Saturday, August 31, 2013


Rachel stood naked as the day she was born high atop a mountain peak far from the place she called home.  She preferred the word nude.  When and why had nudity become shameful?  She would never understand mortals’ obsession with their bodies and genitals.  The creators fashioned everything for a reason.  Functionality and purpose…how divine and sensible.  

Beside her lay a pile of discarded clothing.  In the backpack stashed deep within the petrified tree’s hollow truck, another set awaited her return.  Ten days until she reappeared in her chosen form.  Another slice of time waiting and watching, knowing her guardianship and care gained her more lives and rebirths.  Not all guardians followed theological dictates.  Dictates that humans and other species dreamt up and attempted to use to make logic out of their limited view points of the universe, a universe that more than one creator brought into being.

Rachel glanced down her legs.  Two large tattoos began half up her calves, continuing upward over her buttocks and hips.  Their dull red color mixed with pigments of yellow and gold that throbbed as the sun began its ascent over the horizon.  Pain grabbed her deep within her gut and groin.  Desire weaved its wicked slicing edge along her sensitive nether lips until she tossed back her head and cried out.  Her voice echoed off the surrounding peaks greeting each other until silence regained its threshold. 

 As her gaze rose, her mons and thatch of pubic hair came into view.   At the crown of the trimmed apex, red pulsed along the hairs mixing with her darker auburn remnants.  The huge of golden red spilled out on to her thighs and pelvis gushing upwards ready to drown her in its wake.  Rachel shuddered with each breath.  Her nipples stood out, taut and hard like icicles, yet the heat rolling off them would melt Antarctica and both polar caps.   Transformation was upon her.   Could she withstand the pain and change?

Emotions welled up threatening to overwhelm her.  Another screech like the first and the early morning denizens of the mountain would flee.  This place was hers to nurture and care for during the next ten days while she waited.  Waited for her mate to arise and ravish her as she would him until replete and sated, gorged with renewed energy and purpose cooling began.

Raising her arms, Rachel felt the first beams of scalding heat ripple up them.  The first full beam of sunshine stroked along them reaching all parts of her.  Her eyes locked on the still dim orb rising in front of her.  Human vocals faded as her birth tongue called out.  Slowly, she began turning and vocalizing.  Her song of death became a song of life and rejoicing.  Beams of warmth radiated over her igniting a hunger so strong she almost forgot the ritual needed to ensure she morphed accurately.  Two more rounds and….

A loud screeched rocked the mountain peaks.  Echoes roared off the rocks and dirt rushing down until they sounded like an early morning thunderstorm to the small towns and homes dotting the valley below.  High above them, a bright flash appeared as the sun fully rose over the horizon.


Happy Weekend Gang!!

Wow Rachel is turning out to be more than anyone expected.  Most of all Gil and the citizens of Talbot's Peak.  My muse Pris indicates there is more to Rachel's story to come.  Her rebirth day story isn't complete yet.  Stay turned for another episode next week.  

August ends today.  Fall and cooler weather arrive soon.  Enjoy the waning days of summer.  As you do, remember to share a good book or two with your spice and loves,  I will be!


Friday, August 30, 2013

TP Lupa's at it Again...

Dear TP Lupa,

Talbot’s Peak put on one thumper of a bash with our fair. Yay Us!  I am however left with a situation that has me most confused.  I met a hare there and became quickly bare.  The loving was fast and furious, which has left me quite curious as to what his name was…  How can I find my moonlight Romeo, is there a way to let him know that I’m jonesing for a repeat or more?

Silly Susie

Susie or should I call you Dr.,

Really?  Enough with rhyme time, it’s hardly appropriate when it comes to anonymous sex?  The fact is your hare saw you bare and leapt on you without a care.  The odds of him desiring more are doubtful at best as he’s already seen you crest.  So move forward and find another, but this time keep the puff covered and let him know the real you.
Best of luck with your next f*ck,
TP (Who can’t believe he/she’s been rhyming)

Dear TP Lupa,

I was at the fair and happen to see some awesome boots on a most colorful woman.  They were tall and red, lacy and leather and they made this ladies ass look like a perfect rump roast.  Where can I find a pair of those boots…for my mate, of course?

Wolfman Sam

Wolfman, are you sure you’re a wolf?  I sincerely doubt those boots come in your size, but if you have the jewels enough to come down to the paper and talk to the editor himself, he promised to direct you to the wearer for more how to get them advice.
Shall we see you soon?
Not much from TP Lupa and I today as we're feeling a bit under the weather, but I couldn't pass up the Pic I nabbed from the Shapeshifter Seductions facebook page...thanks wise webmistress for posting Mistress P's footwear!


Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Picture day!

I forgot the flash drive at home that has the flash I wanted to post today. It also hapens to have my edits on it and I was working on them late last night. Sorry. Here's some pictures, though!

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

"Mayor Gil. He's playing Secret Agent Squirrel."

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Today's flash scene stars Dante, alpha werewolf owner of The Pleasure Club, and his love, Kitty, a cat shapeshifter.


"Mayor Gil. He's playing Secret Agent Squirrel."

Settling back in his leather chair, Dante rumbled a short laugh. He placed the decades-old phone receiver on its cradle. The Ma Belle original served as his link to Louie, and Louie's circle. Only.

As he lifted his hand from the phone, Kitty entered their private love lair, modeling the new gown he'd recently had designed for her. Pure irresistible woman, she swayed sensually toward him.

"I've never heard that phone ring once." She raised a delicate brow in question.

Immersed in her radiant expression, the one a woman wore when she felt truly admired by a man, Dante hesitated for moments, savoring. 

"Mayor Gil. He's playing Secret Agent Squirrel."

"Is that so?" His Kitty cocked her hip flirtatiously. "Secret agent squirrel... secret agent squirrel," she sang to the tune of "Secret Agent Man".

She gave her long blonde curls a lazy toss. "Somehow 'squirrel' just doesn't work for that tune." After a small laugh, she sauntered closer, her every move a sensual response to the slinky forties gown.

The champagne golden satin clung to her lovely curves, and Dante let his gaze prey on her. "Yeah, kitten mine, secret agent squirrel doesn't cut it."

"I don't think I'll be crooning that version to Mayor Gil," his Kitty exaggerated the roll of her hips, "if he ever decides to show up at the Midnight Stardust Supperclub."

"I've put the invite out. You can lead a squirrel to a hidden cache of peanuts, but you can't make him eat them." Dante opened his thighs, an invitation to his woman.

"That doesn't make sense," she complained in a sultry voice, even as she glided between his legs, and softly touched his shoulders, caressing.  "Squirrels store nuts."

"Mine are aching to be found, kitten love."

She gave him playful yet seductive smile, then rubbed her knee gently against his balls.

His cock did him proud, thickening fast. Dante smoothed his hands up her satin-covered hips as their gazes met, and the magic of their connection embraced him once again.

"You don't usually give anyone phone access. What gives, my big bad sexy werewolf?"

Kitty languidly shimmied, and Dante gripped her haunches hard, possessively, the way she liked it. Hell and howls, the way he liked it.

"Figured it was the easiest way to get the real scoop on Talbot's Peak. You know Louie, his rat's nose is always to the ground." Dante paused, inhaling her luscious sex scent.

"Louie is the rat in the know... when it comes to the Peak." Kitty stroked her fingers through his hair, her touch addicting.

"Gave him that number exclusively... had him 'let the number slip out' to Gil."

"I bet the Mayor enjoyed his squirrel paw up on you?" She leaned over, his woman, and planted a soft, soft kiss on his forehead.

"Yeah, kitten, let the squirrel think he's got hold of your nuts." Dante molded her ass with his hands. "Gil's been good for the town. Don't want to scare him away."

"Love how you think, wolf man," she murmured against his forehead, "only I'm losing my ability to think."

Fisting his hair, Kitty tugged with enough force to bring his mouth beneath hers. She teased his lips with the slow brush of hers. "Maybe we should honor the Mayor at the supperclub's Autumn Equinox Ball... how could he refuse?"

Dante grinned against his woman's mouth. "A pint or two at the pub would be more to the mayor's liking, from what I'm told."

"With all the peanuts he can eat," she breathlessly whispered, then nipped daintily at his mouth until he groaned.

Dante trapped her between his thighs, and passionately swept his hands over every inch of her he could reach. The way the satin slipped over her gorgeous shape -- slid over her perfect breasts -- mating howls, he was hotter than the devil's inferno.

Not relinquishing her grip on his hair, Kitty covered his face with kisses.  "Dante," she purred against his mouth.

Capturing her breasts, Dante fondled as the harsh sound of their pants filled the room. With a touch as fleeting as a butterfly, she tormented his cock, stretching his already too-tight leather pants.

"Hot with stud lust?" she asked just to further his need. The phrase had become an erotic trigger between them.

"Make me hotter, woman," he growled.

She mewed, a desperate little sound that didn't make it past her throat. Dante nuzzled her neck, growling endearments as her limbs went weak.

Knowing the instant his beautiful woman's knees were about to buckle, he hauled her onto his lap. Their lips seized each other, their passion still unspent. 

Dante figured their furious kisses could have steamed up every mirror in the supperclub.


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance


Monday, August 26, 2013

Secret Squirrel

Gil stared at his computer’s screen, and the addition to the file he’d thought safely passcode-protected. The message was brief and very Rachelesque: You really sure you want to go there, boss?

So, in addition to her many other skills, Rachel was a hacker. He could go ahead and add that to her profile. But not what kind of shifter she was, assuming she was a shifter to begin with. That was the whole point of the file.

He logged off with an unsquirrelish growl. His efforts to get a clearer picture of the population that had elected him mayor kept hitting wall after wall. Centuries of having to hide their existence had made shifters overall tighter-lipped than clams. How the hell was he supposed to help them if he didn’t know who he was helping?

He’d just have to ask someone who did.

Gil pulled a pocket-sized notebook out of a drawer and flipped through it. He kept only special numbers in here. People looking for the super-secret files would zero in on the computer. They’d never think to check a spiral notebook with Dollar Depot stamped on the front. The number he wanted was nestled innocuously between those for Rattigan’s and Java Joe’s. He dialed.

After the third ring someone picked up. “I need to speak to the boss,” Gil said. “Tell him it’s the mayor.”

Sheesh. All this cloak and dagger. The things people went through in the name of politics. Had Lance Link ever been like this? Probably worse: he’d cleaned out the filing cabinets and started a fire in the trash can when he left office.

His sour thoughts were interrupted by a cautious voice on the other end. “Mr. Mayor?”

“Just Gil. How’s it going, Dante?”

“How did you get this number?”

“I have friends in low places. In particular, a rat from New Jersey.”

Dante’s chuckle had an edge in it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m trying to compile a list of the shifter species in Talbot’s Peak. I’ve got the population numbers from the Census and tax records, but I can’t get an accurate count of who’s what or how many.”

“Good luck. If I recall, your predecessor distributed a survey in an attempt to garner this same information. I hear it didn’t end well.”

“There’s an understatement for you. The citizens trashed City Hall.” Gil leaned back in his chair. “That’s why I decided to ask the man who already has such a list.”

Long, wary silence on the other end. Then: “What makes you think I—”

“Because you’re Dante, and because I'm buds with a rat. Look, let’s cut the shit. I’m not trying to go NSA on Talbot’s Peak. Thanks to the fair and private contributions, we’ve got enough funds for the rec center. So how am I supposed to spend them? What programs will benefit the most people? Hell, do we even need a rec center? We’re surrounded by woods. They want to run and jump around, they can go out there.”

“That’s true, at least for the predators and the larger species. However, at least two-thirds of the population is smaller types and herbivores. I know they’d appreciate having a place to take their kids that would be safe and carnie-free.”

“Herbivores come in a lot of flavors. Give me some numbers.”

“The largest and most vocal group is the bunnies. You should know; they put you in office.”

“Yeah,” Gil snarled. “I’ll have to remember to kick their cottontails for that—excuse me, tell the little fluffernutters thanks. Bunnies, got it. What else?”

“Rather than specifics, let me make a few suggestions. An outdoor hedge maze, with bolt holes to underground tunnels. I’ll bet the parents would even volunteer to dig them for you.”

“How tall for the hedges? Kid-sized, or higher? Like, say, for deer and horse.”

“Horses aren’t much for mazes, but the deer would love it. Somewhere in between. I can give you a list of edible bushes, in case the kids get hungry.”

“Okay, maze and playground. How about indoors? Do we need a pool?”

“I don’t think so. The swimmers we have prefer non-chlorinated. The high school opens their pool to humans during breaks. You might want to coordinate with the school system. Some of the programs you’re considering might already be in place.”

“Call the schools, got it. So sports are out?”

“Not at all. The school programs are for students, not adults. This will get the grown-ups interacting with each other.”

“Today volleyball, tomorrow the world. Gotcha.”

“You certainly have a unique way of looking at things. Keep in mind wolves like team activities, while cats prefer one-on-one.”

“But we’re good with anything with a ball. Great. I’m already set on a basketball court. Bunnies love basketball. They’re not all that tall but damn, can they jump.”

“I have another suggestion. If you’re planning on daycare, or babysitting during the adult programs—”


“Huh. You’re ahead of me.”

“Yeah. I was wondering what to do about the hyper little darlings. Then I stood in front of the pet shop window for a while. We could put some tubes against the walls. And shelving, like people do for their cats. The human kids can use it too.” Gil considered. “I’d better make sure we have first-aid stations on hand.”

A sound of approval came through the phone. “You’ve thought this through. For all species.”

“That reminds me. How d’you think self-defense classes would go over?”

Dante laughed. “The wolves may not be happy, but quite a few other species would thank you. What did you have in mind?”

“The usual. Karate for beginners … how to read animal body language … ”

“Sounds good. Do me a favor: call me when you’ve got a plan. I’d like to go over it with you. I can also set you up with a local construction company.”

“Thanks. I’m betting you already have my private number.” Dante didn’t respond one way or the other. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“I’m concerned with the safety of Talbot’s Peak. I see now you are too. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Mayor. Gil.” He hung up.

Gil set down the phone. He had a powerful ally now. That had to count as a good thing. He also had more info than he’d started with. Dante probably wasn’t even aware how much he’d let slip.

People tended to trust a squirrel because they were so small and cute and harmless. People also tended to forget Gil had been born human.

He shoved his little phone book to the back of the drawer and slammed it shut. “Now I need a shower. I hate politics.”

Sunday, August 25, 2013

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Chapter Twelve

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys

Chapter Twelve:
Dontoya resisted the savage urge...

Dontoya resisted the savage urge to possess Sherilyn's lips. Now was not the time.

Instead he watched her emotions flicker across the boundless green sea that were her eyes. Pain. Loss. Wariness. Uncertainty. Then, curiosity.

He wasn't quite prepared for the challenge that rose from their glistening depths. Aphrodite rising, he thought.

With a sudden tilt of her head, she smiled teasingly. "I wouldn't mind dressing up like a courtesan. You know, fancy gowns...fancy nights out."

"I believe that can be arranged. Right, Zance?"

"I'll even dress up like a city slicker in one of those tuxedos Dante is sellin' for the grand opening of the Midnight Stardust Supperclub." 

For more Sunday Sneak Peaks
***Blurb & Excerpts for HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS are on my page above.*** 

Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Numbers Don't Lie

Gil looked at the calculator tape.  He double checked the figures on the sheets Rachel had tossed on his desk three hours ago.  Receipts lined the various envelopes merchants turned in with their profits from their booths and their fees.  While the hefty sum of forty-five percent of their bottom line during fair week seemed unreasonable to some, others had given more and signed their permits without more than a thank you.    Gil blinked shook his head and reached for the coffee cup closest to him.  Lex’s brew was addicting.  With fair over, withdraw would set in.  Perhaps a good thing, who needed a caffeine high squirrel on the loose?

Gil grinned at his own pun.  He reached for the box of envelopes closest to him.  Rachel had out done herself this time.  Each section of town had color-coordinated envelopes.  Foods were green.  Rides were yellow.  Games and Chance were red.  The one that Gil couldn’t make sense of was the blue envelopes that lined the box in his hand.  Taking one envelope out, he read the neat printing on the front, Mystic Falls Fire Department.  The next read Sandy Valley Police and Fire Brigade.  And several others were tagged from various religious groups and charitable organizations.  Gil reached into the box and pulled out an envelope addressed to him.  He arched an eyebrow as he turned the handwritten envelope over.  Breaking the seal, he wondered who’d gotten the churches and other faith believers to donate.  The handwriting on the sheet as he unfolded it looked familiar.

Dear Mayor,

Some of us know our creator works in ways we don’t always understand.  Rather than shunning our neighbors, we seek to embrace our differences and come together in harmony.  Talbot’s Peak is an example of how different folks and species can come together and live in peaceful accord.  What better way to endorse more actions like this than contributing to your community projects.  We’d like to offer your citizens the offer to come worship with us.  We ask they abide by our rules and not bust the place up like they did with that traveling tent revival a few years back.

Thank you,

The Churches and Houses of Worship of Mystic Falls and Sandy Valley

Gil squinted as he kept looking at the writing.  He yanked open the drawer where he kept his staff’s time sheets.  He rummaged under the top two until he found the one he wanted.  Holding the signed time card next to the handwritten letter, he snickered and snorted.  His staff assistant had well kept secrets.  What else was hidden behind those calf length skirts and long sleeved blouses? 

Back across town, Rachel looked at her watch.  With any luck her ride would soon arrive.  Catching the first train heading south made sense.  Her last vacation over five hundred years ago hadn’t offered the luxuries this one did.  A good stiff drink plus the swaying of the car as it traveled would lull her to sleep.  By morning, she’d reach where she could go further, transforming wouldn’t be so conspicuous.


Happy Weekend Gang!

Our plot thickens!  Rachel is not all she appears to be.  Transforming?  Last vacation 500 years ago?  Do we have a phoenix on our hands?

May the last few days of August find you safe and well.   My thoughts and prayers go out to those helping with the wild fires as well as those needing help in recovering from loss or otherwise.

Remember to share a good book or two with your loves and spice, I know I will!



Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Coffee for a Suspisious Squirrel

Lex smiled happily as he doled out hand-blended iced coffees. They were selling like crazy in the late August heat to adults who didn’t want super surgery confections but needed a little pick-me-up in order to keep up with the kiddies. He started out with a portable espresso maker, made however many shots were needed for the drink—about two shots for a single, four for a double, ect. Then he added their choice of flavorings, put it all in a blender with a big scoop of ice and puréed it. All that ice was why a single iced coffee needed two shots, of course. It would have been watery otherwise.

His grin grew when he saw the next guy in line, none other than Mayor Gil himself.

“How’s it going?” Gil asked, trying to play it casual. The were-squirrel’s eyes gave him away though. Gill suspected Lex was up to something, which was absolutely not true, for once. All of his mischief had been done prior to the first day of the fair. Lex was honestly just serving up the same coffees, using the same products and recipes as they served at Java Joe’s seven days a week during the hotter months.

“Things are going very well,” Lex purred happily. “The Phrappy Joe Mochas are selling particularly well tonight. Would you like to try one?” Gil’s gaze became more intense, almost piercing Lex from across the counter. Lex let his smile become more beatific, knowing that his friend and sometimes advisory would take it as a challenge.

“Sure, I could use a little something to keep my tail up.” Lex kept the innocent smile going as he fixed Gil’s drink. Gil’s sharp eyes watched every move he made and when he handed Gil his drink, the were-squirrel sniffed at it suspiciously.

“Yes, it does smell divine, if I don’t say so myself,” Lex said as he allowed a bit of his Cheshire Cat grin peek through. “But to properly enjoy and iced creation, one really should taste it.” Gil looked at his drink suspiciously and then back at Lex. Gil stared deeply into Lex’s eyes and he took a cautious sip. “Really, Gilbert,” Lex said with an effected sigh. “You are not a mongoose to be able to detect poison and such. Besides, Marissa would skin me alive if I caused her to lose her vendor’s license and unlike you, she can detect any and all of my magic tricks. She was just here a half hour ago. I am really up to nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” Gil said, sounding a bit embarrassed but not much. “It’s just that I can’t see you letting an opportunity like this to pass you by.”

“An opportunity for what, may I ask?” Lex asked, honestly curious about what Gil thought he might have done.

“An opportunity to test one of you concoctions on a large crowd like this.”

“Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert!” Lex laughed. “I have never tested anything on anyone without their knowledge. There are entirely too many non-initiated humans visiting the fair.”

“So you really are not up to anything?” Gil asked skeptically.

“Well, nothing other than making sure I was visible in order to drive you nuts, so to speak,” Lex conceded with a full blown Cheshire Cat grin. Gil chuckled and took a deeper sip of his iced coffee.


Meanwhile, on the far side of the fair ground, a very strange looking wolf is trying to sell the last of his stock. He had managed to make a killer profit off that skinny cat whom he’d pressured into selling him the ice cream cart. Moon-Moon wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but it never took too much brains to scam a cat into giving up the goods!

“Popcorn! Get your Popcorn flavored Icecream! That’s right, folks, cool refreshment and all the flavor you love without greasy fingers!”

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

In the Beginning... White Fang Khent

Blue Moon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Harken ye back to the beginning of our fair shapeshifter town, Talbot's Peak. Originally taken over by a werewolf pack, the Peak has come a long way, baby cub. Heck, we now have a squirrel shifter as the Mayor.

White Fang, Ace Wolf Reporter, was my first... dare I call him a mere character? No, let's say my super wolf starred in the first
Talbot's Peak flash scene I wrote. Recently, I changed the spelling of his last name to Khent instead of Kent, given any trademark issue that might arise.

So, I have to get up earlier than usual, and I'm already darn worn out. Awhile back I began writing White Fang and Pasha's erotic love story. It's about a third done. Anyway, here's the first chapter, a revised version of my original flash scene.


Chapter One ~ White Fang Khent  

Talbot’s Peak, Montana

White Fang Khent seated himself before the used desktop computer he’d picked up in town, not four hours ago. As an instant upgrade, he slid a formless silicon device into the USB port. Brought from his home planet, some four light years away, the adaptive technology did his bidding.

With urgency eating at his gut, he positioned his chair, then removed the specialized pair of eyeglasses he often wore while in public. They helped disguise the odd intensity of his eyes and changed the blue coloring to a shade Earth humans didn’t question him about.

In no time, White Fang scanned the online version of the town’s newspaper that had recently been taken over by a werewolf pack. Great Caesar’s Ghostwolf! It was true.

Leaning forward, he re-read to make certain. Lykouz, he had no choice. The brazen pack’s ill-considered actions were a danger to all wolfkind. Especially his wolfkind.

There would have been no problem if the pack had written their features and articles as ‘tongue in slavering cheek’. As werewolf fantasy.

Truth, White Fang found it damn hell refreshing. But, with the full humans in possession of devastating fire power and still in fear of anything paranormal--well snapping fangs, he wondered if this younger generation had ever seen the horrific Old West photos of slaughtered wolves. Not to howl about the current-day helicopter hunting atrocities.

They probably hadn’t witnessed what he had, the scarecrow remains of several scorched-to-the-ground shapeshifter towns. Not all the residents had been lucky enough to escape with only singed smoking tails. No, it appeared as though, this werewolf pack most likely thought the government’s ghost-kill squads were only nasty rumors.

Nov 12, 2010 Guts and Butts, 2nd edition...

    Here's wishing Kitty ~Cat~ Collins her very own fond farewell. Story and photo's on page one.

White Fang figured his brow looked like an aerial view of the Grand Canyon as he focused on the obituary, and frowned. Absently lifting his mug of steaming joe, he almost snarled into it. Instead he took a sniff, then swallowed down a healthy swig, or unhealthy, depending on which science study you chose to believe. With his physiology it didn’t matter.

“Not subtle enough,” he growl-muttered. Not at all.

White Fang set his mug down with a decided clank, but not hard enough to splash his window-on-the-world equipment. Lykouz, he remembered the good old days when coffee stains were a journalist’s badge of honor.

What he wouldn’t give for just a pen and pad at times. Even now, his fingers itched to bang out a story on his old typewriter. He threw a fond glance at the working relic before blinking and staring at the screen again.

He’d have to investigate this Kitty Collins, and obviously double quick. That is, before he sought employment as a Guts and Butts Gazette crime reporter.

It was one matter if this Collins, woman or catwoman, deserved to be entrail-splattered roadkill. It was a whole other matter if she was a victim of prejudice or, worse, targeted as an unwanted rival by one of the werewolf bitches in heat for a mate.

White Fang arched his brows, then they took a leap for the ceiling as he read Maggie Novak’s celebrity gossip column. Howling about bitches ready to kill...

Good news, girls – Damien, Alpha of the Hancock pack, informs me his son Devon is on the prowl for a mate. Devon’s just out of grad school and likes fresh-killed elk and long hunts in the moonlight. He’s not a cat fancier, however, so no felines need apply. Wag those tails, ladies – the line forms now!

So, was this steak-of-his-daddy’s eye, this Devon really what he appeared to be? Or, was he a closet cat fancier? Perhaps, even a past fancier of Kitty ~Cat~ Collins? Lykouz knows, as a reporter searching out leads, he’d prowled many a freaky-sex lair party filled with wolf grad students.

Taking another long swallow of his joe, White Fang ignored the yip-yip tones of his apartment’s doorbell. When he’d rented the place three days ago, his landlady’s yellow-gleaming gaze had alerted on his lap package. He’d felt like prime eats. To his private amusement, Tina Havulik had licked her lips as if they were wolfen chops.

Already, Toothsome Tina, as he thought of her, had invited herself in for coffee and bone meal biscuits on two occasions. White Fang figured he gained a couple ace hands, though. His landlady was a raging gossip queen, which gave him a hiked leg up on the inner workings of the town.

It was also an opportunity to practice the role he played in public. He’d pretended to be the shifter geek klutz of the century, thus fending off her amorous advances without offending her bitch sensibilities.

At least, so far, she hadn’t gone rabid werewolf and lunged for his defenseless dick while snapping her formidable jaws. Unlike her wolf breed, he had no desire to harm her or make her into instant roadkill.

White Fang owned no real worry for his physical well being. With one aimed fist between her eyes, he could knock Toothsome Tina out cold and leave her with a nasty headache for about a week’s time.

Glad his landlady had decided to quit leaning on the doorbell, White Fang drained his mug, and set it aside. A low growl vibrated his throat. His gaze narrowed on Mooney McMahon’s sports column.

The city council did not approve the request to allow roller derby tournaments at the city’s recreational facilities, so next week’s bone crusher will be held at the Roller Rama again, assuming we can get old Mrs. Fuddy-Duddy to drop the cease and desist charges.

Was this the same Mooney ‘wanna rip your throat out’ werewolf he’d tangled with in an LA sports bar? Mooney--not a lookalike for George Clooney--had gone neon-green eyed with jealousy over the attention his date lavished on White Fang.

While the woman had been a sweet piece of blonde tail, the only interest he’d had in her was if she could tell him the whereabout of her ex-boyfriend. The Dire wolf biker had gruesomely gnawed through two patrol cars, officers included.

Rumor had it the cops were on the take and shot at bikers for sport. Rumor had proven to be true. White Fang’s news story in the internationally distributed, Shapeshifter Globe Trotter, had saved the Dire wolf’s enormous furry hide from extinction.

Leaning back, White Fang stretched out the kinks from last night’s shift. He’d roamed the back streets, getting a feel for the Talbot’s Peak. Staying out of nose range, he’d watched werewolves hightail it for the surrounding forest. Most of them had been mated pairs.

Bringing the town’s directory up on screen, he typed in a search for Katrina Collins. There it was, address and phone number. Grabbing his cell, he thumbed in the number. No answer, just a cheery voice mail greeting.

With action now required, White Fang rose and strode toward his second floor deck. Once outside, he glanced around, then jumped over the rail. An instant later he blurred to super speed.  


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, August 19, 2013

Mad Cow

Duff McDuff sat alone in his tavern with his feet up before a roaring fire. Outside, the far louder roar of the wind shivered the building’s shingles, and harsh rain dashed against the windows. ‘Tis not a fit night out for man nor beast, so the saying went, which explained his lack of customers.

Not one to weep over unserved ale, Duff accepted the chance to kick back and enjoy the warmth of the fire and thank Dog he didn’t have to go out in the bloody rain. Conversation would have been nice, but he could live without it.

Dog must have picked up on his thoughts, for the door flew back and admitted a sheet of rain, a blast of chill wind, and a woman. The rain had plastered her black hair to her head and neck and her dark cloak to what looked like a fine sturdy body. She slammed the door against the rain before she asked in a thick Scottish brogue, “Are ye open?”

“Aye.” Duff swung his legs off the hearth and stood. “A night like this, I’ll turn no one away. Here, come sit by the fire. Get that cloak off afore ye drown in it.”

“Thank ye, sir.” The woman took Duff’s vacated place by the fire. She hung the cloak on the rack by the fireplace to dry and shook out her sopping hair. Underneath the wet hair and cloak she wore a vest and trousers of black leather, stiff enough to serve as armor. Twin daggers hung at her curvy hips, in worn sheathes that announced they were not for show.

Duff paused in the act of pouring her a tall mug of ale. “I know you,” he said suddenly. “You’re Agnus. Black Agnus Ramsay.”

She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. “I can’t say I know ye, sir.”

“I was more acquainted with yer sire, Red Cullen. Everyone in the highlands knew of the Bloody Bull. But you, lass … you were just a wee heifer when I left.”

“Then you’ve been gone a long time.” She sat in Duff’s chair and put up her feet. Her shoulders relaxed only slightly. Duff brought her the ale and stood by while she drained it in one long, thirsty swallow. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Hang on. Are you Ratter?”

Duff chuckled. “There’s a name I’ve not heard in ages. Aye, I chased my share of vermin out of the hills for your da. Duff McDuff’s what they call me today. You were just little Aggie back then.”

“Those days are long gone.” She idly examined the mug in her hand. “Are ye still skilled at tracking vermin?”

“Depends on the rat, lass. Ye have a name for him?”

“Several. The one he’ll most likely be using is Lorry Lochlan.”

“Not a moniker I’ve heard in these parts, but I can ask around.” Duff was careful not to stare too long at the knives on her hips. “If ye don’t mind my asking, what’s your beef with him?”

She huffed at the pun. “He took something precious from me, and left something of his in return.” Eyes that should have looked at a man all dewy and mild blazed like boiling dark chocolate. “A calf.”

“Ah.” Well, that explained the wicked knives. Duff inched a careful step backward.

“Don’t get me wrong. My Donel’s the light of my life. He’s a fine bonnie boy. He’s at home now, learning the law of the clan from his grandsire. That law demands his da own up to his responsibilities. I’ve come to bring him home, see to it he mans up like a proper bull.” She slid one hand briefly over the hilt of a dagger. “Or geld the spaleen. I haven’t decided.”

“That’ll be your choice, o’course. What type of shifter are we looking for?”

“That’s the question. He passed himself off as a Highlander, but I think there’s bison in his bloodline. My Donel’s a dark, brawny lad, and a shaggy one.”

“And you believe he’s in America.”

“I tracked him this far, then the trail went cold.” She peered glumly into her empty mug. Duff took it from her and went to refill it. “So ye’ll help me then, Ratter?”

“I could never say no to a child of Red Cullen’s. I don’t want the Bloody Bull’s horns up my arse. As I’ve told ye, though, lass, I’ve not heard the name Lorry Lochlan bandied about in Talbot’s Peak. He could be going by another. I’ve friends I can ask.” Thunder rumbled overhead. “But not tonight. I’ve a room in the loft. It’s yers for the length of yer stay.”

Agnus bowed her head in gratitude. Such a beauty she was, for all the muscle and leather. She’d be a warrior for sure, a right proper lass of the Ramsay line. Perhaps he ought to light a candle to this “Lorry Lochlan” bastard. One with a miniscule wick.

He drew himself a draft and pulled up a chair beside the fire, next to hers. “Now, until this beastly storm passes, there’s something ye can do for me.” He handed her the mug of ale and clinked his own against it. “It’s been long ages gone since a bonnie lassie told me tales o’ the homeland.”

Sunday, August 18, 2013

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Chapter Eleven

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys

Chapter Eleven:
Sherilyn studied the disappearing wound...  

Sherilyn studied the disappearing wound that reminded her of when a German Shepard dog had grabbed hold of her shoulder, at age fifteen...all while George Knapp's opening phrase for his radio show on "Coast to Coast am" repeated itself in her head, 'A phantasmagorical swirl of weirdness.'

On cue her head did a dipsy-do, or else touching Zance, plus his nearness, had her hormones swooning like a silly teenager. She felt him swing the mirror away as her eyelids clenched shut.

"Lord have mercy." The old saying came out in her southern drawl, learned from her grammy's best friend.

"Sherilyn, listen." Zance's voice felt like sexy velvet stroking her ear. "This is normal. Don't be surprised when you open your eyes and--"

Her eyes snapped open, and Sherilyn didn't hear the rest of his words. Colors, more brilliant and crisper, met her gaze. Stunned, she blinked as the textures and shapes of the adobe brick hearth sharpened. " gawd."

"Enhanced," he uttered, as if that explained it all. 

For more Sunday Sneak Peaks
***Blurb & Excerpts for HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS are on my page above.*** 

Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance