Friday, January 31, 2014


Reetha shut the door to her room at the Talbot’s Peal Inn just as a peel of frustration rent the air from the manager’s young daughter.  Her older brothers had once again taken her doll and were threatening to Hari-kari it at dawn.  The stuffed toys possible death was too much for the little one to take and she was resorting to mom to save her friend and someone named Hawk to peck out her brother’s eyes. 

Here she thought her family was weird.

They were, of course, but she’d never had a mother to run to or a Hawk to take on Nick and Mooney for her, at least she didn’t remember her mom anyway.  For years her brothers would antagonize her with stealing her kills, eating her portion of the meat and leaving her with the option of the nasty parts or subsisting on berries she found in the woods.  Oh her dad had tried to help, but he was busy leading and left her care up to her oldest sibling.  As a wet behind the ears whelp and upcoming alpha himself, Nick spent more time fighting to prove himself and fucking his way through the available she’s.

Reetha stood before the mirror not seeing herself, but still engrossed by memories of the past and hopes for the present.  Her past loneliness had presented itself as unruliness, trouble-making and eventually desertion.  She had long since forgiven her brothers as they were doing what older brothers did, but clearly it would take longer for them to forgive her.

“Come in.”

The door to her suite opened allowing Dante to enter.  “Damn, Reetha, I hadn’t even knocked.”

“I have excellent hearing,” she said, turning to face her boss and friend.

“True.”  Dante nodded, his gaze drilling into her probing for a truth she didn’t want to share.  “But that’s a bit extreme.”

“It is what it is and it helped get the job done.”  Reetha gestured for the chair to her left.  “Please, have a seat.”

She didn’t want to talk about the job or what she’d done on Dante’s behalf.  What was done, was done … had to be done.  He didn’t know the extent of her depravation – of what had been required of her in Hollywood and if she could avoid telling him she would.  Dante would take the pain as his own and she would not allow her friend that kind of suffering.  She was home to stay and she needed him to agree to let her tell her family the whys and what-not of her defection.  The rest would be buried deep enough down that she’d never allow herself to remember it.


Dante moved to the sitting area and slid into the plush, high backed chair.  He crossed his legs and straitened his pants, all the while looking at Reetha’s expressionless face.  She thought she buried her discomfort well enough, but they were friends and he could feel the scream she held in – her pain beat at him.  She was home and needed help.  He would find it for her, no matter what it took.

“Thank you for coming here.”

“No problem, Reetha, but why here rather than the club?”

“Privacy and I really didn’t have it in me to schlep out to the club."

“You do look a little beat up.”  Hell, she looked a lot beat up and very beaten down.  “Who do I need to punish for putting you in this condition?”

Reetha laughed, but, in his estimation, it was a weak representation of humor at best.

“Sorry, no beatings this time.  Thanks for being a great friend and offering.”

“Alright, who am I not beating?”

“Mooney.  It was the only way I could get him to consider forgiving me for leaving.”

“He required beating you for the possibility of forgiving you!”  Dante shot her a look he knew to make others around him cower. “That is not acceptable, Reetha.  Plus, I trained you myself … he should be dead.”

“I made the bet and threw the fight.  His boys were looking on … he had to win.”  Reetha moved to the other chair in the room, her smile finally honest as she spoke of Loki and Thor. “You should have seen the pride in their faces when dad beat Auntie Reetha.  It was worth the aches and pains.”

“Those boys get into a lot of trouble.”

“They are precious and I defy anyone to disparage them in my presence.”

It was no surprise to him that she loved those two already, Reetha had a very soft heart.  Not many saw it, but it was there, waiting to be filled with love.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Dante.”

“If I can give it, it’s yours.”

“I need to tell my family the truth about where I’ve been and why.”

Dante’s heart broke at the question he’d been expecting.  His answer would hurt her more, but there was no helping it – the time was just not right.  “Anything but that, Reetha.  I can’t allow the truth out yet.”

Her tears gutted him.  As long as he’d know her, Reetha had never cried in front of him, or anyone - until today.

I don't think life is absurd. I think we are all here for a huge purpose. I think we shrink from the immensity of the purpose we are here for.
Norman Mailer

Kind of a cool quote that made me think of Reetha today.

Have a wonderful weekend!


Thursday, January 30, 2014

Extra Thursday Post: The Great Escape

“I have to use the bathroom,” Ewan said.

“Come on, son,” the hunter scoffed. “That’s the oldest trick in the book. How stupid do you think I am?”

In percentage points? Ewan thought. Aloud, he said, “Not dumb enough to fall for that, and we both know it. That doesn’t change the fact I’m seconds away from turning this here mattress into my own personal newspaper. You let me dump my load, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Including,” he added, with a jerk of his chin toward the grainy photo Agent Mulder had left on the nightstand, “what those beasties are and who made ‘em.”

Cochrane flicked a disinterested glance at the photo. His full attention stayed on Ewan. Chaos bite his prick. The hunter wasn’t after answers, like the rest of the Scooby Crew. He was out for blood. If he ran across Hancock’s monster hybrids he’d shoot them, and every other shifter he happened on. Ewan wouldn’t miss the mutants, but he had good friends in the Peak.

He looked toward Velma and added, “C’mon. You seem like an honorable sort. Would you really make me humiliate myself in front of a lady?”

The hunter rolled his eyes. “You do know how to pile it on.” He gestured to Silent Sam. The man left his post by the door and approached the bed. He drew a knife big enough to gut a rhino with. Ewan tried not to flinch while Silent Sam slit his bonds. All the while Cochrane kept his gun trained on Ewan. Velma stood by the window. Her glasses magnified her eyes to dinner-plate dimensions.

“There any windows in the bathroom?” Cochrane asked. Both Silent Sam and Velma shook their heads. “Okay. You get five minutes. No tricks. Maybe I should blow out a knee, just to play it safe.”

“That’d make it tough for me to aim. No need to get messy. I won’t do anything tricky. You have my word.”

“A shifter’s word,” Cochrane said with a sneer, but he let Ewan enter the bathroom and shut the door. “Five minutes!” he barked.

That sat fine with Ewan. He only needed three.

As promised, the bathroom had no windows. He could probably throw himself through a window in the main room, and slice himself to tatters in the process. Nope. It would have to be the door.

He had no weapons; they’d patted him down when they caught him. A shifter’s weapon was their animal form and whatever natural advantages came along with it. Ewan’s human form had only one advantage, and the coyote in him couldn’t wait to use it.

But first, prep. He stood by the toilet, shut his eyes, and thought about Velma. Her short, soft hair, her big brown eyes. The fun he could have feeling under her t-shirt in a leisurely search for her tits. The loud, barky sounds he could coax out of her. She looked like she might be a biter. Ewan liked biters. He pictured her bony body writhing beneath him while he covered it in love-nips. He reached for the buttons on his shirt.

“One minute!” Cochrane shouted at the door.

Ewan threw the door open. “All done,” he announced. “I’m ready to talk. I got nothing to hide.”

Indeed he did not. He was totally naked. His enormous dick stood stiff at attention, blatantly pointed at the room.

For one shocked second, all three humans froze. In that second, Ewan shifted.

Being an Eastern coyote, or coywolf, he lacked a wolf’s full size but shared the jaw muscles that made crunching the bones of big prey such an easy deal. The coyote’s legendary flexibility added on made him hell on four paws. Best of both worlds, really.

He dove straight for Cochrane and closed those wolf’s jaws on the wrist of the man’s gun hand. Bones snapped. The hunter howled and dropped his gun. Ewan swung toward the door before he remembered the downside of wolf jaws and wolf paws, especially when confronted with a doorknob. Looked like it would have to be the windows after all.

No go. The barricade that was Silent Sam blocked his way. He changed direction yet again, and almost got his ears blown off. The bullet cut a notch in the doorjamb.

Chaos bite it. Cochrane had the gun in his left hand. He must be ambidouchious, or whatever the word was.

“Keep him away from the windows!” Cochrane barked. “He can’t work the door unless he shifts.”

No shit. Ewan scurried for cover. Silent Sam tried to tackle him and missed. Ewan leaped onto the bed and off again just as Cochrane fired another round. The pillow went up in a flurry of fiber stuffing. Before Ewan could dodge Velma caught hold of his hind end and threw them both to the floor, with her on top. Normally Ewan enjoyed this kind of play, but with a hunter pointing a gun at him it kind of lost its thrill.

Ewan’s jaws and Velma’s throat were close enough to say howdy. He had to get her off him fast, and there was only one way.

He lapped his tongue straight up her face, with an extra-thick swipe over her glasses. “Eeeeyyyeeeewww!” Velma screamed. She threw herself away from him. Ewan scrambled under the bed. The hunter’s third shot clipped hairs off his tail.

“Move the bed!” Cochrane yelled, presumably at Silent Sam. “We’ve got him trapped!”

At that moment the door flew open. “Mr. C?” Shaggy the supporter of Free Weed said. “We got problems.”

Perfect timing. Ewan clawed out from under the bed and charged Shaggy. His near-wolf weight knocked them both into the hallway. Shaggy made a perfect cushion, shielding Ewan from impact.

Pity he couldn’t be used as a shield, because Freddie, Agent Mulder, and Comic Book Guy were also out in the hall, between him and the exit. They looked a bit frayed around the edges. Freddie stank of canine urine. Suits you, Ewan thought as he hustled in the opposite direction. The bark of Cochrane’s gun and ping of a bullet followed his retreat. Ewan slewed around a corner just ahead of the shot.

Fortunately the door to the inside stairwell was a push-bar deal, no shifting required. Ewan fled downstairs and burst into the lobby.

The lobby was crawling with cops, and they’d all heard the gunshot. They bounded up the stairs. Ewan pressed himself against the wall until the wave of uniforms subsided. Those boys upstairs were in for a lick of trouble, sure enough.

He glanced toward the front desk. Hoover was on, thank Chaos. He had a dingo with him—the source of Freddie’s new cologne, to judge by his personal odor. All three shifters nodded acknowledgement to each other.

Hoover took a careful sniff. “Ewan,” he ID’d him. “Let me guess. Those jokers in room 103?” Ewan barked affirmative. “I had them pegged for trouble the minute they came in. Dante’s already aware. You better scoot.” Ewan barked again and let himself out the fire exit.

The back lot had cop cars scattered all over, but with no cops in them. Shouts of, “Hands behind your head! Down on the floor!” and a lot of inventive swearing came from the second floor. Ewan flashed a big doggy grin at room 103 and trotted across the lot.

Then Thor hit him with a strike of lightning.

At least that’s what it felt like. One minute he was on his way to freedom, the next a blast of painful energy zapped him from out of nowhere. He fell to the tarmac and writhed like a landed bass, with a high howl of absolute agony.

It lasted only seconds, but felt like forever. Then small but strong hands yanked the Taser’s wires out of his flank, wrestled him off the blacktop and started to drag him toward a vehicle.

One last quiver of electrical impulses and Ewan lost control. He shifted to human.

“Oh, poop!” Velma. “You couldn’t stay wolf, could you?” Still semi-swearing, she adjusted her hold to under his armpits and resumed her drag. The vehicle was the Scooby Gang’s van. He’d been so busy patting himself on the back he hadn’t even noticed it, or Velma hiding behind it.

She struggled his human body into the passenger seat. After strapping him in she climbed behind the wheel. The van coughed to vehicular life and charged out of the lot.

Ewan blinked dazedly against the unending pulse of neon on the commercial strip’s main drag. His head pounded like a son of a dog, and most muscle control had gone bye-bye. He managed to wet his throat. “We going to your place?”

“Shut up.” Velma kept her eyes determinedly fixed to the road. “You just took me hostage.”

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

True Love, Beer, and Football

In honor of the comming football-pocolypse, aka "the Superbowl," I am sharing a little love story that is very popular on Tal Tube right now:

Enjoy! And try to stay sane until your mates get over their football fever!

~ Gloria Goslin, you web video mistress

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Yeah, Dugger thought, dog-monkey mutant.

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

A bit of promo first. On the 2nd, I'll be participating in the February FIRST KISS flash scenes featured at KMN BOOKS ~ or Karen Nutt's blog It's a month long 'kissing' event!  

Okay... looks like Dugger's story continues from last week. He's on a mission for Dante, and watching out for Ewan. 'Cause, after all, a threat is a threat, no matter the low-level players. Fate can always throw in the 'monkey or ape' wrench.

This week, Dugger has some fun and dingo games with the amateur monster hunters.


Yeah, Dugger thought, dog-monkey mutant.

The motley crew belonging to the 'let's exterminate all werewolves' club -- a couple with cigs still in their hands -- charged toward Dugger from across the parking lot. Crickey!

Contacting Hoover would have to be put on the backburner. Behind him Mr. Blonde Sluggo made grunting moans of pain. "Kill him!" he squealed in an unmanly shout. "Or get the fucker dog-monkey mutant for Mr. C."

'Yeah,' Dugger thought, 'dog-monkey mutant. Have to remember that one for me bar mates.' Spinning around on top of the auto's slick roof, he balanced, then sprang.

Dugger sent the full force of his dingo body between the bloke's Hulk like shoulder blades. A bloody bull's eye.

"Argh-shit!" Slugger choked out as he toppled forward and crashed face first onto the cold hard asphalt. Dugger rode him all the way down.

'Yippie-kai-yay,' as they say in these parts. Dugger grinned from dingo ear to dingo ear.

Suddenly sensing the presence of Moon-Moon's camera surveillance -- set up to catch St. Nick at work -- Dugger figured he'd give a right good show for the local Taltube afficionados. Yeah, the 'hunt a werewolf' posse wasn't slashing at him quite yet.

Given their running footsteps, the yells of concern, the drongos were dodging between autos, and still a few minutes away. Righto, piss for hire! Those ales he'd shared with Dante were about to be served up again.

Half-unconscious, Sluggo-brain writhed like a hooked fish out of water. Dugger hopped off his back. Raising his back leg high, he let the yellow river flow. Flow fast, given his nose told him the 'pizza out the pores' pack was about to make a right serious grab for his tail.

'Marinatin' you in the finest ale at the Pleasure Club.' Dugger smirked, then dashed for the nearest set of legs.

'Dingo sport for piss and grins. Keep the cameras rolling, mate.' As if he hunted a hare, Dugger snatched hold of the raggedy bottom of the ape's jeans. Barely breaking stride, he jerked, then let momentum take its course. Crash-boom-bang, the bugger slammed against the side of the van.

Sighting the flash of a silver blade, and another pair of jogging legs, Dugger shot beneath a monster, chromed-out pickup. Scooting fast, he clamped his jaws on the grimy, fake rubber of the ape's tennie, and gave a sharp tug.

A scream followed before the thwack-thump-bang of a human body against unforgiving metal. "Fuck! Over here," his hapless victim shouted.

"What the hell are you kids doing?" a guttural, parental voice demanded. A wolf shifter voice. Deciding it was Hoover, the super-nose bloke, Dugger froze, listening.

"Someone better start explaining or I'm calling the police," Hoover boomed. "I guarantee you Officer Friendly won't be too friendly."

"There's a rabid dog attacking us," one of the blighters called out.

"Yeah, yeah rabid... he's foaming at the mouth, and all. We were trying to save..."

"Stuff it," Hoover growled. "Where is this rabid dog?"

Moments ticked by as if an Agatha Christie murder scene unfolded. "I got the cell phone," Hoover threatened, "and I'm about to punch in 9-1-1."

"Over here," the hapless victim meekly spoke up. "Think he's hiding under the truck."

Figuring his fun and dingo games were over, Dugger peeked out to make certain a knife blade wasn't waiting for his tan, furry hide. Seeing a clear field and not scenting any immediate danger, he popped out from beneath the pickup.

Dugger gave himself a proper shake, then trotted toward Hoover. He added an 'I got you blokes' spring to his step.

"Watch out!" one of the wet-behind-the-ears werewolf hunters shouted. "Looks like he's gonna attack you."

Tame as a right castrated poodle, Dugger approached and sat. He gave Hoover a big cheeky grin.

After a wink, Hoover scowled formidably at the 'we're gonna save the world from monsters' gang.  "I sure don't see any foam. He ain't attacking me." Hoover paused for dramatic affect, one brow reaching for the night sky. Beneath the harsh neon lights, his large mug looked like a cranky Tazzie Devil in human form.

"What did you slime buckets do to this dog? Tell you what. You got five minutes to clean up your act, and get out of my sight. Any more problems, and I'll have the cherry tops rolling in here."

"Why don't you try patting his head, see if your hand is still attached," the slurred voice of Hulk-Sluggo interrupted.

"Need an ambulance, man?" one of the gang asked.

"Save you the trouble. I'll call an ambulance if it'll get you troublemakers outta here," Hoover snarled. "Come here, doggie," he gently called, then bent toward Dugger.

Sweet as American apple pie, and all that, Dugger padded close to Hoover. When the big wolf patted his head, Dugger smiled like he'd found his last best buddy.

"You'll be sorry," Mary Jane-smoker began.

"Good onya," Hoover whispered before straightening. "No, it's you who's gonna be sorrier than a skunk-sprayed idjit. When the local humane society gets a hold of this story... and they will. We got cameras for the protection of our the message?"

"We got the message. Let's get outta here," Hulk-Sluggo rallied his troops.

"Trouble in River City?" Hoover asked, once their steps faded away.


Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...  


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, January 27, 2014

A Blast from the Past (is a bite in the ass)

“Well?” Agent Mulder demanded. He shook the picture, like that would bring it into focus. “What are they?”

 “Fugly,” Ewan said. “The bears around here must’a got their paws on some really rancid pic-a-nic baskets.”

“Those aren’t bears.” Comic Book Guy had decided to display his meager store of knowledge. “Those aren’t any kind of creature that appears in nature. Those are werewolves, created in a lab. Humans mutated into monsters.”

“If you say so.” It might even be true. Dante had no idea where his sire had dug up his hairy goon squad, though he’d been trying his damnedest to find out. Ewan knew even less. “Or they could just be Texans. Hard to tell from this angle.”

Freddie stepped up to the bed. “Tell us about the Doctor.”

“Sure. My favorite of the oldies is the Tom Baker version. Always liked the scarf. David Tennant was a hoot. Never much cared for the new one.”

Freddie smacked him hard across the face. Velma flinched. “Geez, dude,” the kid in the Free Weed shirt said. He needed a name. Ewan picked Shaggy. “I know he’s a werewolf and all, but geez. Oppressive much?”

“They’re monsters,” Freddie said. “We can’t afford to treat them like they’re human.”

“You think I’m one of those?” Ewan nodded at the photo in Agent Mulder’s hand. “Hell, you might as well kill me now. I’d drink bleach before I’d let myself turn into something that unsightly.”

“Works for me,” Agent Mulder said. He pulled out his silver knife. Ewan tensed to shift.

Unexpectedly, Velma threw herself across the bed, and Ewan. “You can’t! We have to wait for—”

On cue, the door opened. Silent Sam in the glasses returned, with another male. Ewan tensed in a different fashion. This wasn’t some stupid kid chasing after noises in the dark. This was a grownup with mileage on him, a hard life spent on the never-ending trail of inhuman things like Ewan.

A hunter. A real hunter.

He stalked up to the bed. Velma scurried away. The hunter leaned in close enough for Ewan to smell the strong motel coffee on his breath, and peered hard into Ewan’s eyes. Wolf and coyote shifters tended toward yellow eyes. Being both, Ewan’s gene pool had got a double dose.

The hunter grunted, satisfied, and pulled back. “You kids did just fine,” he told his team. “He’s a werewolf, sure enough.”

“He mentioned someone called the Doctor,” Freddie said, in the weaselly tone of an omega wolf looking to advance up the ranks. “Beyond that, he wouldn’t talk.”

“He’ll talk to me. You kids take off for awhile. Grab some coffee or something.”

Shaggy was out the door before he finished the sentence. The others lingered. Freddie opened his mouth to speak, but Velma beat him to it. “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t. We won’t leave you alone with a monster.”

“I’ve been hunting shapeshifters since before you were born. But if you insist … all right. You get to stay, but you stay out of my way. You got a knife?” Velma swallowed hard and produced a Taser. The hunter grinned. “Even better. The rest of you boys scoot. I’ll let you play with whatever’s left.”

Freddie, Agent Mulder and Comic Book Guy obediently filed out of the room. Silent Sam stood firm. His body language made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. The hunter shrugged minutely. Silent Sam closed the door and planted himself front of it, arms crossed.

“Now let’s get down to business.” The hunter stood at the foot of the bed. He hadn’t shown off any hardware yet, but that was sure to follow. “My name’s Abel Cochrane. I doubt if that means anything to you.”

“’Fraid not,” Ewan said. “We don’t get many hunters in the Peak. Most of ‘em know better. Last one we had … ”

The sudden narrowing of Cochrane’s eyes gave the game away. “Was you,” Ewan said in realization. “I wasn’t there, but everybody heard about it. Vern and the Mayor got hold of you and—”

He snapped his jaws shut right about the time the hunter scowled. Stripped you nekkid, dumped a gallon of purple paint on you, and sent you outside in your birthday suit with a couple of fake fairy wings. Yeah, he could see why a human wouldn’t want to relive that particular Kodak moment.

The hunter growled down in his throat, like a wolf. “I spent a month in lockup,” he snarled. “Indecent exposure. Then there was”—he shuddered—“the hundred hours of community service. The whole time I pondered on what I was going to do to you filthy animals when my life was my own again.”

“We have a new Mayor,” Ewan said. “That’d never happen now. Live and let live and all that. Bygones?” He smiled appeasingly.

“I don’t think so. I’ve got a score to settle with ‘Vern’ and ‘The Mayor.’ They can wait till last. Between now and then I plan to wipe out every clawed, hooved, feathered, beaked and furry freak in your misbegotten town.” He pulled out a pistol with an abnormally wide barrel and aimed at Ewan’s forehead. “Starting with you.”

Saturday, January 25, 2014

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ X-Chapter Eighteen

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys

Chapter Eighteen:
Zance crouched beside his damn enticing... 

Zance crouched beside his damn enticing little mate. Her sex fragrance played hell with his balls, threatening his control. Yep, his rod tried to pry open his zipper, twitchin' and beggin'.

Her eyes, still ephemeral as mist from Dontoya's lovemaking, had widened, and her pupils were large in the semi-darkness.

"Sherilyn darlin', you okay if I leave, check things in the kitchen?"

Without her 'okay', Dontoya wouldn't have left no matter if their chuck wagon area burned to the ground. He never left a woman in distress, let alone their mate.

"Wait...oh, lord, I'm trying to think here. Give me a moment."

Zance watched her shake her head, then rub her temples. She grabbed the sheet covering her breasts, shielding her body from his gaze. Sure thing, he would have been lusty-dog ogling her bountiful breasts if her healing wasn't uppermost in his thoughts.
For more Sunday Sneak Peaks
Blurb & Excerpts for HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS are on my page above.

Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...  


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance


Long week gang!  Modified work week, snow storm, more cold weather, and life. . . well you get the accent and taste.  In stages of preparation for an outpatient test I have in two weeks adds into the ongoing mixture too.  Test is one when you get to middle age that is akin to standing on your head with the doc peering inward with the flashlight turned on, and you praying it don't shine out your ears and eyeball sockets---wink, wink!  

Great piece of news this week on the writing front! Tina's Treasures (M-F-M menage) is under contract with Siren Bookstrand.  Projected publishing date is April/May 2014.  Book 2 in my Cascade Bay Series was fun and hot to write.  I'm polishing up a partial for St Martin's Press along with the synopsis for it.  I've got Cassandra and the Sheriff started.  Enjoying Marc and Cassandra's story.  Granite River, MT is proving to be an interesting place.

Keep warm, read a good book or two with your spice and loves.  I know I am!

Until next week,  


Friday, January 24, 2014

Coming Soon...

Happy Friday!! When I tried to channel my Talbot's Peak crew this week, they all sat down, crossed their legs and shut their mouths.  I begged, pled, offered special ~wink, wink~ favors, but all to no avail.  My crew sat quietly until Nick stood and issued a directive... tell ya'll about my newest release, The Submission, which is now up for pre-sale at the LSbooks site and for an added delight, it's offered at 20% off!  What a deal. :)

So today I'm doing just that and posting a short excerpt...Enjoy!


Two is better than one. Most would agree with that statement, but not full-blooded shifter LeAnn Turone. To accept her need for multiple partners means facing a lifetime in a one-sided triad. She’s better off denying her heritage even if that means walking away from two of the most delectable alpha males she’s ever met.

Rick Taylor and Trent Warren each think they’ve found their mate in LeAnn, but a midnight meeting deep in the woods proves them wrong. Not only do they both long to connect to the sexy, but skittish female, they also find themselves attracted to one another.

Each member of this triad must free themselves from the fear of the future and submit to the greater power of love. 


“Hell and damnation.” The pain in Trent’s head made him wonder when a fleet of tiny jackhammers decided to rearrange his neural passages for shits and giggles.

“A-are you okay?”

So she hadn’t left as he’d thought. Her voice was soft and whispery; different from what he’d expected, yet it still oozed strength and moxie to boot. If not for the flickering stars obscuring his vision, and the inability to stand while keeping his stomach where it belonged, he’d paddle her ass for causing him distress.

“How do you think I am after taking a chair to the back of the head?” he groused from his laid-out position on the floor.

Trent spied her feet moving closer to the front door. He needed to rein in his anger and belligerence if he hoped to keep his newly found mate close. She’d suffered a horrifying attack—growling at her would just send her running, but what had stopped her from laying waste to the idiot attacking her. Her shape-shifter strength far exceeded that of some human male.


“NO, wait…” Trent lifted his head sooner than advisable. Stars throbbed in his vision, and his lunch almost succeeded in its bid for freedom. “Fuck!”

She paled, more than he’d thought possible for someone with such fair skin. Her eyes were wide with fear as tiny cries escaped from closed lips. So lovely and all his, but the knowledge of anyone, including himself, hurting her infuriated him.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” Trent asked when he was finally able to move from his hands and knees to his ass.

She shook her head with the slightest of movements, facing him but keeping her back to the door.

“What shall I call you then…mate?”

“Not that! I have no intention of mating with anyone.”

“Funny how fate and Mother Nature take that choice away from us all…”

“Doesn’t matter…”

“Really?” Trent rubbed his thumb and forefinger around the pressure points between his eyes and above his nose. “Why are you still here, beautiful? Morbid curiosity? Want to see if you were strong enough to kill me?”

“Of course not. Omygosh, don’t die! Did I hurt you worse than you’re letting on? Should—should I call an ambulance?”

“I’m not dying, mate, not quite.”

“Well, good,” she hedged. “I’ll just go and let you recover.”

Yet she still didn’t leave. She’d drawn her face into a question, one he’d bet would be left unasked.

“So no name…Can you at least tell me what you have against mating?”

“Because something is wrong with me.”

“Are you sick?” His growl made her move farther back from him, nearer to the door. He’d finally found the one thing he’d begun to think wasn’t available to him, and she claimed to have something wrong. Fuck, don’t let her be sick.

 “No, I-I’ve chosen not to follow through with an act that will destroy someone— because of love.”

“Cryptic much?” What happened in her past to cause this young and beautiful woman to treat such a fine word with vile disregard?

“Never mind—doesn’t matter…You won’t come after me, right?”

“Tell me, mate, did you like good old Rob’s brand of play?”

“You—you, ass.” She turned and swung the door open before looking back at him. “Don’t follow me!”

Trent berated himself as she escaped into the night. What sort of idiot would ask her something so shitty? His lame excuse—the near braining she’d given him.

Yeah right, he wouldn’t pursue her. She was his mate. He’d track her to the ends of time—that is, when he could get his feet under him and remove the stinking human she’d kept him from killing.
Have a wonderful weekend!


Wednesday, January 22, 2014

My Kingdom for a Spy Cam!

"Marissa! Check this out!" Gloria exclaimed excitedly. Marissa eagerly put down her pencil, which she had been using to try to untangle the mess that were her 2013 tax documents. She'd made the quarterly payments based off projected earnings but now it was time to convince Uncle Sam that those projections had been accurate. The only thing that made tax season tolerable was that she was meticulous about record keeping. That didn't make it fun, though, so she was more than willing to let her new assistant manager distract her.

"What's up, Glo?" she asked as she rounded the counter to where Gloria was surfing the web.

"Look!" Gloria said again, jabbing her finger excitedly at her laptop's screen. Marissa looked. Then rubbed her eyes and looked again.

"Is that Dugger?" she asked incredulously.


"Did he just climb that guy like a mountain?"

"Yep," Gloria confirmed with a grin. "You missed it. A few minutes ago a bunch of scruffy looking people pulled Ewan out of that van and made a circle around him with their arms and herded him inside that motel room. Then Dugger jumped out of the van and tried to peek into the window, but the Belvedere boys went driving by, being all rowdy and driving crazy. And then this guy comes out the back and circles around the back of the building and confronts Dugger, which is when Dugger goes and charges him."

"Oh. My. God," Marissa said, watching the action on the screen. "What is this? How are you seeing this?"

"Oh, it's Moon-Moon's spy camera net. It started with him setting up a Santa cam on Christmas Eve. That worked out so well that Lex had him set up spy cams in a few select locations, like this one at the Rocky Top."

"Are you recording this?" Marissa asked as she fished her cell phone out of her pocket, eyes still glued to the computer screen.

"It's a live feed from the server," Gloria answered, "but Moon-Moon showed me how to make a copy from the master file."

"Good. Make a copy, will you. I'm going to call Dante about this. If Dugger and Ewan are involved, he probably already knows, but I bet he'd like to have video showing faces--Damn! Did he just pee on that guy after knocking him down???"


The following are A) Ewan, as his new lady would like to see him, and B) gratuitous mancandy for the lady who asked for a long-haired hotty last week. (I can't remember who, exactly asked.)

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Yeah, righto, did he shift to human?

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Gosh, my current schedule doesn't work well for posting. But here it is, finally written. Dugger is on mission for Dante, and watching out for Ewan. 'Cause, after all, a threat is a threat, no matter the low-level players. Fate can always throw in the 'monkey or ape' wrench.


Yeah, righto, did he shift to human?

The rank smell of stale, over-fried food assaulted Dugger's nostrils. Bugger! Humans doin' the horizontal dance filled his nose, too. Yeah, just as he'd figured by the short ride, they now rolled through the parking lot at the Rocky Top Motel.

Dugger mind-sent the info to his sheila, Symone. 'Hoover,' she telepathed the reminder, 'Dante's watcher at the motel.'

'Yeah, got it, luv. Time for action jackson. We're stoppin' and the scumbags are about to get restless on Ewan's ass.'

His sheila, being the trained warrioress she was, didn't answer. She simply kept the dial tuned to their connection.

Dugger did his own tuning in, his ears high on his dingo head. Sensing Ewan's decision to go coyote on the motley crew, and his dick-on-a-stick attraction to brainy gal, Dugger merely watched and listened as the wannabe monster hunters hustled their captured 'werewolf' out of the van.

With the slam of the van's back door, Dugger focused his senses on the direction of their footsteps. Yeah, righto, did he shift to human? By the odor, there were clothes in the duffel bags he could hijack.

Or was it bloody smarter to stay dingo, and hunt down the big-muck blighter who was running this piss-for-grins show. Scat logic, and body language, told Dugger these drongo males were followers, not leaders.

Yeah, he'd seen this sort of catch-the-werewolf scene too many times before. Bugger, though, that didn't eliminate the potential threat to Talbot's Peak.

Instinct slid like a right knife through Dugger's belly. 'Wait. Stay a turtle,' he told himself.  Someone eyed the van. Yeah, a safari hunter type, a trophy killer by nature. The vibes sizzled Dugger to his toe pads.

No use exposin' himself to the enemy. Dugger counted down the minutes automatically until he heard, "Mr. C., the target is secured. Givin' us trouble, though. He's got a big 'f' mouth. Needs shutting, until he's willing to talk to us."

An auto door opened, then slammed shut. A heavier tread made tracks in the same direction Ewan had been un-properly escorted. So, the bad boss man was this Mr. C.

Dugger trained his ears and his nose, inhaling the trophy killer's rancid garlic stench. What? Did the buzzard-brain really believe in that made-for-human's myth about vamps?

Grinning wide, Dugger dropped his blade, then snapped it back up between his teeth. Time to blow this van of clueless apes. Apes, monkeys, yeah, the common lingo in Dante's biker bar. 'Course, DNA-wise, that had proven to be mostly false propaganda by the global Big Bads – given the real genetic profiles were wider apart than the Nile river. Behavior-wise, now that was another ball of snakes.

Dugger squirmed his way out the duffel bag pile. Figurin' dingo was safer, even with  a blade in his jaws, he hopped into the driver's seat. A deft pull of his untrimmed nails unlocked the door. Using his paw like an abbreviated hand, Dugger cracked it open, then slipped outside.

With his hind leg, Dugger kicked the door shut, then crawled beneath the van. He scanned for several moments before darting across the parking lot toward a sparse evergreen bush beneath the window where Ewan was likely being grilled. Yeah, maybe like a shrimp on the barbie.

Dugger grinned at himself.

'Now for a mental photo of –' Headlights, the shouts of teenagers over-medicated on beer interrupted Dugger as he raised upward to peer between the crack in the heavy curtains. He slouched behind the cube-shaped evergreen right quick as a bushbaby.

Dugger heard the curtains pulled together sharply. Crickey! There went his shot at an easy look at this cast of un-super villains.

By the walkabout gods, though, he had their individual scents. And from what Dugger was scenting now, Ewan didn't need his helping paw. Not yet.

Yeah, speaking of the un-super, one of the motley crew was creeping up on him. Dugger figured the great monster hunter had seen neon lights flash off his large blade.

With a grin, Dugger burst out of hiding. He charged straight toward the hulking linebacker type. Before the bloke could help it, he briefly shrieked like a little girl.

"Hey!" the shout followed. "The monster's got an effing buddy." To his credit, the un-green hulk whipped out a silver blade, and stood his ground.

Dugger liked that bloody better. He increased his speed with each stride.

Leaping as the blade slashed at him, Dugger clawed his way up the blighter's tree-trunk leg, then up his broad chest fast as a mad cat. Holy dooley!. Oh yeah, his light body weight, and his quick reflexes always served him right.

Before the silver blade could catch his hide, ripping away chunks of fur -- and the hulk was certainly trying to slash him a good one -- Dugger climbed up his beefy face. He sank his claws in deep.

Once on top of Sluggo's head, Dugger sprang landing on the roof of a nearby car. From there his escape was a piece of cake, as his sheila was fond of saying -- yeah, when she aimed her rifle, and took out a practice target no one else could touch.

The question of the day: should he make contact with Hoover? Let the wolf know what was happening under his superior sniffer...


Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...  


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, January 20, 2014

Saving People, Hunting Things

Even though he couldn’t see squat with the bag over his head, Ewan had a pretty good idea where this monkey bunch was taking him. The increasing sound of traffic and the neon lights that flashed in through the windshield confirmed it: they were headed for the commercial strip out by the exit. With a dab of good luck they’d be holed up in the Rocky Top Motel. Dante had a wolf named Hoover, he of the miraculous nose, stationed at the front desk there. If Ewan could get word to him, Hoover could tell Dante what these yutzes were up to. That’d put a crimp in their plans.

If his luck ran sour, they’d drive their van up the exit and onto the interstate and off to parts unknown. Then he’d be well and truly up the fabled Scat Creek, with no outboard.

Tonight Chaos favored him. The van slowed, made a careful turn and rattled its way through what Ewan guessed was a parking lot before it came to a stop. Game time. If this was their lair, he could work on getting some answers. If it was just a gas stop, he’d have to make a break for it. Either way, he intended to toy with these apes before he hightailed it for home. The wolf in him might want to attack, but the coyote in him overruled it. No coyote worth the name ever turned down a chance to punk a human.

The male pinning his right arm abruptly ripped the canvas bag off his head. Ewan gulped what passed for fresh air on a busy strip of highway. His eyes adjusted and showed him the back end of a long, two-story motel. Enough willing ladies had smuggled him into their rooms for him to recognize the Rocky Top.

“You listen good, monster,” the man snarled. “You’re gonna walk up those steps and into that room and not give us any trouble. You so much as say boo and I got a silver knife with your name on it.”

“You got me a gift? Damn sweet of you. Hope you spelled my name right. Can I have it wrapped to go?”

The goon stared blankly at him. The woman on his other arm tittered. Ewan swung his head thataway for a look at his possible ally.

About what he’d expected, given the company she kept. Battered sneakers, baggy jeans and a T-shirt with a whale on it, all hanging off a body that’d make a skeleton look pudgy. She had a soft face behind round, owlish glasses. Her hair was chopped short, its color hard to tell under parking lot lights but probably in the brown family. If she had any tits under that shirt, he couldn’t find them. She did have a nice, tight caboose though, so it wasn’t a total loss.

The others piled out of the van and circled him like hyenas. They linked arms and caged him in their middle. In this manner they walked him down the narrow inside hallway, while his new lady friend scooted ahead to open the door. Anybody wandering past would take them for a pack of frat boys staggering home from a bar crawl. In a group they lurched into the room.

And what a room it was, exactly what Ewan expected. His new buddies had added their own special touches to the room’s d├ęcor, with maps, newspaper clippings, website printouts and grainy black-and-white video stills Scotch-taped over every square inch, including the paintings bolted to the walls and the mirror on the closet door. The subject matter all related to the alien, the paranormal, the weird. All it needed was an I Want to Believe poster tacked up over the bed.

Three laptops were crowded onto a circular vinyl table, one with a Bigfoot screensaver, another with a sticker of a big-eyed, big-headed alien giving the Vulcan salute. And, of course, the empty pizza boxes. Ewan would have been sorely disappointed if he hadn’t seen at least one.

His surly buddy from the van shoved him onto the bed, where two of his partners swooped in to bind Ewan’s wrists to the headboard. “Kinky,” Ewan said. “Who wants me first?”

“Stuff it, Rover.” Ewan recognized that voice as the van driver’s. He was a big, Aryan blond in a pullover sweater who obviously considered himself this mob’s alpha dog. Ewan named him Freddie. “Save your breath for talking. You’re going to tell us every last detail about your ‘Doctor’s’ operation.” He pulled out a wicked-looking silver dagger. “I guarantee it.”

“Uh huh. You’re gonna spill my guts and I’m gonna empty my bowels on your only bed.” He watched that realization sink in and the consternated looks flash around the room, to finally settle on Freddie. Freddie got red in the face. “You really didn’t think this whole hostage deal through, did you?”

“Don’t mess with us,” Mr. Surly said. Ewan dubbed him Agent Mulder. “We’re professionals.”

“Of course you are.” Ewan jabbed his chin at the active screensaver. “You do know Bigfoot hangs out in Colorado, right? You’re looking in the wrong state.”

“We’ll get back to Bigfoot later,” Agent Mulder said. “Right now you’re our freak of the week. You’re going to talk, or else.”

“Then you’ll be washing sheets till Judgment Day. Tell you what: you let Velma here work her feminine wiles on me and we’ll see how much I spill. That work for you, darlin’?” He winked at the woman.

Her eyes—a warm summer brown, he saw now—flashed with unexpected fire. “My name’s Maureen.”

“Ewan. I’d shake your hand, but … ” He tugged his wrists against the ropes and offered up a shrug.

The woman bit her lip. Poor gal, she probably thought these sorry apes were the best she could do. That wasn’t true, and under different circumstances he wouldn’t mind telling, and showing, her so. If she put on a few pounds and padded those bones, wore a tighter set of jeans, grew her hair out a couple of inches—and washed it more often—she could hop off the Velma shelf and into Daphne territory. He’d bet his tail she’d never been touched by any of these clueless mooks.

She had a brain behind those eyes; he could see it working. He’d always liked Velma better than Daphne anyway. Velma’d always had more smarts than the rest of the gang put together. Coyotes set high store on smarts. In the coyote worldview, anyone without a brain might as well have a target on their back.

Ewan smiled easily and sorted through the targets in the room. Besides Agent Mulder and Freddie, there was a redheaded kid in a “Free Weed” T-shirt, a stocky, dark-skinned guy in glasses who had yet to say a word, and a wide load in a ponytail who reminded Ewan of Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. They all gave off that earnest vibe of folks who know they’re right, the kind one little jab can jostle into fanaticism, with a side of violence attached.

Except for Velma. She wasn’t wearing perfume, and her natural scent was earth-toned and homey. He wouldn’t mind a good howl at the moon with her, if he could get her and himself away from the Spooky Brigade.

“So, which of you is Nick Fury?” he asked. “See? We watch TV just like you guys.”

“Go get Mr. C,” Freddie ordered. The guy in the glasses left, still without a word. “Don’t dick with us,” Freddie said to Ewan. “We know all your weaknesses. We’re all armed with silver. It’s new moon. You won’t be changing any time soon.”

Velma opened her mouth, then shut it again. She looked at Ewan doubtfully. He could figure what was going through her mind. Werewolf lore and shifter reality didn’t always match up. Shifters didn’t need a full moon to go canine. She knew this; she’d seen Twilight. Yet she wasn’t in any hurry to share with her brothers in slayage. Interesting.

“Okay, you got me,” Ewan said. “What do you want to know?”

Agent Mulder snatched a photo off the table and thrust it at Ewan’s face. “What’s this?”

He crossed his eyes at the picture in front of his nose, and his gut tumbled. Scat in a hat.

The pic was standard cryptozoologist quality, blurry and off-center and clearly taken from a long, safe distance away. It showed three giant creatures that could not be mistaken for bears or wolves or Tiger Yakuza, even with the bad focus helping. Nothing about the beasts said “normal” in any way, shape or form.

Somehow these hoots had snapped a pic of Damien Hancock’s mutant werewolves.

Chaos bite my balls, he thought. Why did luck always fall into the hands of little cubs and the monumentally stupid?

Saturday, January 18, 2014

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ X-Chapter Seventeen

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys

Chapter Seventeen:
Sherilyn almost believed she dreamed. 

Sherilyn almost believed she dreamed. Dontoya thrust inside her pussy, his cock so powerful, she shivered inside. Never had she felt so much like a woman.

He forced her pussy walls to stretch, to take his thick cock as he tenderly plunged deeper. Sherilyn had never enjoyed sex more.

She keened moans of pure pleasure as Dontoya possessed her with a dominance natural to him--obvious in every move he made, obvious in the languid prowess of his body against hers.

Never had she wanted to give herself more to a man.

Dontoya not only took her with his big bold cock, but handled her with care, both emotionally and physically. Her heart swelled with gratitude, and Sherilyn hoped like hell he would continue caring for her this way.

Dontoya, she sang inside her mind. God help her, but the feel of his fine, fine ass was driving her insane with lust. She undulated, matching his slow primal strikes inside her.

For more Sunday Sneak Peaks

Blurb & Excerpts for HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS are on my page above.


Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...  


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

"And our next substitute player is. . ."

Gill stopped midway up the incline.  He leaned on his walking stick and glanced back down the almost obscure trail.  Louie and Ranger weren't far behind him.  Each carried their personal camping gear well.  Backpacks stuffed to the gills with dried food and water pouches sat on top of neatly package space survival blankets, tarps, and subzero sleeping bags.  Further down the trail, Hadley brought up the rear carrying their tent and portable stove.  Gill adjusted the straps of his own pack.  His held their changes of clothes and toiletries.  Another hour and they would reach Phil's forest home.

Each of the hikers agreed when they set out on the expedition that snow and extreme cold might make the trip edgy and nippy.  Gill smiled remembering Vernon's advice about packing wool into their shoes to keep their feet warm and dry.  Miss Elly came through with the lint from her dryer.  After the laughter died down she showed them how to line their hiking shoes and hats.  Ever resourceful, she handed each of them two pairs of knitted mittens and gloves.  The old gal could blush and stammer as each the males kissed her cheek and hugged her.  Two containers of her vegetable stew waited down Gill's pack.  Each of the hikers had a special treat from Miss Elly awaiting them when they reached Phil's domicile.  Two to three more hours at their current pace and they would reach the rumored clearing.

"Gill," Louie called out as he got closer.  "Any sign of where we're supposed to turn?"

Ranger moved up past Louie and Gill.  He leaned down scratching at the dirt close to him.  He sniffed and smiled.  "I found the marker.  I know that scat and piss order for sure."

Hadley's barking laughter echoed off the close-by trees and rocks.  "You'd make a great hunting dog."

Ranger flipped Hadley his middle finger.  "I shared my teeth with Phil on our fishing expedition.  The night you snuck up and scared the piss and shit out of us marked my sleeping bag and tent horribly."

Louie and Gill snorted.  Turning away they both glanced at each other.  Rolled their eyes and grinned.
Louie mouthed, 'Both of them stunk for the rest of the trip.  Thank our deities we found a car wash to run them through."

Gill swallowed hard hoping he could keep his mirth restrained.  Images of Ranger and Phil covered from head to tail in soap suds as they cussed and shook their fists at the rest of the group flashed through his mind.

Gill moved up ahead of Ranger, calling out as he did.  "Two more hours and Phil will be in sight."

More laughter rang out.  With Ground Hog's Day quickly approaching, Gill could understand why Phil chose to hide out.  After last year's debacle who could blame him.

Crickets began chirping.  More birds disappeared as the group trekked higher up the hill and then pushing their through a thicket, they paused.  Fifty yards in front of them sat a two story log cabin.  It nestled up against the large boulder overhang.  A door swung open and two men stepped out.  

The one closest to them smiled and nodded.  The other looked similar to the first.  He scowled and squinted practically to the point of snarling.   Gill blinked, shook his head, and stared again.

"Glad you made it fellas," the smiling man said stepping off the porch.  "Come on inside.  Lillian's got dinner cooking.  She made room for you to cook your meat downwind on the back porch."

"Phil?" Louie asked, point to each of the identical looking men.

"Yes, it's me."  Phil held out his hand, ready to shake anyone's who wanted to.  "That's my cousin Charlie.  He's practicing standing in for me."

"Standing in for you?" Ranger asked, moving up on to the porch.  He sniffed Charlie before moving past him into the house.  

Phil laughed.  "Yes, he's scowling and frowning like I would when they pulled me out of my bed shining bright lights at me."

Hadley nodded as he followed the rest of the group into Phil's place.  Maybe, just maybe a substitute might make the right call this year.   They'd have to wait and see.


Happy Weekend Gang!

I've got a new story underway based on my flash Cassandra and the Sheriff.  Its going to be fun telling Cassandra and Marc's story.  As I skecthced out their story, another based in the same area came to mind.  A new series is in the making.  When I've got more to share I will let you know.

Tina's Treasures is with my publisher awaiting to hear from them.  Mean while I hope you all are keeping warm, healthy, and enjoying a good book or two with your loves and spice.  I know I am!

Until next week,


Friday, January 17, 2014

Tough Enough...

“Tell us about the sick rabbit puke, Auntie.” “Yeah, tell us!”

Reetha smiled down and the two precious bundles of energy that were her nephews.  Perfect in every way and with just the right amount of naughty two male pups needed.  In her youth, she’d never imagined wanting to be responsible for another, especially a needy little being.  Her time away in California had changed her though.  Now, a little one would be most welcome.

“Loki, Thor – enough!”  Her brother stepped up and placed a large hand on each boys head, turning their heads to face him more gently than she’d ever seen Mooney move.  “No rumors about Ziva.  She’s always been good to you, she doesn’t deserve people listening to the shite coming from her supposed friends’ mouth.”

Yeah, she got it, she was the supposed friend.  “It’s only gossip and rumors if it isn’t true, Mooner.”

“Yeah, dad, this is true so we can hear it, right Auntie Reetha?”

“Loki, true or not it would hurt Ziva to know you and your brother were out here laughing at her pain.”  Mooney knelt in the snow, addressing his sons.  “How would either of you feel if your brother was telling embarrassing stories about you?”

It filled her heart with pride that her brother was such a good and gentle dad.

“Bad.” “Yeah, bad.  Really bad.”  “Really super bad.” “I’m badder.” “No, I’m the badderest.” “I am.”
“Oomph” “Ugh”

Reetha smiled as they started rolling around in the snow first as boys then as wolves, each trying to come out on top.  “You and Nick used to do that.”

“Yeah, he always won.”

“True.  He always pinned me as well, but he would always pretend that I had a chance.”  Reetha grinned both at the memory and over at Mooney.  “You know, we were more evenly matched.”


“Come on, don’t you want to look good for your boys?”  She taunted, knowing he was struggling with refusal.  “Maybe you think you can’t win?  I am pretty tough.”

“Not that tough.”

“Tough enough and your wife’s not here to lay down the law so what’s stopping you?  Tell you what…if I win, you can hate me forever, but if you win, you have to forgive me.”

“Forgive you?  You left and let us all wonder if you were dead.”

“I know…I’m sorry.  Tell you what, if you win you agree to hear me out and consider forgiving me.”

To Reetha, Mooney looked torn between wanting to win and wanting to lose.

“You’re on.”


“Loki look!”

“What the…”

“Dad’s fighting a girl.”

“How come he can and we’re not supposed to?”

“Probably it’s okay ‘cuz she’s his sister.”

“Oooh we need mom to give us a sister.”

“Yeah, then we can whomp on her like dad’s whomping on Auntie Reetha!”

“Totally cool!” “Yeah totally!”
May your days be sunny and your nights steamy!

Have a wonderful weekend!

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Special Thursday Flashback Post

For those who came in late, i.e., after Monday: I found the chapter of the other (abandoned) story, the part that proves Ewan Carter works for Dante. The gang is holed up at the Rocky Top Motel out by the exit, the place where Hoover works. He's probably the one who spotted the hunters and sent Dante the head's-up.

At any rate, here's the revised book version of the flash scene I posted last year. Enjoy the smut. If you'd rather look at dirty pictures, see Rebecca's post.

# # #

“Lupa fuck me,” Dale groaned. “This thing is obscene.”

“So stop reading,” Ewan advised. “Those are things you’re never gonna do anyway. Why torture yourself?”

Because when you had your ass parked in Dante’s outer office, waiting for an audience with Damien Hancock’s renegade alpha son, there wasn’t much else you could do but stare at the walls and contemplate your sins. For Ewan, sinful contemplation was a professional sport, often a spectator sport. The more conservative Dale preferred to keep his sins to himself. If everybody did that, the world would be a better place.

He crossed his left leg over his right, then crossed them back again. The walls had no clock to scowl at, so he settled for scowling at the pages he held. Naturally he’d tried to read through them, so he could give a comprehensive report to Dante. Unfortunately, Ewan had snatched a description of two people doing stuff better left in private, and doing it enthusiastically. And one of them was supposed to be dead.

Dale shot a sour glance at Ewan. His best bud was currently up to his dirty eyeballs in the paperback Chloe had left behind. That had turned out to be one of those filthy boy books, where two men—or more, Lupa help them all—wasted their skills on each other. Who the hell wrote stuff like that, much less put it out in public? Not that this perverted tale the human she had concocted was any less disgusting.

Vampires. Vampires, for prey’s sake. Performing acts a dead body shouldn’t be able to handle. And women lapped this stuff up like cream off the top of the milk pail, according to Ewan. Ewan had sisters, so he’d know. If Dale lived to be as old as the bats in this story, he knew he’d never figure it out.

Or her. Chloe. The human author of this laundry list of scuzz. Figuring her out was part of his job. Dante had tasked his lower ranks with keeping a surreptitious eye on all humans new to Talbot’s Peak. When Dale saw a newbie taking notes, he had to know what those notes were saying.

So far, they said this particular human was one randy, twisted she-bitch.

Dale uncrushed the offensive pages and gingerly smoothed them out on his thigh. Forget the content, he told himself. Focus on the handwriting. Theory was, you could tell a ton about a person by how they formed their letters. Chloe wrote in a loopy scrawl that missed the line as often as it hit it. Scribbled blotches marked the spots where she’d changed her mind about a word or phrase. She didn’t just cross out sentences; she annihilated them. Girl had a killer instinct in her. Great in a wolf, bad in a human. Especially bad for the wolf.

He could picture her with ease as she’d been in the coffee shop: eyeing up the customers over the rim of her mug, then dipping her head to jot notes. There’d been periods of blank, introspective stares while she gazed out the window. These had become shorter and less frequent as her writing picked up speed. Toward the end that pen had been flying over the paper faster than human or even shifterly possible. He marveled he could even read what she’d written, while at the same time wishing he couldn’t.

She’d put him in there. On the page he was a vampire with ocean-dark eyes and, apparently, a never-ending hard-on, but other than that it was him. He recognized the description of his hair, which “tumbled from beneath his Stetson in a riot of auburn locks,” and the unique tooling on his boots. The “unexpected dimples,” “manly cleft chin,” and “cheekbones sharp enough to slash flesh” came as a surprise. He’d never really given his cheekbones a thought.

Barely two sentences after meeting the girl, “Dale” had her bent over backward with his teeth on her neck and his hands grasping “the glorious globes of her ass straining against the thinnest of silken panties.” The panties were gone by the next sentence. Ripped off, wadded up, and tossed aside by the undead horndog in Dale’s favorite dress-up boots.

The rest of the pages went into lush, lurid descriptions of all the things “Dale” did to “Chloe,” and everything she did in return. And then, right before the main event, it all stopped in the middle of a sentence. Ewan had only managed to snag the two pages. No matter how many times Dale poured over them, he would never know what happened next. Although he could hazard a guess.

He forced his mind off that dangerous game trail and back to the matter at hand. Yeah, she’d been staring out the window, but she could have been staring at them. He and Ewan had been sitting by the window. She’d sure been writing in a hurry, trying to squeeze as much on the page as she could, as quick as she could. Just what a spy would do. Whether a spy would give a man slashly cheekbones and have him perform randy acrobatic sex acts with a she he’d known for less than five minutes, Dale didn’t know. Maybe this was written in some kind of human code. Lupa knew sex was all the monkeys ever had on their minds.

Why he couldn’t get her off his mind pissed him off no end.

“Wooo-whee!” Ewan burst out. “Three straight pages of holding it in and then he comes like a rhino. I’d try that if I wasn’t so impatient.”

Dale’s mouth twisted. “Put that away.”

“I got a better idea. You take it.” He thrust the paperback at Dale. “Maybe you can pick up some pointers. Chaos knows you need ‘em.”

Dale jerked back like the book was going to bite him. “I ain’t interested in two he-dogs humping each other’s legs.”

“They ride a lot more than legs in here. You should see the one chapter. Where is it?”

Thankfully, the office door opened before Ewan could finish his page-flipping. Dante stepped into the outer office. Both wolves sprang to their feet. Ewan shoved the paperback into his pocket. They stood straight but with eyes lowered and necks exposed in respect.

“At ease, boys,” Dante said with a chuckle. For a wolf from a tight-assed pack and an even tighter-assed sire, Dante was an easy-going alpha and a joy to take orders from. Dale didn’t mind at all being cousin to him, or doing surveillance work on behalf of him and the Peak. His hand crushed the pages and their sick insinuations. Up to this point, anyway.

“Now then,” Dante said, abruptly all business. “What’s this about you two assaulting a human she at Java Joe’s?”

Instantly Ewan slid a half-step back and became invisible. He had this coyote trick of fading into the background whenever the scat hit the fan. As usual, Dale had to step up. “It wasn’t assault. We were scouting a new human female in town, like you told us to. She was watching everybody and taking notes. Ewan tried to chat her up, get a look at what she was writing. Things got out of hand.”

“Ah,” Dante said. Ewan just shrugged and grinned. “And that’s what got Sergei involved?”

“Sort’a.” Dale swallowed hard. Getting Sergei involved in anything was one of Dante’s no-nos. “He came to her rescue. You know him.”

“But we got what we needed,” Ewan broke in. He elbowed Dale. “Show him.”

At Dante’s expectant look Dale handed over the now sweat-smeared and crumpled pages. “Here’s what she wrote. But I gotta warn you, she put this, uh, unique spin on ‘em. I don’t know what it means.”

Dante scanned the pages. His eyebrows climbed higher and higher. Towards the end he made a little snort, either disgust or amusement. Dale never made snap guesses where Dante was concerned. “Well. That’s certainly an interesting take. Not your usual sort of intel gathering.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Ewan said. He fished out the dirty boy-book and handed it over to Dante. “She had this on her, too. I think she’s just a harmless writer.”

Dante took a quick peek at the cover and returned the paperback to Ewan. “A writer, huh? She’s got one hell of an imagination, that’s for damn sure. Unfortunately for us, there’s no such thing as a harmless writer. They see plots everywhere, and they never stop watching.” His steady gaze flicked from Ewan to Dale. “That’s why you two are going to keep an eye on her. Make sure fiction is all she writes, and all she knows about us.”

“But how are we supposed to—” Dale started.

“You can start by giving these back to her.” Dante stuffed the pages back into Dale’s reluctant hand. “Otherwise she’ll go poking around looking for them. We don’t want her poking the wrong bear. Or tiger.” He paused to let that one sink in. “Get to know her, see what she’s up to.” His lip curled wickedly. “Offer to read her book.”

“I’ll do that part,” Ewan said at Dale’s sick expression. “Some of us appreciate lit’rature.”

Dale wobbled out of Dante’s office in a daze, with Ewan ambling beside him. “Stalk a human she without her catching wise,” Ewan said. “Finally, this job’s got some fun to it.”

Lupa bite his dangly bits, the damn mutt sounded eager. “How are we supposed to do that?”

“We go undercover. Two randy cowboys looking to show the new gal in town a good time. All the while we pump her for information. Like a spy. Maybe we can talk her into a romp. We already know she likes sex.”

 “Sex between hes.” Dale gestured at the paperback, once more riding snugly in Ewan’s pocket. “That’s a lot more above and beyond than I’m willing to go.”

“Then I’ll handle that. You man the camera. C’mon, dog. It’s just a human she. She didn’t even get our species right.” He leered at Dale. “How much of your humping habits did she get right?”

“Bite me.”

“You need to get that knot out of your tail. We get to be spies. Poking around after beautiful women. This’ll be a roll in the grass.”

With a human involved? More like a fall into brambles. Dale considered mentioning that, but decided against it. If the chance for a romp presented itself, Ewan would be there with both heads held high. All Dale could do was stick close and be ready when disaster hit.