tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64988995803002692502024-02-20T00:45:01.629-06:00Shapeshifter SeductionsSerena Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959664736807639363noreply@blogger.comBlogger1886125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-40347673359448137322023-03-10T10:04:00.003-06:002023-03-10T10:04:53.249-06:00Life Imitates Art (and Vice Versa)<p>I know it's been a while, but I just found this the other night and I had to share.</p><p>Years back (around October 2015, I believe) I posted a Halloween blog where Indian tiger shifter brothers Guri and Sanjay organized a flash mob to re-create Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video in the town square. I had no idea at the time that actual Indian singers and dancers had had the idea decades before I did. Their version is lightyears beyond what I pictured, and exactly how Sanjay and Guri would have presented it. But judge for yourself:</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6znZC778Jq0">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6znZC778Jq0</a></p><p>Had I known this existed, believe me, I would have written that post a lot differently. Now I've got an urge to watch an actual Bollywood musical. Back to the Net and Youtube...</p>Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-34473750329752329232020-07-31T12:45:00.001-05:002020-07-31T12:45:38.623-05:00Something funnyJust a little something to prove we’re still alive out here.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://m.ranker.com/list/misha-collins-best-tweets-castiel-funny-twitter-supernatural/amaliahalpin?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=nr&pgid=155349644524204&utm_campaign=misha-collins-best-tweets-castiel-funny">https://m.ranker.com/list/misha-collins-best-tweets-castiel-funny-twitter-supernatural/amaliahalpin?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=nr&pgid=155349644524204&utm_campaign=misha-collins-best-tweets-castiel-funny</a>Rebecca Gillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01341836304924085727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-21527111408593441002020-01-27T14:47:00.000-06:002020-01-27T14:47:46.811-06:00Hide and Seek<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vo6l7JaV5SRh4SD7WiWdw37L_xrTtu3MHztuQaTJln2Rb3tJ1wvuMZTZMg43gcb51vT07Q_oj9r_DKPiSC3-6dgE4u-b9sq7e3vlt3Yq3-GrWWELDnkidYKEwUrZml2mwnurk7eG-wY/s1600/tumblr_mw01wkO5Zp1r6gzneo2_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="205" data-original-width="500" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vo6l7JaV5SRh4SD7WiWdw37L_xrTtu3MHztuQaTJln2Rb3tJ1wvuMZTZMg43gcb51vT07Q_oj9r_DKPiSC3-6dgE4u-b9sq7e3vlt3Yq3-GrWWELDnkidYKEwUrZml2mwnurk7eG-wY/s400/tumblr_mw01wkO5Zp1r6gzneo2_500.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
Here’s a situation to make even the nicest author fume. JJ's books haven’t been doing well on Amazon lately, so I did a simple check to see how accessible they are. I went on Amazon blind (did not sign in), typed “J. J. Collins” under the Kindle section, hit Enter, and—<br />
<br />
Well.
What popped up were books by J. L. Collins, a couple books by Joel C. Rosenberg whose character’s name is Collins, several Sponsored selections, and books that had nothing at all in their titles or bylines that had anything to do with Collins or the initials J. J. This situation persisted for page after page. After page. After page. It wasn’t until around page 23 that I <i>finally</i> found one of JJ's books. That’s <i>twenty-three</i> pages of other people’s books, most of which were written by authors whose names are nothing at all like J. J. Collins.<br />
<br />
Excuse me? I was under the impression when you type something into Search, that’s what it searches for and that’s what it gives you. If you type “Joan Smith,” shouldn’t that be the first thing, not the twenty-first thing, that comes up?<br />
<br />
At least that explains why JJ's getting more sales from Barnes and Noble all of a sudden. When I type in “J. J. Collins” over there, the books come up on pages two and three, after the works of “John J. Collins”—a JJ with more sales, so that’s understandable. But JJ's not going to get more sales if Amazon keeps burying her books under a pile of bylines that look nothing at all like hers.<br />
<br />
So, to help out, here are the pages for JJ's books on Amazon. Just plug these in and you’ll be fine:<br />
<br />
https://www.amazon.com/Horsepower-J-J-Collins-ebook/dp/B01KYQ4P00/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=J.+J.+Collins+Horsepower&qid=1580155454&sr=8-1<br />
<br />
https://www.amazon.com/Lost-Found-J-J-Collins-ebook/dp/B0160IPL9A/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=J.+J.+Collins+Lost+and+Found&qid=1580155503&sr=8-2<br />
<br />
https://www.amazon.com/Priceless-J-J-Collins-ebook/dp/B01AIFPZU6/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=J.+J.+Collins+Priceless&qid=1580155552&sr=8-2<br />
<br />
https://www.amazon.com/Speed-Dating-Romance-Go-Book-ebook/dp/B07657N533/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=J.+J.+Collins+Speed+Dating&qid=1580155587&sr=8-1<br />
<br />
https://www.amazon.com/His-Super-Neighbor-J-J-Collins-ebook/dp/B07KYRZG7T/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=J.+J.+Collins+His+Super+Neighbor&qid=1580155633&sr=8-1<br />
<br />
https://www.amazon.com/Cock-Bull-Story-J-J-Collins-ebook/dp/B07RL5ZQBY/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=J.+J.+Collins+Cock+and+Bull+Story&qid=1580155669&sr=8-1<br />
<br />
Or type “J. J. Collins” and the title of the book you’re looking for. It’ll come right up. Maybe.<br />
<br />
Note that <i>Priceless</i> and <i>His Super Neighbor</i> are not shapeshifter stories. <i>Priceless</i> is futuristic; <i>His Super Neighbor</i> is a contemporary. All are M/M. J.J.'s got this thing for Destiel.<br />
<br />
Better still, shop on the Evernight Publishing site, where you can find all sorts of great romance novels for all tastes and budgets without having to wade through page after page of things you’re not interested in. Plus if you buy directly from the publisher, writers get a bigger percentage of the royalties. That way we can afford to keep writing the books you want to read. Happy hunting!
Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-13316092281435788262019-12-17T13:27:00.000-06:002019-12-17T13:27:19.031-06:00End of an EraIt won't be a happy New Year for this fangirl: <i>Supernatural</i> is ending with season 15.That means this is the last time I get to post SPN Christmas pictures. For my grand finale, I'm putting up three. Pour yourself some eggnog and enjoy.<br />
<br />
Good Grief, Dean!
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pK2J0JbQ1kuoowR199fFeSaoCNGjlDH56iDLm-hqbnkvVBKex3sIkAaPPXeEVHmGBH2Jh3A_Xwt-4BTp5oLndPykHO9RwiViaYfrbGF_MqWf7F8EPuUbp6_2zggXXeAeKhY1r9w4tgBy/s1600/SPN+Xmas+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="468" data-original-width="640" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pK2J0JbQ1kuoowR199fFeSaoCNGjlDH56iDLm-hqbnkvVBKex3sIkAaPPXeEVHmGBH2Jh3A_Xwt-4BTp5oLndPykHO9RwiViaYfrbGF_MqWf7F8EPuUbp6_2zggXXeAeKhY1r9w4tgBy/s400/SPN+Xmas+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
A one-moose open sleigh
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU7nRLK_Rodt5_9tolxRuwfOmT6JHIFAKqqFd9VuwB2WZrWcEc6kszPFJcr5hn-UqJUbpxX4m7j0WxQdSsab4CNvO6hxhyphenhyphen4BFVK8MTaNjmIQoHnIgP3696M514hLkcSsHOagJ6Id7eViSw/s1600/SPN+Xmas+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU7nRLK_Rodt5_9tolxRuwfOmT6JHIFAKqqFd9VuwB2WZrWcEc6kszPFJcr5hn-UqJUbpxX4m7j0WxQdSsab4CNvO6hxhyphenhyphen4BFVK8MTaNjmIQoHnIgP3696M514hLkcSsHOagJ6Id7eViSw/s400/SPN+Xmas+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And a final farewell from the cast
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPpOr3I-DZ39LB-Fs9eh0xS4y3xm9i9_kBqNJQvj41V3gS65O9kAQgV_GoB3DmMyhIDmBZ4eI-qDaXy5cDAk0kNxRITWnsUy779ynXl746dAvsbo5Nc_iZqSamJ8QxhTe_P-SwmnLDBqE/s1600/SPN+Xmas+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="679" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPpOr3I-DZ39LB-Fs9eh0xS4y3xm9i9_kBqNJQvj41V3gS65O9kAQgV_GoB3DmMyhIDmBZ4eI-qDaXy5cDAk0kNxRITWnsUy779ynXl746dAvsbo5Nc_iZqSamJ8QxhTe_P-SwmnLDBqE/s400/SPN+Xmas+1.jpg" width="283" /></a></div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;">Happy Holidays to everyone!</span></h2>
Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-31886601558907431172019-05-07T13:13:00.000-05:002019-05-07T13:13:52.568-05:00Release Day Tomorrow ... And That's No Bull<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdaqp7gtjTLJ3irpFytIp18e4BL_IkOVQg_3YwsXzzZaVAqfSFU-QF1ORkX4ENLdipfo-L7Kw1je3QVKEIq1ZyuSk4rC-jSz1wB3O2MOURno_9nxYsb7jmIbbz7PTMKKwDbc05UJbNkui_/s1600/Cock+and+Bull+Story+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdaqp7gtjTLJ3irpFytIp18e4BL_IkOVQg_3YwsXzzZaVAqfSFU-QF1ORkX4ENLdipfo-L7Kw1je3QVKEIq1ZyuSk4rC-jSz1wB3O2MOURno_9nxYsb7jmIbbz7PTMKKwDbc05UJbNkui_/s400/Cock+and+Bull+Story+%25281%2529.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
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<i>Cock and Bull Story</i>, a M/M shapeshifter romance by J. J. Collins, will be available from Evernight Publishing on Wednesday, May 8. Here's a blurb, and a sneak peek:</div>
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<b>Tauro is a bull shifter. Forced to leave the pro wrestling ring, he
works off his aggressions as a street fighter. Gallano is a cockerel shifter
from a family of famous <i>luchadores.</i> When the irresistible cock meets the
immovable bull, sparks are bound to fly … but only if they can fight their way
past their own mutual stubbornness. </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><i>Contains M/M sex</i></b></div>
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<a href="http://www.evernightpublishing.com/">www.evernightpublishing.com</a></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">EXCERPT</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
had nearly dozed off when he realized the raking claws had at some point turned
into fingers. He peered one-eyed over his shoulder. Gallano’s human face
grinned back at him. “Ah, there you are. Care to join me? There’s a lot less of
you to pamper in your human form.” He danced his fingers down Tauro’s spine.
“Though not by much.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tauro
hesitated. In bull form, he had a definite size and weight advantage over a
human Gallano. He could drive the man off his farm and settle the matter for
good. But those hands were hard to argue with. Against his better judgment, he
nevertheless morphed himself back into his human self. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Immediately
Gallano moved his hands upward, to knead his neck and shoulders. The smaller
man cooed at him, pleased. “Yes. So very much better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Of
course they both were naked now. Tauro stole a glance at him, and was surprised
to discover the cockerel bore a mighty fine spear—bigger than he’d expected,
with a cap like an arrowhead and mouth-tempting thickness. Perhaps he wouldn’t
need to look for a stallion after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">No.
He dare not encourage the pushy little bird. What was he thinking?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
was thinking it had been a long time since a man had stirred his desires. His
own great bullish beast began to inflate beneath him, as if it sensed the
opportunity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Unexpectedly,
Gallano moved and rolled Tauro onto his back. Taken by surprise, he had no
chance to resist. Gallano crowed in excitement. “Ah! There’s the beauty I spoke
of last night. So huge! Are all bulls hung so magnificently? I’ve been missing
out.” He reached for Tauro’s dick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tauro
slapped his hand away. “Behave yourself. Are all you chickens so grabby?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“He
who hesitates loses the worm. Or something like that.” He folded his arms on
Tauro’s belly, rested his chin on them and stared wistfully at Tauro’s rigid
member. “That’s no worm. That’s an anaconda. I know bears who would weep and
gnash their teeth to own a dick like that.” He sighed. “And you won’t let me
touch it. Such a loss. I suppose I must kill myself now.” He wiped an imaginary
tear from his eye with a finger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t
be so melodramatic. It’s only a bit of flesh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s
far more than a bit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Still
only flesh.” Tauro fought to keep a devil’s grin off his face. “Nine thick
inches of sweet, randy meat that would split you like a chicken breast. You
couldn’t even swallow the head without choking. Perhaps you’d rather try one of
the goats. They’re closer to you in size.” And get chased from the field by
Billzebub. That would be something to see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gallano
made a disgusted face at him. “Hump animals? Are you mad? What do you take me
for? It won’t split my hand if I touch it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You
couldn’t wrap your fingers around it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That
sounds like an invitation.” He reached again for Tauro’s cock, this time with
his eyes on Tauro’s, waiting for a no or go ahead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tauro
found the urge to stop him waning. He had to admit he was curious—what the
man’s hand would feel like, whether he actually could get his fingers around
it. What Gallano’s tongue and lips could do to his eager beef stick. How it
would feel to have Gallano’s surprisingly hefty cock spearing his mouth, or his
ass. Would he taste like chicken?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-59757434659512593552019-05-06T12:47:00.000-05:002019-05-06T12:47:13.244-05:00For You Super Fans Out ThereYou'd think I wouldn't have missed this, especially with <i>Avengers: Endgame</i> breaking box-office records left and right, and Free Comic Book Day happening on May 4, which was also Star Wars Day (May the Fourth be with you!). But <i>His Super Neighbor</i>, J. J. Collins's tribute to comic books and the people who create them, has been picking up excellent reviews over on Goodreads. It's an M/M romance about finding true love right in your backyard. Or front yard, especially if the hot guy across the street is outside mowing his lawn. No actual superfolk, but there's a man who creates magic with a pencil and paper, and true heroics abound. You can find it here at<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.evernightpublishing.com/his-super-neighbor-by-j-j-collins/">https://www.evernightpublishing.com/his-super-neighbor-by-j-j-collins/</a><br />
<br />
Coming Wednesday, May 8: the release of <i>Cock and Bull Story</i>! I'll post an excerpt tomorrow.Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-10485128124932681162019-04-22T11:34:00.000-05:002019-04-22T11:35:23.173-05:00Coming Soon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJp-VMgR1f6mYJNNDCpTvGwikwg_anFYFk23RVckQkoGW8H8m3SUVsmooD9akYoZiFMc55iGsnxiAeJRRFb05JWOsfgbKzaM3Q5tdBXCEqvA6q6Vvh3foBbTUqCpIex9wlJC-cjfMgj-t1/s1600/Cock+and+Bull+Story+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJp-VMgR1f6mYJNNDCpTvGwikwg_anFYFk23RVckQkoGW8H8m3SUVsmooD9akYoZiFMc55iGsnxiAeJRRFb05JWOsfgbKzaM3Q5tdBXCEqvA6q6Vvh3foBbTUqCpIex9wlJC-cjfMgj-t1/s400/Cock+and+Bull+Story+%25281%2529.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
Check it out - artwork for J. J. Collins's latest release, <i>Cock and Bull Story</i>. No release date yet, but when I get one you'll hear about it.<br />
<br />
One thing that struck me funny: The bull shifter in the story has a red coat, so his silhouette on the cover probably should have been red and the rooster's black. Except a picture of a "red bull" might violate a certain energy drink's trademarked logo. We romance writers had enough problems a while ago just for having the word "cock" in our titles. I don't need to start another fight.<br />
<br />
As for the storage facility in my local area that's openly using the stylized Superman "S" logo in its company name... Somebody really should warn them before the wrath of Time-Warner rains down upon them like chunks of kryptonite.Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-21414106251428273032019-02-12T11:24:00.003-06:002019-02-12T11:24:24.281-06:00Random Bit of Flash Fiction<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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“What’s this?”</div>
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Marissa was waving the box I’d hidden in the hall closet. It’s
amazing how quickly my mate could find things I hid from her. Yes, I know I
shouldn’t hide things from her, but old habits die hard. My first mate had taught
me that hiding things meant I only got yelled at for things she noticed. She
hadn’t noticed much, unlike my sweet little witch. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I braced for an explosion and told her. “It’s , ah, I just
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<br /></div>
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“Huh. There’s one at the top of the stairs on each landing
and one in the coffee shop kitchen,” she murmured, reading the packaging. “These
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“Yeah,” I agreed, nervous at the lack of reaction. “See?
When one goes off, it signals the others that there’s an event. That way, if
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something is going on, because all of them go off.” She made a cute little face
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“Nothing, sorry. I just got a mental image of gossipy ladies
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<br /></div>
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That mental image bloomed in my mind and an evil thought
soon followed. “I wonder if the range can be extended for how far they transmit
to each other.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Mooney, you are not going to put these things in Ziva’s
house!”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Ohhhhh, yes I can! I still owe Nick from that prank last
month! Nothing like having his lady love informed every time he burns his
dinner!”</div>
Rebecca Gillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01341836304924085727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-11738584109154825952018-12-08T11:51:00.001-06:002018-12-08T11:51:39.782-06:00It's That Time Again ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For the annual <i>Supernatural</i> Christmas photo. Hats off to the boys for having the guts to wear these things in public. And if you think this is bad, you should see WalMart. Happy Holidays, everybody!</div>
Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-65079477092290261622018-11-30T12:26:00.001-06:002018-11-30T12:26:59.087-06:00Yes, This is a Commercial<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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...but I hope you won't mind. <i>His Super Neighbor </i>by J. J. Collins is now available at Evernight Publishing, Amazon, Bookstrand, and probably Barnes and Noble. I didn't look over there yet. Hope Lon doesn't sue over his portrayal in the scene set at the comic book store. He's a much better class of person in real life.</div>
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Also, a note to Serena, if you're still here: yes, it's Those Two again. ;)</div>
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<i>Cullen Braithwaite has two obsessions—a massive crush on Grant Guthrie, his handsome neighbor across the street, and drawing comic books. Grant has one obsession—protecting his ten-year-old nephew from his sister’s abusive ex. The two meet and romance blossoms. Then Cullen draws Grant into a comic book story, publicly exposing him to a dangerous stalker. With real-life evil closing in, one of them will have to learn to unleash his inner hero.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Be Warned: m/m sex, no shapeshifters or actual superheroes</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><a href="http://www.evernightpublishing.com/his-super-neighbor-by-j-j-collins">you can get it here</a></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Excerpt:</b><br />
<br />
The moment they stepped into the bedroom, Grant got hit with the double whammy of racing heart and racing brain. He wanted a clear head for this. He didn’t want Cullen thinking he considered him a casual fuck. The time had come to kick this single life shit to the curb and settle down with the right man. After that fanfuckingtastic blowjob, he’d been ready to propose right then and there, but what little remained of his rational brain urged caution. He didn’t want to move too fast or too recklessly, and maybe send Cullen screaming back across the street.<br />
<br />
Then he looked down into Cullen’s eyes and all his fears disappeared. Their blue had darkened to a navy ring around his enormous pupils. And that voice he’d used in the living room, deep and dark and hoarse with passion—no, his man wasn’t going anywhere.<br />
<br />
He had his shirt off and draped over a chair in the corner before he noticed Cullen still hovered in the doorway. Dammit. Grant didn’t want to lose the momentum they’d started in the other room. He’d better make a move before his dream date’s feet got any colder.<br />
<br />
He returned to the doorway and slid his arms around Cullen’s waist. His lips blazed a nibbling trail down Cullen’s throat to his shirt collar. Seeing—and feeling—the effect his bare chest was having on the smaller man, Grant deliberately rubbed up against him. His fly was still open. To his surprise his cock was already showing signs of randy life again, in spite of its recent exertions. Perhaps it sensed Cullen’s, twitching behind the thin barrier of his slacks. Great heads thinking alike.<br />
<br />
“I thought we were doing this,” he murmured against Cullen’s throat.<br />
<br />
Cullen peered beyond his shoulder. “Your room. It’s … clean.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah, I’m the neatnik in the family. Marti takes a more I’ll-get-to-it-when-I-get-to-it approach. Helps when you have a kid.”<br />
<br />
“I’m not complaining,” Cullen said quickly. “I was expecting, I don’t know, a den of iniquity or something.”<br />
<br />
“Seriously? My ten-year-old nephew stays here. Iniquity got kicked to the curb a while ago. On the other hand…” That spot just behind Cullen’s ear looked incredibly tempting. He leaned in to lick at it, and heard Cullen’s breath catch. “Rudy isn’t staying here tonight. I’d say some iniquity’s in order.”<br />
<br />
By now Cullen was rubbing back—against his cheek, against his naked chest, especially against his crotch. The man was practically purring. Or was that a growl? Grant’s blood quickened with excitement, and his cock gave a definite leap. Here was his horny little slut-man from the living room, all wound up and ready to go. Those still waters of his ran deeper than the Marianas Trench, and Grant couldn’t wait to dive in.<br />
<br />
“What are you still doing in your clothes?” he said roughly.<br />
<br />
Cullen’s eyes were practically all pupil by now, and his voice had dropped into a Darth Vader register. “Waiting for you to take them off.”<br />
<br />
Foreplay over. Let the games begin.Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-69782178432537041022018-08-17T14:00:00.002-05:002018-08-17T14:00:12.032-05:00Too funny not to share!I’m just going to drop this right here for your viewing pleasure...<br />
<br />
<a href="https://youtu.be/Uu4x8U_PLJA">https://youtu.be/Uu4x8U_PLJA</a><br />
<br />
🤪🤣<br />
<br />Rebecca Gillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01341836304924085727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-66917424665978797222018-02-02T14:07:00.000-06:002018-02-02T14:07:15.273-06:00More Auto-fill!I have to say, I'm becoming addicted to letting auto-fill write this story. This afternoon, I sat down to write my daily flash fiction. I decided to try to get Auto-fill to tell me more about the protagonist of this story. Here's what I got:<br />
<br />
* * * * * * * * * *<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The game has been a lot
more than a few incidents. I did a lot of things to make sure that they
didn’t find means to track my movements. I ate garbage all night so I
had a different smell. I drove a tractor to pick up groceries. I wore
clothes that were not really good enough for me to go to the gym in.<br />
<br />
I am a huge fan of sushi so I don’t have it anymore. I love basketball
so I don’t watch it anymore. I am an angry bird nowadays. All the things
I love, I don’t do. <span class="contextualExtensionHighlight ms-font-color-themePrimary ms-border-color-themePrimary ident_473_565" role="button" tabindex="0">I just have garbage for dinner, dress badly, and drive a lawn tractor any time I leave home.</span><br />
<br />
I live in a dolphin house and it’s not really a good place. I can’t
date, either. The other tenets would eat me out. The game is everything,
even to them.<br />
<br />
What is a dolphin house, you ask? Good question. It’s a parody of
Dolphin Square in London, basically a bunch of “serviced” flop houses in
a failed business district the supernaturals bought to house their
pets. I do landscaping in exchange for rent, a job I got because of that
damn lawn tractor.</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">* * * * * * * * * *</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">That last paragraph was me trying to turn Auto's rambling into some kind of context. I like it, I really do! Still need to find out some basic details such as gender, but the protag sounds intriguing at this point!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">`Rebecca </span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span></span></i>Rebecca Gillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01341836304924085727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-34228893139044837092018-02-01T23:53:00.001-06:002018-02-01T23:53:22.158-06:00Playing With AutofillI found an <a href="https://www.blogger.com/an%20episode%20of%20Star%20Trek:%20The%20Next%20Generation%20created%20with%20predictive%20keyboards" target="_blank">article</a> while browsing Face book that had me in stitches this evening. <a href="http://about.botnik.org/" target="_blank">Botnik Studios</a> put out an episode of <em>Star Trek: The Next Generation</em> created with predictive keyboards. You read that right, they deliberately auto-wrecked themselves. It's gloriously hilarious.<br />
<br />
Once my uncontrolled giggling subsided, I started thinking. What would a werewolf romance story written with auto-fill read like? I had to give it a try!<br />
<br />
The first thing I discovered was that my phone's a better medium for this type of writing. The predictive keyboard I downloaded for my PC didn't seem to grasp action verbs or nouns. The second thing i discovered is that i have to guide the story a bit. My phone did come up with the premise of this bit of flash fiction, though. Here's my best creation to date:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Werewolves want to be the
only ones in this game. The fact that I have been in the game for years
now is a little hard to fathom. I’m not sure how I feel about it. The
game sucks. I suck. Werewolves suck. Every time I try to get out, I get
pulled back in eventually. They don’t want me here, but they won’t let
me go, either.<br />
<br />
The game is a simple thing. The only thing that is wrong is that it
doesn’t work. They hide in public and pretend no one sees them. Most
people play along and “don’t see” them. Sometimes people see them
despite trying not to. I’m not one of those people who are still “not
seeing” them.<br />
<br />
They’ve never let me forget it. They haven’t killed me, though they have
killed others. They haven’t absorbed me into their society, though they
sometimes do that, too. <br />
<br />
I can’t win, leave, join, or die. I just keep playing the game.</span></span></i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Not bad. I think I'll keep adding to this story to see where it goes!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">~Rebecca </span></span>Rebecca Gillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01341836304924085727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-4758193100725705022017-12-28T18:15:00.000-06:002017-12-28T18:15:04.462-06:00Too Funny Not To Share!I stumbled across this today and had to share. I think I know why Marissa doesn't let Mooney run the counter at the coffee shop! Lol!<br />
<br />
~Rebecca<br />
<br />
http://cheezburger.com/4369669/customer-service-wolf-has-a-different-way-of-dealing-with-costumers?bypassCache=trueRebecca Gillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01341836304924085727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-68235348644475932982017-12-18T12:47:00.001-06:002017-12-18T12:48:48.218-06:00'Tis the Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMu0S50AwziopJ-pv1SqZdh1-ztSGi55mJVXn8AORZ8xtOb3WzBKlPWBd2TMwVVg19_qL2L82d04yKHPMyw_WNUgFMRzz088xNuM7HgQrQ0eRf9UVov0giwVXIF42kQuf7kqlBpTy3fuEn/s1600/merry+xmas+mr+grinch.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="480" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMu0S50AwziopJ-pv1SqZdh1-ztSGi55mJVXn8AORZ8xtOb3WzBKlPWBd2TMwVVg19_qL2L82d04yKHPMyw_WNUgFMRzz088xNuM7HgQrQ0eRf9UVov0giwVXIF42kQuf7kqlBpTy3fuEn/s400/merry+xmas+mr+grinch.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
... for the annual <i>Supernatural</i> holiday pic. Have a Grinch-free Christmas, folks!Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-82901475686652619462017-12-14T09:18:00.002-06:002017-12-14T09:20:39.152-06:00Strange Weather Here Lately<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdlQlkFh8w2Sn51TQ8W-ePmqLXIHwG9AkNptmhHlOPCXJXzvshES8MXTaaRF4GLhpJT8T13-6tplreUyRdL1WA55qddHLyz_eipHJ1sP2fX1rZA_eOZXOBePFJHeSTAzwR8BypGXhLYK5/s1600/chibi_annoyed_witch_by_nikorumwango99-d9eweqg.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="192" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdlQlkFh8w2Sn51TQ8W-ePmqLXIHwG9AkNptmhHlOPCXJXzvshES8MXTaaRF4GLhpJT8T13-6tplreUyRdL1WA55qddHLyz_eipHJ1sP2fX1rZA_eOZXOBePFJHeSTAzwR8BypGXhLYK5/s200/chibi_annoyed_witch_by_nikorumwango99-d9eweqg.png" width="122" /></a></div>
"Did you see this?" Mooney asked as I sat a plate of pumpkin pancakes on the table. I glanced over his shoulder at the tablet he was reading the morning news with.<br />
<br />
"Snow in Corpus Christi, Texas while Denver is setting records for no measurable snow?" I asked as I sat down. The moment my butt hit the chair, his tablet disappeared. Food was serious business for werewolves. he'd started bringing the tablet to the table while I cooked breakfast because it annoyed me when he hovered while I cooked. It gave him something to focus on while waiting to be fed.<br />
<br />
"Yep." In the time it took him to say that one word, all but two of the twelve pancakes had migrated from the plate in the middle of the table onto the plate filled with bacon. I pulled the last two pancakes to my side. It was just the two of us this morning, so I hadn't bothered with fancy presentation.<br />
<br />
We ate in silence for a few minutes. I knew I'd get nothing more out of him until the food was gone. Besides, I knew what he was going to ask. I'm an earth witch, not a weather witch, but that didn't stop people from assuming I knew all tings about nature.<br />
<br />
"So, is it a natural phenomenon? The snow, I mean?" he finally asked.<br />
<br />
"Yep," I said, my mouth full of fluffy pumpkin goodness.<br />
<br />
"How? They sometimes call Corpus Christi 'Crispy Corpses' because it gets so hot down there."<br />
<br />
"Just because it doesn't snow often on the Gulf Coast doesn't mean it's unnatural, babe." I downed the last bite of my breakfast before continuing. "It takes a huge amount of power and time to affect the weather in a small area. Like a solid month of spell casting. To affect the weather in most of North America would be herculean. And Gaia would stop you before you got it moving like that."<br />
<br />
"It just seems off, somehow," Mooney shrugged. He picked his tablet up off the counter and started reading again. "No snow in Denver just seems wrong."<br />
<br />
"Denver doesn't actually get much snow this time of year," I replied. "And Corpus Christi last had snow in 2004, which was about the same time Denver last had a really long dry stretch. These rounds of extreme weather are becoming more frequent as the Earth warms, but they aren't unnatural in and of themselves."<br />
<br />
"So this is Global Warming, not magic?"<br />
<br />
I sighed. Sometimes, I had hope that people would make more effort to understand my kind. And then they started to think everything was magic, making me wish they knew nothing of my people.Rebecca Gillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01341836304924085727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-25039267622831138782017-11-26T11:46:00.001-06:002017-11-26T11:57:05.414-06:00A Long Time Between Posts<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdioMt2xsKEAAMZKTjuVzRpCeifmMWhNDIkfEWnIarhlM4j2Ft0a0KsiOtNBO5xBj75eKxl9v0hOT9k-529fXJvrJ-E6olmxIHBgdfecXTN7j_mX8T-91pw2tJGZstwT0Lr2zkAX7MWwEl/s1600/daddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="622" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdioMt2xsKEAAMZKTjuVzRpCeifmMWhNDIkfEWnIarhlM4j2Ft0a0KsiOtNBO5xBj75eKxl9v0hOT9k-529fXJvrJ-E6olmxIHBgdfecXTN7j_mX8T-91pw2tJGZstwT0Lr2zkAX7MWwEl/s200/daddy.jpg" width="194" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My daddy, Christmas time when I was about four years old.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Hi! Long time, no post. Sorry about that. It's been an "interesting" and eventful year for me on a <br />
personal level. I had been my father's live-in caregiver for years. Starting about this time last year, he began declining and a lot of things slipped to the wayside. We lost him a little over a month ago, and I was, to say the least, a mess for several weeks.<br />
<br />
Time to get moving forward again, though. I decided to get back into my writing last week. Today, I realized I should probably start blogging again, too. Every so often, I stumble across something that makes me laugh way too hard. Below are a few of them. I hope they make you laugh way too hard, as well.<br />
<br />
~Rebecca <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6KcdZsWHl1mpYoMTAbjlEKpngvJmYtx6c1Ikm4oxtxgotMChVxcJSqcjfucI_KvzCfPReAYpcdAvyw9Py9ZULNkljxUWngZ0yVrv0BLxPTPIjd1zdlci7Iwwibe6x-QwAdzckhnhPzog/s1600/hey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="474" data-original-width="638" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6KcdZsWHl1mpYoMTAbjlEKpngvJmYtx6c1Ikm4oxtxgotMChVxcJSqcjfucI_KvzCfPReAYpcdAvyw9Py9ZULNkljxUWngZ0yVrv0BLxPTPIjd1zdlci7Iwwibe6x-QwAdzckhnhPzog/s320/hey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqFrSHuVtb1Q38jPPuPVoilx6JpJGELp9pJZJa5vz-rz8Q3vEyeQcoxcZCWOEoWpF-AEmYgH_P87NVDytkBTTVu9NqUexAZUwFGvRctwBmUKo5xJ_vWany4d7iJy53c61RCv2lEQoHHP7/s1600/IMG_5279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="566" data-original-width="644" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqFrSHuVtb1Q38jPPuPVoilx6JpJGELp9pJZJa5vz-rz8Q3vEyeQcoxcZCWOEoWpF-AEmYgH_P87NVDytkBTTVu9NqUexAZUwFGvRctwBmUKo5xJ_vWany4d7iJy53c61RCv2lEQoHHP7/s320/IMG_5279.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYzWgMv6nc5UflvkFypr-j4Km-AWI7ISmcszwnK_Sk9wNmpVFBk6JqfXNjK5KS8j0wMfR3uQt57WuHgq-0JdLhuVRfh4xCSB-J2mYMGKKF-dstV7oc1XKmHHjWey0SO7ep1WYcgLDNiE5/s1600/IMG_4957%255B8%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYzWgMv6nc5UflvkFypr-j4Km-AWI7ISmcszwnK_Sk9wNmpVFBk6JqfXNjK5KS8j0wMfR3uQt57WuHgq-0JdLhuVRfh4xCSB-J2mYMGKKF-dstV7oc1XKmHHjWey0SO7ep1WYcgLDNiE5/s320/IMG_4957%255B8%255D.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzPspJ7WuO-WBoFNdTs5qoj-VpLv-0JVWmh7KrHMKfHRou1M4dkyqTnd2MfxMe7-onzLDojYjXF6hJg51BxR-YkcR-ElXelHxxVwruXgN8xavSAuDrdgWZWxXcSLzqNFW9auGmmU_UUjR/s1600/IMG_5290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1308" data-original-width="669" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzPspJ7WuO-WBoFNdTs5qoj-VpLv-0JVWmh7KrHMKfHRou1M4dkyqTnd2MfxMe7-onzLDojYjXF6hJg51BxR-YkcR-ElXelHxxVwruXgN8xavSAuDrdgWZWxXcSLzqNFW9auGmmU_UUjR/s320/IMG_5290.JPG" width="163" /></a></div>
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<br />Rebecca Gillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01341836304924085727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-74728752695769838332017-10-26T13:06:00.000-05:002017-10-26T13:06:37.709-05:00Good Intentions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNYBwtOGO7Vt6LGFPEX5Yn8zKt6kalaeCTXw9C8ykGZaaxmnucpIw3AcW1rYf6GKRCN_UMhMugMBbJ5opIM6EcIyi01FyCSCm_1yA3pGJUTI_ssA8Gsl-d4b1pQXKu9tAk57JaGDR1pEV/s1600/1beaverCastorcanadensis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="640" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNYBwtOGO7Vt6LGFPEX5Yn8zKt6kalaeCTXw9C8ykGZaaxmnucpIw3AcW1rYf6GKRCN_UMhMugMBbJ5opIM6EcIyi01FyCSCm_1yA3pGJUTI_ssA8Gsl-d4b1pQXKu9tAk57JaGDR1pEV/s400/1beaverCastorcanadensis.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
(found this unedited bit of silliness in my files and decided to share.)<br />
<br />
“Dammit, lady!”<br />
<br />
Charlotte clapped her hand, the one not holding an egg, to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”<br />
<br />
“You should be. You got egg all over my dang coat!”<br />
<br />
“It wasn’t meant for you. It was meant for that murderer in the beaver jacket. Although … are you wearing sheepskin?”<br />
<br />
“Yeah.” His lips pulled back in a snarl of a smile. “Killed the sheep myself.”<br />
<br />
“Excuse me?”<br />
<br />
He tossed the coat aside and shifted. A huge gray wolf stood before her.<br />
<br />
Charlotte screamed. And threw the egg at him. It splattered across his muzzle. She quickly palmed another, just in case.<br />
<br />
Ralston shifted back. “Okay, you’re getting a spanking for that.”<br />
<br />
“You stay away from me!”<br />
<br />
But he’d already grabbed her, and pulled her against his firm, naked chest. “Too late, li’l lady.” He eyed her bosom, currently heaving up and down with every panicked breath. “My, what big eggs you have. Any chance you could throw these at me?”<br />
<br />
“You know damn well I was aiming for the beaver coat.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah, and Mrs. Ainsley’s pissed over that. Her late husband had it made for her. Part of the will. It’s all she has left of him.”<br />
<br />
“You mean she—”<br />
<br />
“Keeps a part of him with her every day. Now here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to apologize for dishonoring her late husband, you’re going to pay to have that fur cleaned, and then you’re going to join me for breakfast. And if you throw another egg at me, I’ll put you over my knee.”<br />
<br />
“I only egg people wearing fur.”<br />
<br />
“I’m a shifter. I can’t help wearing fur. When will you PETA freaks realize we don’t need your help?”<br />
<br />
“Maybe you do. Aren’t shifters endangered?"<br />
<br />
“Not as much as you right now. Mrs. Ainsley can sue you for assault, y’know.”<br />
<br />
“I’m not having breakfast with you. I don’t even know you.”<br />
<br />
He held out his hand. “Ralston Durham. And you would be … ?”<br />
<br />
“Charlotte O’Keefe.” She defiantly took his hand, and shook it. And remembered, seconds too late, the other egg in her palm.<br />
<br />
They stared at their mutually slimy hands. “You go make your apologies,” he ordered her in a soft but growling voice. “Then join me in the diner over yonder. And wash your hands.”Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-85634562109710490792017-10-04T11:24:00.000-05:002017-10-04T11:24:27.523-05:00Just Out from J. J. Collins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-omLVE6SbZn3T0bbEHMATcAkJiuzdpRB-fzKRKj-DsubePCCwZrKPwXFK0xcZIlZsQ-DPkjrhIqm2UMKcq185m-BYld17IaKbsZ9e59D0ZFQ3GSrMgOkzOB90xQzNTfZWKUao2zwspW9_/s1600/Speed-dating-evernightpublishing-Sept2017-smallpreview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-omLVE6SbZn3T0bbEHMATcAkJiuzdpRB-fzKRKj-DsubePCCwZrKPwXFK0xcZIlZsQ-DPkjrhIqm2UMKcq185m-BYld17IaKbsZ9e59D0ZFQ3GSrMgOkzOB90xQzNTfZWKUao2zwspW9_/s400/Speed-dating-evernightpublishing-Sept2017-smallpreview.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
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Sometimes love comes at you fast. Answering an old friend’s call for help, hunter Dillon Royce comes to Arizona to stop a shapeshifter who’s targeting gay men. He finds himself falling for the prime suspect, cheetah shifter Kaz Genovese. Kaz insists they’re fated mates. Or is he just trying to get close to his latest victim? Dillon needs to solve this one fast, before he totally loses his heart … or his life.<br />
<br />
<b>EXCERPT</b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Sorry, speedy. I can’t take any
chances. You’re going into a holding cell until we get this resolved. If you
want to call a lawyer—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That won’t be necessary.” Kaz shifted.
The bonds meant to restrain a human fell loose on the cheetah’s form. He slid
his paws free and bit through what he couldn’t slip out of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Then he leaped at Dillon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They fell backward, onto the narrow bed.
Kaz shifted back. His teeth grazed Dillon’s throat, just a tease, before he
crashed his mouth against Dillon’s in another of those soul-blasting kisses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Dillon had his knife. One thrust and it
would be over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Instead, he accepted the kiss. How had
he gone his entire life without being kissed like this? Like Kaz intended to
swallow his soul. As if he already had.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">His hands moved as if with minds of
their own, exploring, groping Kaz. Not an inch of him was still. Every speck of
Kaz’s naked body seemed in constant frantic motion. Holding him was like
holding on to a primal life force. His body was the desert, spare and barren at
first glance but harboring unexpected bursts of color and flavor and life. An
entire ecosystem of fiery desire, all of it focused on Dillon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">So long. Too long since he’d had any
relief, or so desperately wanted it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Only when he realized Kaz was tearing at
his fly did Dillon come back to his senses. This was all happening too fast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Somehow, he got his eyes to focus.
“Don’t I even get dinner first?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What? Oh.” Kaz slumped, all over. Even
then his body still vibrated with speed. “You humans and your stupid rituals.
What a waste of time. You’re my mate. We were born for each other. Isn’t that
enough for you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Sorry, no. I don’t have the luxury of
instinct. Right now, I’ve got a set of murders to solve. That’s my first priority.
You and your mating urges—” Our<i> mating
urges, </i>he couldn’t help thinking. “—Are going to have to wait.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Go slow?” Kaz tested the concept and,
from the lift of his lip, clearly found it distasteful. “I don’t know if I can
do that. Though it would be an interesting test.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You’re going to have to. And you’re
going to have to sit in a cell for a while. You’re the prime suspect. Can’t be
helped.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That’s not going to happen,” Kaz said
firmly. “Tell you what. I’ll go do some investigating on my own. I’ll catch up
with you tomorrow night and we’ll have that dinner. And then I’m claiming you.
That’s as slow as I can go.” He palmed Dillon’s cheek. “We’re going to be
spending our lives together. I suppose I should ask you your name.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s Dillon. Dillon Royce.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Dillon.” His name sighed off Kaz’s
tongue. “Until tomorrow night, my love.” He captured Dillon’s mouth again and
sent his senses spinning. When Dillon opened his eyes, those delightful lips
were gone, the hand at the back of his neck was gone, the scent of cat was a
fading memory, and the door to his room stood open.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He went to the open doorway, although he
knew it was pointless. Of course, Kaz was nowhere in sight. The ache in his
groin was now joined by a more poignant ache in his soul, its one true mate
discovered and abruptly torn away. Maybe there was something to the mate bond
after all, even where humans were concerned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Or maybe that was guilt he felt, that in
spite of everything he was falling hard for his number-one suspect. That he’d
let a possible killer go free.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6KM8_foTR7MF6H-6bvjmoCPknOnGlPxdW9oNYG57_b0le_cP-IddKDXM3VlI4K7qbcPX3QByL1WPWVXXkvMI8lt7GmS4KcgtnV2WaBtATeppkPhlxvV5fhPTzGfpjL0GdafnZQKQdcgj/s1600/epeditorsesal1s.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="125" data-original-width="125" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6KM8_foTR7MF6H-6bvjmoCPknOnGlPxdW9oNYG57_b0le_cP-IddKDXM3VlI4K7qbcPX3QByL1WPWVXXkvMI8lt7GmS4KcgtnV2WaBtATeppkPhlxvV5fhPTzGfpjL0GdafnZQKQdcgj/s200/epeditorsesal1s.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.evernightpublishing.com/speed-dating-by-j-j-collins">Available from Evernight</a></div>
Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-6543062774998753532017-01-26T12:58:00.000-06:002017-01-26T12:58:16.470-06:00Comic ReliefI'm in the middle of a massive block right now, but rather than leave this blank, I'm going to post some eye candy, comic book style. Enjoy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvI10JB0rSlic7Wo475bLcYCm8wJdeh3H7MnEoawT-BCzp-hAfWH9GHTd2NQM9DSazC751-9BnNaexZgd24pV8tIdjfjo_7xCwc2eixs-eYz0UNo0hk5LOD_UamGhA5uhHpR0bjhinurec/s1600/batmanneiladams2n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvI10JB0rSlic7Wo475bLcYCm8wJdeh3H7MnEoawT-BCzp-hAfWH9GHTd2NQM9DSazC751-9BnNaexZgd24pV8tIdjfjo_7xCwc2eixs-eYz0UNo0hk5LOD_UamGhA5uhHpR0bjhinurec/s320/batmanneiladams2n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
A bare-chested Batman, courtesy of artist Neal Adams. Tell me, Bruce, have you considered manscaping?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2alk3SeZoPtJ6qALYbl-qqS9haiOhEtc-us2KaDmRjuB95Ddob5_zKWHkZ6NXwBc4fBdn1ooOA3z6O3cXBYvoPBBVjkQh4fvcUxOSo00Ij44n7MsAAlf0z8D-oN6VhvHs_Ib8V5RIu6B/s1600/a34fe20c4205e64b568f69ef06b73c33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2alk3SeZoPtJ6qALYbl-qqS9haiOhEtc-us2KaDmRjuB95Ddob5_zKWHkZ6NXwBc4fBdn1ooOA3z6O3cXBYvoPBBVjkQh4fvcUxOSo00Ij44n7MsAAlf0z8D-oN6VhvHs_Ib8V5RIu6B/s320/a34fe20c4205e64b568f69ef06b73c33.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>
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The Dark Knight rises: Bats indulges in some cat scratch fever. Let's see the Joker top this!<br />
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Live action Wolverine. Thank you, God, for creating Hugh Jackman. Women the world over are grateful.<br />
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WWE's Kane shows off his stuff. Pro wrestlers are the reason Spandex was invented.<br />
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Sam Winchester, the way we'd all like to see him. All of a sudden I feel like, um, writing. See you next week!Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-37637834254119393442017-01-12T12:35:00.000-06:002017-01-12T12:35:36.268-06:00Communication Breakdown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
The long, hopeful howls of a hunting pack rose above the forest surrounding Talbot’s Peak. Augustus Hancock nudged his brother Drew. “Go ahead. Call her. I dare you.”<br />
<br />
“No.”<br />
<br />
“Why not? You like her, right?”<br />
<br />
“Dog, she’s with her family.”<br />
<br />
“All the better,” Augie said. “If you call her now, it shows you’re Alpha. You know what you want and you go for it. You’re not afraid of her dad.”<br />
<br />
“Aug, I <i>am</i> afraid of her dad.”<br />
<br />
“You keep thinking like that and you’ll never get a date for the dance. Or you’ll end up going with … ” Augie shuddered theatrically. “Some herbivore.”<br />
<br />
“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Drew said. “Their dads won’t rip your throat out.”<br />
<br />
“No, they’ll just gore you or stomp you or kick you or chew off your—”<br />
<br />
“Okay, okay. Point taken.” Drew hauled in a mighty breath and let it go again. “I’m calling her.”<br />
<br />
Minutes passed. Augie huffed. “Chicken.”<br />
<br />
“I am. I really am.”<br />
<br />
“Bwawk buck buck buck.”<br />
<br />
“Knock it off.” Drew ditched his clothes, shifted to his wolf form, and let out an echoing howl. Other than the crack at the end—both his voices were still adjusting to puberty—it sounded rather impressive.<br />
<br />
The howls in the distance broke off. The air grew dangerously still.<br />
<br />
Then they got an answer. Robust, eager, and alto enough to indicate it was a she-wolf.<br />
<br />
“Holy scat!” Augie said, impressed. “Is that her?”<br />
<br />
Drew shifted back, his wrinkled muzzle transforming into a human frown. “Heck no. That’s her sister, Mimi. Betsy’s voice has more of a rumble to it.”<br />
<br />
“Betsy, Mimi, what’s the difference? A date’s a date.”<br />
<br />
“No way. Mimi’s gamma. She’s in heat, like, 24/7. She’s the only she-wolf I know who humps legs. Betsy is … I dunno, she’s got this confidence about her. And her fur’s all golden, with these four white paws, and her tail is like a—”<br />
<br />
“I get the picture,” Augie said. “Tell me more about the horny one.”<br />
<br />
Just then another howl rolled out of the forest, this one a rich soprano. “That’s her! That’s her!” Drew wriggled like a puppy. “Did she say yes? Does she sound like she’s saying yes?”<br />
<br />
“Ask her again. Find out.”
Drew shifted and howled back. Then he waited.<br />
<br />
The reply took a moment to reach them. This howl was not soprano. This howl was bass, sharp enough to rip air, and had a growl at the end of it. And it was headed their way.<br />
<br />
Drew switched back to human so fast he lost his balance and landed ass-first on the frozen ground. “Ohmydogohmydogohmydog that’s her dad! He’s gonna kill us! Augie, what’re we gonna dooooooooo?”
His last word rose up in a panicked howl as he switched back to four legs—the better to run with—and took off for Talbot’s Peak.<br />
<br />
Augie shrugged and gathered up his brother’s clothes. Then he reached into his own pocket and pulled out a small vial of elk urine (always be prepared for the worst, their coyote aunt had taught them) and sprinkled it on the ground to camouflage their scent. Then he found himself a hiding place behind a deadfall and waited.<br />
<br />
Not long afterwards the pack arrived. The big slate-gray Alpha looked ready—and able—to rip alligators apart. Drew had been right to be nervous. Two lighter gray females and a golden she stood by with impatient looks on their snouts while the male scoured the ground for a trail. The elk piss finally defeated him and he stalked off, followed by the eye-rolls and heavy sighs of his womenfolk, who exchanged long-suffering looks before they finally trotted after him.<br />
<br />
The smaller gray she-wolf lingered, just for a moment. She sniffed with evident interest where Drew’s clothes had lain.<br />
<br />
Augie stood up. They stared at each other. He winked at her. She winked back.<br />
<br />
# # #<br />
<br />
Augie eventually found his brother in Java Joe’s, huddled at a table and working on his third cup of coffee. The proprietor, who was used to shifter customers, had provided him with a robe. Augie dumped his clothes on the table. “I hope that’s decaf,” he said, pulling up a chair.<br />
<br />
“Where the hell were you?”<br />
<br />
“Getting a date. I don’t know why you’re so down on Mimi. She seems friendly enough to me. Oh, and you’re too late about Betsy. She’s already going to the dance with some other wolf. I did try to put in a good word for you.”<br />
<br />
“Thanks a helluva lot.”<br />
<br />
“You’re welcome. Remember what Aunt Lucia always told us. You gotta be sure and you gotta be smart, but above all you gotta be quick.” He slapped his brother on the shoulder. “See you at the dance.”
Pat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-26175498498682496232017-01-06T12:53:00.000-06:002017-01-06T12:53:10.592-06:00The Fury...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xTPz6ucAdlOBZD-v-Q4TbGbb_iV0U2w__kLuujI1LKdz4zMZnNJx989JRlx8ijK13xVIo02pTdBswO7TWYPJ4M_eGNG0aQOeVgaolh0R6GWmbcV3GprC1EhP40Kp01Uqi_sN9MzMWZ4/s1600/iStock_000019583927Medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xTPz6ucAdlOBZD-v-Q4TbGbb_iV0U2w__kLuujI1LKdz4zMZnNJx989JRlx8ijK13xVIo02pTdBswO7TWYPJ4M_eGNG0aQOeVgaolh0R6GWmbcV3GprC1EhP40Kp01Uqi_sN9MzMWZ4/s320/iStock_000019583927Medium.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
So, through the creative writing
classes I've taken over the last few semesters in school, I've been fleshing out a
story that does have a shapeshifter, just not your typical one. Kass
Andrea Nix is a Fury. She's unassuming until you piss her off...<br />
<br />
Check out the beginning of her story:<br />
<br />
Kass Andréa Nyx bristled as she waited on the cracked sidewalk to meet her contact. Where was he? “Freaking Kreios,” she grumbled at the pavement, “anytime now!” <br />
<br />
She tensed as a cop patrolling the area stopped. He stroked his weapon of choice, the nightstick, and gave her the eye. “Everything ok, ma’am?”<br />
<br />
Great, someone’s tax dollars hard at work. “Yes, officer, just waiting on a friend who’s late.”<br />
<br />
The flatfoot nodded, “Okay, be careful out here.”<br />
<br />
Kass swallowed back a foul word and spit out the obligatory, “Yes Sir.” <br />
<br />
Thank Dionysos the copper moved on without incident. Thanking Zeus, with his overinflated ego, not a good idea. Hades? Nope, never going to thank him, that hell-beast wanted to make her his whore. Her refusal and subsequent flight sealed the deal on her banishment. It also meant a torturous eternity here on earth collecting the dead. <br />
<br />
Dionysos, on the other hand, extolled the virtues of wine and revelry. Yep, there’s something to get behind. Even if she had never reveled in her exceedingly long life. <br />
Where the heck was Kreios? You’d think after working together for centuries he’d attempt to be on time. How hard could this professional relationship be? She would bring Kreios the freshly dead, those destined for the netherworld, a place lost to her, and he would take them there. Not a difficult task. Why, then, did he screw it up every time? <br />
<br />
A fury’s aggressive personality made time spent in the company of sinners about as much fun as a visit to the proctologist. <br />
<br />
These reprobates provoked her in ways they always regretted. Kass longed to torment criminals, especially the dead ones. However, in the last hundred years or so she’d forced herself to garner some semblance of control. Without the protection of Erebus, home of the Furies, unrestrained vengeance could cause her all kinds of trouble. Torture and murder were frowned upon here topside, and if she was caught and sentenced to death how did she explain her immunity to all forms of capital punishment?<br />
<br />
Now, she could, for short amounts of time, retrieve the newly dead, those not bound for the Elysian Fields, and deliver them to Kreios—the ass—without going postal. If, of course, he bothered to show up. <br />
<br />
Kass sensed her composure wearing thin as the calm leaked away and the rage seeped in.<br />
Behind her dead sinner guy spoke. <br />
<br />
“Hey!” <br />
<br />
She never asked their names. <br />
<br />
“Yo, honey, back here.” <br />
<br />
She didn’t want to know anything about them. These people did despicable things and rarely paid for their crimes—at least while they lived. Their afterlife, though, would be rife with anguish and beautiful cruelty… <br />
<br />
“What the hell is going on?” <br />
<br />
She didn’t want to personalize them. <br />
<br />
Her composed demeanor slipped further from her grasp. The wrath reached for her, skittering up her spine. If only this guy would stop talking… <br />
<br />
“Bitch, I’m talking to you.” <br />
<br />
Gah, whipping around to face him she hollered, “SHUT UP.” <br />
<br />
The wide eyes and the ashen color on his dead face spoke volumes. No longer did he see a plain young woman. <br />
<br />
To the dead, she looked like a fiery demon and a hungry one at that—an apt assessment considering her soul-deep hunger. Hell, ravenous would better describe her need. <br />
<br />
In a lightning-fast move Kass got nose to, yuck, open mouth with the dead guy “Listen up, worm food, I would strongly encourage you to close your sinning mouth and give me some peace or I will make you beg to suffer the burning agony of your recent gut wound once more.”<br />
Dead Guy promptly snapped his mouth closed and nodded appropriately. <br />
<br />
Beside them stood an old woman with a small girl peeking out from behind her skirt. Both gaped at her like she had recently escaped from the booby hatch. Of course, to be fair that’s probably exactly how she appeared. To the living, she would seem to be talking to an “invisible” person. <br />
<br />
“All right, move along,” she said, “Crazy lady is done, next show starts in five, tell your friends.” <br />
<br />
As the old crone clutched the little girl and ran, Kass heard a deep baritone voice say, “Boy, Grandma sure can move.”<br />
<br />
Kass turned on her heel, looked at the incredible man standing before her and said, “Kreios, you son of a…”<br />
~~~<br />
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<br />
Keep warm and have a wonderful weekend!<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "bradley hand itc" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Serena</span></span></b>Serena Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959664736807639363noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-91242596313854279682017-01-04T17:34:00.001-06:002017-01-04T17:34:06.667-06:00Kind Of Want To Read This, Too.Someone should write this story...<br />
<br />
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<br />Rebecca Gillanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01341836304924085727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-30562382135484026192016-12-30T11:14:00.000-06:002016-12-30T11:14:08.438-06:00Happy New Year!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Yep, this is early, but I didn't want to miss out and sharing these new year wishes.</div>
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May your 2017 be simply salacious and delightfully decedent! </div>
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<br /></div>
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~~~</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "bradley hand itc" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Serena</span></span></b></div>
Serena Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17959664736807639363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498899580300269250.post-56442821919940961122016-12-22T14:43:00.000-06:002016-12-22T14:43:05.503-06:00Merry Christmas to All<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
The annual <i>Supernatural</i> card. Do I even need to tell you what I'd like to find under my tree?<br />
<br />
Not this, that's for sure ...<br />
<br />
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Have a merry whatever it is you celebrate, and careful with that eggnog!<br />
<br />
PatPat C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10531462055912377327noreply@blogger.com1