Saturday, November 29, 2014

Thanksgiving on the Peak

Gill looked up and down the row of tables pushed together.  On the far end a large roasted turkey sat.  Heat and its delectable odor wafted over the table, attempting to entice anyone it could to salivate as they waited.  At the other end of the table, a comparable sized tofu turkey sat.  Several of the herbivores looked at it longingly.  Midway, close to center, a large bowl of mix salad sat containing greens and fruit along with tomatoes, chunks of colored peppers, and other vegan delights.  In amongst the dishes and glasses lining the table on both sides as well as the end, various side dishes and breads sat.   As soon as Louie brought out the first course, all would begin feasting.

Rachel and Tyburn sat together close to one end of the table.  Next to them sat Vernon and Miss Ellie.  At the opposite end, Louie and Bettina held court with him and Chloe.  Many of the town council mingled ready to sample cuisine and food new to them within reason.  No carnivore would go without meat just as no herbivore expected to taste the vile foul down the table from them.  And the vegans, well they knew that in the middle suited them best.  Besides several bottles of Talbot’s Peak Microbrewery’s finest fines and champagnes sat open on the bar ready for consumption in between courses. 

Bettina rose, picked up her knife, and tapped on her glass.  Silence filled the room.  “Louie asked me to explain the first course to you.”

Heads nodded as all gazed at her.  Gill smiled wondering what Louie decided to do about the soup course of the meal.  Bettina continued speaking.

“Broth is the basis of many food choices.  Regardless of the additional ingredients.  Water, noodles, and seasonings are common to all.”  She turned as she finished speaking.
As if on cue, Louie pushed a cart out of the kitchen with a large steaming pot on top of it.  Bowls sat on either side of the pot.  Louie picked up where Bettina left off.  “In here is a bit of everyone’s spices you contributed last week and pieces of the noodles you included.  Water is water. The covered bowls on each table contain items to add to your bowl.  Take and enjoy.”

Louie filled one bowl after another handing them out as he moved up and down each side of the tables. As he reached the end, he spoke again.  “I enjoy living on the Peak.  I like many of my neighbors. Their food tastes aside.  Our other courses will be what we eat otherwise.  I want our first to be the unique flavor, essence, and camaraderie that makes up our town.”

As Louie sat, Gill rose clearing his throat.  “Bettina talked about how this is called Pho in Vietnam.  Broth in other places and stock in another.  I choose to call it Soup du Peak.  Here’s to us and all we’ve got to be thankful for.”

Covers lifted, dishes passed, bit by bit they emptied into the broth of those that cared to add them.  Slurps and smacking of lips began.  Many smiles and nods followed.  Gill caught part of the conversation as he passed the bowls of fish bits across the table a second time.  Soup du Peak appeared to do what they intended, mix and bring together the unique tastes and commonalities of those calling Talbot’s Peak home.



I and the Spice hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving.  May your holiday season be bright and filled with all the things you need.  Remember those less fortunate than you as you shop and gather gifts.  From us here at the Spice Homestead, we wish you a season full of love, joy, peace and happiness, topped off with a New Year of tranquility and more peace. 

Until next week,


Friday, November 28, 2014

Doing it with Gusto!

Alas, no flash from me today.  Between school and turkey day, Mz. Muse has been squashed into a corner.  She's none to happy about it, but she's absconded with one of my unmated jaguar hottie characters and is enjoying Black Friday with gusto!  I'll be back next week with a new arrival in our Talbot's Peak home, I hope!

Stay safe if you're out in the stores today and may you find each and every awesome deal you seek!


Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Happy Turkey Day!

Quick hit-an-run post. I'm on my way down to the Valley of Fire, NM, for a long weekend of camping. No, this was not my idea but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't totally on-board with the idea of camping for Thanksgiving. I'm actually pretty excited about it. See you guys next week and be safe! No choking out your sister's auntie's second cousin once removed because he took the last slice of chocolate cheese cake! Have a great Thanksgiving whatever odd thing your family does to celebrate, even if that family is no blood relation to you!

~ Rebecca

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

A terrible ache consumed her heart.

Happy Upcoming Gobble-Gobble Day, shapeshifter lovers.

I hope to have some good news about our to-be-released ShapeShifter Seductions free read, LOVE TO THE RESCUE, next week.

This week's flash scene is a continuation of the short story I began last week. The stars are Drev, a hunter with an unusual background... and his heroine, Keina Svonj, a winged horse with all manner of supernatural abilities.


Chapter Two ~ Keina Svonj

Keina winged high above the immense, splendidly wild Montana valley. In her air horse form, she remained invisible to most beings.

As she sailed high above the majestic, Autumn-colorful landscape, Keina hoped to lift her spirits. A terrible ache consumed her heart, as if an evil dragon clawed it from her chest.  

She'd been banished for the fourth time from her home kingdom, the penalty six months of Earth time. Keina shuddered from her horse muzzle to the tip of her long flowing tail, tormented by her memory of the King's austere, scowling countenance atop his richly decorated, long, official robes as he pointed his scepter and pronounced judgment upon her.

Sadness, vibrational chaos owned her, and Keina plummeted for moments despite her airy frequency. Flapping her wings, she stabilized herself, and focused on the beauty below.

Wise, sky-soaring pine trees, yellow-gold aspens, and the mountain's stone floor, glistened breathtakingly in the early afternoon sun.

Flubergastov! Keina cussed. Was it her doing that the slime-disgusting, lascivious Prince Tretorff had stealthily followed her after the Fall Equinox ball? He'd attempted to force his unwanted, stinky-sour-breath attentions on her -- once she'd reached her chamber suite in the castle.

They'd practically wrestled, with Keina twisting furiously to fight off the Prince's grasping, tentacle like arms. When his hands grabbed at her like angry snapping turtles, she'd spun out of reach.

But the creepazoid Prince snorted and charged, rabid to mount her. Repulsed beyond belief, desperate, Keina morphed her lower half instantly.

The lovely silk gown she'd handsewn for the enchantingly festive occasion ripped, a searing sound that tore at her. Enraged, her blood boiling, Keina aimed her back hoof, and launched a kick at the Prince's bulging crotch.

Strike the spike! Kick the ugly stick! She won.

Whirling to face the now wimpified stud, Keina whinny-shouted her triumph. Tretorff's unmanly shrieks drowned her out, and he grabbed his cock and balls with both hands. Backing away, his eyes popping out like a virgin filly, he'd turned when she didn't rush to attack him.

Automatically returning to her human form, Keina watched the Prince run down the long hallway, his gait hilariously awkward.  Relief swamped her, and hysterical laughter burst past her lips. Keina ended up laughing so hard and so long, she collapsed against the door. With her legs buckling, she slid to the floor.

High in the sky, Keina circled then cruised above the color-splendiferous, old-growth forest. Earlier in the day, she'd discovered an isolated meadow with a variety of plants that tempted her horse palate.

Hungry for the sun-warmed blooms and greens that still grew during cold weather, Keina arrowed her flight skimming over the treetops. The sudden sight of a brawny-built hunter halted her in mid-flight.

Keina floated lower, feeling immediate empathy for the prey he stalked. If she could a life...

 As she positioned herself above the man, astonishment jolted through her like flashfire. Oddly, the hunter's face and physique reminded her of the life size statues in the Garden of Ancients.

Keina had never observed a human who so closely resembled the progenitors of the Celtic gods. The difference... she judged the hunter's height to be just over six feet, whereas the gods had been thirteen feet tall.

According to song and legend, the gods and goddesses had sired and birthed their own lineage of humans. Was she staring at a descendent?

Finding herself entranced by the man's noble and powerfully sculpted features, Keina hovered, her wings beating swiftly as a blossom-feeding hummingbird. Given he hunted in the middle of shapeshifter territory, she sensed for his animal side.

Nothing tingled, no image formed in her mind. Yet, somehow he was beyond human in some way Keina didn't understand.

Did he know?

The way he silently negotiated the forest, following the signs and tracks, he appeared to be what Keina thought of as a high-performance human. Obviously, he was a strong, capable man, and superbly trained in the task he set before himself.

Keina decided she would take no direct action against him, but figure out another plan to keep the hunter from shooting his targeted prey. She lightly landed behind a stand of trees and simultaneously phased to her physical Pegasus self.

Not seconds later, Keina heard the distressed gobbling of a wild turkey, and knew. She charged toward the sound hoping it wasn't too late -- that her mythical appearance would shock the hunter into not firing.

Able to alter her frequency quick as a change in the wind's direction, Keina had no concern for her welfare if he shot and the bullet struck her. Seeing the turkey desperately flap his wings in an attempt to escape, Keina galloped in front of the hunter's line of sight.

No cracking sound of a bullet. He hadn't fired. Keina raced on instinct for the mountain cliff.

With the hunter's level of expertise, Keina well realized he could track her, even though she partially floated over the ground. In her brief look at his energy matrix, Keina witnessed his warrior courage, his formidable will -- that he already dealt with the supernatural world.

The strings of her own matrix hummed, alerting Keina the instant the hunter followed her hoof prints. To observe him, she launched into the sky. Shifting to invisible, she once again soared over the mountain valley.

An undeniable fascination about the unusual human grew inside Keina. Compelled beyond any misgiving, she waited, circling the immediate area.

Once the hunter appeared, tracking her to the cliff's edge, Keina allowed herself to merge with his thoughts. Oh-Flubergastov-no! She'd deprived his family of needed food.

To make her actions worse, she'd dishonored him and his family by interfering with their traditional and honored celebration. Another punishable offense in her home realm.

Keina shivered violently, yet managed to keep her vibratory rate high so she remained unseen. How was she going make this right? How?

Still shaking, she slowly flew toward the hunter, and halted before him. Gathering her courage, Keina stroked his handsome, square-jawed face with her wingtip.

When she knew he felt her feathers, Keina spoke to his mind. Even if he didn't hear her message, his heart would know the apology coming from her heart.

She hoped.

Somehow, some way, she would find a way to make his Thanksgiving celebration a good one. For him, and his family.

With resolve ruling her, Keina gradually backed away. At the same time, she searched his mind for the precise location of his home.

There had to be a suitable turkey available in a shop somewhere. And since she had wings... Keina flew a direct line toward Billings, Montana, where she'd rented a small apartment, and pretended to be human.


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, November 24, 2014

Wild Turkey

The brown-haired girl on top of the bar had to be drunk. No woman, no matter how crazy (or desperate) would be doing a strip-tease sober in front of this crowd. Most were wolves, and those that weren’t were cats. All were bikers, all were drunk, and every last one of them considered himself Dog’s or Bast’s gift to women. Her scent suggested she was herbivorous, not a good thing to be in a predator bar. If she slipped and landed in the crowd, these carnies would eat her alive.

Drake looked at the beer sloshing around in his mug and set it aside. He should be in Mexico by now, with the rest of his flock. But no, he had to hang around Talbot’s Peak for an extra two weeks, because he felt loyalty to Dante. And then he had to stop at the biker bar, because he had buddies here he wanted to say good-bye to. And now he couldn’t even finish his beer because he’d need to stay alert if he was going to save that idiot girl from herself.

Damn chivalry anyway. What had being chivalrous ever gotten a man?

The girl still had her pants and her boots on, but she’d torn off her blouse and was now whipping it, and her howling, slavering audience, into a frenzy. She danced to whatever song came on the jukebox. The fact she kept to the beat made Drake suspect she might not be as drunk as she wanted everyone to think.

She’d gotten a chant going. It sounded like, “YOLO.”

Somebody handed her a mug. She stopped dancing long enough to chug it, then tossed the mug into the crowd. Three wolves managed to catch it, then began fighting over it like dogs over a bone. The cats didn’t join in. They just stared at her, unblinking, their noses twitching like whiskers.

Okay, Drake decided. Time to put an end to this before the little twit started a riot. Or a feeding frenzy, with her as the main attraction.

Nobody noticed him slide off his chair and work his way along the wall to the jukebox. With all eyes on the bra’d but blouseless dancer, he had nothing to worry about. Casually he reached behind the jukebox and pulled the plug. The music scraped to a stop.

Several minutes passed before anyone noticed. Gradually the bikers turned around in a sporadic wave to stare at the silent juke. Drake, of course, was nowhere near it. He was creeping up on the bar.

The girl didn’t like losing her audience’s attention. “Hey!” she yelled at the distracted bikers. “I’m dancing here!”

“Not any more, you’re not,” Drake murmured, and swept her legs out from under her. They were long, shapely legs, skinny at the bottom but with healthy, meaty thighs, and swept with no trouble at all. The girl landed easily in Drake’s powerful arms. She let out a squawk.

Drake clapped his hand over her mouth. “Do you want to get out of this alive?”

She glared up at him and mouthed against his palm, No.

“Too bad.” He crouched down behind the bar and scuttled toward the exit, dragging his struggling rescuee with him. Maybe she was drunk. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

Her mouth moved again. I don’t have a tomorrow.

Neither of them would, if the drunken bikers spotted them. Even as he thought this, he heard a cat yowl. “Hey! Where’d the chicken go?”

Chicken, eh? That, as much as the huge, round breasts straining against her filmy bra, explained the bikers’ concentrated interest. What the hell was she thinking, putting herself up like a target in a carnie bar?

Like he was anyone to talk.

He got them to the exit, but the door’s movement was marked and noted. The wolves moved as one, in a loud pack-charge to the exit. The cats went out the front door, to silently circle around. Unable to find their prey in the parking lot, they automatically ran to the woods.

Drake watched them disperse from his hiding place on the bar’s flat roof. He’d laid the squirming girl out beneath him. Her nearly-bare breasts rubbed against his chest in all manner of fascinating ways.

Once the last cat had lumbered into the forest, Drake removed his hand but not his body. He didn’t want her bolting until he knew she’d be safe. The minute her mouth was free she used it to call him a name.

Drake grinned down at her. “Only on Tuesdays. In all honesty, this is how I was hoping to end the evening. But not with an unwilling partner.” He rolled off the girl, but kept hold of her arm. “So. Care to tell me why you’re so bent on self-destruction?”

She threw another curse at him while she struggled upright. He noticed she made no attempt to cover up her breasts. “What’s the point? I’ll be dead by Thursday. Might as well have some fun before I go.”

“What’s Thursday?” he started. Then everything from her scent on down clicked into place. “You’re a turkey?”

“Yeah. Lucky me. For the last ten years I’ve been a good girl. No bars, no carnie boys. Strict diet to stay skinny. Then all of a sudden this year I just started filling out. Genetics or something.” She waved her hand irritably at her big breasts and plump thighs. “The closer we got to November, the more people started hanging around me. With carving knives and cranberry sauce.” She blew a strand of hair away from her face. “So I figured, what the hey. If I gotta go out, I’m going out with a bang. All week long I’ve been cramming in as much life as I can before the axe falls.” She regarded Drake with a wry twist of her mouth. “So I guess it’s you. At least you’re good-looking.”

Drake shook his head. “Not me. I know where you’re coming from, though. I’m a duck.”

“Yeah? That explains the fish breath. You don’t have whole holidays dedicated to people roasting you, though.”

“True, though Christmas gets a little dicey. Migration’s the scariest time. A lot of us just take vans now.” Drake cocked his head toward the woods. The sounds of the hunt were becoming louder and more frustrated, but farther away. “This might be our best chance. Assuming you still want to live.”

“Of course I want to live. I like Thanksgiving as much as the next girl, as long as I’m not the main course. You got a safe place to hide out?”

“I have an apartment in town, near the fountain. It’s a herbie neighborhood. Safety in numbers. If we watch each other’s backs, we both should make it to Friday. What’s your name?”

Her expression relaxed. “Jennilynn. Yours?”

“I go by Drake, but my given name’s Francis. Promise you won’t tell anybody.”

Her finger made a crossing motion over her wonderful breasts. The finger froze at her collarbone. “Wait a minute. Francis Drake? Your parents really did that to you?”

“One of many reasons I don’t fly with their flock any more. Though if you’re still looking for fun before the holiday, you can call me Sir.”

Jennilynn giggled. “Sounds kinky. I like. Wanna go back to your place and stuff a turkey?”

Drake grinned. Hanging around Talbot’s Peak past migration had turned out to be the best decision ever.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Chapter Thirty-seven

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys


Note: This week it's all about loving their mate.

The first six X-paragraphs from ~

Chapter Thirty-seven:
"Darlin'," Dontoya soothed.

"Darlin'," Dontoya soothed. "You belong to me and Zance."

At his words, his mate's small hands stroked his arms, softly moving back and forth. She hummed a little response, and the sweetness penetrated Dontoya's soul.

Sherilyn's enraptured face--the way her tousled shiny waves of hair set off her lovely profile as she lowered her head--Dontoya felt his heart swell with love.

Once he looked up, he watched Zance come down from his raw hard climax. With a satisfied growl, his pardner leaned over Sherilyn, placing gentle kisses up her spine.

"Mmm-mmm, cowboy, you sure know how to treat a woman."

Sherilyn's sexy drawl had both him and Zance glancing at each other, their male appreciation of her mutual.


For more Sunday Sneak Peaks


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

Wishing you shapeshifting cowboy love on the wild side...


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Happy Thanksgiving

sorry this is not my normal post. turkey day preparations are keeping me away from my computer.  have a great week and celcebration. spicehomestead will be full of loves and spice on thnaksgiving. have a great thanksgiving everyone.
until next week

Friday, November 21, 2014

And So it Begins...

“Watch out,” Ziva growled at the nervous intern who looked a lot like that wascally wabbit of her youth.  That bunny wouldn’t stand a chance against her, at least the pre-preggers her.


“That’s right, run-away little hasenpfeffer.”  She chomped her teeth in the air at his direction and watched him run.  Lupa, but she was in an aggressive mood today. 

“Well, now there’s something you don’t see every day.  You okay, Z?”

Great, another person in her way.  “You know, it’s getting really close to Thanksgiving, Penny, and in my book, turkey and peaparrots are interchangeable.  Both are bound to be quite tasty.”

“Well me-ow, or should I say, woof…  Hon, if you want to eat me all you have to do is say the word.” 

Ziva pushed the ever sexual Domme and her salacious wink out of the way and waddled, yes, dammit, she waddled to her office.  She wanted to sit, but ever since last night all that did was make her legs numb.  Standing was getting exhausting and laying down just made her hips cry out.  What she really wanted to do was get on her hands and knees and let free her wolf.  It had been so long since she’d run that she started dreaming about her wolf in the few moments of peace she could find.  This morning she’d really scared herself though when she woke with wolf paws instead of hands.

“Hey gorgeous.”

Oh joy… Nick, her baby daddy and scardy cat, ‘won’t pull the trigger on their mating and marriage’, partner leaned in the doorway giving her the ‘I’m going to scold you, but as nicely as possible’ look.

“No thanks, I’m not in the mood.”  She reached for the chair, but didn’t sit.

“Hmm, that’s not what Penny was saying.  She painted me a very evocative picture.”

Of course she did…  Nick moved towards her and set his palm into her lower back at exactly the right spot.  The heaviness of this pregnancy and pain of her sweet child sitting on her nerves eased.  He had just the right touch and as an added benefit he supported her weight fully.

“How did you get here, Z?” 

It was really too bad that he had to talk.  “Shhh.”

“I thought we agreed you would let me make sure you got in to where you needed to go safely.”

“I’m fine.  I drove myself.” Partway, at least.

“I didn’t see the SUV?”

Dammit… “That’s because it’s in the ditch halfway to Wilk House.”

She wasn’t ready for Nick to stop his acupressure hold and she was especially not ready for him to swing her around to face his fiery eyed gaze.

“IN THE DITCH!” Nick inspected her like one would a piece of fruit…if of course he actually ate fruit.  “Are you okay?”

“Stop it, I’m fine.  I just had trouble turning the wheel around my,” ~sniff~ “big,” ~sniff~ “fat” ~sniff~ “BEEEEEELLY,”  Ziva wailed and growled and sniffed and wailed some more.  Between each were words that, from the look on her mates face, only she understood. 
 “Mom…joke…Mooney…didn’t remember…Elly…sheep, not wolf…paws.”

“Ziva, sweetheart, stop.  Relax, please.”

The panic in Nick’s voice brought her back enough to see both his fearful expression and her, once again, wolf paws and not hands.  “Why does this keep happening, Nick?” 

“Let me call, Leo.  He should know, being a vet and all.”

“He’s out-of-town today.”

“Flaming Lupa, damn doc…hold on…PEN…”

“Right here, bossman, cool your jets.  Z, I called your aunt and she’s dragging your mom in with her.  She said to light your forest glen candle and sip a cup of pine bark and peppermint tea.”

“No way in Lupa’s loins am I drinking that tea again, nor am I lighting a candle.  Just slap me around if I start to shift.”

“Hon, the point is to relax you, not work you up.”

Ziva growled and the scent of wolf increased. 

“ZIVA! No.”

She was so close to accepting her wolf.  Her cry and mental barrage were getting to her, she could hardly fight them off any longer.


“Come here, mate.”  Nick turned her and forced her paws on the desk.  “Don’t move them.”  He was icy at the thought of Ziva falling into her wolf.  It had been damn near a year since she’d shifted, protecting this cub everyway she knew how meant subjugating her animal side.  He knew candles and teas, the crap her mother and aunt hocked on the internet, wouldn’t calm his mate down.  The only thing he knew to do was provide a firm touch to the two sides of her spine.

“Oh Lupa…yes, Nick, yes…”

Her head dropped down and her paws slid slowly back to hands.

“Oh Oksana, look at that.  If we could just bottle Nick’s touch we could market to all the pregnant ladies out there.”

Great, his someday in-laws had arrived.

“She’s not pregnant, Liliya, I keep telling you she’s just fat.  I’m not old enough to be a Grandmere.” 

“And perfect…” Ziva moaned loud enough so he and the entire room could hear.  “There’s nothing like family in your time of need.”
So it dawned on me the other day when Ziva started threatening me with unspeakable things, that perhaps I should finally give this lady wolf some relief!  So here goes...

Have a wonderful weekend, y'all!


Wednesday, November 19, 2014

A Little Something Different

Another Wednesday and another blog post I forgot to write. So, here's the first part of a very short story from my WIP files. It's a bit different from what I usually post, but I hope you like it.

~ Rebecca


Davis Patrick McGillicuddy III had been doomed to become cop by virtue of being a McGillicuddy. His whole family had been Boston cops for the last six generations, ever since the first McGillicuddy got off the boat in Boston Harbor back in the 1800s. His name alone might have been enough to brand him a Boy in Blue back then when the Irish mob was running the streets. If you were Irish, you were either going to end up living a life of crime or fighting it. By the time that stereotype died out, enough McGillicuddys had been cops to make it a firm family tradition.

Being born a female in that family didn’t spare one being a cop, either. Not since 1921, when his great-grandfather's older sister Irene took the civil service test and joined the department. Great Aunt Irene had walked her beat in plain clothes because the first woman cops weren’t allowed to dress in the typical uniform of a beat cop. Her primary duty had been keeping the streets safe for young girls to walk to school or work or to go to the movies without fear of being molested. Ally knew all of this thanks to her best friend Casey McGillicuddy.

Ally knew a good deal more about Casey’s family than was probably necessary but the only way she could pump her friend for information about her cousin Davis without letting Casey know she was being pumped for information was to get Casey talking about her whole family. It wasn’t hard or even boring. Ally was an only child and both of her parents were only children. Ally simply told Casey that she loved the insight into what life in a big family was like and Casey ran with it.

Ironically, that was how she first met Davis. And it was “Davis”, not Dave or Davey. There were two other Daves in the family, so Davis, as the third in line, didn’t get his name shortened. He’d have probably been called by his middle name except there were far more than three Patricks. Anyway, that was how she met him. Sort of.

Casey had invited Ally to a McGillicuddy family barbeque the summer both of them were thirteen. Ally, who’d been left home with the housekeeper yet again while her wealthy lawyer parents hobnobbed in Martha’s Vineyard, had jumped at the invitation. She had never been to a family gathering of any sort before and it sounded like a lot of fun. In the back of her mind, Ally was hoping that with so many other kids around, maybe the McGillicuddys wouldn’t realize there was an extra and just treat her as family rather than as a guest.

Unfortunately, that hope hadn’t stayed in the back of her mind. The moment Mary McGillicuddy, Casey’s grandmother and the current matriarch of the family, laid eyes on Ally, that wish came tumbling right out of her mouth. Or not so unfortunately. She’d gotten her wish. Mary McGillicuddy had practically adopted her as an extra grandchild that day. The unfortunate part was that her tongue got the better of her one more time that day.

Casey had introduced the future love of Ally’s life as “my annoying cousin, Davis.” Ally looked at the cousin in question and her mind just kind of shut off. He tongue had not. Without thinking, Ally gave a dopy smile and parroted back, “not Davie or Dave but Davis the third.”

She had tried to call the words back. She then tried to melt into a puddle or something. She was blushing hard enough that she could have passed for a melted cherry popsicle, surely. Everyone laughed, of course, even Davis. But he also gave her a funny look, almost as if saying, what kind of weird stalker girl did Casey bring home?

That was truly unfortunate because try as hard as she could, Ally could not stop staring at him. He was, quite simply, perfect. He had been eighteen to her thirteen—five years is the perfect age gap, right? He was tall and muscular. He had medium brown hair and blue eyes, a perfectly even smile, perfectly white, straight teeth, dimples in his cheeks but not in his chin. He was a teenage girl’s dream come true. And he had thought she was a dweeb, probably because she had been acting like one.

Over the years, Grandma Mary, as she’d taken to calling Casey’s grandmother, had invited Ally to a lot of family get-togethers. Before long, most of the McGillicuddy clan forgot that she wasn’t actually one of them. Ally herself forgot most of the time, too. But not when Davis was there. That initial foot-in-her-mouth crush never waned, though she did manage to teach herself not to act like a dweeb in front of him.

And then there was their high school graduation party, the one that was thrown for them by “the cousins”, not by the older members of the family. The McGillicuddy clan was huge and by some trick of fate, there were five of them, including Ally, graduating that year. The one condition her parents had insisted on for Ally to go to this “cousins only” party was a chaperon, which was total bunk since they weren’t even in town for her high school graduation, but whatever. Grandma Mary had thought it was a good idea to have someone over the age of twenty-one present, too, so no one got mad. The cousins elected Davis, who was by this time was a twenty-three year old cop with a bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice and a year of experience on the force. Most importantly, he was a cousin.

But not to Ally. Oh, no, she never mistook him for a relative in any way. This was high school graduation, her time to shine, to become a woman instead of a dopy kid. It was her time and the party was going to be the place, she had decided. It was time for Davis to learn that he was perfect for her and she was perfect for him.

It worked out about as well as she might have guessed, if she’d have taken the time to think about it before hand. She made an ass out of herself. While everyone else had smuggled wine coolers to the party, she had had to make due with vodka. (Her parents hadn’t had anything else remotely wine-like in their liquor cabinet.) While everyone else got a little toasty on watered down wine, she had gotten alcohol poisoning. Davis had not been impressed, since instead of kicking back with his cousins, he’d had to take the drunk dweeb girl to the ER to have her stomach pumped.

No, he had not wanted to kiss her. Not that night or any other since. That afternoon had been their ten year high school reunion. Tonight, all the McGillicuddys were going to throw a ten year anniversary party, which Ally had tried to back out of. Casey wasn’t having any of that, though. She’d informed Ally that, as an honorary McGillicuddy, anniversaries were mandatory.

Ally was not looking forward to tonight. Davis still looked at her weird. Really, it had been ten years. When was he going to get over it? At this point, she’d settle for him just not watching her like she was about to sprout a second head!

* * * * * * * * * *

Davis was so nervous about tonight, he didn’t know what to wear. How stupid can a guy get? Going over to Grandma’s for a barbeque rated jeans and a t-shirt at best, but here he was, standing in front of a mirror, debating if he should change into his new White Sox jersey or just keep the vintage AC/DC shirt on. All because Ally was going to be there.

He had always had this reaction to her. She was smart and sophisticated and way out of his league, even if she did enjoy hanging around with his family. Ok, she more than enjoyed it. As far as his relatives were concerned, Ally was one of them. Her highbrow pedigree and polished manner fit in surprisingly well with their blue collar way of life. But every time he was near her, she clammed right up.

The first time he’d met her, she’d kind of smiled and blushed a bit, but she’d only been a kid then. He told himself that cradle robbing his obnoxious cousin’s best friend was not cool. Over the next five years, he’d watched the sweet, quiet girl grow into a very attractive young woman, but it had never crossed his mind that she was interested in him. Why would she be? She came from serious money and he was a cop brat who was just going to end up on the force, like all the rest of his family. And then, she’d tried to kiss him during the cousins-only graduation party.

He almost let her, too. God, how he’d wanted that kiss, but she’d been stinking drunk. No way was she in any condition to be kissing random guys! So he’d taken her to the hospital instead so that she didn’t get any more sick from swilling hard liquor and spent the last ten years kicking himself in the ass because now, she barely even looked at him. He should have let her kiss him, even if she’d been too drunk to know what she was doing. Instead, the ghost of that missed kiss had haunted him like the Ghost of freaking Christmas Past. “Look, Davis! You could have had a taste of this if you hadn’t been such a stickler for propriety!”

Ten years of wondering what she’d taste like. Would she kiss as sweet as she looked or did she have an inner wild child that would only come out and play for him? Probably not, he mused. She was still the quiet, dignified debutant she’d always been. Her strait black hair was cut in a pageboy bob that framed her classic heart-shaped face perfectly. Her slightly olive toned complexion showed that she never went out in the sun without adequate protection from the sun—quite a feat since he knew for a fact that Casey still dragged Ally to several ball games every year. He clothes were the best labels and always neatly pressed, even her jeans. She was everything a guy could ask for as so far out of his league that he didn’t have a prayer of catching her.

Yet, he was still trying to. Maybe if he’d let her kiss him that night, he could have called her his before she went off to college and discovered boys. That had been his only real chance, that she’d gone to an all-girl junior high and high school, but he’d blown it because he hadn’t realized what he was missing.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Drev aimed his hunting rifle...

Frigid-brrrrr howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Yes, last night broke the cold-temp record for this area. Oh joy... snarl and snark.

So, a couple of announcements. Once I get some time, I'll put the finishing touches on our ShapeShifter Seductions free read, LOVE TO THE RESCUE, and upload it  to Smashwords, etc. Serena Shay has designed a lovely and character-perfect cover.

Also, the final edit for RIDE THE ROAN STUD, written by my alter ego, Stevie Klark, has been turned in. If you want to check out the fab-beautiful cover art click on last week's post.

Alright then, this week I'm offering what could be the first chapter of a Talbot's Peak erotic romance short story... that is, if my wonderful and wacky muse cooperates... and if life cooperates??? Yeah, who knows?


Chapter One ~ Drev Zander

Drev aimed his hunting rifle at the ten foot tall, densely woven bush where he heard the telltale gobbles. He followed the emerging flurry of wings as the wild turkey began to take off in flight. About to the pull the trigger, his jaw dropped instead.

The rifle fell from his line of sight.

"What the 'f'?" left his mouth as puffs of steam. A giant burst of light, then a white-winged, pale purple horse galloped in front of the only turkey he'd been able to track for days.

With a twinkling flash, the ethereal beautiful creature vanished from view. But not before Drev caught the scent of lilac and musky equine, an intriguing mix he found appealing.

What the freakin' hell had he just seen? And, was she real? As in flesh and blood? And not some ephemeral vision, or some strange, inter-dimensional intrusion into his reality.

Damn, he wasn't a drinkin' man, except for a couple of brewskies during the weekly poker game at Louie's bar and grill. And the malty Scottish ale he indulged in on Saturday night's at Duff Mc'Duff's old-fashioned tavern. Nor was Drev into the dug scene. No way, no how.

Okay, he reasoned, it was Talbot's Peak, home of the shapeshifter crowd, and other assorted supernatural beings. He knew about the witches, the vampire dance partners at the supperclub. There was at least one goddess, and an Egyptian demigod.

But a purple tinted Pegasus who could obviously appear and disappear?

Rumors about a nude purple fairy, Drev considered to be town lore. Was he wrong? 

Damn stunned to his core, Drev instinctively clutched his gun tight as he'd trained himself to do in any circumstance. Instinctively, he faded into the mid-afternoon shadows of the forest, a life-saving ability he'd fine-tuned during his short time as a special ops soldier.

Yeah, he'd been kicked out dishonorably. Not following orders did that to a man.

As it turned out, no sweat off his brow. He had no stomach for killing the innocent, or collateral damage as they euphemistically called it.

Yeah, he slept well at night.

Still as stone, on watch for any high strangeness, Drev began buzzing with his hunter's honed intuition. Or the sight as his granny called it.

Given his flash-brief sighting, Drev figured a conversation with dear gran on the other side was long overdue. Not that she'd ever mentioned a winged horse.

Sure as the laughing devil himself, she'd delighted in telling him *scare the hide off you* stories about the Kelpie, a horse shifter, and about the Each Uisge, a Highland supernatural water horse.

Waiting for the buzz to quit, Drev replayed the paranormal event in his mind. So, there had been the sound of hooves softly crunching the blanket of frost-saturated leaves.

With his shock subsiding, and his curiosity on fire, Drev silently moved toward the bush, his keen eye searching for hoof prints. He'd been trained to track by his friend and mentor, Dane, a mountain man and a puma shapeshifter.

Currently, he and Dead Aim Dane, as he was affectionately known, worked together keeping the Peak's animal life in balance, and also supplying meat to Dante. The alpha werewolf owned the subterranean complex known as the Interspecies Pleasure Club, and his customers were ravenous for wild game.

Hunkering down, studying the first hoof impression, Drev felt the fast throb of his blood. Excitement built inside him, even as the land's subtle energies flowed through him telling him more about her.

Yes, the supposedly mythical horse had to be a she, given her dainty structure, the refined shape of her head. As his sighting of her flared before his mind's eye, Drev realized the gorgeous creature's image had been burned into his brain, never to lessen or be forgotten.

Without thought, Drev slowly followed the minimal outline of her hooves. The length of her stride was longer than he'd anticipated, as if she floated.

Scat! As Dane would say. Drev stood on the edge of the mile's high, rock cliff, staring into the blue, autumn-golden Montana sky. Unless his girl Pegasus could transform into a small puffy cloud... well hell, she was nowhere to be seen.

Only her deep hoof prints remained, evidence of her existence, and that she'd launched into the great blue yonder.  Winging where? Or had she merged with the very air?

Drev sighed and growled at the same time. He'd struck out twice today. The young tom had been destined for his brother's Thanksgiving table. Chased out of his flock,  now he'd be prime eatin' for a predator.

Dammit. Drev stomped a boot on the rocky surface, frustration owning him for moments. With four kids and work sporadic these days, his brother and his wife hadn't been able to budget in the traditional feast.

While he could afford to help out, despite his live-off-the-land lifestyle, there wasn't an organic turkey to be had in town. Not that he could find. Yeah, understandable as hell, no store in Talbot's Peak dared offer predator shapeshifters anything but high quality meat and poultry.

Drev slung his rifle over his shoulder, then scanned the primal majesty of the scenery that suited him just damn fine. With a keen ear he listened for any sign of danger. He also listened to the musical symphony of the forest, of the pine-tree valley below.

He'd come to understand this enormous uncivilized land reflected his character, what he was on the inside. Drev drew in large breaths of the crisp cold air, calming and energizing himself for his return trip. 

Not a week ago he'd trekked into Talbot's Peak from his mountainside cabin. Since his brother lived about forty minutes away, he'd arranged for boxes of groceries to be delivered.

These days Drev's only transportation was a snowmobile. And he liked it that way.  Except in a helluva situation like this. Yep, three strikes, he was out. And out of luck. As far as a holiday turkey dinner.

All because of a gossamer-like, winged horse most would consider to be mere hallucination... or a figment of their imagination. Not fevered obviously, but induced by freezing your effing ass off out in the middle of the forest.

In Drev's case, his unusually rapid metabolism kicked in, and he stayed warm enough no matter the frigid temps. Oh yeah, he'd learned why -- the hard, being-experimented-on way. During his short stint, the military's genetic scientists -- funded by trillions of missing tax dollars -- traced it to his Celtic ancestors. Or the ancient lineage responsible for the legendary berserker warriors.

Double piles of scat! Only the denizens in hell knew the monster soulless warriors his blood and tissue samples were likely helping to build, had already genetically built. Once, as Drev was being dragged back to the recovery room by two musclebound soldiers, who believed he was still conked out, he'd glimpsed row after row of nude men on hospital beds.

The usually closed and barred door had been left open.

Using his peripheral vision, Drev mentally recorded the perfect soldier types, perfect because of their super-sized, GI Joe physiques. But shit on a stick, they'd looked like frozen corpses waiting to be animated.

Yeah, brought to life like sc-fi Frankensteins, they would obey orders without question, without sentient thought.

Drev shook his head vigorously, clearing away the nightmare-creepy remembrance.

The moment he stilled, he felt feathers caress his face. The tips of her wing feathers so impossibly delicate as the sensation of being stroked continued for several moments.

I am sorry, hunter, he heard inside his mind. I couldn't help myself. Soft whirls of air brushed against Drev's face. Then. I didn't know you were feeding your family.

For just a split second, Drev had to ask himself if he was take-me-away delusional. Yet, deep down, he knew better. Often, he and Dane communicated telepathically when they hunted together.

Besides, the fragile feminine voice not only teased his soul with a had-to-solve mystery, but triggered every male atom of him. His cock swelled, quickly becoming ramrod hard.


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, November 17, 2014

Give a Hoot

When it came to all things mechanical, no one in Talbot’s Peak could surpass Lutz and Bortz. The two German-born wolves could build or fix anything that involved pistons and gears. Once, on a bet, they constructed a tractor from scratch. The horse-shifter who’d been pulling his own plow happily paid up.

Right now, Mayor Gil was wondering how much it would cost to get the two to leave town. After they unfixed the town clock, of course.

According to Vernon McMahon, who’d been around long enough to know, the bell in the City Hall clock tower had been silent for decades. (“L’il Larry hasn’t struck the hour since Reagan was in office,” Vernon said.) With a new wife and possibly multiple children on the way, Gil wasn’t thinking straight. He decided Talbot’s Peak could do with a working clock, and “Nutz and Boltz” were just the pair to get the bell ringing again.

He forgot they considered themselves artists, and artists tend to get … artistic.

The first time Li’l Larry announced the time was two in the afternoon. Gil sat at his desk, thunderstruck. He waited until three to make sure he’d heard correctly. Five minutes after that, he summoned Lutz and Bortz.

The two arrived just in time for the four o’clock “chiming.” “Ah,” they said, nodding in chorus. “Ist goot, ja?”

“No, it’s not goot—I mean good. I asked for a bell. Something that goes ding-dong. Not whoo-hoot.”

“Bells. Ding-dong.” Bortz dismissed such conventionalities with a snort. “So 20th century. This has character. What is the English word? Unique?”

“Unique, ja,” Lutz agreed. “The clock now reflects the town. What shifter goes ‘ding-dong’? But whoo-hoot, everybody knows what that is.”

“Everybody expects a clock to sound like a clock. Not an owl. What did you do, rig speakers?”

They nodded happily. “We can change it,” Bortz said. “Wolf, horse, sheep, cow, anything you want. Just record sound.”

“You want to announce the time?” Lutz thrust a palm-sized microphone into Gil’s face. “Speak into here.”

Gil batted the mike away. “No, thanks. I want—”

“We fix the emergency siren, too,” Lutz informed him. “Ist wolf howl now. Get everybody’s attention.”

Ja, ja.” Bortz nodded soberly. “Back home in Buchendorf, sirens go off, everybody panics and dives under bed. Nothing gets done. But wolf howl! They listen to that. Better response.”

“Okay,” Gil cautiously agreed, “that was probably a good idea. I’ll announce the change at the next town meeting. We’ll still have to vote on it. Now, about the clock—”

“You’re right.” Bortz stared thoughtfully up at the clock tower. “We could do more. Do better. Give Talbot’s Peak something no one else has. Clock with personality. Bring the tourists in.” He and Lutz stared at each other, and cried out in unison, “Cuckoo clock!”

“No!” Gil screamed. “Look, it’s—fine. The clock is fine. We’ll let it run for a couple of days and see what the people think. If they like the owl, then owl it is. If they don’t, we go back to a traditional ringing bell. Agreed?”

“Tradition,” Lutz scoffed. “Where's the fun in tradition? Change ist fun. Change ist goot.”

“This is art.” Bortz waved his arm expansively at the clock. “Art is goot for the soul.”

“It’s not up to me.” Gil frantically ran with this loophole. “It’s up to the people. If they decide they want a regular bell, well, then it’s out of my hands. You can understand that, can’t you?”

The two considered this. “Must it be a bell?” Bortz asked.

Hating himself for having to ask, Gil said cautiously, “As opposed to … ?”

“Something else musical. Like flugelhorn. Or glockenspiel.”

“Or cow bell,” Lutz suggested. “Would cows find that offensive?”

The longer we talk, Gil realized, the worse this gets. He decided to put an end to it. “Tell you what. We’ll put it to a vote at the next town meeting. You can present your ideas then. Remember, this is a sound people in town will have to listen to at three in the morning. Try to keep that in mind.”

The wolves exchange a glance. “We don’t live in town,” Bortz said.

Somehow, Gil had figured that. Belatedly, it occurred to him he should have asked Vern why the bell had stopped chiming to begin with. A picture of furious deaf bats with sledgehammers rose in his mind. He squashed it. “Vote. Town meeting. Two weeks from Thursday. We usually start at 7:30, but if you show up early there might still be refreshments. Put a presentation together and we’ll see how it goes. Okay?”

The pair nodded enthusiastically. Too much so, Gil thought. He imagined he could smell the wheels turning in their brains. They bid him a cheery guten tag and loped away.

Oh, God. Two weeks. Two whole weeks to brainstorm, to let their artistic impulses run rampant. Images of gigantic cuckoo clocks wormed their way into his thoughts, fluting their annoying calls at all hours of the day and night. What the hell was I thinking?

On the other hand, they wanted something that would say “Talbot’s Peak.” When viewed in that light, a cuckoo clock seemed like the perfect choice.

Maybe he could appoint Rachel deputy mayor, then call in sick on meeting night and make her deal with this. Yeah. Sounded like a plan. Gil went back inside City Hall, to wait for the five whoo-hoots that would signal the end of his work day.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Chapter Thirty-six

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys 

Note: This week it's all about Sherilyn and her sexual experience.

The first six X-paragraphs from ~

Chapter Thirty-six:
Sherilyn ignited inside...


Sherilyn ignited inside, as if firecrackers shot through her. No wonder, with her two men watching her, wanting her.

Really wanting her.

Her men. Hers.

The reality that she belonged to both of them slammed into her awareness, yet quickly became lost. Zance molded the swells of her hips and ass with his make-her-putty hands.

"Down in front, sweet kitten," he ordered.

As Sherilyn obeyed, his cock's head jabbed against the rim of her pussy, then pushed strongly. "Oooh, that feels too good."


For more Sunday Sneak Peaks


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

Wishing you shapeshifting cowboy love on the wild side...


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~ 

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Another Side of A Phoenix Named Tyburn

Rachel cracked open the window across the room from her bed.  Tyburn slept with two blankets on him.  He insisted on taking the side of the bed closest to the door.  Something about protecting her. More like his male ego demanded he look macho now and then.  Rachel smiled at her inane thought.  Tyburn’s mellow side came through more than once as they performed with the orchestra. During composing sessions, he even paired up with others to write scores of music that allowed a team effort to shine.  Even his twin sister, Stacia, remarked how changed her brother appeared.

Tyburn’s and Stacia’s voices carried up the stairs from the card game they played below.

“Phoenix full house.  Stars and comets plus the jacks.”  Stacia spread her cards out on the table.

“Hearts beat jacks.  Five of em.  I don’t think you’re gonna win this hand.” Tyburn sipped from the wine glass close to him.

“You think the game’s over?”  Stacia pulled their cards to her.  Mixed them in with the deck and dealt fifteen cards each.

“Got any kegs?”  She grinned as she looked over the cards in her hand.  The face up discard showed a spear with lightening splintering it.
Tyburn looked up, peered back at his hand and spoke.  “Go fish.”

“Twelve cards down and three from the bottom.”  Stacia started to reach for the deck.  Tyburn’s hand grabbed the deck.

“How do I know you aren’t gonna cheat again?”  Tyburn began counting cards, tossing them toward Stacia.

“The way you count, we might be two rebirths getting this game finished.” 

“Better that than a crooked win.”

Tyburn held up the thirteenth card and whistled.  “Now I know why you wanted this one.  Joker with hearts and spears.  The ultimate wild card.  No way sista!”

“Give me five hundred reasons why.”  Stacia’s shrill laugh raked over Rachel’s shoulders as she leaned closed to the railing upstairs.

“Tyburn, it’s late and you promised cuddles.”  Rachel smiled as she pictured him squirming as Stacia gloated at him.   A night of quiet and deep sleep mattered more than a wounded Phoenix pride.  Of course, Tyburn might up the ante and begin telling TMI stories.

“My mate wants cuddles.  Good night Stacia.”  Tyburn pushed back from the table and walked away.

He could feel his sister’s gaze riveted on him.  He didn’t care.  Life took on new meaning the moment Rachel announced her pregnancy.  The human doctor said she might be carrying twins.   Different views and expectations certainly changed how one looked at things.  What more surprises did this rebirth have for him?


Happy Weekend Gang!

Hope you enjoy this snippet into Tyburn and Rachel's life.  Stacia is hinting at her own story and love interest.  Wonder what she has in store and for whom.  

Keep warm, share a few good books with your love and spice.  I know I am!

Until next week,


Friday, November 14, 2014

Shackles & Chains

“Not until I met you…” Greely revisited Erol’s words from the previous day as she stared out the window of her opulent suite. Those five words played like an earworm on steroids through her skull. It was, by far, the most romantic thing he’d ever said to her and also the most frightening.

He’d never planned on staying in Talbot’s Peak, her home and safe haven.  He’d planned on swooping in and checking the place out, see if he could replicate the town’s success in sheltering shapeshifters and creating a sanctuary.  He’d planned on copying that style here in England.

“Okay, Gree, this has gone on long enough girl,” Karma, her best friend and staunchest supporter, huffed as she swept into the room. “You are in a mansion on the shores of the English Channel and you are burying yourself in your room like you’re in a bad prison movie.  Shake a leg and let’s check this place out.  There’s an entire wing dedicated to your Duke’s family…including paintings of their dragon forms.  How cool is that!”

“Karma, please don’t say that.”

“What? Shake a leg or Cool?”

“No, my Duke,” she whispered, wishing instead she had the nerve to scream.

“Ha!  Not saying it isn’t going to make it go away, hon.  You hooked yourself royalty.”  Karma nudged her with an elbow and winked.  “I’m so proud.”

Oh Gawd, that was the scariest thought of all! Someday, she might become a duchess. Lady of a manor with servants, ballrooms, libraries and dungeons if she remembered her history correctly…or was that from her love of historical romances? She was in her lover’s mansion, a freaking mansion, looking out over the biggest body of water she’d seen in some time and all she could think was that this was not home.

Talbot’s Peak had a wonderful underground beach and secret link to the Pacific Ocean, but this was much different.  This had majestic rocks rising up from the water and an actual sunset.  It was cool here, but not as cold as the Peak was starting to get with winter coming.  The openness of the land around her was surprising, but it lacked the same forest feel she’d grown used too.

It was beautiful here, but so very different from the home she knew.  The home she suspected she would eventually be forced to leave.

So Greely seems a bit maudlin today, but I guess the thought of leaving our fair Peak could do that to a girl.

Keep warm out there!


Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Too cold for thought

     I love Colorado. I was born here, grew up here and in Wyoming, lived in a few other places like Alabama and Hawaii, but ended back in Colorado. Here, I’ve stayed. Why? Because it’s like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. Take this week for instance. On Monday in Denver, we hit our high of 53 degrees at 10am. By 10:30, the temperature had dropped 20 degrees, ushered in on a typhoon of whirling crap with 30 mile-an-hour winds. It’s now Wednesday, and it’s one degree above zero, a good 40 degrees colder than Anchorage, Alaska. It’s actually warmer in Vail than in Denver today. This was our first real cold snap, too. We got no transition into winter weather. By next week, it’ll be warm again. That’s life in Denver.

     Anywho, I have been busy with a million things and have not written anything for today’s blog post, mainly because I haven’t had time to read anyone else’s post for the last week and don’t want to mess up what’s going on with the lunatic sheep. Here’s some pictures, instead. Enjoy!

This one's for Pat

This one's for Savanna, because her new cover also has some long-haired sexiness going on. ;)

And I would dedicate this one, buuuut my brain melted...