Sunday, September 30, 2012

Promo ~ Cover Contest at Sizzling Hot Reviews

Cover Contest at Sizzling Hot Reviews 

Hi, Shapeshifter Lovers, just in case you're in the mood to vote October 1-3, I have entered this contest with the cover art for Kandy Apple and Her Hellhounds.

Kandy Apple and Her Hellhounds
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered ~ What happens when two of Hades’ most mission-accomplished Hellhounds find just the right witch for Halloween? Shape-shifter bestseller. Ebook and now IN PRINT.

Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side…


Savanna Kougar  ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Saturday, September 29, 2012

A Place Called Home

Octavia dropped to her knees.  Angel’s head almost hit the floor.  Luckily, Spirit Bear’s new apprentice first solo spell came out right.  A plump pillow appeared beneath Angel’s head as it crashed past Octavia’s out stretched arms.

“Thank you Mickey.”  Octavia shuddered as images rushed through her again of Angel’s poor fate if Mickey hadn’t acted.  Cradling Angel to her, Octavia sat on the floor.

“Tavia,” Mickey whispered, her own astonishment clearly written upon her face.  “I’m not sure what I did right.  I’m glad it worked the way I pictured it.”

Tongson smiled as he made his way back to where Mickey and Tavia sat.  “Mickey, remember intention is key to most magic.  If we see and feel with our hearts and are coming from a place of love and sincerity, your magic will work.”

Tongson dropped to his knees.  His hand rested on Tavia’s shoulder.  He reached into her, envisioning calm and peace, hoping to snap her out of the self-loathing he sensed building inside her.  “Love, you did what you could.  None hold you accountable.”

Tavia sighed, every breath, came hard for her.  Tongson wondered what cut her to the quick.  She knew her Goddess status allowed her leeway and yet she never took that leeway.  She held herself to high standards.  And with those standards came a price, often one that demanded payment.  What was the price this time?

“I wish love she wasn’t so scarred and fearful.  I tweaked the lack of sleep I felt as I shadowed her movements.  Poor thing is starving.  And her kits are weak from both.”  Tavia ran both hands over Angel’s arms and legs.  “I sense past hurts and recent bruises.  Sergei knew we’d help her.”

Tongson slid his arm around Octavia’s shoulders.  “You couldn’t have known the suggestion you planted in her psyche would trigger such a reaction.  She breathes and her heart beats.  For now we need to cloak her presence and hide her until we can determine what our next option is.”  

Tavia nodded.  She began to weaken the psychic connection she established when she first approached Angel.  The kits she carried were wanted.  Even cherished.  Someone Angel loved very much fathered them.  Tavia heaved a sigh and stroked Angel’s wispy black bangs out of her eyes.  “No one shall harm you while in our care.  Let go of anger, fear, and your need for retribution.  Ours is yours and yours is ours.  Our tribe and you are one.”

Tongson and Mickey winked at each other.  Tavia didn’t speak the tribal family spell lightly or often.  Many enjoyed friendship and a distant kinship with them.  Only those that touched Octavia's heart, and touched it deeply, earned the distinction of tribe and family.  Getting Angel to understand she’d come home would be another matter.


Happy Weekend Gang!

Fall is here.  Though the weather still resembles sunny.  I hope you are enjoying cooler weather and the crisp mornings we have from time to time.  

This week we learn more about Octavia and Angel.  There's more to Octavia's past than we know.  I bet there are a few surprises to come as this story develops.  

Mean while enjoy a good book or two with your spice and loves.  I know I will!


Friday, September 28, 2012

Kilted Goodness

Well here I am, late on Friday afternoon and still working on my flash... yeah, it's been that kinda week.  So I figured it's time to file the flash away for next week and give up some picture love on the blog.  Eliza inspired me yesterday with her sexy book cover...check out her guest post below.  So I went looking for men in kilts and what do you suppose I found?

Burgess, Danny and Dom!  There they are getting ready to take Mistress Penelope on a Scottish adventure!  Damn would I like to be that pretty peaparrot.  :D

Have a wonderful weekend!


Thursday, September 27, 2012

Welcom Guest Author Eliza March!

Boy have we got a treat for you! Please give a warm welcome to erotic romance author Eliza March!

Contemporary Romance
(This title contains adult content: language and explicit language)

Free lance writer, Ailsa Jackson is finished dating executives. She’s looking for hot sexual fantasies with a man who fits her needs... “All muscle, stamina and no commitment.” The assignment in the UK sounds perfect when she's assigned to interview an American CEO who recently inherited lands and a title in Scotland. She tosses her inhibitions aside for the first Highlander she encounters—prepared to research all the old myths about brawny men in kilts and finally answer the age old, burning question: What does a Scotsman wear beneath his kilt?

Colin Fitzgerald represents everything Ailsa hates. He knows it's wrong to deceive her, but he can't risk Aisla discovering his true identity before he seduces her. If only he can become the lover she adores before the interview, perhaps he can convince her they're perfect for each other. He has one night to prove he's no stuffed shirt and three weeks to be everything she desires in a lusty lover. His adventurous lass is not only imaginative but willing.

Can lust turn to love in three weeks and will they be ready for more than a Hot Highland Fling when the assignment draws to an end?


“So ye don’t mind a man in a skirt, hey?”
The expression on his face turned predatory as he moved into her personal space. She felt like Little Red Riding Hood had come upon the very big, very bad Wolf, and she so wanted him to eat her. As far as she was concerned, he could have her all he wanted. The silence between them was charged with sexual tension.
“You look...ah, great.”
Ailsa’s gaze took him in again. She’d have to settle for great. Any other term would just be insufficient. Yet great almost seemed an inadequate description under the circumstances. Vocalizing her true feelings—terrific, yummy, fantastic—might be a tip off about her fascination with him and his kilt. She decided to hold it there. Anything other than great would be over the top. No sense scaring the hell out of the first man she encountered in Scotland.
She certainly couldn’t ask the question she longed to ask or lift his kilt and satisfy her curiosity.
He frowned and tilted his chin to one side, perhaps puzzled by her perusal.
She tried to explain. “Don’t get me wrong. I was surprised to see the native dress. You know...the kilt and all. Sorry, I’m babbling. I didn’t know kilts were daily attire.”
“Do ye have something against kilts, then?”
“Oh, no! Absolutely nothing. I actually have a certain proclivity for men in kilts.” The only thing she wanted against his kilt was her body. From the rising action going on under the sporran, she imagined he’d meet her sexual requirements, and then some. How well would he fill her? Her inner muscles clenched at the mental image.
His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.
“Do you, now?” Colin suppressed the smile on his lips, but it crept into his eyes.
She played with fire, boldly flirting with him. “Yes, I do.” She lifted her chin defiantly and let her smile say...“Try me.”


AUTHOR BIO: Author and novelist, Eliza March. My bio is available at my erotic paranormal romance website and current updates about my writing are on my BLOG at That's where I share my daily sexy men of interest or a thought about romance. Sometimes I just rant, sometimes I talk about my new erotic romance books from Siren-BookStrand and The Wild Rose Press. 

My newest release, "The Moon The Madness and The Magic" is a finalist for the prestigious  GOLDEN QUILL AWARD in the erotic category. Watch for "More Than A Stud" June 3rd 2011 from The Wild Rose Press Wilder Catalogue.

Here's my Secret  - I also write mainstream romance as Elizabeth Marchat. My first book in my IATO suspense series. "Across A Crowded Room" by Elizabeth Marchat is available now from Amazon  and Barnes & Noble.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Books, Books and More Books!

Hi! Late post this week. I have been working feverishly to get a manuscript ready for an open submission call next week, so I haven't been actually writing. I'd talk about it here, but I get a little weird/superstitious when it comes to submitting and I don't want to jinx it. I will say that any long time readers of the blog may remember me posting spinets out of a WIP last year titled "Frat Pack Alpha." It ended up not being a romance and it's also looking like it might be my first attempt to submit anything non-romantic.

Speaking about books, just as soon as I'm finished having my melt-down over submitting "Frat Pack Alpha," I'll be finishing the self-publication process for not one, but two Talbot's Peak stories. One is "Witch's Moon" which features Mooney and Marissa. The other is "Fat Aussie Bastard," which features a certain deputy sheriff and his unpredictable Washington State PI. The third one I've been working on, "Cat Got Your Tongue," is about Lex, but it's still pretty rough.

Last but not least, we will be having a guest blogger tomorrow and she's got a little something for us: a free, full-length e-book! Check in tomorrow to chat with Elisa March about her newest release, "Hot Highland Fling," and find out how you can get your hands on a free--yes FREE--copy of it!


~ Rebecca

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Damien Hancock's Mutant Werewolves


Painting: Late Night Encounter

Toronto based artist Shawn Pascuttini ( shares this painting he created while listening to Coast to Coast.


Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

First, apologies to everyone. I had planned to continue last week's flash scene, Someday My Wolf Prince Will Come.

However, fate and my muse intervened. Enter, the Mutant Werewolves. One is pictured above and was discovered hiding in plain sight on the COAST TO COAST AM website.

Yes, Damien Hancock, the powerful werewolf alpha responsible for taking over the town of Talbot's Peak, has a new unholy pack he's hired. Not only is Damien planning some realistic Halloween mischief... not only is he planning on 'disappearing' his enemies... but, for the rest of story -- so far -- keep on reading.


From the Kougar’s Writing Den ~

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys

'Unedited' Chapter Sixty-six ~

"Dang it, pard, we're in Mayor Link's sights. What does that chimp shifter want now? We don't live in Talbot's Peak proper. And I ain't endorsin' him no how. Not over Vernon, one of my own wolf kind."

From the corner of his eye, Zance saw Sherilyn quickly glance in Lance Link's direction. "I thought he and Dolly were splitsville. Although, I didn't pay much attention to all the talk at the coffee shop, because who really cares?"

"Downright entertaining, their temporary breakup, if you like slapstick." Dontoya chuckled in his rumbly way. "Me and Zance happened onto the scene."

"I'm headin' the Mayor off at the pass, pard. Why don't you seat our mate, and I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

"Countin' on it, pardner."

Zance paused only long enough to see Dontoya take hold of Sherilyn's elbow to assist her up the steps to their table. Guldurn it, her shapely figure encased in that glamorous, slinky gown nearly knocked his eyeballs out.

She was the most gorgeous woman ever created, and Zance mentally thanked the Goddess Moon that his wolf juice had saved her that fateful day, and now ran in her veins forever. 

Most important though, Sherilyn belonged to him and Dontoya. Even more important by his reckoning, her heart embraced them both.

Zance strode through the burgeoning festive crowd, meeting Mayor Link and Mrs. Link near the edge of the highly polished dance floor.

"Happy new year, Lance. And, Dolly, don't you just shine this evening, beautiful and lovely as the full moon."

After giving him an audacious wink, Dolly presented her gloved hand, so heavy with the weight of her gemstone-loaded rings, Zance had to wonder if this had been Mayor Link's way of paying for his sexual transgressions.

He pressed a kiss on the top of her hand in an old-fashioned tribute to her womanhood. Dolly excused herself then, and departed with a rustle of her stiff satin skirts.

"Something I can do for you, Mayor?" Zance covertly studied Link's expression, but he'd put on his poker face. 

"It's what I can do for you and Dontoya. What I have done to be precise." Link's large dark eyes remained inscrutable.

"Mayor, I ain't too good at playing these kind of politico games. If you got something to say, spit it out."

Link rocked back on his heels, and with confidence oozing out of his pores, he hooked his thumb in his waistcoat pocket. "I understand via the grapevine your mate Sherilyn Wingate, isn't it -- was struck with deadly force, and you came to her rescue."

"That's right. Both me and Dontoya." Zance gave Link his one-eyed stare, and waited.

"Can you identify who was behind the wheel?" The Mayor raised a bushy brow, his gaze bright in that alpha way of chimps.

"Nope. Not which one was drivin'. Only know who the truck belongs to, and saw who was in the passenger seat."

"I've got one of the Brady boys sitting in the pokey right now. Seems as though he confessed to swiping Ms. Wingate's pickup."

Reflexively, Zance stepped into his gunslinger's stance. "When?"

"Last night, during a drinking binge."

"Know I saw Tom Brady through the passenger window. Smelled him too."

The Mayor gave a slight nod of his head. "I'll have Tom Brady brought in for questioning on your say so. If the Sheriff gets something out of him, I'll need you to testify. You and Dontoya, if he saw the same. Agreed?"

"Yep. You and the Sheriff get the goods, and me and Dontoya will play it that way. Let justice take its course." On second thought, Zance added, "Won't be able to testify about how I saved Sherilyn, though."

"Nothing in the public record. Understood. We'll work out the details beforehand." 

"And?" Zance asked at Link's telltale hesitation.

"Some of us in Talbot's Peak want to keep the town friendly for both shifters and humans. To put it in plain terms, I need backup."

"I got no problem with that."

"Figured as much. To my knowing, you and Dontoya have never been anti-social to any species." Link rocked back, his expression turning grave. "Got the word today that Damien Hancock is in a howling rage over how Talbot's Peak is changing -- all the newcomers, but mostly anyone with human blood."

"Yep, ole bloody-tooth Damien has gotten too big for his werewolf britches. Ever since he and his pack took over The Peak and nearly made Miss Kitty roadkill. What's 'he thinks he's the king of mountain' up to?"

"Damien and his top lieutenants are planning terror raids. Got that from a reliable source. But," Link's ears twitched, a sign of his nervousness, "rumor has it he's hiring mercenaries, a mutant werewolf pack."

Zance chilled with 'psi-knowing', and his hackles raised painfully. "Mutants?"

"According to Sergei they look like a cross between a Hollywood werewolf mated to one of those cryptid goat suckers."


Mayor Link nodded as if they were only discussing the weather.

"Did Sergei say if his tiger Yakuza boss, Shere Khan, knows anything about these werewolf mutants?"

Lance cracked half a smile. "Sergei said when he reported his sighting, Shere Khan made some Confucius type of joke about summoning the Teenage Mutant Turtles."

"Well hell, grease yer guns, cowpokes. Ain't nothing like a Yakuza varmint with a sense of humor." Zance shook his head at what he was learning.

"Shere Khan has taken his claws out of our fair town for now. Thanks to you and others. But, he's sitting pretty like a fat tick on a lazy bloodhound, just biding his time."

"I reckon that's true." With his thoughts racing, Zance asked, "Talk to Dante about his sire's nefarious plans?"

"No, not yet. Why spoil Dante's grand opening of the supperclub?" Lance glanced around. "A world-class achievement. Me and the misses call it hoop-di-doo elegant."

"World-class is damn right. I ain't been in these razzle-dazzle surroundings for quite a span of time." Zance shot his gaze toward Dante briefly, having caught his scent. He and his lovely Kitty were moony-faced gazing at each other. "Yeah, why spoil his romantic evening? It'll hold."

"Good evening, White Fang, Ms. Pasha. Happy New Year," Mayor Link intoned in his official, I'm-your-friend voice.

"Happy New Year, Mayor, Zance." The super wolf and his cat goddess paramour echoed each other's words.

"You two boys are looking particularly serious," White Fang continued. "Something I need to know about?"

"Are you here with your reporter's hat on?" Lance demanded, his tenor still oily with friendliness.

Zance watched White Fang's small grin form. "It's off for this evening, Mayor. But, don't tell Nick. I have him fooled into believing I'm always investigating the next story."

Mayor Link rolled his eyes to the left, but didn't move his head. "Nick's already eyeballing us from clear across that half-a-football-field sized dance floor." Lance's brow wrinkled like a chimp as he whispered, "And with his extra sharp hearing..."

When the Mayor's words faded, White Fang's deep blue eyes subtly twinkled with humor. "Nick's werewolf nose for news is telling him, 'Flash! Front-page headline'. Quickly followed by 'every copy sold'."

"No worries, gentlemen." Pasha slinked closer to White Fang, resting her hip against him. "Ziva has Nick by the collar, and she's whispering naughty promises in his ear." She spoke in her slow sultry voice, the one that always riled Zance to hot and ready.

But no more. That was reserved for Sherilyn.

"You're surely right, Ms. Pasha." Zance gave her a wink. "Nick is followin' Ziva now, and lookin' like a stud on a short leash."

"Like I was telling Zance, rumor is..." Mayor Link began.

"Tell you what, fellas, Ms. Pasha," Zance interrupted. "I'm itchy as a flea-bitten mutt to get back to my mate. Mayor, me and Dontoya will back you up. White Fang, ole buddy, we'll be attendin' the get-ready meetings like always."

"Congratulations to you and Dontoya on being mated," White Fang offered, his tone genuine. 

"Yes, congratulations, and blessed be your union." Pasha glowed, and with his psi-eyes, Zance observed her golden essence whirl, then surround him.

He gave her a slight nod of thanks.

"Your mate, she is Ubarion, is she not?" Pasha smiled, the Egyptian cat goddess who captured any canary she wanted.

Zance answered with a lopsided grin. Figuring the Ubarion cat was now out the bag anyway, and a cat goddess would know the truth, he drawled, "Close enough, Ms. Pasha. But we're keeping it under our hats."

"Of course," Pasha met his gaze squarely, and Zance witnessed the strength of her sacred force. "I will not speak of it. However, if your mate would care to know more about her heritage, I will happily speak with her."

"Enjoy the evenin'." Zance spun on his heel, and like an eagerly panting stud, he strode toward Sherilyn.

Why should Donny-cat get her exclusive company tonight of all nights? Mentally growling, Zance quickened his pace to a near trot.

Dammit! What did that beta, Mooney, want? Zance curled his lips in a silent snarl as Mooney waved him over, then moved like a linebacker to intercept him.

Was the beta werewolf sniffin' for a story? Could be, since Mooney and Nick, the editor of the G&B Gazette, were brothers, and the beta had been the newspaper's sports writer.

Zance couldn't recall if the siblings were still on the fang-ripping outs with each other. Not wanting to make a stir at the supperclub, he reluctantly slowed his steps.

Where was Mooney's dang, good-looking little mate with the blue hair? Marissa, that was her name. Yep, that sweet human witch surely kept Mooney on love's leash.

Zance took advantage when a passing waiter presented a tray holding glasses of bourbon straight up. At least, his usual good luck showed, and right on time, even if he was missin' time with his precious Sherilyn.

Waiting for Mooney to charge through a group of vampires, dressed impeccably in tuxedos, Zance took a healthy swallow. He savored the mellow tempest of flavors as the bourbon slid down his throat.

That was Dante for ya. Always the best whenever he could get his paws on it.

"Reach for the ceiling," Zance muttered about his eyebrows as they raised high. The werewolf's playboy-handsome mug was contorted by an urgent expression, and his eyes shone darker than normal.

"What's stickin' between your fangs, Mooney ole son?"


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side…


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~


Monday, September 24, 2012

Virginia's Not for Lovers

The whitetail deer plunged frantically through the forest, with the huge gray wolf in pursuit.

With no breath to spare for anything but running, Dora Lee could only curse her own carelessness mentally. This was Montana. These woods were wild, extensive, and new to her. Of course there would be wolves. How could she be so stupid?

She poured on the speed but couldn’t shake him. She had no idea where he was herding her. Toward his pack, no doubt. Any second now another wolf would burst out of the brush for his part in the relay. They would drive her to exhaustion and when she finally stumbled they would bring her down.

The seconds stretched into minutes. No other wolves appeared. Where was the rest of the pack?

Unless he had no pack?

The son of a mutt! He was a loner, chasing her for the hell of it.

Fury replaced panic. Dora Lee stopped and whirled to confront her pursuer.

The wolf skidded to a halt so fast he almost slid muzzle-first into the pine needles and leaf litter. Dora Lee pawed the ground. Her hooves were sharp and she knew where to aim to do the most serious damage. She shook her antlerless head. Her skull was hard enough to make any predator think twice about trying to put her on his menu.

The wolf stared at her. He whined uneasily.

Dora Lee charged.

The wolf spun about to flee precisely one second too late. Dora Lee hit him broadside. He rolled several feet before coming to a halt on the mossy loam, all the wind as well as any remaining desire to chase knocked out of him. Dora Lee straddled him, glaring. She lowered her muzzle to sniff.

Abruptly she shifted. She grabbed the wolf’s ruff and shook him. “You hound! You stinking hound! You’re a shifter!”

The wolf changed form. Dora Lee gripped shoulder-length ebony hair that framed a grinning, unapologetic face. A very handsome face, if maybe sharper in the nose than what she usually went for. The body was all sharp angles and wiry muscle, not like the rounded mass of a stag. He showed off a set of teeth far too pointy for her liking. “Yeah, I’m a shifter. So?”

“Y’all aren’t supposed to hunt us. That’s what they told me in town. You got a nose on that face of yours. Didn’t you know I’m a shifter?”

He leered at her body, now human and slender and dangling a pair of naked breasts right over his hairy chest. “I know it now.”

Dora Lee spat a word her mama’d never taught her. She let go of the wolfman’s hair and sat back. Something pricked her bottom. Cud! She was sitting on top of his pronger. She bolted to her feet. “Well, now that you know, you don’t have to go chasing me around any more. So quit it.”

The wolfman set himself up on his elbows. “You’re on Hancock territory. It’s my duty to check out any invaders.” He treated himself to a thorough stare. Rude and annoying as hell. “Any more of you around? Say yes.”

She hauled in a breath, then spat it out fast when she saw the effect it had on the wolf. “These woods are for everybody. The forest ranger said so. He’s a bighorn. One of us.” A tenuous connection, but she’d use any weapon at hand. “He assured me the wolves around here—the shifter ones—don’t go after other sentients.”

“We do when we’ve got questions.” He leaped to his feet in one smooth bound, faster than Dora Lee’d expected. She made herself hold her ground. If she ran he’d just chase her again. “You’re no muley, not with that hair.” He nodded at the tawny brown wavelets spilling over her shoulders. “You’re not from around here, either, not with that accent.”

“That’s because I’m a Virginia whitetail, thank you very much. Who I am and why I’m here isn’t your outlook. You tend to your business and I’ll tend to mine and we ought to get along fine.”

“You are my business when you’re on Hancock turf. When you get back to town, you have Ranger Ewing show you the boundaries of our pack. And now, miss, I’d be happy to escort you to the border of our territory. You’ll still find plenty of woods to run in.” He held out his hand to her.

Well now. Even a carnie could act the gentleman. She’d heard the males still subscribed to a code of chivalry here in the West. Dora Lee nodded agreement and took the hand he offered.

Quick as a wink he yanked her forward. His arm locked around her waist tight as a bear trap. His golden eyes bored into her brown, dancing with wicked humor. “This is for knocking me down,” he told her. “And by the way, I’m Brett.”

The wolfman kissed her, hard and rough. Pinned against that lean but hard-as-steel body of his, she had no choice but to put up with it.

Hairy dang mutt could kiss like a son of a gun, she had to give him that.

“Oh, man,” the wolf sighed when he lifted his lips at last. “I do love the taste of venison.”

She head-butted him.

Predators have teeth. Prey have speed, hooves, and heads harder than concrete. The wolfman dropped like a rock.

By the time Brett recovered enough to lever himself off the ground, she’d shifted form again. His bleary eyes focused through the sparkle of stars on the deer bounding into the distance, her white tail flashing like a flag.

Brett wiped his mouth and grinned hugely. Would you look at those legs. He’d always been a leg man, regardless of species. And white meant surrender, didn’t it?

“I’ve got your scent now, Virginia,” he murmured. “And two can play the game.” Considerate of her of mention she’d talked to the forest rangers. He climbed to his feet, wincing over the pain that stabbed through his head, and made his way back to his Jeep to give Ranger Ewing a call.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Welcome to Remoor Beach's Fall Sand Sculpture Festival

Abebi sat opened mouth next to Sandy.  Their table near the front of the small interior Starbucks café provided her a front seat view of Jackson and Remo exiting Agua Caliente.  Jackson held some package in his arms.  Abebi noticed the lanyard hanging around his next.  Oh no, Remo hadn’t.  Had he?

Sandy cleared her throat, sat her half-empty cup down, and leaned forward touching Abebi’s arm.  “Hon, close your mouth before half of Remoor Beach sees your reaction.”

Abebi’s quick shake of her head before she faced Sandy couldn’t hide her response.  Sandy knew about subtle signs and body language first hand.  Rowdy drunk shifters were nothing new to her.  Remo’s quick reflexes kept her safe.  And the fast actions of their two bouncers, a mutant wolf-husky hybrid mix and his boyfriend—a midnight black panther, took care of the few that pushed things too far.  Sandy smiled as an image of Lance flashed in her mind in his Halloween costume from last year.  He and his partner Scott made fabulous Chippendale dressed dancers.  Bless their hearts for putting on the evening’s entertainment complete with stripping down, way down past their skivvies.  

Abebi cleared her throat and waved her hand in front of Sandy’s face.  “I hope those thoughts are about your hubby and not Lance and Scott again.”

Sandy fanned herself.  “Ah my hubster would share in a heartbeat.  Problem is Scott isn’t bi and Lance loves me like a sister.  So no takers there.  But a woman can dream.”

Both laughed for a several moments.  Sandy picked up where her original idea left off.  “I know you got it bad for Jackson.  You talked non-stop about him since you  arrived three months ago.”

“Yes, I had hopes.  Lupa must have heard my prayers.  He’s here.  But. . .”  Abebi sipped her coffee.

“Whatever apprehensions are happening in your mind, keep them there.  I know Remo muttered something about blood before he brought Jackson inside.”  Sandy finished her coffee before biting into her vegetable filled pastry.

“Blood,” Abebi whispered.  “How could Remo know?  I mean did you. . .you know tell him?”

Sandy wiped her mouth.  “No, I know when to keep my mouth shut.  As Alpha, he’s got connections.  Besides Remoor Beach is too small to not have certain things known after a while.  Doc, I’m sure reported in at the last pack elders meeting.  Pack health and welfare are keen issues for them.”

Abebi sighed.  “Yeah, I love the tightness of our community.  Still some privacy would be nice.”

Sandy laughed as she caught sight of Remo crossing the street heading toward the café.  “I haven’t seen that much pep in Remo's step in a while.  Lupa and Goddess help you and us.  What has he gotten Jackson into?”


2 weeks later

Jackson looked down at his snow-white legs.  The tan walking shorts looked deep beige against the starkness of his skin.  Ah, the slathered on well sunscreen would keep him from burning.  As his gaze rose higher, loud reds and blues amongst floral prints greeted him.  

 He groaned as the lanyard holding his picture and name along with judge boldly stenciled beneath it came into view.  Jackson forced his eyes to the mirror in front of him and to the running shoes he wore.  Remo was right.  These sneakers were lighter than boots were and had bounce.  Nice padded bounce too.  Thank Lupa and her consorts, Remo hadn’t insisted on sandals.  Jackson wasn’t getting caught in no salon getting any pedicure.  When the local barber started offering them, maybe, until then wasn't any way this side or any other of the Peak he was getting that sissified.

Jackson grabbed the new hat he traded his Stetson for.  At least the baseball cap was one color and had Agua Caliente’s logo on it.  That damn thing had his name stitched on it too was a bit more than Jackson wanted, but Remo signed his paycheck.  And for now was his landlord.  The room over the bar was small but comfortable.  Jackson grinned at Remo’s parting remark last night.  Yes, Jackson would cooperate and mingle with the pack and citizens of Remoor Beach.  But keeping his hands off Abebi until they were properly hitched was another matter.

Down on the beach, most of Remoor Beach’s young and old filled the roped off section closest to the waterfront.  Several parents worked alongside their children digging in the wet sand filling buckets and building their entries.  Some worked alone and others worked in groups.  Abebi shielded her eyes with her hand.

Two groups over three of her students plopped sand down and mixed natural paint colors with it.  Nothing man made was allowed in any of the materials.  All natural and safe to the environment ranked top in the rules.  Abebi smiled as she scanned the beach further. 

 Judging would start in a few hours.  Many were doing elaborate pieces.  Some just let their imaginations run with what inspired them.  Others just wanted to have fun.  She hoped Jackson’s first pack interaction wouldn’t be his last.  Until Sandy arrived, Abebi couldn’t look for him.  Someone had to mind their spot.  Abebi wondered what Sandy’s sculpture idea was.  The twinkle in her eye as she agreed to be Abebi’s partner in the competition had her wondering what Remo had put her up to.

Happy Weekend Gang!

Sorry this is posting a bit late.  Work was crazy this week.  Busy times around the spice homestead too.  I'm almost done with the first draft on a new book entitled Hot for Torrey.  I'll share a snippet or two perhaps once it's fit for public reading. Yes, us authors can be as bad as artist not wanting to show their artwork until it's deemed perfect and ready.  

Hope you enjoyed this week's flash and more of Abebi and Jackson's story.  Until next week and my muse decides whether Angel or our love birds puts in an appearance, share a good book or two with your spices and loves.  Happy Autumn All!