Tuesday, November 30, 2010
White Fang followed Dante, Biker Alpha, down the stairway and toward a medieval dungeon-like door with an ornate sign: There Be Shapeshifters of Every Kind. Beware of Fangs, Claws and Tails.
The hot tang of cat tail claimed White Fang’s nostrils as Dante shoved open the clanking door. They entered an old-fashioned tavern with sconce candlelight. At first glance, that is. In reality, the underground area was immense, and the overall elegant design surprising.
“Welcome to my interspecies pleasure club.” Dante waved his arm in low-key fashion. “Two pints,” he spoke to a beta werewolf server, dressed in Regency period attire.
“You have been keeping secrets.” White Fang spoke as he seated himself in the private monk’s booth Dante indicated.
After surveying his private kingdom, Dante sat opposite White Fang. With a small grin, he lounged against the wall, his arm resting atop the bench seat. Using his mild-mannered voice, White Fang continued, “I’m going to guess this is a story you don’t want in the Guts and Butts Gazette.”
“On the contrary, ace crime reporter, I want my enterprise exposed -- let’s say to the public at large.”
White Fang raised his brows, his instincts telling him the obvious wasn’t true. “Catch 22?”
“You got me.” Dante paused as the server delivered two foamy pints on a silver platter, a dark brew known for it’s rich malt flavor.
“Serving werewolves on silver. A clever fang sense of humor.” White Fang raised his glass tankard high matching Dante, then they both took a draw. “Superb, as usual.” Keeping his gaze steady and steely, White Fang asked, “What do you want from me?”
“Two things, Kent.” Dante eased forward, his own gaze fierce and uncompromising. “Make that three.” He leaned an elbow on the plank wood table, sadness returning to the depths of his eyes. “I want you to protect my Kitty, my Katrina. Story for a later time,” he added, averting his face.
After a deep quaff of his brew, Dante eyed him again, his resolve pure savagery. “You got your super-dog secrets, Kent, or you wouldn’t have been able to track me here. This place is my secret haven and I intend to keep it that way.”
White Fang waited. Always let them do their own talking, that was his reporter’s experience. It resulted in the best story.
“Got a gang wants to move in on my territory. The Tiger Yakuza. I’ll give you their current hangout.”
“Dominos.” White Fang tipped up a healthy draw, and waited again.
“Fuck, yeah, like dominos. Once they move into a territory, they sink their claws into every business. One by one, they all fall.” Dante pounded his fist on the table once, his eyes flashing with ferociousness and frustration. “The town is in danger.” Settling back again, he wrapped his now clawed hand around the tankard. “Sent anonymous warnings to my sire, then contacted Devon. No action. Scat, like taking over a town from the apes makes the pack invincible. They both got their snouts up their wormy asses. And, Devon is acting like a freaking girly debutante with his big frigging deal party.”
“Had my share of run-ins with the Tiger Yakuza.” White Fang didn’t say 'who' had the fearsome tiger shifters by the furred balls, and 'who' could crush at will. “Sure, I’ll do an investigative report. Add the facts I can prove. That should act as a warning with bonus points.” He curled one corner of his mouth, amused at his next thought. “Nick will get his editor-rocks off.”
Dante gave a satisfied nod. “You’ll be in like Flint, as the apes say.”
Silence followed, and they both lifted their tankards, draining them. From the corner of his eye, White Fang watched the long-legged, elegant catwoman sway toward the bar at the far end of the room. Her figure-hugging red dress was at odds with the Victorian-style pub bar. That was just fine with him. Her curves rivaled those of the actress, Ann-Margret.
Dante eyed him again, his posture relaxed. Yet, the alpha werewolf clearly remained ready to spring into action. “From what I hear, that hot little bitch, Ziva, has Nick licking his blue balls these days.”
White Fang grinned. “Caught Nick humping his desk after one of their snarl-snap matches.” Leaning forward, he confronted Dante with his gaze. “Two out of three. What else do you want?”
“Publicity, Kent.” Dante offered a cocky grin. “No one in town needs to know I own this upscale pleasure club. Just that it’s here.”
“Sure, why not? I’ll work it into the story. A wolf’s den of iniquity. All shapeshifters welcome.”
White Fang knew the instant the curvy catwoman slinked in his direction without seeing her. His cock gave a mighty hitch and his spine iced with warning.
“When Maggie shows I’ll make certain that wily queen of gossip gets the ‘special’ tour. Hear she wrangled herself an invite to Devon’s debutante ball.”
“The guilt monster grabbed Nick by the scruff. So he made certain Mooney got she company.”
“Yeah, brotherly love. Know all about it,” Dante sneered. He tossed down the remaining swallow of brew. When the tankard hit the table, his expression utterly changed. A glint of amusement possessed his eyes, more wolfen now than human.
“Pasha.” Dante subtly nodded, indicating the catwoman in the fire-red dress approaching them. “Like what you see, Kent?”
White Fang hadn’t missed the smallest movement of Pasha’s curvaceous body from the very second she’d seductively strolled in their direction. “Enough to turn alpha.” Switching his gaze to her, he openly stared. “She could raise the mating fur on a snake.”
Dante howled a laugh. “Scat piles, Kent. I’ll keep your alpha identity secret. We both got good reasons to stay hidden.”
“Agreed. Yours is your sire.”
Moments ticked by. “Yeah, super dog. He hates feline shifters. Enough to kill them.”
“Tough break. You have my word I won’t let the cat out of the bag.”
White Fang heard Dante unfold himself, then lightly land on the floor, the sound of his boots minimal. “Pasha is your source. She’s been trying to grab the Tiger Yakuza by the tail for several years now. They murdered an ape friend of hers.”
Shapeshifter Lovers, News You Can Use
***Headline for Thursday, December 2, 2010***
GUEST AUTHOR ~ STACEY ESPINO
~ HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING HOLIDAYS ~
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, November 29, 2010
“And this is where the magic happens,” Mooney announced as he guided his date into his wolf den, aka the bedroom. “Howzabout I make us some coffee and we can – ”
“I’m quite coffeed out, thank you very much,” Maggie snarled. Streamers of chocolate still matted her hair. She must have noticed Mooney’s frown because she switched gears in a hurry. That snarky smile of hers appeared. “However, some iced tea would be lovely.”
“Coming up.” Mooney headed for the kitchen. He was pretty jazzed on caffeine right now himself. Not to mention from the rampaging girlfight Maggie and Marissa had staged in his honor and practically in his lap. Who needed mud wrestling when two hot shes went at it fang and claw for your benefit? The spectacle had left him horny as hell.
Gentleman that he was, he’d taken it upon himself to console the loser. Maggie wasn’t close to coming in first in Mooney’s personal hump race, but he still wasn’t sure where he stood with Marissa in particular, let alone monkeys in general. At least Maggie was fairly close to being a wolf. And the things he’d heard about coyotes – he couldn’t wait to give her a go. A ruff in the hand beat a monkey’s bush, or something along those lines.
“You want lemon?” he hollered at the bedroom. Shes liked it when you did little courteous things like that. Maggie, though, didn’t answer. Probably rooting around in his underwear drawer, he figured. Wait’ll she discovered he didn’t wear underwear. That should get her panting.
Maggie sashayed out of his bedroom and accepted the glass of iced tea with a gracious smile. “You’re such a sweetie,” she told him, batting her lashes. Mooney covered his snort quite expertly, if he did say so himself. Just how old was the ratty bitch, anyway? Odds were good she’d never see 30 again. “They’re all young enough in the dark” was another favorite saying around the McMahon den.
Might as well go right for the throat of matter. “So how much is my douche of a brother paying you to drag me out to this shindig?”
“Not a penny, darling. This is all my pleasure.” Glass in hand, she prowled the room, admiring his many high-school trophies and awards for sports writing, as well as his collection of football memorabilia. Mooney swelled in spite of himself.
“You won’t find gold like that on Nick’s mantel,” he said when Maggie oooh’d over his track trophy. “Little rat-tail sucked at sports. Debate team, for dog’s sake. Who even gives a rip? You letter in sports, they remember you forever.”
“They certainly remember you at the school,” Maggie said. And not in a good way, she thought. “Most fleas” had been the legend under his yearbook picture. She hoped that didn’t still hold true. The apartment stank of cat piss, and she was certain Mooney didn’t own a cat. Perhaps he’d eaten one in the recent past. “You were quite the star.”
“Damn straight. So what’s the deal? You want to do an expose of the fired sports hero or what?”
“Not at all, sweetie. I thought you’d welcome a chance to get revenge on your less-than-caring brother. Fired by text. How gauche.”
“Yeah.” Whatever the hell “gauche” meant. “What’d you have in mind?”
“The party, darling. Nick’s gotten me in, and I can get you in. You’ll have access to Damien Hancock and can tell him whatever you like regarding Nick. Nick wants Hancock’s backing. You can ruin that. You can ruin your brother.” She bared her teeth. “And let’s not forget all the lovely, rich women who’ll be there. It will be like a smorgasbord for you.”
Okay, he knew what a smorgasbord was. Hot damn! Wreck Nick’s chances for social advancement and rub that mutt White Fang’s face in his prowess with the ladies. If he could just ditch this scroungy bitch and hook up with Marissa, life would be perfect. “What’s in it for you?”
“A story, of course. There’s bound to be something on tap at a party of that magnitude. In addition … ” She trailed her fingers up Mooney’s arm. “I get to attend in the company of a handsome, strapping young male. That will definitely turn heads.”
Mooney’s downstairs head took a turn on its own. Hell. She wasn’t Marissa, but she was here. He could turn out the light and pretend. He jutted his chin at the bedroom. “You wanna?”
“Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”
Twenty minutes later, Mooney lay back and gasped for breath. The tales about coyotes were true. Even the older bitches were bendy as all get out. “Dog, woman, you don’t quit.”
“The benefits of experience,” Maggie purred against his throat. “Consider this part of your community service. You certainly served this bit of the community.”
“Bastards. They got me picking up trash on the highway. You wouldn’t believe the scat people throw out of their cars.”
“What about the fine? Now that you’re out work – ”
“Oh, I’m working. I’ve got a contact and a deal going.” His teeth flashed in the dark. Brother Nick was in for one helluva surprise. “Don’t you worry about me, honey. I got it under control.”
“Really.” Maggie toyed with the matted hair on his chest and listened intently.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
“Uh, Anthony, what do you intend to do with that?” Victoria nodded her head toward the flogger Anthony held. She squirmed hoping to loosen the soft rope binding her.
“Oh, this little thing?” Anthony whipped the flogger through the air creating small cracking sounds just above her closest breast. “Pray tell me you don’t know what I do with this. How about I warm up your nipples and clit with it before I answer you?”
Tory swallowed hard. God, he knew how to play her, building the tension until she creamed from wanton need or from his mere touch. Blast his wolfish hide and human one too! Inhaling sharply, she licked her lips. Raising her head as far as she could, she looked down her torso and found where his started next to her. A leather jock strap covered his large endowment. She fought the urge to plead with him. Anthony considered it part of their ritual play for her to resist and implore him to let her go. Maybe if she feigned indifference, he’d--- another crack sounded only louder this time.
“Tory whatever is bouncing through your brain, it isn’t going to work. I told you the last time we were together that next time I was in charge. No more of this equitable crap.” Anthony swished the ends of the flogger across and over her turgid nipples, trailing toward the growing wetness between her legs. “Time to increase our pleasure, don’t you agree my dear?”
Tory opened her mouth to speak. Anthony clamped his hand over her mouth, and leaned closer, growling in her ear. “Only yes sir or no sir. No gets you not what you want.” He reached between her legs working his fingers swiftly over her clit and two quick finger fucks in and out of her pussy. “See being quiet and agreeing will get you the sweet bliss you crave. And maybe this.”
Anthony rose on his knees and shoved his leather jockstrap off his hips. Eight hard firm inches of maleness jutted out from his groin. His dark black pubic hair frizzed around the base as though his cock sprung from a nest.
Tory’s gaze slid further down to where his testicles hung. She bit her lip to keep from begging for a taste. One savor and she’d go back to being hard and non-coquettish. Right, just like Anthony would admit he liked men before he’d take her and bring her to her knees begging for release, her warmed ass bumping up against him as he drove into her balls deep.
“Anthony, I owe you nothing. You walked out on me. Took your collar with you and said I was free to pursue what and whom I wanted.” There she’d thrown his words back at him. What Dom turned his submissive loose and then claimed he still had rights to her? Only Anthony would endeavor to re-stake his claim. A claim he’d walked away from and never looked back at.
“Tory where are your manners? Maybe I should leave you aching and wanting---just let you go for good. How much more do you think you could stand?” Anthony pulled the jock strap the rest of the way off and tossed it aside. He leaned over her breast and blew. Tory jumped, her back arching as ripples of goose bumps formed over her breast tightening her nipple even more.
She watched as Anthony licked two fingertips and reached for her aching tip. Sucking in air, Tory dropped her shoulders to the bed and tried to roll away. No luck. Anthony had bound her in such a manner as to allow her small movements. No more than a wiggle here and there. Great, so much for withdrawing and playing hard to get.
His gaze drew hers. He nodded and . . .
“Oh sweet lupa. Anthony, you bastard!” Tory caught her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it. Deep in her belly wave after wave of ecstasy envelope her.
“I’m bastard enough to know how to please you and make you beg for more.” He plucked her nipple again between his thumb and forefinger, tweaking and pulling as if he were working a screw into place. “Shall I stop?” He pulled his hands away, dropping the cool metal nipple clamps on her belly.
Tory closed her eyes. Need flared up deep inside, aching so badly, she’d almost thrown caution to the wind and said, “Please sir don’t stop.”
Anthony’s warm breathy chuckle rushed up her neck as he sniffed probably taking in her fragrance. “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t my submissive lupa.”
Wow now my muse has me wondering where Anthony and Tory will go next. My imagination is going to be running hot and wild with is entry. Take time to share a few wonderful orgasms with your lovers and a good book too!
Have a great weekend!
Friday, November 26, 2010
Speak of the scruffy mutt. He strolled in here with his silly smirk, disheveled appearance and rock hard ass—damn him anyway. How could he always manage to trip her trigger, even when she knew she should hate him?
“Nicky,” she sneered, calling him by the more effeminate name she knew he hated. Taggert Nicholas McMahon was the name his beautiful and generous mother had bestowed upon him at his whelping. In business, he preferred to use the stronger Nick, but she wondered if there was a time and place that he allowed someone to use the sexier Taggert or better yet, Tag?
“You know, Zeev,” he said, oozing sex with every word as he leaned over her desk. “It’s more professional to refer to me as Mr. McMahon or Sir…”
Dear Lupa she could get into so much trouble with this wicked wolf if she let her guard down even just a little bit. “So I guess scat head is out then?”
“Yes, definitely out…”
Was that a chuckle he’d tried to cover up with a cough? Had she somehow amused him?
“…I actually came in to thank you, Miss Wilk. Without your, what I’m sure was a desire to help me fit in, help; I would be dateless at the Hancock affair…
Oh hell, her stomach dropped and the pen slid from her sweaty hand, was he really telling her about having a date?
“…The calls from your personal ad have been quite intriguing, but this morning’s was just downright naughty. So thank you, Ziva,”
If only she could wipe that smirk off his handsome face.
“Roxann sounds quite delicious.”
Zeva sat back and let out a shaky breath as he took himself from the room. Game, set and yes, he’d just pulled the match right out from under her.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Everything had been humming along just fine before the town’s Gossip Girl walked in. He was sitting, as always, at his spot at the end of the counter sipping an excellent cup of espresso and reading the news paper. Marissa was serving a gaggle of teenage geese kids sugary drinks at a cluster of tables by the window. Every now and then, Marissa the sexy Goth barista- he had learned that really was what the monkeys called coffee waitresses- would have a lull in customers and they sit and chat.
His current preoccupation was figuring out who his back-biting former best brother had hired to write this week’s sports column. It was scat, no lively dialog at all. Whoever the author was, he’d even reported the results of the chess tournament. It wasn’t a sport! Marissa was really kind of cool for a human, not something Mooney was used to in a female of any species. She wasn’t into sports but she did like spelunking, which was out-doorsy enough for them to have some common topics to chat about. Now that spelunking- cave exploring- sounded like a good sport. Marissa had even promised to show him how to do it next spring.
Then the mangy, self-important coyote sashayed in and informed him- and everyone listening- that she had agreed to go out with him in exchange for getting tickets to that blue-blood pack function in a few days. He had looked at her and asked what the bleeding hell she was baying about. Maggie informed him his former best brother had offered her an invite to that coming out ball or what every it was for the Hancock clan’s youngest pup. And then Marissa, the normally cheerful and slightly sarcastic human got… weird.
“So you think Mooney should grace you with his arm for this event because?” she purred.
“I wasn’t talking to you, ape,” Maggie sneered. “So where were we. Oh, yes! Mooney, you will come with me now so I can get a look in your closet, make sure you own something appropriate for a high society function.”
“Um, no,” Mooney said dismissively.
“Well, that will save a trip,” Maggie pontificated, sounding she thought she was high society herself. Mooney and Marissa snorted at the same time, then traded mutual looks of ridicule. It was kind of nice having someone who understood his sense of humor, he realized suddenly as he dodged a flying cushion. He grinned as he watch the two shes fight. Maybe that’s why people called them “throw pillows?” He considered wading in and stopping the fight- Maggie really wasn’t hold her own against the physically weaker human.
Nearest he could tell, that shared sarcastic look had been what set Maggie off into a territorial huff. She made her demand for the non frou-frou drink. Maggie had made it with triple the chocolate than she normally would have. Then the fur, feathers and pillows started flying- those goose kids hadn’t moved out of the way fast enough. Then it hit him: were these two fighting over him?
Sorry the post was so late. It has been one of those days and I simply forgot to hit the "publish" button.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
White Fang Kent ~ A Story With Bite
Werewolf musk hung in the night air as heavy as his own balls. White Fang Kent stealthily moved behind a row of untrimmed bushes. Hidden by a corner shadow, he halted next to the rough-hewn lodge located inside an isolated forest clearing. The place, he’d discovered by simple observation, was a local alpha hangout for bikers and any shifter who was wolf enough to bloody his fangs, and ride with the top dogs.
Suppressing his groan, the one that throbbed like an MF from the crown of his cock, White Fang shot his night-vision gaze over the surrounding area. Nothing. No one. So far. He turned on the laser as he thought of it, peering through the thick log wall. He’d already scented those he knew from town. Now, he wanted a look-see before deciding on his next ‘investigative’ move.
After catching a whiff of Dante’s potent ~I could hump a rodeo bull and not get thrown~ odor near Kitty Kewtie’s backdoor, White Fang had cut short his visit with her. He’d excused himself with the truthful claim that Nick, the G&B editor, had texted, demanding a more sensational story than the one he’d turned in earlier.
White Fang didn’t give one snarling damn about Nick’s deadline, but Dante... howls of Lykouz fate! That was the lead he’d been patiently pursuing. White Fang tracked Dante with his nose, keeping his distance. Using his superspeed, he’d arrived at the edge of the clearing just as Dante grabbed his guitar case from the back of his tricked-out Harley.
Damien Hancock’s youngest cub strode inside the music-routy lodge like the on-the-prowl-for-a-bitch werewolf he was... only who was Dante really stud-panting for? Was it little Kitty Kewtie? Maybe he wanted a sweet piece of wolfen tail for the night to distract himself. Because what White Fang did know, now that he was this close. The odor of heartbreak clung to Dante like skunk roadkill.
White Fang continued his x-ray scan of the lodge’s bar area, seeing only a motley crew of ham-fisted, brew-tipping shifters -- none of them a problem to him -- that is, if they decided he wasn’t welcome.
Wait! Woof-woof. Hold onto his hitching cock.
White Fang scented cat tail inside. Femme fatale felines lookin’ for some scratching-wild sex to be journalistically precise. Ever since his carnal marathon with Bastet’s granddaughter at an Egyptian festival, White Fang favored discreet affairs with the fair feline sex.
As he slipped from behind the bushes, he told his steely shaft to lose the metal. No time like the present for the truth, he silently growled to himself. He needed answers, and fast. That is, if he was going to save Kitty, and the town’s shifter population.
So... Lykouz hell.. the urge to mate caused his balls to bang and rub as he sauntered toward the entrance. So, he was attired like a yuppie geek, the only leather being his Italian loafers. To complete the picture, White Fang stuffed his hands in the pockets of his khaki dockers.
He may have been another breed of wolf, but the pack frenzy had him gripped harder than his landlady’s hand this morning. Toothsome Tina as he thought of her, had made a grab for his lap package after spilling her cooled coffee on him. He’d twisted just enough so she’d seized his thigh.
White Fang strolled inside the dimly lit interior of the rustic lodge. The smells of humping musk, cigar and cigarette smoke, along with various alcoholic beverages, caused him to ratchet down the super-sense.
Easily, he located Dante’s position. He sat at a corner table with three pack buddies. Perched on a stool, he strummed chords on his guitar, not a tune White Fang recognized.
The werewolf band stood at the bar, obviously on a break. With bared teeth and jealous snarls, their mates warned off the few bitches present. White Fang sniffed for a story that would wag Nick’s tail while he edged toward Dante through the almost shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
Freeze frame, White Fang mentally amused himself. Everyone stilled, swinging their gazes to him. Their eyes looked like miniature headlights that had been switched to brights. Prey or foe, they asked themselves.
Awareness pricked through White Fang as their hackles raised. Their low growls menaced. Jauntily, he lifted his hand in greeting. “Hey, fellas.”
Momentarily caught off guard, the crowd followed his progress as White Fang ambled toward Dante. Warily, the alpha-to-his-core werewolf eyed him. Alpha, yes, yet White Fang also witnessed the soul of a poet in the depths of Dante’s gold-flecked amber eyes.
“White Fang Kent, reporter for the Guts and Butts Gazette,” he introduced himself while offering his hand. “I’d like to interview you as part of an investigation I’m conducting.”
Setting his guitar aside, Dante rose upward, all bad-boy power. His gaze never wavered, even as he signaled for his pack to back off. With deceptive ease he raised his hand and gripped White Fang’s hand, shaking it.
Glad Dante didn’t engage in a contest of strength, so he wasn’t forced to reveal his true strength, White Fang asked, “Is there a place where we can speak privately, Mr. Hancock?”
“The name is Dante.” Rebellion sparked the young werewolf’s eyes. Not the normal rebellion of a son who is ready to paw his own way through the world. Cold brutal resolve lay beneath the sparks.
“Of course --"
“Kent!” The outraged screech squeezed the back of his neck like his mother’s chastising fangs. “You cur dog.”
Reluctantly, White Fang pivoted around. Leona Lane stalked toward him, her gaze slashing at him like the fangs she was starting to sport. “Nice seeing you, too, Leona.”
“Can the insipid politeness, Kent. What the hell are you doing in my territory?” She stopped in front of him. The high tilt of her chin might as well have been a dagger she aimed at his throat.
“Your territory, Lane?” White Fang allowed his eyes to flare. Acting like a geek was one thing, but he never backed down from an outright challenge.
“Nick assigned me the story on this backwoods bar. As if you didn’t know, super duper dog. Yeah, I know all about your --"
“Escort Ms. Lane to the lounge, will you, Brad?” Dante’s commanding, but calm voice interrupted. “If you want your story, Ms. Lane, you’ll mind your professional manners here.”
After a spitting hiss at White Fang, Leona whirled and with a huff of satisfaction, she accepted Brad’s offered arm.
Several thoughts hit White Fang all at once. One, he was Lykouz grateful he hadn’t had to kiss Lane to shut her mouth. Two, there was obviously more real red meat to Dante than he’d suspected. Three, had Dante intentionally left his scent so White Fang would follow? And, what did the mysterious werewolf want from him?
As he turned, facing Dante, the bad-boy werewolf gave him a grin.
“Since you’re not shagging my Kitty, super duper dog,” Dante flicked a knowing glance at his crotch, “how about I give you a story with bite and introduce you to Pasha?”
~ HAPPY TURKEY DAY ~
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, November 22, 2010
Her intern, Lamar Balboa, slithered over to her desk. He was wearing his usual skintight shimmery slacks and that poofy white shirt slit to the waist to show off his tanned chest. Not that it did her any good since he played for the other team, but a girl could always look.
She glared at him sourly. “Tell me you’ve got something.”
“Looks, brains, charm, and abs to die for,” he said breezily. “Other than that, nada. That scrumptious Danny from the mail room ran off to Alaska with icky Vicki. Can you make a column out of that?”
“Not a good one. Chaos bite it. I know there’s trouble brewing. Somebody somewhere is humping the wrong leg, but I can’t zero in on it.”
“We should visit the Sandbox,” Lamar suggested. “Always a good story there.”
“You just want to get laid.”
He shrugged with a reptile’s grace. “Come with me. They have something for everyone.”
“Can’t, darling. Damien Hancock’s throwing a ball for his heir to the throne. I’ve got to wrangle myself an invite. If anything juicy’s going to happen, it’ll happen there.”
“Devon gets a party? Pooh. He’s no fun. Now Dante … ” Lamar’s tongue flicked briefly over his lower lip. “That boy’s got himself one impressive – ” He caught Maggie’s look and lamely finished, “bike.”
“Give it up, Lamar. The Hancocks are too far above your pay grade.” Hers as well, but not for long. One hot scoop and it was syndication, darling. Bright lights, big city. If she could bring down those howlier-than-thou Hancocks in the process, so much the better. “Nick’s going to want coverage of this. He needs all the good graces he can get into if he expects to – ”
“You want me to WHAT?”
Maggie and Lamar exchanged a look. As one, they sprang up and dashed for Nick’s office.
Oh, this was gold. Their Fearless Alpha Leader getting reamed over, under, sideways and down by that cat Leona. She was in full spitting mode this morning, with the claws out and hair sprouting on the backs of her hands. Nick must have really yanked her tail.
From the corner of her eye Maggie spotted Ziva Whatsername edging over from Personals. The three of them took up position just out of sight but not earshot. Like it mattered; the gods could probably hear Leona’s yowls all the way in Valhalla.
Leona had Nick backed up against his desk. “Date your brother? That worthless, loud-mouthed pile of scat? What are you thinking? Can you think at all? Do you know how many ethics laws you’ve violated just by suggesting that?”
“I didn’t say date,” Nick ground out, his Alpha nature flaring up. “Mooney’s going through a tough time right now, what with losing his job and all – ”
“Yeah. Fired by text message. Smooth move, Nicky. Your own brother. Even he deserved better than that.”
“So I thought,” Nick went on, “if you didn’t want to lose your job, you’d do us all a favor.” He cut off Leona’s outraged hiss by adding, “The Hancock party. I want a reporter there. You want a story. Mooney needs female company. I’ll get you in and you take Mooney. All bases covered.”
Maggie’s figurative ears pricked at the second half of his statement. Nick had an in with Hancock?
Leona snarled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you threatening to fire me if I don’t take your brother on assignment? With all due respect, just how big of an idiot are you? Do you enjoy flirting with self-destruction? Do you want to wreck this paper along with your sorry rep?”
Nick bared his teeth. “Given your own rep, Lane, you’re lucky you’ve got a job at all. If you want to keep it, you’ll quit talking back to your boss and do as you’re told.”
She bared her teeth right back. “Scratch the repect. I should have known better than to work for a wolf. Especially one who’s – ”
“Excuse me.” Maggie stepped fearlessly into the battle zone. “I believe we can settle this without anyone getting canned.”
Leona bristled. “What the hell do you think – ”
“Smooth the hackles, darling. I’m only here to help.” She turned to Nick. “You want a reporter at the Hancock bash. That’s society news. My milieu. I’d be honored to have Mooney escort me. I’ve always found your brother interesting.”
“Are you scatting me?” Leona blurted. “Mooney at a society function? Do you know how many possible ways there are for him to screw up?”
“Oh, he’s harmless. Just keep his mouth stuffed with food so he can’t talk and he’s fine. He even does the stuffing himself. I know how to keep him on a leash. You get a front page story, darling, your brother gets a date with a dare I say beautiful and worldly woman, no one gets sacked and no one gets sued over ethics violations and sexual harassment. Do we have a deal?”
She saw Nick’s nose working and knew the brain behind it must be working too. Rumor had it the paper’s new owner was a cat, who would take a dim view of Alpha wolf management tactics. Nick knew which side of his kill the blood flowed from.
“Okay,” he said. “Novak, the party’s yours. So’s Mooney. I’ll get you his number.”
“Already got it, darling.”
“Fine. As for you, Lane – ”
Leona had already stormed out of the office. Maggie spotted Ziva scurrying back to the Personals desk.
Outside the office, Lamar greeted her with bowing motions. “I salute the master.”
“As well you should. Both of them owe me now.” Maybe three. Maggie hadn’t missed the bitch-in-heat scent that always wafted off little Ziva whenever big Nick was around. She’d have to keep an eye on them. The drab, storyless morning had just turned bright and sunny.
“Leona will attend the ball anyway,” Maggie said. “She’ll want to see Devon. She’ll find a way. Stick close to her, sweetie. I want to know every bark and hiss they hurl at each other.”
“Like a second skin, chica.”
“As for Mooney, I’m sure he’ll create a story for me if I can’t find one on my own. The brainless mutt’s always good for a laugh.” Maggie bared her teeth in a wide coyote smile. Events were working out quite nicely.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Shapeshifter lovers, welcome our guest author, Sapphire Phelan on this Full Moon in Taurus Sunday. Sapphire wrote the short story, HIS GIRL, in the Just Another ParaNormal Halloween anthology, which also features my short story, THE TIGER'S MASQUERADE. Sapphire is an amazing woman, who not only pens the paranormal, but also investigates and writes non-fiction books on a range of paranormal topics.
Writing from the Gay Male’s Perspective of a Paranormal Romance
I’ve written from mostly a woman’s POV and even a man’s in a Male/Female romance, but when I did an erotic Male/Male paranormal for the first time, it was a whole different ball of wax for me. That one was “The Dark Man,” included in the anthology, Forbidden Love: Sacred Bands, published by Under the Moon. I had started writing it out as male/female until Under the Moon sent out they were doing a male/male anthology and wanted submissions. I had two stories in their first two, so I found this story I started on and decided to use it.
That was easy. I just switched the female for a male. Okay, it wasn’t. I had to actually read sex scenes in male/male fiction to understand the differences in mechanics of sex between two men. So very out of the box for this heterosexual author. I had gay friends, but I couldn’t ask them how it all went, could I? LOL
But when I did the novella, Beast Magic, a world where shifters of all kinds lived among us. They had the Dreaming in order to find their destined mates. Like my werelion, Ramses, found his mate in a human woman named Shana Tory. Most found them this way, others did not. And sometimes the Dreaming brought up a mate one did not expect. Such as in Dark Leopard Magic, the second novella set in the Beast Magic world. This time I also changed it from third person to first person, with both guys telling from their povs in their own chapters.
Dev Tollen starts out the novella. He is half Indian (from India) and Caucasian—he is also half shifter and half human. His father was a Caucasian human from the United States, but was not Dev’s wereleopard mother’s destined mate sent by the Dreaming. Because of this and that she kills his father, Dev begins a dark past. Even more so, he finds he has a darker soul.
Dev can’t seem to make love with human females. But when a man (clown with a circus) takes him one night, Dev discovers he enjoys a man’s touch. So not only is he a wereleopard, but now gay. He has a double whammy in ‘coming out of the closet’ here. He’s never had the Dreaming either, and resigned to thinking he never would, that maybe being gay was the cause. Until one day it comes upon him and he sees Montsho, a black African wereleopard. Montsho first appeared as a secondary character in Beast Magic. So now I add interracial to the equation too.
With these two males, I got deep into their psyche. One does not deny his gay self, while the other never even dreamed that a male would be his destined mate. Montsho fights this attraction, as he is confused and upset that the Dreaming put this on him. But we all know how the romance will go—one can not deny their own true love, no matter the color, race, or even sexual preference.
I am proud of this novella. I become fond of the two guys and happy there is a HEA for them. Most of all, I am glad for the experience of writing from a different viewpoint and really getting to know and most of all understand what Dev and Montsho tick. Even though they’re characters from my mind, I can say that they’re become a lot more and are alive to me. Finally Dev gets to come out of the closet: not as a gay man, but as something even more meaningful to him: a wereleopard. But most of all, to have someone to love and who will love him, no matter his dark and troubled past.
DARK LEOPARD MAGIC
Dev Tollen is a man with a dark past and an even darker soul. More than that, he's a gay wereleopard. He has never had the Dreaming and never met his true mate. But one night the Dreaming does come and reveals his lover, an African man named Montsho, also an alpha black wereleopard. Montsho will fight their love and their destiny. Dev will do all he can to win his beloved's heart and keep him by his side always.
Then the ghost of a human begs Dev to solve his wereleopard lover's murder. Both men will find that their new-found love tested and their lives in danger. Their idyllic time in paradise is about to be torn asunder when they discover who the murderer is.
***CONTEST ALERT *** Sapphire will be giving away a download of the novella. So leave a COMMENT, with name and email, so she can check all the blogs on 29th and draw a winner for the eBook.
Go beyond the usual, instead take the unusual that stretches the boundaries and find romance with Sapphire Phelan's aliens, werewolves, vampires, fairies, and other supernatural/otherworldly heroes and heroines.
Sapphire Phelan is an author of erotic and sweet paranormal, fantasy, and science fiction romance, along with a couple of erotic horror stories. She also writes as Pamela K. Kinney, for horror, fantasy, science fiction, and nonfiction ghost books.
She lives in Virginia with her husband and two cats, Ripley and Bast.
She admits she can always be found at her desk and on her computer, writing. And yes, the house and husband sometimes suffers for it!
For more information, check out her website: SapphirePhelan.com
Saturday, November 20, 2010
“On your knees.” Victoria stumbled and dropped to her knees, skinning both. Who the hell had shoved her? Where was she? Damn it was cold. So fucking cold.
Giggles threatened to erupt and pour out her mouth. Ms. Etiquette cussing like a drunken lout and laughing about it. Oh, who the hell cared. There she’d done it again.
“Tory, open your eyes. Come on love. Wake up.” Who dared call her that? No one since her ex Anthony Wolfson had dubbed her that during their twenty four hour sex session, even remotely came close to pinning a nickname on her. Damn him too. He’d sold the paper to Nick McMahon and left town with the proceeds, leaving her living in a style she’d become unaccustomed to. Not even a kiss my wolfish ass or a hint of where he’d gone until last night. God, what a night. Flashes of the prior evening raced through her mind.
“Come on Victoria. I’m famished.” Danny the mail boy whined. So much for his stud abilities in bed or even an interest in women. He’d been chasing men like the mink in heat he was from the moment they’d arrived. Three nights in a row the pain in the ass varmint had come in at 3AM drunk and smelling like a male whorehouse….cheap cologne and sex, so much sex he reeked of it even after he tried to shower with her help. No way in hell was she playing nursemaid to him again. She’d left her manners by the wayside the second night in.
“Danny, why here?” Victoria shut the car door and glanced at the neon sign hanging about the entrance. Antonio’s Bar and Steakhouse…right more like a local pick up joint. Two males stopped out front and embraced, sharing a lingering kiss before entering. Great another gay club, geared toward Danny and his kind. Not that she minded, but all those hunks and lush bodies of maleness and not one of them gave her more than a passing look. After while a girl began to wonder is she’d lost it or if she could tell a straight male from the rest of the crowd even if he walked into the place. That was until he walked up.
No it couldn’t be. Not after all the time they’d spent arguing and swearing, it’d be a cold day---well it was cold! Bitterly cold and getting colder each minute she stood outside as the wind whipped around her. Hell must have frozen over, ‘cuz in front of her stood her ex looking fine and as studly as ever. Shit, now the truth came out! Anthony had left her for another man. The bastard!
Balling up her fist, she fought the urge to walk over and slug him in the gut. Not that it would do her much good. He stood six foot and his muscular build protected him. His animal half ever vigilant kept most predators at bay. Though a few tempted fate and tried to take him out. He was an Alpha and took no qualms looking and living the role. Still he couldn’t tell her he’d preferred men. And what about all that hot sweaty sex they’d had night after night when they’d first gotten together. Oh, he had a hell of a lot of explaining to do. Victoria spun and stalked toward him.
Out of the shadows, two masked figures rushed by her, one grabbed her shoulder bag and pulled. She held on. No one got her two hundred dollar Louis Vuitton purse. She wasn’t letting her wallet and cell phone get into some petty criminals’ hands. She hesitated, letting her momentum propel the perpetrator forward. High heels and ice don’t mix.
Scrambling for her footing, another set of hands grasped her free arm shoving her along, ordering her on her knees. “On your knees bitch.”
Strong arms steadied her and righted her forward descent. “Who you calling bitch twerp?”
She knew that voice and those arms anywhere. Damn Anthony was saving her again. Not that she could do much in protest. Ice and heels made skating seem simple. Pivoting against her savior and her would be assaulter; Victoria tried separating herself from the two. No such luck. Her feet slipped out from under her. Landing on her back and continuing downward, her head hit the parking lot asphalt. Anthony’s bemused face peered down at her holding Danny by the scruff of his neck in one hand and one of the robbers in the other. She blinked and everything went black.
“Come on Tory. Please open your eyes sweetheart.” Anthony’s purr and warm breath tickled her neck sending ripples of desire out across her and slamming down into her pussy. God how had she ended up here? Naked as the day her mother whelped her and with him.
Victoria tried to move an arm and leg. Nothing. She couldn’t move. What now? Her eyes flew open. Anthony’s grin greeted her. Blinking, she focused on the item dangling from his hand. Oh holy shit. A flogger. And in his other hand….two nipples clamps and a clothes pin. Her nipples harden and wetness trickled down her ass cheek. She inhaled. The scent of sex raced up her nose. Her clit throbbed and would more with the clothespin on it. What did Anthony have in mind?
______________________________________________________________________________________Another week done and the chill of winter is in the air. Hope the flash piece added some warmth to the day or evening for you. Bank the fire until you can share with someone or someones letting your imagination run wild.
Be sure to take time to enjoy a few good orgasms and a book or two over the weekend!
Friday, November 19, 2010
Nick ran a hand through his hair, wishing he’d remembered to contain the waves with a sturdy leather tie. His week had been hellacious from the get-go and even now, TGIF was more like SWIF - So What, It’s Friday. Time was his enemy this week and she’d left him sadly lacking in his pursuit of the sexy alpha bitch who’d cost him a top of the line cell phone. The long hours spent dealing with the staff had left him cranky as hell.
Vicki ~Ms. Etiquette~ Griswald had run off for three months of fun in Alaska with the new mail boy. What was the deal with the male minks, all the females, no matter what kind of animal they were, loved the little shits. Now this little mink looked like he should still be wearing short pants, but HR assured him everything was on the up and up.
Leona ~look at me wrong and I’ll wear your balls like a scarf~ Lane was just this side of wicked which usually meant she was hot on the trail of a new story. She was hell on wheels when it came to a lead and she always came through with a story so he’d cut her some slack. Besides, she was the least of his worries.
Ace reporter, White Fang Kent, was spending an inordinate amount of time with one Kitty ~complainer~ Collins lately, but had yet to turn in a story… Let’s hope his story didn’t revolve around the ‘case of stupid’ the obit guys had been playing with when they’d posted Miss Kitty’s picture in the newly named Roadkill section of the paper. Nick had taken the crew to the basement, thusly, and given them an ‘up one side and down the other’ ~alpha style~ over that smooth move - they could all now give him an acceptable definition of freedom of speech.
Nick scooped up the remains of his pricy toy and tossed them into the trash outside of the Guts and Butts office. He needed to do something about the opening on the sports beat. Moony was the man for the job, always had been, but his recent jaunt down juvenile street had given Nick no choice but to cut him loose. Maybe he should throw his brother Leona’s way and see if she could straighten the rangy wolf out. If she could, he’d bring Moony back in a heartbeat, plus it would be just plain fun to watch his brother twist at the end of Leona’s rope. Yep, Moony was lucky to have him as a brother.
“…And the crowd goes wild as Ziva Wilk aces yet another serve.”
Nick couldn’t help but smile as he made his way down the hallway, past his office and bee lining for the personals desk. He and the saucy little alpha had a match to finish, one she clearly thought she had in the bag with her little stunt, but she was about to get the surprise of her life. This alpha doesn’t lose…
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Enough with the chit-chat, though. Mooney has a real crisis on his hands! How will he ever get that fine paid now that he’s been fired?
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
White Fang Kent would have recognized that pungent feline scent beneath a pile of nuclear waste. When had Leona Lane come to town? And, why hadn’t he known it before now? Had the ‘queen of expose’ been hiding out until she could pounce on her latest victim and bag her next sensational headline like a hapless cat.
Lykouz knew, Leona Lane had exposed those who deserved to hang on the end of her very sharp pen. White Fang made no bones about the fact that she possessed the instincts of a bloodthirsty huntress when it came to tracking down a certain class of slimy criminal.
Her hard-nosed reporting was one matter. White Fang felt great respect for an intrepid reporter who got his or her story to ink or bytes, and damn the consequences. However, tossing the truth around like a bullwhip’s lash, and not caring who was struck, like Leona did too often -- that was a whole other matter to his way of thinking.
He’d kept his distance from Leona for that reason. That, and she walked over other reporters, unconcerned that she kept her metaphorical stilettos on.
Yeah, sure, White Fang had rescued her from several sticky situations. But, he’d made certain she never found out. He’d do it again, if necessary. As a man-wolf, he stayed true to himself.
Truth, Justice and the Shapeshifter Way. And, the protection of the innocent. That was White Fang’s creed.
Not that life always cooperated. No, life on Earth was often guts and butts’ messy. And, the blurring of the lines between good and evil never sat well with him. White Fang walked that line constantly in dealing with his sources.
From his peripheral vision, White Fang observed the hyper ambitious, razor-clawed brunette. The Leona Lane he knew, tangled verbally with Maggie. No one in the courtroom needed super hearing to get an earful as those two alpha females sparred for bitch supremacy.
Still, White Fang honed in as they lowered the volume. With the knife-flashing expertise of a Ginsu chef, Leona and Maggie continued fang-trashing each other. To his mind, tickets should have been sold, with the proceeds given to improve the cub play area in the park.
Not surprisingly, Maggie’s boa snitch had his scales scraped the wrong way. Rising to the occasion Lamar hissed a warning. Also, not surprisingly, Leona hissed her own brand of venom.
White Fang nearly let a chuckle escape at the comic-book scene. Instead, the corner of his mouth twitched. So, Leona had done a stint in the local pound. No doubt she’d uncovered enough scat on some of the town’s movers and tail-shakers to ‘convince’ their cooperation whenever she needed it.
He hadn’t been aware of her presence because the shifter hoosegow wasn’t his beat. Nick, the Guts and Butts editor, had been adamant about that. He wanted breaking crime stories straight from the streets and the forest byways.
Once Leona strode like the panther she was, and shoved out the courtroom doors, White Fang grinned down at little Kitty Kewtie, as he thought of her. Her smile might as well have bathed him in bright white light. She owned a gentle and tame spirit, even though the blood of snow leopard shifters ran in her veins.
He’d discovered Kitty, or Katrina Collins, inside a nearby cave by tracking her scent from her home. When he arrived, she’d been pacing and hugging herself, a common enough blanket draped around her. And, that’s where the mystery began for him.
When he’d arrived at the entrance, nothing clued him in on who or how she’d been placed inside the cave. Although he’d scoured the immediate area before they left, he’d found no sign of tracks, even with his x-ray vision.
The trouble, Kitty had been just as confounded by her situation. She hadn’t known who had rescued her. She’d simply awakened inside a sleeping bag, in the buff and sans her buff-colored fur, with no idea of her location except that she recognized the forest smells.
White Fang had detected no tell-tail odors, or physical evidence, that identified her savior. There’d been no knockout drug residue clinging to her, not by his nose. ‘Whoever’ had left a small supply of food and water, and a short scribbled note: Stay. Or become prey. I will return within a day.
White Fang had sniffed that note until every odor molecule had been drawn inside his nostrils. Nothing. His investigative hackles had raised, but he’d quelled his reporter’s frustration, more concerned with Kitty.
She hadn't been able to identify the scratchy nail-writing, either. She’d also looked mystified when he’d asked her if she knew someone special who wrote or read rhyming poetry.
White Fang suspected, however, that Kitty Kewtie did have a suspicion of who saved her from becoming roadkill. Even so, she’d clung to his arm with not one desire to remain inside the cave until her savior appeared.
When he’d questioned her about escorting her to safety, White Fang discovered Kitty possessed an admirable stubborn streak. With her claws popping out, she’d declared no one chased her away from town.
Once they’d returned to her home and shifted back to human form, he’d promised to keep a protective eye on her. Altruism had been his motivation. However, the reporter in him instinctively knew Katrina Collins was the key that would lead him to the answers he wanted. To the real story behind the story of this werewolf pack town.
White Fang also sensed, as her blue eyes beseeched him, that Kitty pined for a man she’d fallen in love with, but couldn’t have.
He had his own suspicion -- laser-eye squared right on Devon Hancock. Call it a gut-roiling hunch. But, his hunches usually proved out. And now that he knew Devon had the carnal hots for humping cat tail... plus, he’d swear it was Devon who showed at the cave, even though ‘whoever’ had been quick enough to elude his direct observation.
Either that, or it was Devon’s younger sibling, Dante. The bad boy biker had recently returned, and remained on the outs with his father.
~ HAPPY SUN IN SCORPIO SHAPESHIFTING ~
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, November 15, 2010
She smiled while she listened to the little whiner yip over his sentence and fine. TPing some old biddy’s house, for Bast’s sake. Did he have no brain at all? Hello. Canine. Let’s see him lift his leg out of this one.
The police dogs escorted McMahon out of the courtroom. Leona stood and straightened her sleek black jacket. Her hair, of the same ebony shade and shininess, brushed across her shoulders. Enough self-indulgence. Back to work.
Her jade eyes automatically swept the room, and her nose twitched. There might not be much of a story in McMahon’s arraignment, but she sure as scat smelled something here.
There. Three rows back sat White Fang Kent, the new guy at the Guts and Butts Gazette. Leona’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. Dog Boy was deep in conversation with that little goody-goody, Katrina Collins. Normally Leona would instantly leap in to champion a fellow feline, but something about Kitty put her hackles up. Maybe it was the way she smiled at Kent, or how she leaned toward him like she expected to get more from that mouth than just words.
Not that I care, Leona thought with a twist of her lips. Take away his yummy looks and that big, strong body and what have you got? Just another dog.
Leona marched up the aisle past them, pretending not to notice. They didn’t appear to notice her at all, pretend or otherwise.
That other observer seated at the back of the courtroom, however, did notice. Leona growled in the pit of her throat. Oh scat. No escaping; she’d been spotted. She made herself approach the bitch with what passed for a smile on her face. “Maggie.”
“Leona, darling.” Maggie Novak, the Guts and Butts gossip columnist, beamed up at her, with plenty of teeth on display. She wore huge dark glasses, a paisley scarf and an eye-scalding yellow feather boa. A coyote’s idea of anonymity. “Always a pleasure to see you.”
“Save it. What are you doing out of the pound? Scrounging for scraps again?”
“Scraps? Who needs to settle for scraps when there’s such a rich banquet available?” She aimed her pointy nose at Kent and Collins. “So many tasty tidbits on display.”
“If that’s your thing. I’ve got bigger fish to catch.”
“Oh, don’t run off just yet. Maybe you can help me out. You know Devon Hancock’s back in town? And totally on the outs with cat-tail for a change. Seems the pup had a run-in with one bad kitty. Any idea who she was?”
“Sorry. I don’t go in for dumpster diving. Get your trash elsewhere.”
“But you and he used to be so close, once upon a time.”
Bast bite her. “Listen, you nosy bitch – ”
Maggie’s feather boa reared up and hissed. Cold reptile eyes glared at Leona from the concealing sheathe of plastic-feathered spandex. Leona hissed back. Of course Maggie wouldn’t go on the prowl without her favorite snaky snitch. “Can it, Lamar, or I’ll tie you in a sheepshank. Same goes for you, Novak. Hancock’s off limits. Got it?”
Maggie smirked. “Temper temper, darling. We wouldn’t want another incident, would we?”
“You don’t want to get on my bad side. Trust me.” Leona stormed off before said bad side could erupt. A good clawing might serve the snoopy hound right, but Leona didn’t need any more charges on her record. She couldn’t blow the lid off this burg if they threw her back in the pound.
Leona burst into the sunlight. She paused on the courthouse steps and took long, deep breaths until she felt as calm as she figured she was going to get. It wasn’t easy. Devon Hancock, of all the Bast-damned people. The one story she could never write without destroying herself in the process.
How much did Maggie know?
Forget that sorry bitch. Like she’d said, she had bigger fish to hook. Though maybe a friendly chat with Devon wouldn’t be a bad idea. If nothing else, she had to make sure the whole mess wouldn’t flare up again. With a quick check to make sure Maggie and Kent weren’t following, Leona headed for her car.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Hello all you Shapeshifter lovers out there,
Please help me welcome back, this Sunday's special guest author, Stacey Kennedy.
I love the cover and the name of your upcoming release, Everlasting Bite - yum!
Did you always want to become a writer?
No, I did not. In fact, I never had dreams of being an author and didn’t even know I was capable of it. I read lots, but never had ambitions to write a story. Until this one day in December 2009. A story came to me―one character that grabbed hold of my thoughts and wouldn’t let go until I wrote her life. So, I dug in, wrote it, and was surprised that it was actually good. And thus was born The Magical Sword Series. From there, it’s history and now I’ve got a bunch of released under my belt.
How did your family react to fact that you also write romance novels? Has your family read your books?
My family has been a huge support. I think at first they were surprised by my sudden interest in writing. But after they read one, they just kept asking for more. Always a good sign. Truthfully, my family has only read The Magical Sword series and The Blue Bloods series. My other projects tend to dapple more into erotica, and let’s just say, I’d rather my mother not read what her daughter is capable of imaging.
Most authors are also avid readers. Is this the case with you? If so, who are some of your favorites?
This list could go on and on. But some of my top authors that I will by whatever they write are, Katie MacAllister, Jeaniene Frost, Keri Arthur, Charlaine Harris, and Mary Janice Davidson. As you can tell, I love light-hearted paranormal that’s got some kick-ass heroines in it.
Do you find it difficult at times to write love scenes?
Hell no!! Love scenes are by far the easiest for me to write. To live out your fantasies, to do things you’d never imagine doing, it’s just a bucket of fun! It doesn’t matter if it’s in the first person or third, the woman’s perspective or the man’s, those scenes always come easy for me.
What is your favorite book from the books that you have written so far? Who are your favorite hero and heroine, and why?
Favorite book, that’s impossible to answer. I love each of my stories for all different reasons. But I can tell you I have a favorite hero. Briggs. An Everlasting Bite is his and Rynn’s first story. I tend to write powerful Alpha men who can be a bit on the arrogant side. But Briggs has none of that. Yes, he is strong and protective over Rynn, but he’s so sweet that he seriously melts my heart. I will never grow tired of writing him.
Tell us a bit about your new release.
Above I introduced you to the characters in An Everlasting Bite, but to give you more of an understanding of what this story entails, here’s the blurb.
Love is born between strangers, yet built upon a bond soul deep―one Alpha’s vow to protect his mate from looming danger, all the while, mending her soul and stirring her wolfish desires.
A vicious werewolf attack in Plymouth, Minnesota leaves a young woman violated, bitten and now, transformed into werewolf. But Rynn Murphy doesn’t have to face this transformation alone—she has her mate by her side. And the charming Briggs―Beta to the Patriarch, Valor―is eager to ease her into this new life and mend her battered soul.
With only weeks to adjust to her new fur, Rynn, follows Briggs while he assists in locating the daughter of the Montana’s Alpha, who was abducted from her home. But this journey is not without danger. And soon, they discover the ones who have taken this young wolf do not want her found and will stop at nothing to keep her hidden. Or so it may seem, as bodies begin to drop around them, the murderous attempts start to appear more as a hit than a smoke screen—leaving only one question, who is the intended target…
Buy link-- http://www.staceykennedy.com/books/blue-blood-series/an-everlasting-bite/
Thanks to everyone here at Shapeshifter Seductions for letting me stop by and share a little about me!!
Website - http://www.staceykennedy.com/
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/profile.php?id=100000956942180
Goodreads - http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3473046.Stacey_Kennedy
Twitter - http://twitter.com/Stacey_Kennedy
PRAISE FOR THE WILLOW
RT Book Reviews
“…Kennedy has created a world that readers will want to visit again and again!” Dawn Crowne
PRAISE FOR THE WICKED
Bitten by Paranormal Romance
“Do you love magic, dominant men, adventure, humor, evil villains and a talking cat? Well here is an excellent book for you to try.” Laurie
PRAISE OF A DEADLY WHISPER
Happily Ever After Reviews
The readers will find themselves snickering and crying with the characters. I highly recommend this book. Read it, go get it right away. ” Hunter