Friday, May 31, 2013

Can We Do That Here?

Nick finished dotting the last ‘I’ and crossing the last ‘t’ on the annual employee reviews and thanked Lupa that it was finally done.  While most newspapers around the country were struggling and going down the shitter, the Gazette flourished.

The scent of his mate reached him even before she entered his office.  “Did you forget how to knock?”

“I knew you were alone.” One hand hugged her hip while the other pointed a piece of paper at him.
“Besides, you’re not dumb enough to be giving what’s mine to someone else.”

“Really, and what if I was that dumb?”  He couldn’t help but to rile her up this way.  She was a Goddess normally, but when she was angry…she wrecked him.

“Then the she would be dead and you would be the proud new owner of that chastity apparatus we saw the other day over at Glenn’s.”

Nick cringed and gave a quick reassuring rub to the suddenly startled junk beneath the desk.  Like he’d ever risk losing the woman standing before him.  “What would possess the man to add that to the pet store’s inventory?  I mean sure, most of the towns animals get their love supplies from there, but really, that’s for when we’re in animal form.”

“I think Penny suggested it.  She said something about Danny needing a little discipline in his human form.”

“Shit, no more spending time with that woman.”  Nick had no doubt his admin was responsible for the purchase and the look Ziva currently aimed at him clearly suggested he do something anatomically impossible in either of his forms.  “Fine, tabling that discussion for now.  What do you have for me?”

“A letter to the editor for you to read.  You’re going to love this, Nicky.”

Her smirk told him different, but he took the paper anyway.

Dear Editor,
I’d like to first thank the Grease ‘n’ Grill for putting on the car show last week, it was righteous and about time.  It was a great way to change other town’s perceptions about Talbot’s Peak.  I was wondering if the town would ever consider doing a county fair type thing with games, food, a parade and even rides.  Ooh, we could have royalty as well…Peak King and Queen, Prince and Princess.  Like that.
Please consider.

Nick dropped his head to the desk, snorting out his frustration.  “Please tell me that was a joke.”

“Nope, no joke.  Eric the human wants a fair.”

“Can you imagine the shifters in town attending a fair with humans?”

“It would be a challenge.”

He knew that grin.  It was the same one she sported when he told her no.  It was the one she got when they added something new to their sex.  She wanted a fair and he longed to give her whatever she desired. 

“How would we explain raw steak on a stick or live mice?”  He asked, trying desperately not to clue her in to his weakness.  “What about when the Oxen brothers lifted hundreds of pounds in the games of strength?  And royalty?  Can you imagine a Queen…”

“Lamar,” they both said at once.

“I’ll talk to Dante and Gil, but that’s all I can promise, Ziva.  Don’t start planning or posting that letter.”

“No, no planning or posting,” she said, already heading to the door with her head in the clouds.

“Ziva,” he warned.

“I love you too.”

Hell, she was planning and now he needed to convince Dante and Gil that a fair would be a good thing in the Peak.  Shite.
May your parades be filled with candy and your fairs provide your favorite snacks on a stick!


Wednesday, May 29, 2013

And the winner of last week's "What's your werewolf Name" contest is... NayNay! Or shoudl I say, "Scarred Warrior?" Either way, she's our winner! NayNay, drop me a line and we'll get your your prize! And on this the story telling.

OK, posting on the correct day and I'm going back to posting the Manscape Mike story. Enjoy!


Barbie sat sullenly in her car, watching Mike as he “chased” drunks out of the park. He was more than what he appeared, she just knew it. It had damn-well been a huge cat she’d shut in that box, not an over-grown hall monitor. Hell, she had been chased out of the park by him on more than one occasion herself during high school. She would have been able to tell him from a mountain lion in broad daylight.

Instead of being the girl who got YouTube-worthy film footage of a wild animal acting all cute, she’d gotten the reputation of a scatter-brained dunce who freaked out about anything out of the norm. And a naked guy popping out of boxes was all kinds of “out of the norm,” even for Talbot’s Peak. People were going out of their way to tease her and make fun of her. All Mike had gotten was a silly nickname. And a lot of tail, judging by what she’d been seeing over the last few weekends.

Barbie had started following him, trying to catch him doing something odd. Or at least odd by TP standards. Chasing shit-faced frat boys out of trees and having tipsy bridal parties all but rape him wasn’t actually all the weird for this town. She had caught nary a sight of the big cat again, though she had developed a slightly raunchy addiction to watching Mike get manhandled by strange women. Maybe that’s what she really did see that day out behind the loading dock. Lord knew he seemed to spend a lot of his time bare-assed in public, though usually at night.

She had a new problem, though. After watching other women strip him down and have their way with him, Barbie very much wanted to give “Manscape Mike” a try, too. After all, she had been the one to spot him in the boxes. Maybe if she had stuck around to watch instead of slamming the box shut and running to get her friends, she would have realized it wasn’t a cat but rather a smoking hot guy. Maybe she would have gotten to have go at him back before every single chick in town decided to have a taste of him.

What she needed was a plan. He hadn’t been anywhere near the furniture store since that fateful day. She could always come out here and let him “kick” her out of the park some night, but that would probably not get her far. Other than the first time or two, none of the women who’d tried to get Mike to play dirty park ranger with them had succeeded. She could always go to one of the bachelorette parties he’d been booked to strip at, but she had already gotten to see him in the buff several times. She was tired of looking. She wanted to play. Maybe she should mail herself to him in a giant box.

Wait. That was a pretty good idea!

She could mail him boxes of goodies, a different sexy, sensual gift every day. After a few days, she would make sure what he got was her in a box. No, that would be cheesy. Maybe once she had him good an intrigued with her sexy, anonymous gifts, she could mail him a hotel room key? Better. Grinning, Barbie sat back at watched the delectable Manscape Mike make his rounds and started making plans, visions of all she was going to do to him once she got her hands on that oh-so-hot body of his!

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

White Fang ~ A Shapeshifter Memorial

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

I wondered how one of our own in Talbot's Peak would view Memorial Day. White Fang, my super wolf hero, spoke to me for this flash scene.


White Fang ~ A Shapeshifter Memorial

The wildness of the tall-tree forest raced through him as White Fang loped along the trail -- still damp and slick from the lightning storm that had blown through during the night hours.

White Fang kept his pace steady, sure-footed. He breathed in the new-growth pine, springtime's chlorophyl-rich leaves, and the blood-tangy scent of foraging creatures.

The afternoon winds kissed his muzzle, stroked his fur, then slipped over his tail. Feeling the not-to-be-ignored tug of his soul, he'd decided on this small pilgrimage to the isolated mountain lookout he favored most, on what American humans called Memorial Day.

Even though, Earth was not his native planet, White Fang had gradually developed a fondness for Mother Earth. Between his investigations as a crime reporter, he'd explored her splendid untamed terrains. Now, as his paws struck her fecund surface, Gaia's varied harmonies, her forest song flowed through him, fierce as a jolt of electricity.

Seeing the familiar tower of rock, the gateway to his lookout cathedral, White Fang slowed his gait. Sunlight and shadow played over the shades of gray, and he took moments to appreciate nature's beauty.

Once he stood on the rock shelf overlooking the monumental grandeur of the valley, White Fang slowly shifted to his human form. The need to honor the fallen warriors and warrioresses of his homeworld burned like a blazing torch inside him.

The wolven shapeshifters who had bravely battled, and given their lives to protect their families, their kind, their world... his world, lived again for long moments before his mind's eye. He'd witnessed every battle as part of his education, his warrior training.

Some of the fallen had been his ancestors, and White Fang accessed his genetic memories. Opening his arms wide, he offered his sacred heart, his eternal gratitude.

Once the conflicts, the warfare had ended on his home planet, the gift of physical immortality had been bestowed by the creator gods and goddesses. Currently, most of the fallen had incarnated, becoming guardians of the wolven people.

White Fang swept his gaze over the magnificent rock face of the mountainside. After listening to the deep trombone tones of the ancient stone, he recalled each and every shapeshifter he'd known, or knew of, who had sacrificed their lives in battle. Had died for the sake of their kind, to protect their family, their pack, their mate -- to save all those they loved.

As their images appeared, he honored each one of them. Finally lowering his arms, White Fang stood in the stillness, the silence -- that which was truth and goodness and universal justice.

The sun's rays embraced him, streamed inside him, a sacred and powerful guiding light. With his eyes still closed, White Fang morphed to his wolven self.

He sat on his haunches, quietly taking in the spectacular wonders around him. Once the shadows lengthened, and the mountain peak claimed the sun, he trotted toward the trail that would take him home to Pasha, the cat goddess he loved.

Home, to Talbot's Peak.

Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, May 27, 2013

The Write Stuff

Chloe sucked furiously on the cap of her ballpoint and glowered at the ruled page that was supposed to have words on it. Its pristine blankness continued to defy her. She fortified herself with another slug of her mint coffee (with its generous head of whipped cream), set the tip of the pen to the paper, and ordered the magic to happen.

Nothing. All the words, all the plots, all the ideas in her head jammed up like a case of literary constipation and refused to come out. Only two words made it out of her subconscious and into her surface thoughts. These were nyah nyah.

C’mon, she prodded the recalcitrant words, help me out here. She’d done everything she could think of. She was sitting in a coffee shop and drinking coffee with a pen and a spiral notebook, just like a real writer was supposed to. It had worked for J. K. Rowling when she was writing her Harry Potter books. Who was Chloe Stevens to argue with the success of Harry Potter?

Maybe she should have used a legal pad. Hadn’t John Grisham written his first bestsellers on a legal pad?

Her other talisman, a copy of Tempest Arouz’s latest bestseller, sat at her right hand. Tempest wrote erotic M/M, whereas Chloe aspired to mild-to-tame M/F, but the paperback was proof it could be done, and done well enough to make a modest living on. Since Chloe’s last layoff, any kind of living at all topped Chloe’s list of priorities. Her aging Honda wasn’t big enough to live in, even by starving artist standards.

The “About the Author” page said Tempest lived here in Talbot’s Peak. Maybe she wrote her books here. Chloe glanced around hopefully at the other customers of Java Joe’s, but so far all were male. Maybe Tempest wrote in a lofty penthouse with a spectacular view of the mountains. The crisp Montana air had yet to prove conducive to creativity, but Chloe was determined to stick with it.

If all else failed, she could go crawling to the local newspaper and beg for a job, even though print journalism wasn’t the most stable of career choices right now. Her last two jobs had downsized her out the door after three years and two years, respectively. With unemployment running out, Chloe decided what the hell, time to become a romance novelist, like she’d always wanted. Now if only the words would cooperate.

Characters, that’s what she needed. Story follows the characters. She took another, closer look at her fellow caffeine addicts. Maybe the hero of her first bestseller was sitting here at Java Joe’s.

But not that guy. The huge, pallid man with the Russian accent would never make it as a romance hero by anybody’s standards. Too darn scary. Bad guy, maybe. The ruthless head of a vampire flock who threatened to make the heroine his bride. Perfect. Now all she needed was a damsel in need of some serious rescuing, and a man capable of performing same.

Or men. The two cowboys seated over by the window fit the hero bill quite nicely. Both were tall and broad-shouldered and majorly cute, and filled out their jeans in all the ways a romance hero was supposed to. The one was blond, the other sort of reddish-brown. Brownie had a deeper voice than Blondie. She couldn’t see what color their eyes were. Chloe shrugged. She was in charge of this story. She could give them whatever color eyes she wanted.

She glanced at the cover of Tempest’s paperback, which featured two hot cowboys, then back to the real deal by the window. Chloe had never tried to write a ménage before. Maybe now was the time. Menages were huge on the market right now, especially paranormals. Maybe the cowboys were vampires too. But good vampires. They only drank cow blood. Her heroine, whatever her name ended up being, would fall for them head over stiletto heels. After they rescued her from the bad vampire. And had hot animal sex.

Chloe took one last preparatory slug from her mug and started writing.

# # #

“That she over there,” Dale muttered to Ewan. “The one with the pen and the notebook. Is she looking at us?”

“Can you blame her?” Ewan slicked back his blond hair and licked his lips. “Two handsome dogs like us? I’ll bet she’s plotting to get herself into our Levis even as we speak.”

Dale forced himself not to turn around. Apes in general didn’t bother him. Apes with pen and paper or other recording devices, that was a whole other deal. “Her scent says she’s human.”

“Even better. Human shes don’t give a whiff for rank. They’ll put out for anything.”

“What do you suppose she’s writing?”

“A love letter to me. ‘Oh, Ewan, my heart pounds with unending lust for your irresistibly hot good looks.’ What? Chicks are into love letters.”

“She doesn’t even know you. If she did, she’d be writing a restraining order.”

“You’re just jealous of my luck with the ladies.”

Dale Hancock snorted. Ewan came from back East, and was rumored to have more than a dollop of coyote in his suspect DNA. He’d adapted to the Montana lifestyle with no trouble, and looked more like a cowboy than native-born Dale. So far Dale’s blood connection to the ruling pack hadn’t gotten him squat, shes or otherwise. Just patrol duty from second—or was it third?—cousin Dante.

And standing orders to keep an eye out for any humans acting suspiciously. Such as the tasty bit at the table back there, studying everybody in the coffee shop and jotting notes.

“I’m going to sneak a peak at that notebook,” he decided. “Get over there and distract her.”

“What? Why me?”

“Because the ladies love you so much. Go. And try not to get any coffee tossed in your face this time.”

“Watch the master in action,” Ewan said. He got up and ambled over to the human’s table. Dale sat by, legs tensed to move, and hoped she was just some innocent ape and not another hunter or something. The last thing they needed in Talbot’s Peak was any more bad press.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Chapter Four

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys

Chapter Four:
With his heart pounding...  

With his heart pounding loud as a drum, Dontoya crawled the pickup as close as he could get to the house. Their own mate. Finally, the gods had favored him and Zance.

Good damn thing they'd snow-plowed the stuff earlier. More for the fun of it than anything. Usually, he and Zance didn't bother. Shifting, and letting their beasts out to play a rough and tumble game of tag in the snow was a favorite pastime.

Most of the ranch staff were shapeshifters and paranormals, and the few humans were in the know. That made for a smooth-running operation overall.

Once he parked, Dontoya angled himself, meeting Sherilyn's wide-eyed gaze. She battled it, but shock gripped her in its talons.

"Barney," she softly uttered. With Zance's help, she sat up, and drew in a deep breath. "He doesn't trust anyone else."

"Barney?" Zance, to his credit, kept his voice neutral.

For more Sunday Sneak Peaks


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Two Steppin' With My Loves



Travis Stone jerked the steering wheel of his battered and beat up pickup truck skimmer around the one pothole at the end of his driveway that refused to stay filled.  He swore the hole ate dirt as fast as he could shovel it into the crater.  One more week and the hole was history if his luck held out.
Travis reached down and clicked on the radio.  Country western music filled the cab.  He rolled down the windows and turned up the volume.  Taking the back roads into town afforded him the leisure of singing off key as loud as he wanted.  He smiled at the image his thoughts formed.  His high school choir director frowned and shook her finger at him every time he deliberately soured a note or two.  Mrs. Baxter was probably spinning in her grave.   Travis didn’t care.  He sang for fun, not for anyone’s pleasure but his own.
He glanced at the dashboard clock.  He had forty-five minutes until he reached the edge of town and civilization.  Tabasco Flats, New Texas preferred to keep the decorum of vintage country and southwestern lifestyle alive to the public eye.  Since the Revolution divided New America into five new countries, trade agreements and laws were under negotiation in many regions as new states and governments formed.    That was ten light years ago and another planet.  Even earth’s distance memories paled in comparison to the news.  The docking station master would need help as the mail order mates disembarked from their ship.  Travis’s smile grew as he pushed the skimmer’s motor into hyper-drive.    His bride and co-husband awaited him. 

Aleisha Jones swallowed hard as her lottery mate Daniel Zane braided her hair.  Washing and combing the long strands was bothersome and one thing she wished she didn’t have to deal with.  Her contract said her purchaser liked long hair and wanted his bride to wear it braided.  Maybe she could sweet talk him into letting her cut her waist length hair off at her shoulders. 
Daniel knew how many times he had to criss-cross the strands of hair he held in each hand until Aleisha’s braid finished short of her hips.  He’d come to love her in a way he hadn’t expected to feel again after his wife’s death.  Time healed wounds.  Light years made no dent in his ache and lingering sorrow.  Both of them agreed that a life worth living came from understanding that joy and grief balanced each other out.  Daniel still wasn’t sure when his heart thawed towards her or vice versa.  Now he had to share her with someone they barely knew from short communications and two grainy photos.  Things were about to get more challenging.


Happy Weekend Gang!

Well the serial started.  A bit of scifi and menage tossed together.  Let's see what this brings about.  I'm feeling good as the weather pings around.  Hope you are staying well and sharing a good book or two with your loves and spice.  I'm writing away on a novel entitled Tina's Treasure and its turning out to be one hot menage! 
Until next week, stay cool and dry, happy, healthy, and safe.  I may post more of the first chapter on my personal blog at



Friday, May 24, 2013

Whipping What... Moon Moon

Vern watched and waved as the caravan of classic cars took off.  He’d planned for a cruise along the highway heading south, out of Talbot’s Peak and toward Missoula.  He’d put Ziva in the lead with her beauty of a Mustang ‘cause he just plain loved the she who was so perfect for his ornery, idjit son.

“Look at him, Elly, a beautiful woman at his side and still he grumbles and frowns.  If Nick doesn’t marry that she soon and give me grandpups to spoil I’m going to give the boy the boot and find Ziva a real man to love.”

“Us, you mean.”

“What?”  He looked down at the lovely ewe who’d stepped under his arm.

“You meant to say, give us some grandpups to spoil.”  Elly smiled up at him, a reminder of all the many reasons he loved her gleamed in her eyes.  “I can see myself cuddling a squirmy wolf or two from time to time.  Plus, we have that big place to have wonderful sleep-over’s at when Nick and Ziva need to decompress.”

“I love you, Elly-mine.”

“Don’t I know it and am plenty glad for it, beefsteak.”

“Beef steak?”  Vern grabbed a handful of his wife’s ass and pulled her close to nuzzle at the side of her neck.  “Don’t you, Beefcake?”

“You smell nothing like cake, husband.  Steak, yes.  Sweet chocolaty goodness, no.”

“Hey, I brush and for you I even floss.”  Which in his mind was a clear expression of how much he loved her.  No wolf out there minded having a grizzly, bit of goodness left behind for later.

“Yes, you do, which I am ever so grateful for.  Now, tell me, why the sundown cruise out of town?  Oh, look at Lamar.  I wonder how Jamie can drive with him wrapped so tightly around him.”

Vern watched the unlikely duo cruise slowly by, a few cars behind the leader.  “Oh, I’m sure he likes being all protective of Lamar.  I don’t guess that happens to often, but it makes a wolf feel frisky to be alpha for a time.”

“Hmmm…” Elly shot him a look he took as a promise for checking on his friskiness later.

“As to why the cruise out of town, well I consider it a helping hand along their way for the human contingent.”

“Vernon McMahon.  That contingent made you a lot of money tonight.  I suspect they put you in the black for a few months.”

“I know, I know…and I appreciate it, but I’ll appreciate it more when they are out of town.  A small helping Elly, a little bit of them goes a long way.  Ya know?”

“Yes, I understand, dear.”

Vernon couldn’t say he liked her patting his arm the way she did, like he was a child or maybe he was over thinking her response.  Maybe she just wanted to get started on the frisky fun.  He nuzzled her closer happily remembering Manscape Mike was coming over soon to work clean-up.  “Let’s go ho…”

“What’s that?”

Vern glanced up, not seeing anything but Lorelei’s VW, smoke still floating out of the windows from the not-cooking herbs she and Bobby had tucked away.  Silly to think they could hide their stash or would even have too from a wolf.  “In A Gadda Da Vida” had given way to “Truckin’” somewhere along the way which fit the moment to a T.  “Looks like Lorelei and Bobby, with Dante bringing up the rear.  How about you and I, Mrs. McMahon, go home and bring up the re…”


“Ah El, I love that I can make you blush.”

“Hold that thought, lover and tell me what’s behind Dante?”

“Behind Dante?”  He looked to where she pointed and sure enough there was something chugging along behind the badass on his Harley.  “Dante should be the end of the line.  Who is that?”

“Oh my, that looks like…”

“A clown car.  A friggen clown car.  Damn Elly, please stop giggling.  Who the blazes brought a clown car…Oh shite, now he’s doing…what is that - damn it, in front of the fountain!”

“Oh Vernon, he’s whipping shitties in a clown car.  Please tell me even though you didn’t have car as a boy and have probably never whipped a shitty in your life that you can’t see how funny that is…in a clown car!”

Vern fought back a smirk of his own as Elly dissolved into fits of laughter over the ridiculous sight before him.  As the car got back on the road and tried to catch the rest of the fleet he noticed the big white ass in the window right above a banner that said…


That has better not be his other idiot son or so help him he take both his sons into the woods and remind them he was still alpha enough.

 May your weekend be filled with many moons and a classic car or two.


Thursday, May 23, 2013

What's YOUR werewolf name?

Fun time! I forgot to post yesterday, sorry. Here's another fun post. What's your werewolf name? Mine is "Scarred Wolf," which is notably better than the poor fool who started the Moon Moon internet craze!

PS: no one won last week's caption contest because no one but contributing authors submitted a caption idea. But if any of you readers want to tell us your werewolf name, I might be convinced to do a random drawing... ;)

~ Rebecca

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Her '65 Silver Barracuda

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers. Happy Sun in Gemini.

Today's flash is a spinoff of Pat's flash scene from yesterday. I just couldn't resist.


Her '65 Silver Barracuda

Katsuz shook inside, apprehensive. Yet, she'd made up her cat mind to follow Gypsy Red Wolf's advice, to get out and meet the were, shifter, and supernatural folks of Talbot's Peak.

Surprised her hand wasn't trembling, Katsuz reached for the soft-fabric tarp, gradually pulling until her '65 silver Barracuda had been revealed. The muscle car, not as popular as a Ford Mustang, had been the only thing she'd kept from her prior life -- when Katsuz believed she was merely human. When her life had been a series of mistakes, confusing missteps, constant mishaps, and years of downright freaking, effing hell.

Knowing Katsuz grooved on fast cars, Gypsy had suggested starting with Vernon McMahon's latest promotion venture, Classic Car Cruise Night. With a decided twinkle in her eye, the psychic wolf shifter ushered her inside the costume area they'd set up together, which included various types of sewing machines, and the huge collection of patterns they'd purchased via the internet.

Happily purring, Katsuz spent much of her time finding fabrics and trims for their dance costumes. Now, she searched for the mod mini-dress pattern, the one resembling the style she'd worn in her late teens, early twenties, when life's promise lay before her.

"Really, is this a good idea?" Katsuz muttered, placing the tarp on top of the good-sized metal chest in her small garage.

The sexy click of her white gogo boots on the concrete floor, the swing of her long hair against her back as she gave her head a shake... oh, and the fact that Katsuz craved a thick juicy hamburger with all the trimmings, and a real chocolate malt to top it off...

Katsuz pressed her palm to the hood, bringing the engine to rumbling life. She didn't take the barracuda out for a spin very often, but when she did she always charged it to full-purr power. On an empty highway, on the straightaway, she'd ease the accelerator all the way to the floorboard, and fly as far as the speedometer needle would go. And beyond.

After all, speed was a high, an aphrodisiac, and with no man in her life a feline woman had to make do with what pleasures life did offer.


Oh now, yowls help! Her hands shook on the steering wheel as she neared the town square where the Happy Days' fun event was taking place. Dammit meows, her whole body trembled.

Katsuz gulped in breaths while managing to keep her driving safe. Spying Dante on his Harley, she grinned. He'd dressed to imitate The Fonz. How perfect was that?

Oh, wowser powser, and a snap of her fingers, why not a werewolf and shapeshifter fifties musical? Or like the movie, American Graffiti? Or... already the costumes formed before her mind's eye.

Delicious meaty odors from the Grease ‘n’ Grill also came to her rescue, and Katsu glided the barracuda toward a spot between a 54 Chevy and a beetle bug, as she thought of the original Volkswagen.

Firming her chin, her resolve, and her spine, Katsuz launched out the door. The flirty feel of her silver mini-dress upped her confidence, and she gazed around.  What a happening scene, as her crowd would have said.

Sadness slid inside her heart as she thought of those she'd cared about back then. Being human, likely they suffered the so-called ravages of old age.

"Beautiful dancer," an admiring male voice spoke behind her.

Thinking she should recognize that rough-and-ready, deep timbre, Katsuz whipped around.  She frowned. No, his face wasn't familiar as one of the men who regularly watched her perform at the Pleasure Club.

"You don't remember, do you?" He approached with the latent power of a big cat. Only he was a muscle-sculpted big cat shifter encased in tight black leather.

The dark glitter of his unique eyes gave him away. Jolted by the memory, Katsuz took a step back, her butt pressing against the barracuda's door. "Brylla's little brother," she uttered before her throat constricted.

"Not so little anymore." His growled words were soft as velvet.

"No... not little," she inanely, breathlessly blurted out. "How is Brylla?"

"Married. Happy. Two little ones."

"I...I lost touch...since..."

"You left the rescue center for orphaned shapeshifters... or women who turn into catwoman like you. I do remember everything about you, Katsuz. I remember when you chose that name."

His intimate tone, his words, tingled through her. Tingles madly racing tingles, she decided. Mews, how much trouble was she in?

"What...what brings you to Talbot's Peak... besides the shapeshifting obvious?" she lamely finished, leaning back on her hands, the ones plastered to the barracuda's slick surface.

"Used cars." A grin teased the corners of his mouth.

"You sell used cars?" she asked, not quite able to envision him as a car salesman.

"Classic cars. I restore them. Looks like a new market has opened up."

"The Peak is growing."

 "Since I'm new around here, how about being my date?"

"You do move fast, Zhono."

"You like fast, Katsuz. You took me and Brylla for a drive on that winding road I'll never forget."

"Oh... oh, yeah. I did." Ungluing herself from her barracuda, Katsuz gave her hair a good toss. She might as well take charge, for once. "Okay, for tonight only. That is, as long as hamburgers and a chocolate malt are on the menu."

Zhono offered his hand. "Let me know when you want me on the menu," he drawled, amusement in his tone. 


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, May 20, 2013

Boys and Their Toys

Vernon McMahon beamed at the crowd wandering around the Talbot’s Peak town square, many of whom detoured into the Grease ‘n’ Grill. He squeezed Elly’s hand. “I’m telling you, baby, this is the best idea I’ve had since that time I offered raw meat.”

Elly shook her head, but even she had to admit Classic Car Cruise Night was a tremendous hit. She’d never seen so many gas-guzzlers and convertibles in her life. But then, she didn’t go around looking for any, unlike the car enthusiasts who’d turned out for her husband’s promotion. Nearly all of them were male, and nearly all of them had that same puppy-with-a-chew-toy look on their faces. A car was a car to Elly. It must be something carried on the Y chromosome.

“Holy cow, would you look at that Pontiac!” Vern exclaimed. “Get a couple paddles and you could float that boat down the river.”

“Oh my,” Elly gasped. She darted over to a vintage ‘60s VW Beetle, complete with windup key attached to the back. “I had one of these when I was Mary’s age. They’re so much cuter than the new ones.”

Vern hugged his wife against him. “Same reason you married me."

“Knock it off, you old wolf. People are watching.”

“No, they’re looking at the cars.” Like Vern. “I always wanted a street rod. Too bad the oil embargo hit around the time I got old enough to drive. It pretty much killed the car culture. I ended up with a pickup truck, like the rest of my unimaginative family.”

“You could get one now. A big boy toy. We can afford it.”

“You wouldn’t bleat?”

“Of course I will. Just not too loudly.” She grinned up at him. “I wouldn’t mind tooling around town in a classic convertible.” She broke off as a man and woman in their 40s ambled past them. The man had his hair in a greased-up DA, and the woman wore a pony tail and poodle skirt. “But not dressed like that.”

Vern just snickered. Quite a few of the attendees had opted to dress to the era. The square looked like a casting call for a Happy Days revival. Jaunty ‘50s rock and roll blasted from the ice cream shop, adding to the atmosphere. Like Vern’s diner, it and the other shops that had opened for Cruise Night were doing a brisk business.

“Does it bother you,” Vern said, “that you and I may be the only people here who actually remember the ‘50s?”

“Speak for yourself, old timer. I was just a lamb for most of it. The ‘60s were more my decade.” She stopped and nodded toward a vehicle more lounging than parked at the far end of the square. “And speaking of which … ”

Both grinning, they strolled toward the VW minibus painted in a swirl of psychedelic colors. “In A Gadda Da Vida” blasted out of a modern-sounding stereo system. On the sliding-door side in a lawn chair sat Lorelei, decked out in jeans and a t-shirt, with dandelions wound through her masses of hair and enough beads to start her own Mardi Gras parade. Her boyfriend Bobby made an acceptable, if big-footed, John Lennon. Digger the wolf stood by a portable grill, roasting veggies under his human girlfriend Laurie’s supervision. Digger and Laurie were dressed like Digger and Laurie. Not so Lamar, who’d gone full-on greaser with leather jacket and sinfully tight pants and his ebony hair styled to within an inch of its life. Rounding out the makeshift commune was Jamie, in his usual slacks and flannel and long-suffering grin.

Lorelei held up two fingers in a V sign. “Peace, dudes. Join the food-in.”

“Only if you tell me what that smell is.”

“Relax,” Digger said. “It’s cooking herbs only. I don’t grow recreational.” He nodded toward Lorelei and Bobby. “I can’t speak for the bunnies.”

“You’re looking authentic,” Elly said to Lamar. “Very stylish.”

“Protective coloring,” Lamar said. “The ‘50s were a dangerous decade for those of my persuasion. I won’t feel safe until the ‘70s swing around again. Ay!” He bolted out of his lawn chair as a blue Plymouth Fury growled past. “Was that Christine?”

“Don’t think so,” Jamie said. “Christine was red.”

“I hate haunted cars.” He hopped into Jamie’s lap. “Hold me.”

“Hey, Pops,” Digger said to Vern, “you look like you’re from the era. You want to explain the fins to me?”

“They’re spiffy.”

“Is that even a word?”

“It was in my day. Show some respect for the machinery, puppy.”

“Uh-huh.” Digger suddenly froze with his spatula half-under the carrot slices. “Oh, that is sweet.”

They all turned to look at the immaculate Mustang purring its supercharged way into a nearby parking space. The door swung open and Ziva got out, done up to Pink Lady perfection: black Capris tight as a coat of paint, scoop-neck blouse, killer heels, a kerchief around her neck in the same scarlet shade as her lips. Nick slouched out of the passenger seat and fell in at heel. He hardly rated a glance.

“You’d better be talking about the car,” Laurie said to Digger.

“Shoot,” Jamie said. He got up, dumping Lamar off his lap. “Better get back to work. I’m supposed to be shooting photos of the cars.” He scurried off in the opposite direction with Lamar clinging to his arm.

“Quite a crowd, Dad,” Nick said, following introductions. He was trying his damnedest not to scowl at his father holding hands with a herbivore. Ziva jostled him with her elbow and stepped over to check out Digger’s food. He didn’t growl, but Laurie did, very softly.

“You offering prizes?” Nick asked.

“A coupon good for two free meals at the Grease ‘n’ Grill for the most authentic car. This isn’t a contest. It’s for funsies.”

Nick looked around, more at the people than the rides. “I didn’t know so many shifters were into street rods.”

“Yeah, well … ”

“Let’s be honest,” Elly said. “Most of them are human. We picked up a lot of the raceway crowd from down by the exit. Word got around, and … ” She shrugged.

“Dante’s not pissed, is he?” Vern said in a low growl.

“Are you kidding? He’s been looking for some way to ease contact. It just happens you lucked into it. If there’s one thing human and shifter males can agree on, it’s cars. Oh dear dog,” he added, suddenly panting. “Is that a Corvette? I have got to check that out.”

Nick trotted off, followed by Vern, Bobby and Digger. Laurie took over the grill. “I don’t get it,” she said to Elly. “It’s a car. What’s the big deal?”

"Well," Ziva said, "there's always the back seat."

Laurie smiled and nodded. In fact, there were smiles and nods all around. Over at the ice cream shop, the soundtrack kicked into “Little Deuce Coupe.”

Saturday, May 18, 2013

I went, I saw, I be back

This going to be short and sweet dear readers.  I'm finally recovering from a bout of food poisoning, the flu, migraines, and allergies that may have caught me a minor cold.  This said I enjoyed RT BOOK LOVERS CONVENTION.  I had a list that I checked twice.  Plans made and workshops decided.  

Well plans changed and lets say, I spent time resting rather than running and doing.  Wonderful things came out of the trip.  I won a publishing contract for a novel I entered in RT American "Idol" the Writer's competition.  I took first prize in the erotic romance section for a novel I'm finishing up over the next few months, Three Princes for Sienna.  As soon as I know more, I'll share.

I pitched another novel to an agent and one of the big 6 out of New York.  Agent asked for full and publisher partial.  I also got asked about what else I had available.

I'm busy writing and polishing these larger undertakings along with working on a couple of stories for Siren.  One is set in Cascade Bay.  The other is a nearby town going by the name of Cameron Shores.

Alas we did not get a picture of this year's basket winner.  I hope they enjoy the books, stuffed animals, and other goodies the basket held.  Well, I'm off to write and hope to have a serial started that I'll post here as well as on my personal blog.  I'll let you know when the first post is up and ready.

Until next week, share a good book or two with your spice and loves.  I know I will be!



Friday, May 17, 2013

Reaching Out

Happy Friday!  Once again, I'm attempting to train Mz. Muse to write from the gut and turn off the internal editor she leans on so heavily, so please forgive the blatant oopsies.  ;)  Also, don't forget about Rebecca's Caption This contest on Wednesday's post.  She's showing off one of her awesome works of art and would love for someone to name it.  Join the fun and maybe win a prize.  :)


“Shush!” The whizz and slap of the ruler hitting Nick’s bare pectoral made her want to squirm, but a good teacher kept control at all times. “Teacher is speaking.  Now then, you will recite for me the Preamble to the US Constitution.  I’ll even start you out since I am a good teacher.  We the people…”

Ziva used the tip of the ruler to trace a heart over the center of Nick’s naked chest, then around each nipple.  The distraction would do nothing to hinder her man in remembering the rest of the words; it would, however, be a load of fun for her.

“…of the United States, in order to…”

“Yes, in order to what?”  Yep, he remembered the same thing he had in High School Civics class.  Of course, then he was all the shite so it didn’t matter if he knew the Preamble and now, she was banking on his continued disinterest in human history in order to get down to the nitty gritty punishment she’d been fantasizing about of late.  This ruler and him bent over the desk she currently sat on—firm cheeks bared and ready to blush.

“Um, not sure.  Sorry teach.”  The twinkle in his eye told her he wasn’t at all sorry, but then she’d not expected him to be.  This was a game where fun was had by all.

“You know what happens now, young man.”  Ziva stood, sliding the bunched up fabric of her school uniform skirt back down her legs and moved to the side of his chair.  “Assume the position.”

She watched as he stood, adjusting the already stiff source of her endless pleasure and going for the buckle of his belt.  Soon he’d be flashing her, his world class ass and giving credence to all those desk humping rumors.  What people failed to realize was that after a few good swats it was she who came between Nick and the wood desk and the pounding they’d hear…well let’s just say she was never disappointed.


“Yes, Ms Wilk.”  The Preamble, it always came down to the Preamble for Ziva.  Probably because of the humiliating day in Civics class where he’d choked in front of the class, more concerned about them not seeing the Blessings of Liberty he’d been packing in his pants for the sassy she sitting in front of him, tormenting him with her scent and those short skirts.  Even now she had the best legs in town and her scent still drove him nuts.

Nick opened his pants and had pushed them to the top of his hips when someone knocked at his door.  “Bloody Lupa, someone wants to die today.”

“Don’t kill them; just fire them for the day.”

He shrugged his shirt back on, but refused to button his pants when zipping had proved to require much concentration.  No worse buzz kill than to get your junk pinched in a zipper.  “Come!”

Daisy, the gazettes new intern entered, saw them at the desk and promptly blushed from the tips of her ears right on down to the tips of her toes if he were to bet. “I’m sorry, um, I.  That is to say, Ms. Jorgensson told me you were both in here and that I should go right in, but knocking is polite so I…I’m so sorry.”

“Button up.”  Ziva said, as she slipped the unused ruler back in the drawer much to his frustration.  “No apologies necessary, Daisy.  Penny should have check with us first!”

“Mistress to you Z.” Penelope responded around the door she shut giving them privacy.

The sexual interplay between his lover and his assistant filled the air like a fine mist, heavy and wet; he could almost reach out and touch the desire.  Someday, if his wolf relaxed enough with others around his mate, he would have to indulge in the pleasure of watching these two strong ladies make each other weak.  Today, however, he had an intern to deal with.

“Please sit, Daisy.  Tell me what we can do for you?”  Quick was preferable so he could attempt to get back to the role playing.

“Well, one of the last classes I took at school talked about the immense benefits to be gained by engaging in social media.  So I was thinking, perhaps, we could create a presence for not just the Gazette, but the whole town of Talbot’s Peak.”

Nick’s gut clenched at the thought of anything social media related and this town.  They were trying to stay incognito here, not loud and proud.  Why would she think advertising to outsiders about their town was a good idea?  “No.”

“Um, well…”

“Jeez, Nicky, rude much?”  Ziva scolded.  “Daisy, dear, tell us more.”

“Okay, well since paranormal fiction, er, mostly romance is such a huge thing these days I thought we could play on that by coming up with a name to encompass the whole of the town and the people in it.  I was thinking, Shapeshifter Seductions.  It would tease the senses with sex and the possibility of the paranormal.  We already have the ‘unicorn’ rumor and the towns around us already think we’re weird or vampires.  All kinds of new businesses are opening up in town lately, heck I heard that Manscape Mik, er, Mike was even thinking of opening a grill.  Bringing people in would help us all stay in business.”


“Shut up, Nicholas.  Well thought out, Daisy.  Now tell me, what social media places were you thinking of?”

“Well a blog, of course, then a Facebook page would be good, and since it’s so beautiful here a Pinterest board is a must.  Maybe Twitter if anyone from town would like to tweet.  On the off chance you were interested I’ve already set up all but the twitter acct.”

Nick grabbed the sheet of paper she slid onto the desk and looked down at the list.


Facebook:  Shapeshifter Seductions Page


Shite, they were officially on the map and he’d have to bring it to Dante’s attention.  While his wolf was categorically against bringing outsiders to Talbot’s Peak, there was a small portion of his educated brain that agreed with Daisy and thought her idea was sound.  Talbot’s Peak was growing and would need fresh sources of income to continue.  Unfortunately, he had some idea how the others would take the news and pretty was not a word he’d use for the fall out.

“Nick, stop that right now!”

Stop what?  He looked up from the paper only to find the gentle doe cowering in the corner and his mate facing him in front of her.  He was growling.  Not at the young lady, but at the idea of what he had to do.  It didn’t even register that his growl would be construed as menacing to a deer in the same room.

Nick moved around the desk and crouched before the intern.  “Daisy, I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I wasn’t thinking when I growled.  Please come out from there and we’ll talk more about your idea.  Much as I hate to admit it, there is merit in a plan like this.”

“You really like it?”

 “I think you are wise to bring it to my attention, but I will need some time to consider the next step.”

“Come, dear.”  Ziva helped the girl rise and headed away from him.  “Let’s leave Nick to his ruminations and go have lunch.  We’ll even invite Penny and I’ll make her watch me each chicken wings for lunch.”

He grinned at the thought of the trio at his old man’s grill.  Penny would pay, that was for sure.  “Ziva, later?” “Perhaps next week.  It’ll give you a chance to study.”

Her wink was salacious as always.  Maybe next week he’s turn the tables and recite the entire preamble that he knew by heart.  Teacher would become his student with one bright red ass.

May your social mediaing be fun and fruitful!  And your weekend, long and fulfilling!


Wednesday, May 15, 2013

"Caption This" contest with a prize!

We interupt this regularly scheduled post... because I can't find the flash drive I saved it on. And I didn't want to wing it because it's a very carefully written out sceen of Manscape Mike trying to convince Digger to grow him some giant eggplants. Instead, you guys are getting my usual go-to post for when I don't got nuthin' else: pictures. Specifically, one of my own original 3D art. The person who comes up with the best title for it wins a $5 gift certificate to the e-book seller of thier choice! Contest closes at Midnight Sunday. Let the brain storming begin!


Tuesday, May 14, 2013

...undisturbed by his presence in their territory...

Tuesday yowls and howls, shapeshifter lovers.

In this flash scene I continue from last week's flash, Spinning at hyper-speed... in the flames... and the god serpent...

However, only my Djinn-human hero stars, along with Dante and White Fang, in this scene about protecting Talbot's Peak from the perils of portals.


...undisturbed by his presence in their territory...

Quite enjoying the atmospheric Old English Pub inside Dante's Pleasure Club complex, Dunkirk paused moments to have a look around. A smile tugged at his lips as he strode toward the alpha werewolf, who raised a pint of ale in silent welcome. 

The super wolf reporter for the G&B Gazette, White Fang, was seated opposite Dante. He followed suit, saluting with his tall pint, his manner friendly. It boded well for his scheduled meeting with them, that both wolf shifters appeared to be undisturbed by his presence in their territory.

Dunkirk remained cautious given previous dust-ups with shapeshifter alphas. In no mood for a brawl that would no doubt require the use of his Djinn powers, if he was to escape unscathed, Dunkirk respectfully halted a small distance from Dante's personal booth, located at the rear of the pub.

"Gentlemen, as I'm certain you know, I am Dunkirk Valmorth. I requested this appointment because I have been informed you are two of Talbot's Peak's head honchos, as they say."

With an wavering gaze that could have stopped a bull elephant's charge, Dante gave a slight nod. "Have a seat. Join us, Mr. Valmorth. Djinn, am I correct?"

"Half Djinn, yes. Will that be a hindrance to our conversation?" Dunkirk hesitated. He wanted no enmity since his intention was to remain beside Princess Kzelle, and convince her to become his bride.

"We won't bite. Not unless you give us cause." White Fang's drily spoken words were followed by a wry grin.

"Ah, yes." Dunkirk placed his palm e-reader on the table, angling the device in a manner that allowed both Dante and White Fang to view it. "Address me as Dunkirk, if you will," he continued, seating himself on the booth's bench seat as Dante indicated.

White Fang raised his dark brows high, and leaned forward. "Brighton resident ‘discovers vortex to another dimension, complete with giant snake." He spoke the headline from the Metro UK news article displayed on the small screen.

"...a wormhole or vortex has opened up on Montreal Road," Dante read in his low gravelly timbre.

"Quite." With a nod of thanks, Dunkirk accepted the pint of dark ale White Fang pushed toward him. "This is my way of introducing what I wish to reveal. As you might already be aware of, vortexes are opening across the planet. In point of fact..."

"In point of fact," White Fang repeated, aiming his steely blue-eyed gaze straight at Dunkirk.

After a swallow of the ale, which was surprisingly superb, Dunkirk answered. "One of my abilities is opening a temporary portal for travel. Only accomplished with correct timing, I assure you. However, I arrived close to your fair town by splitting the etheric curtain."

"You must be a smooth operator, Dunkirk." Dante cracked a momentary grin, then leaned back with deceptive ease. "We detected no disturbance in the force."

Resisting the urge to ask if his presence had been detected, Dunkirk took another healthy swallow of the ale. "Magnificent flavor. A ye olde recipe, correct?"

"The Goddess Moon favors us. We have several master brewers in our fair town."

As Dante savored several swallows, seemingly to emphasize his words, Dunkirk mused on the eclectic gathering of supernaturals. Of course, he'd discover these master brewers because of his own interest in the merits of fine ale. He'd possessed little opportunity to investigate the populace since arriving, his first mission to protect Kzelle.

"We are aware of natural portals being activated by the change in cosmic frequencies,"  White Fang prompted, eyeing Dunkirk like a reporter. "So far, no giant snakes."

"What if I told you I observed a giant serpent god?" Dunkirk laid the gauntlet down, deciding there was no advantage in any other tactic.

Dante nearly launched across the table, his eyes glowing, feral. With their gazes inches apart, he demanded, "What did you see?"

Dunkirk obliged, providing a full description of what had occurred a mere few days ago, when he and the Princess had been witness to the shapeshifter stampede, and the chase by Quetzalcoatl's offspring.

Once he finished, a blanket of silence wrapped around them, and the three of them nursed their ales.

"You believe me, don't you?" Dunkirk broke the silence.

"Yeah, I do." Dante settled back, his gaze darkened by concern.  "My Kitty sighted 'the nude serpent man' when he first hit town. Didn't realize his god pedigree. There's been no scat-whiff of a problem, so it's stayed in the back of my mind."

"There's been a couple of rumors floating around about a winged serpent. Never could track them down -- find a reliable source." White Fang shoved his empty glass to the side. "Pasha did warn me. Said she sensed another god, other than Lex."

"Why don't you have a tête-à-tête with our snake buddy, Lamar. If anyone knows, I'll bet an elk steak he does." Dante signaled for a server.

"Get right on it. Question is, do I write an expose'? Or, let it ride awhile, discover more details?"

"Let it ride awhile, ace reporter. I want to know how dangerous this Quetzalcoatl serpent is before putting the fear of god into everyone."

White Fang rumbled a chuckle. "You know Nick, he'll gnaw on my hide if he finds out I let this one slide."

"Nick and I will come to a mutual werewolf understanding. Another round, Dunkirk?"  Dante asked, as the beta werewolf arrived at their table.

"Don't mind if I do, gentlemen." Dunkirk eased his posture, their good will toward him obvious.

Once the server departed, Dante eyed him with wolf-fierce intensity. "I take it you know your way around vortexes, portals. Some say stargates."

"I do. It's part of my heritage. How may I be of assistance?" Dunkirk decided this was his ticket to becoming part of the pack.

"We have patrols monitoring two vortex sites. Why don't you investigate? Tell us what we don't know."

Dunkirk retrieved his palm e-reader, slipping it in his side pocket. "Certainly. I must explain my first duty is protecting Princess Kzelle, as I have promised her brother."

"Understood." Dante passed around the pints the server had placed before him. "White Fang has been keeping watch on our inter-dimensional stargate. We have off world visitors."

"I see. My family has off world connections. There is another problem you must be aware of. The evil ones who seek power from realms where the most hideous creatures abide."

"Yeah," Dante growled, "the black arts' magicians are performing blood rituals worldwide. The scat fools are summoning demon beasts from other dimensions. Already chased a few Satanists out of our forest."


Here's the link to the real article Dunkirk shows Dante and White Fang on his palm device ~

Brighton resident ‘discovers vortex to another dimension, complete with giant snake’
By Jimmy Nsubuga    Monday 13 May 2013 3:54 pm

Brighton could be the centre of an invasion from dimension-hopping snakes if a report from a resident that a wormhole exists in the city is anything to go by.


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, May 13, 2013

Helping Hands (and other body parts)

Jamie’d gotten good at gauging when Lamar was in a Mood. He hissed like a set of leaky pipes and swore under his breath in Spanish. For a Mood (caps and Italic), he hissed in Spanish, right out loud. If the hisses were directed at the closet, it meant he couldn’t decide what to wear. If he hissed in the kitchen, they were out of either chili or nachos, or both.

Today the hisses blasted out of the breakfast nook, punctuated by a string of Spanish too rapid to follow, though Jamie picked up on the shitty piece of shit part. He glanced within and saw Lamar hunched over his laptop’s keyboard and casting aspersions on the screen’s ancestry. Aha. This must be a Writing Mood, no doubt prompted by a deadline.

Since he wasn’t the target, Jamie deemed it safe to enter. Just the same, he stopped just beyond what he figured must be Lamar’s strike range. “Lemme guess. Trouble with the latest masterpiece.”

Lamar hissed like a punctured helium balloon and spat a dirty word at Windows 7. “Those limp bastards. They won’t fuck!”

“Uh, who won’t … what you said?”

“Esteban and Carlos. They had dinner at that fish place Carlos likes, Esteban’s got him down by the river, the moon is high, the wolves are singing, and now Carlos won’t put out. What is wrong with you?” he yelled at the words on the laptop’s screen. “Esteban’s your mate! You two are destined to be together! Can’t you even kiss him, for fuck’s sake?”

“How’s his breath?” Jamie asked. “Did Esteban rinse after dinner?”

Lamar hitched around on his chair to stare at Jamie. “This is a romance. It’s a fantasy. Bad breath doesn’t factor in.”

“Maybe Carlos just ain’t in the mood. Dog knows I been there,” Jamie added in a mutter.


“Maybe Esteban’s coming on too strong. He bein’ all bossy and alpha wolf and acting like a jerk?”

Lamar frowned at the screen. “Well … kind’a … ”

“Thought so.” Jamie nodded. “You do tend to write to a type. Esteban should just back off for once and let Carlos take the lead.”

“Carlos is King Wussie when it comes to romance. By the time he makes a move they’ll be too old to lift a finger, let along anything else."

“Why not give the boy a chance? He might surprise you.” Jamie crossed the intervening two strides to the laptop, and Lamar. “Lessee what we got here. Oke-doke, got it. Esteban’s frustrated as all get out ‘cause Carlos ain’t responding. But Carlos wants to get it on, he just don’t know how. He’s just as frustrated, only he don’t know how to express it. This is his mate and he’s all put out. So he figures what the hell, and he screws up his guts and makes a move.”

He slid his arms around Lamar from behind. Lamar hissed, but it didn’t burn like the acid hisses he’d been spitting at the screen. This was thin and surprised-sounding. Jamie grinned and nuzzled Lamar’s slender neck while running his hands up and down the snake-shifter’s slender torso. “Esteban ain’t expecting this, so he just kind’a stands there.” Like Lamar was doing right now.

Knowing how much Lamar like the feel of fabric on his skin, Jamie used his partner’s own clothing as a wipe-cloth and gave Lamar’s chest a thorough rubdown. He took special care over Lamar’s ribs; the snake was ticklish there. As an extra added bonus he flicked his tongue around the cup of Lamar’s ears in addition to the nuzzling. “Think Esteban’d go for this?” he purred.

Lamar hissed something. Jamie couldn’t make out the language, but he could hazard a guess from the tone.

“Carlos ain’t a dummy,” Jamie went on. “He can see what he’s doing to Esteban. Now he’s getting all hot and bothered to, so he picks up the pace a bit.”

Jamie knelt in front of the chair and eased Lamar’s legs apart. All he had on was a shirt and some boxers. Jamie lifted Lamar an inch off the chair and teased the boxers off before setting him down again. “Esteban just kind’a sits there,” Jamie said. “He’s the one does all the business usually. He ain’t used to getting it. Am I right?”

Lamar made a gurgly sound. Jamie chuckled and went to work on the inside of Lamar’s thighs. His legs were slender as a dancer’s, but made of solid muscle. When those legs wrapped around your hips, you weren’t going nowhere. Those muscles were trembling now, like most of the rest of Lamar’s body. Not in fear, oh nosiree. Jamie’d been on the receiving end of play enough times to know how the script was supposed to play out—and when to tear it up and throw it out.

He eased his kneading, petting fingers closer and closer to the lips of the pouch that concealed Lamar’s reptilian cock. Jamie pushed his nose in for a thorough sniff. He traced his tongue along the sensitive seam of the pouch, then puffed a breath on it. Lamar shuddered all over. “Didn’t know Esteban could make a noise like that,” Jamie murmured against the moistened lips. “He like it sitting up or lying down?”

“Fuck Esteban,” Lamar croaked. The pouch’s lips pulled back and Lamar’s Dreaded Hooded Cobra thrust its snout out of its den and went prodding around for the source of delight. Jamie kissed it hello. He would have done more, but Lamar lurched off the chair and bore him down to the linoleum. In an instant Jamie found himself trapped in his lover’s twining embrace, with Lamar’s hips grinding against him. His own Big Bad Wolf slammed against Jamie’s pajama bottoms, howling for release.

Then Lamar got the pajamas off, and Jamie lost track of the plot.

# # #

Some time later, both sweaty, panting partners levered themselves up off the floor. “Did it work?” Jamie said. “We bust your writer’s block?”

“We busted something,” Lamar said with a grin, rubbing his hip. “I think I can finish the scene now. But then I’ll have to edit. Run upstairs, grab a shower, and get that tight ass back here in half an hour. Esteban’s going to want an encore. He’s one insatiable dude.”