rip your eardrums out?

Me, I love them.  I use them in both real life and in my writing.  In my current WIP, Rick, my alpha extraordinaire, calls the heroine a kitten and I kid you not, every time I hear him say it I get weak in the knees. 

Check it out...
Rick's fingers sunk deep, loosening the elastic band holding her hair hostage while adjusting the angle of her head for the deepening of his kiss.
“Still not enough, kitten, I need more of your soft, pink lips. First these…” He emphasized his point with soft gentle kisses to each lip. “…then the other.”
Oh yeah, Rick has given me some yes, sir moments indeed with his use of pet names.  ;)

Another user of the pet name that never failed to curl my toes was Spike.  Whenever he rambled on with the use of 'pet' I was a goner.  That little "Hello, Pet." done in an English accent, was just too delish!

So tell me, do you have a favorite pet name?  Do any of your characters have a pet name they brought with them from the land of newly born, and if so, what are they?

Have a great Friday!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

I love you…if you can beat these other women

Huh? Um, no thank you.

Do all these bachelor/bachelorette dating shows it seem strange to anyone else? “Date My Mom”, “A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila”, “Flavor of Love”, “Rock of Love with Bret Michaels” and “Blind Date”, all originating from “Joe Millionaire” or if you want to look back even farther, “The Dating Game” from the 1970’s.

I looked around on the internet this morning and found one blog user who believes this picking from a group and fast voting-off of “contestants” is influencing people, and not in a good way.

Since when did it become okay to peruse through a stable of candidates as if you’re buying horseflesh? To make a passel of women (or men) compete for you in ridiculous and humiliating tests? Okay, I get that it’s hard to find your perfect soul mate, but come on! If you don’t show respect for the person you’re dating, they won’t show respect for you.  

As a romance writer, I’m especially galled by this whole ideology. Maybe it’s because of my nature that I am a romance writer.

But am I different than most women when I say I want my man to take one look at me and know he has to have me? To be fulfilled and delighted by me alone? To plan special dinners and romantic getaways because he just can’t get enough of me?

All I can say is I’m happy I’m married to the love of my life because I would not survive in today’s dating world. And thank God for romance novels.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Hellhounds Do Dance

Admittedly, my mind is in a muddle. It was a long draining day, yesterday, and, so far, inspiration for a bloggie has only arrived like the splattering raindrops of a storm that never actually develops, but merely threatens big things to come.

Okay, what about all of my shapeshifter WIPs? All of my notes on various shapeshifters populating Earth in legend and lore? What about my hellhounds, Zol and Zin, who star in Kandy Apple for Halloween?

Side note: those two heroes are cracking me up. Yes, I figured I’d attempt to finish their story for Halloween. Will it happen? I have no clue, given everything authorly coming down the pike and all of the unexpected interruptions of life. But, heck, I’m giving it the ole ra-ra college try.

Oh, why not? Here’s the section I worked on last ~

“We want to lick Kandy Apple for Halloween,” they rasped together.

Their voices were such polished restraint, Kandace didn’t spin around and leave. She didn’t gaze directly at them, either. We, they’d said we. Nope, she wasn’t going down that rabbit hole by asking what they meant.

Dammit, hole. Obviously, they both wanted her sex hole. No wonder those women had dreamy expressions. Two, two, at once. Oh, god, why was she remembering the stupid Doublemint twins? Okay, she had seen a YouTube vid of the old commercial recently because a friend had e-mailed it.

“No, you are not licking this Kandy Apple for Halloween. I’ll send you some real candy apples.”

Why were her feet super-glued to the floor? Hell, why did her skin burn with what could only be described as raunchy desire? Frakking-crap, why didn’t one of them say something before she crushed her glass? “I believe I’m in need of another drink.”

Zin gently relieved her of the glass. “I’ll be right back, Kandace.” Pivoting with languid grace, he moved away.

“We’ve frightened you. That wasn’t our intention.” Zol extended his hand in invitation. “Care to dance, Kandace? The music has begun.”

“If you tell me what you meant by Enduoir witch.”

Yep, my Hellhound Heroes do dance with the sophisticated and debonair style of Cary Grant. They’re also slavering hellbeasts who punish evildoers and bring them to their master, Hades, for a tortuous stay in the Underworld.


Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls ~ In Print
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ In Print
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes ~ In Print
Stallion of Ash and Flame ~ In Print
Branded by the Texans ~ Coming in August 2010 from Siren-BookStrand

Monday, April 12, 2010

When Species Collide

By Pat Cunningham
This one comes courtesy of Pennsylvania Game News magazine, of all places. Coyotes aren’t native to Pennsylvania; the state was a wolf-only zone until around the 1890s. Over the last 60 years or so, however, a coyote-like predator slipped into PA and made itself at home. The Eastern coyote can be found in Pennsylvania, Ohio, New York, the New England states and probably the Jersey Shore in August, along with the rest of the beach bums. Why should seagulls get to do all the scavenging?
So where did it come from? It’s not a typical Western coyote. It’s larger, about 10-15 pounds heavier, and comes in different colors and markings and even thickness of fur. It likes forests, unlike the Western’s preference for wide open spaces, and its larger skull size is well-adapted for killing deer. Suspecting dalliances with domestic or feral dogs, scientists tested the DNA of almost 700 animals. To their surprise they found next to no dog genes but instead a healthy smattering of wolf. Sometime in the last 100 years some wandering coyotes trekking east encountered Great Lakes and Canadian wolves headed south, and a new hybrid species resulted. Genetically it’s more coyote than wolf, bigger than its ancestors but just as sneaky. Prey animals and humans beware.
This opens up all sorts of story possibilities. I had my werewolves and werecoyotes set up as rivals and mistrustful of each other, but at the same time I established the existence of wolf-coyote hybrids. I love it when I guess right.
So what about other species mingling? Every other novel is the story of some human or half-human getting it on with a shifter. Clearly the mating part works and works well no matter what the species. But can they breed? Will the offspring be fertile, or are we talking a whole new definition of “mule”? Wolves and coyotes are close enough genetically for fertile cross-breeding. Is that true of shifters and humans? If so, given the number of books describing the proliferation of pairings, we could be looking at a brand new species. Maybe my postulation of “shifter-Americans” wasn’t so far off the mark.
Okay, humans and shifters can breed, and the kids can reproduce in turn. What about shifter and shifter? We talked about dogs and cats (wolves and lynxes? Coyotes and cougars?) before. They can mate, but I doubt if they can breed. What about jaguars and cougars? Lynxes and lions? I’ll bet a werehorse and an African zebra shifter could produce viable offspring. And God help us if a coyote hooks up with a kitsune, or Japanese trickster/fox. Their kids would take the first five slots on the 10 Most Wanted list.
Okay, your turn. What combos have you come up with? What would the kids be like? Sterile mutations or the forerunners of a new breed? Let’s hear what’s out there, and what you’ve got cooking. Mr. Spock is tired of being the world’s most famous half-breed and is looking for company.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

The Domino Effect

Writers know that for every action you put on the page you need a reaction. If you have a character behaving recklessly, that character will undoubtedly suffer consequences. They, in a sense, fall down and then spend the rest of the story trying to regain a former if not superior position.

I know that this part of fiction actually mimics real life but I foolishly convinced myself these past couple of months that I could spend another hour writing when I felt the twinges that marked another trip to the chiropractor and my eyes were so blood-shot that I looked like I'd been partying for a week.

So instead of writing this week, I'll be exercising my bad back and not staring at a computer screen until my strained eyes are better.

Have a great week!

Friday, April 9, 2010

Five Full Proof Ways To Attract A Shapeshifter

1. Learn to cook: Your grandma may have said, a way to a mans heart is through his stomach, well that was never more true than when it comes to shifters. The animal inside loves to eat. Focus on your proteins, meats work the best especially when only lightly seared.

2. Know your scents: Animals have a fantastic sense of smell and they love to use it. So when attempting to attract your very own shifter, think sex. A touch of pheromone will go a long way to impress.

3. Dress to impress: Here's your chance to wave the red flag so to speak. Think showgirl on the inside with a sexy set of unmentionables and polished perfection on the outside with an perfectly pressed outfit that just begs to be rumpled. Your shifter won't be able to resist.

4. Say no: Once you've caught the elusive beasts attention, remember to use this simple one syllable word. No. It may seem counter productive to say no once you've snared him/her, but if you're looking for something permanent, this will help. The animal inside does not like to be thwarted. A no is like a double dog dare. ;)

5. Run: By now, if you've followed each of the above steps, you should be dealing with a randy and willing shifter. Yay you! But if you want to seal the deal in an unforgettable way, run. Channel your inner prey and hey, send me a thank you card in the morning!


How about you, any thoughts on how to attract your very own shifter? Let us know.

Have a great weekend

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Electrical Tape: Don’t leave home without it

As a writer of erotic romance, there is a lot of “risqué” stuff I’ll write about, and talk about. Lets face it, erotic romance writers know how to push the bar. But there are some things that just aren’t sexy, erotic or fun, no matter how you write them.

I guess lawyers know how to push the bar too. I sat in front of my computer with my mouth hanging open when I read this in the article about the newscaster Erin Andrews peeping Tom case:

(Source: Mike Robinson, Huffington Post) "I don't think he's even had a traffic ticket," said lawyer Rick Beuke of his client, Michael David Barrett. "He's as regular a guy as you'll ever meet – a great friend."

Okay, Mr Beuke? If you travel to a hotel room with a special eyepiece to peer through peepholes from the outside of the door- YOU ARE NOT A REGULAR GUY. You are Johnny Knoxville at 17 years old. You’re a creepy perv. You are an asshole out to harm other human beings. You’re a stalker who deserves to go to jail.

“Barrett cried as he addressed Andrews in court, saying he would spend the rest of his life regaining the respect of his friends and family and atoning for his mistakes...” (LINDA DEUTSCH, SF Examiner)

Now that’s funny.

The next time I go to sprawl mart, I’m buying a cheap roll of black electrical tape and tossing it into my suitcase. Half an inch taped over the peep hole should do the trick. I have a feeling Erin Andrews is going to do the same.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Speed Mating Instead of Speed Dating

Tuesday greetings, shapeshifter lovers, since I couldn’t follow in Pat Cunningham’s cleverly humorous and incredible footsteps, I created an OtherWorld scene that could be called Speed Mating instead of Speed Dating.

Sylenna reclined against the back of the sturdy, but exquisitely comfortable chair. Playing the unavailable temptress because it pleased her, she propped one of her long shapely legs on the opposite chair. Languidly, she shook her head, tumbling her dark cinnamon-colored hair. The lush waves fell to her blatantly round butt, displayed by a glistening film of cocoa brown fabric.

Taking her time, she scanned the gold-gleaming interior of the upscale intergalactic lounge. Located on the free planet of Utevvo, it was a renowned hangout for shapeshifter men. Sylenna eased her gaze over the twenty plus men waiting near the crescent-shaped bar for the mating games to begin.

Most of them arrived in search of a permanent woman or a relationship that would last during a long interlude of space travel. A few wanted wild sex in the sack before departing on a galactic mission.

Despite her underlying desperation, Sylenna remained cool as a polar wind. All that training from her mother hadn’t gone to waste. Being forced to find a husband, or her brother would inherit the family lands, Sylenna had chosen to offer herself here, at the suggestion of her best girlfriend.

She carnally enjoyed the beast inside a man, so why not have man and beast? Before journeying to Utevvo, she’d studied the various breeds and races of shapeshifters. From her perusal of the sinfully handsome men, who were in humanoid form, Sylenna decided most of her learning proved to be useless, as far as identifying their animal shift side.

However, two of the men exhibited a Big Cat heritage, their skin pigments subtly spotted and striped, their movements primal and powerful. The other one, a giraffe shifter, she identified because of his exceptional height. Not knowing who desired a wife and who didn’t, Sylenna didn’t allow herself to choose a favorite.

Arriving early, she’d leisurely dined on finger foods while giving no indication she’d signed up for permanent mating. Now that she made her interest obvious by looking them over, several of the men returned the favor, their gazes running over her, dark-energy hot.

Responding, Sylenna reached for her drink, a sultry glide of her body. Not looking at any of them directly, she sipped her fruit-enriched drink. Keeping the glass against her lips, she lazily toyed with the rim.

In her peripheral vision, she watched a man pillage her with his gaze. His appearance reminded her of a shaman-wizard. Unlike some of the shifter males, he wasn’t bulky in stature. His sculpted physique, revealed by skin-hugging garments, invited the exploration of her hands and tongue.

With streamlined, deceptive power, he sauntered toward the area of the bar that was closest to her. Sylenna could tell by the tilt of his head that he scented her. Pivoting, he faced her. His gaze stabbed her face, the blaze of his eyes communicating the quick rise of his lust.

Her breath rushed inward. Her cheeks burned as her sex mound thrummed and her sheath dripped. From the corner of her eye, she watched him brazenly inhale the fragrance of her juices. A disconcerting tremor passed through her middle. Goddess help her, she had no idea what kind of beast he changed into. What if she’d made some horrendous mistake, the consequences beyond her ability to handle?

To her temporary relief, women poured into the lounge. Their low excited voices filled the large rounded structure, a melodious orchestra of sound. Sylenna tried to breathe normally, even as her stomach clenched, and didn’t unclench. There was no turning back now. Turning. Sylenna laughed hysterically inside. She couldn’t turn or ‘shift’ out of this situation.

No, she’d made her bed, the question being who was going to be in her bed. For a long moment, she squeezed her eyelids shut. The enormous gong rang, reverberating loudly throughout the room like a call to arms. Sylenna heard the stampede of mate-hunting males. Opening her eyes, she stared at the sight before her.

In some manner of civilized combat she’d never witnessed before, some of the men battled each other and fought their way toward the woman they’d chosen to impress first. The shaman-wizard spun back and forth, his arms and feet attacking two other shapeshifters.

Transfixed, Sylenna leaned forward attempting to follow the eye-deceiving thrust and flow of his blows. If nothing else his ability to fight for her rated at super-nova spectacular. With her eyes bulging like the recording orbs of her world, she watched, only blinking once he whirled, his victory obvious.

He strode toward her as if she was his prize. If his eyes had blazed before, now they were darkly volcanic. His features appeared even more chiseled, and remained taut with his combat. Since he couldn’t touch her, he halted on the other side of the table. Their gazes clashed, not in opposition, but with a sunburst of passion that scorched her whole body.

“I am Darzhon from the starcruiser, Zephyr Valiant.” He spoke in common galactica, yet his rasp might as well have been pure sorcery. “You, most gorgeous woman, belong in my arms. You belong to my loins.”

His gaze unwavering, bold as a warrior, he waited for her permission to seat himself. When had her heart ever beat this furiously over any man? Sylenna motioned with the proper gesture, her arm moving nearly of its own volition. Trapped by his hunger for her, she wondered what manner of beast prepared to seduce her.



Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls ~ In Print
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ In Print
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes ~ In Print
Stallion of Ash and Flame ~ In Print
Branded by the Texans ~ Coming in August 2010 from Siren-BookStrand

Monday, April 5, 2010

Speed Dating in Shiftertown

By Pat Cunningham

The recent speculations on werebears got me to wondering if there are any other types of overlooked shifters out there, and why we haven’t heard of them. Or maybe there’s good reason it’s the alpha wolves and sleek big cats who get all the favorable press …

BOAR – Heya, sweetcakes. I’m the other white meat. C’mon home with me to my sty. We’ll root around for Cheetos in the sofa. You got some poundage on ya, but I like ‘em hefty. Hey, where ya going? Picky sow.

SNAKE – You are so warm and cuddly. I want to hold you tight. Really, really tight.

RHINO – I see you admiring the bod. Nice, eh? I work out. Feel that muscle. Solid as a rock. Skin’s a little rough but hey, we can’t all be perfect. You know what they say about the horn, right? It’s all true. I’m a horny guy. Heh heh.

SLOTH – I don’t believe in instant anything. I like to take things slow. Twenty-minute kisses. Sex that goes on for hours. Days, even. What? Time’s up already? Why the rush? You people need to relaaaaxxxx.

SQUIRREL – Hey, baby, check out my nuts.

RABBIT – You. Me. Saturday night. Salad bar. My place afterward. It’ll be quick like a bunny but there’ll be lots of it. Hope you like big families.

OWL – Did I startle you? I apologize. I tend to move in silence. I want to sweep you into my arms and fly with you through the velvet darkness of the night. I – excuse me. I was feeling a bit peckish and that squirrel looked so – (urp).

SKUNK – It’s not B.O. It’s pure masculine musk. I’m a hot stud. Really. C’mon, I took three baths today. Gimme a break here. Please?

STAG – I’m not looking for a long-term relationship. I’m all about fun, sweetie. Romping naked through the forest, that’s my thing. Except for gunning season, then it gets dicey. We can stay in and watch videos. But not “Bambi.” I have to sit through that tripe again I swear to Artemis I’m gonna gore somebody.

WOLVERINE – Hugh Jackman? Never heard of him.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Do Shapeshifters Age Gracefully?

I was sitting in the dentist's chair the other day and for obvious reasons, my mind started wandering. Would shape-shifters be faced with the inevitable patch-work after a certain age? Would the "patch" they required as humans reveal itself after they'd shifted?

What if they lost a tooth? I would think an implant would be their choice because otherwise they might not have an important tooth. They'd need their teeth to help bring down dinner when they changed. But how would that change affect an implant?

I write erotic romance so alpha heroes (who are perfect physical specimens) have center stage but I did briefly use an older alpha who was having to deal with a challenge to his power. He was a very minor character but he will probably re-appear at some point in the series. To portray him realistically, should I give him a lost tooth? I gave my shifters the ability to heal from practically anything but they can't regenerate a limb so I'm thinking growing a new tooth would be outside the realm of possibility.

Would cosmetic surgery be out of the question? It seems reasonable that it might be easier to shift if the skin were looser. Hmmm...what do you think?

How would your shifters deal with aging gracefully? Or would they fight it tooth and claw?


Friday, April 2, 2010

Is Changing Shape Enough?

Q: Can the ability to change into an animal be considered a superpower or do you need something more to be considered a Superhero?

Okay, first up, I am not an expert on Superheroes. ;) I know your basics like Superman, Batman(couldn't turn into a bat), Spiderman(again, no spiders in the house), Wonder Woman... and none of these Supers could take animal form, as far as I know.

The only Supers I think of who turned into something else were the wonder twins..."Wonder twin powers - activate." Yeah, I liked them, but I think they were only on Saturday morning cartoons, so were they really Superheroes even though they could turn into some pretty cool things like airplanes, trains, and boats.

If, in order to be true Superheroes, our shifters needed more powers, what would we give them? The ability to run super fast? My jags run pretty fast already. The ability to fly? A flying cat, hmm that would be a bit odd to see in the sky, besides what if our shifter is a hawk? They'd have the flying thing down pat.

So what then would we give them? The ability to use magic? Is magic a superhero trait? How would they use it? A flick of their tail or a twitch of their whiskers?

See I have lots of questions about this and would love to hear your thoughts on it, plus if you know of a shape shifting Super, please tell me who it is, I'd love to check it out. :)