TOGETHER AGAIN IS AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER

Pacific Cay Trilogy 1
Siren-BookStrand, Inc.
Heat Rating: SIZZLING
Word Count: 66,484
Contemporary

PRE-ORDER!
http://www.bookstrand.com/book/together-again
AVAILABLE: Tuesday, May 17th
[Siren Allure: Erotic Contemporary Romance, M/F, HEA]
Tim Smith wants a second chance with his first love, Susan Nealson. Convincing Susan he’s worth a second chance isn’t going to be easy. Given his on-again-off-again ex-boyfriend past with her, he isn’t sure how to proceed, due to the apology he believes he owes her, and his divorce.
When Susan agrees to be a mutual friend’s maid of honor, Tim might have the incentive he’s looking for. Susan isn’t anticipating being paired up with the dateless best man, Tim—her ex-boyfriend. She wouldn’t turn down a chance to revisit their past sexual chemistry. Beyond that, she’s unsure taking a risk on Tim is in her best interest.
Giving first loves a second chance requires letting go of the past and embracing what today offers. When their chemistry ignites into more than sex, can they move past their botched history and embrace their second chance at love? Or will they remain stuck in the past trying to correct it?
A Siren Erotic Romance

 

BREAK TIME AGAIN

HAPPY WEEKEND GANG!

Cleaning waits for no one.  That's right, cleaning.  I've got to get my house cleaned so the dust and clutter doesn't take over again. With the outdoors full of pollen and it coming inside, sneeze city has hit the Spice Homestead.  So I offer for you a couple of excerpts from my Cascade Bay series. Covers included with a buy link through Amazon for Kindle or Paperback.  Now I'm off to wrangle a few more dust bunnies and pollen monsters into the corral.

Solara

STORY EXCERPT From HOT FOR TORREY

“Torrey, I’ll admit I’m anxious. I don’t think you want me to say out loud what I am uneasy about.” Holt pulled out the chair closest to her and sat down. Stuart rounded the table and sat next to Joanna.
“You’ve gained more manners, I see.” Torrey’s flushed cheeks told him she’d rather not continue in the direction his thoughts were running.
“Always had them. You just never saw them enough to realize how polite and courteous I am.” Holt reached across Torrey, snagging a handful of oyster crackers. He tossed several into his mouth.
“I didn’t know you hadn’t eaten,” Stuart offered, nudging Joanna. “We got here earlier, figuring we’d meet you for dinner.”
“Depends on what you call eating and dinner.” Joanna’s emphasis on eating and dinner left little to any of their imaginations as she continued. “Don’t know about you and Torrey, Holt. I know who Stuart is eating for dessert, or his second course.”
“Water,” Holt coughed. Blast Joanna and her punning sense of humor. The cheesy grin she wore set ripples off in more places than Holt liked.
Torrey slid her glass of water in front of him. “Crackers a bit salty?” Her arched eyebrow and rolled eyes didn’t help.
Holt gulped water, swallowing. He reached for a napkin. If his eyes kept watering, he’d have to leave for fear of losing a contact. Dabbing his eyes, Holt kicked Stuart under the table.
Stuart startled. Sitting upright, he glared at Holt. “What the hell was that for?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know.” Holt hoped he plastered the best innocent grin he knew how to fake across his face. “Now that I have your attention, though, we could use a couple of fresh drinks. How about I buy and you get them?”
Holt tossed a twenty on the table. If Stuart didn’t pick up on the non-verbal signals, he deserved another kick, a well-placed kick in the seat of Stuart’s jeans if Holt could reach them.
Joanna claimed the twenty and rose. “Come on, Stuart. We’ll get the drinks. Torrey needs a fresh one. I know I do.”

* * * *

Torrey glanced over her shoulder as Stuart and Joanna threaded their way through the crowd toward the bar. She turned back, facing Holt. “Why are you here?”
She kept her hands below the table. Clenching and unclenching her hands did nothing to relieve the new flutters her stomach did each time Holt’s gaze ran over her. The heat rolled off him in huge waves, threatening to overwhelm her if she didn’t keep her icy shield in place. Problem was her hormones had different ideas. The man knew how to read her. He’d learned how to turn her on and keep the heat going. Chemistry didn’t need a catalyst with him.
“I’d ask you the same thing. Except I probably know why you’re here.” Holt laid his arm on the table and leaned forward. “Things didn’t work out, did they?”
Torrey scooted her chair further away. Even a bit of space might allow some air in to help cool down the blasts boiling up between them. “I’m here because I want to be. What do you mean it didn’t work out?”
Holt toyed with his napkin before his gaze met hers. She swallowed hard. His eyes smoldered like they had when she’d cried out his name as multiple orgasms claimed her. He wanted her just as he had then. She couldn’t deny her attraction either. This time she wasn’t going to jump in bed with him. Acting upon lust worked great if all she desired was another fling. Those were easy and came with a premium she wasn’t buying. Short and intense brought a slack in need but no long-term emotional connection to complement the physical satisfaction.
“If things had worked out, would you be here?” Torrey cringed at Holt’s emphasis on the word had. Damn, could he read her that easily? How much did he know?
“What if it hadn’t? I remember you saying that no woman would tie you down. You wanted to be free to pursue what came your way. You said I could do the same.” Torrey paused. Rubbing her lips together, she watched the glint in Holt’s eyes dim. She gripped her hands together under the table. Apologizing would only tell him what he said was true. Before he’d started dating another woman, he’d come close to taking a good chunk of her heart and sanity. Rumors flew hot and heavy concerning his involvement with the other woman. He’d never denied the juicy tales nor did he answer her e-mails and calls asking for clarification. What right did he think he had to sit here and challenge her?
Holt leaned closer. His hand reached for her. “Torrey, I know I said some dumb things in the past. And that line was the lamest. Truth is, two years ago I lived in the heat of the moment. The flash of passion ruled my libido.”

BUY LINK FOR HOT FOR TORREY: http://www.amazon.com/Torrey-Cascade-Siren-Publishing-Classic-ebook/dp/B00B88R7KY/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1439045601&sr=8-3&keywords=solara+gordon

STORY EXCERPT FROM TINA'S TREASURES

 

Tina couldn’t resist either’s infectious smile and wit. Neither one acted as though they had a vain bone in them. Each spoke with confidence and appeared at ease with themselves as well as the night’s festivities. Tina wondered about their and Rodger’s friendship. Prior idle chatter about themselves revealed some of how connected they were. Before she let her guard down any more, Tina wanted to know if anyone else was keeping score for the dragoness and the old bat.
“Aunt Helen? I didn’t know any of Rodger’s other groomsmen were related to him.” Tina picked up her roll and tore a piece off. As she popped the piece into her mouth, Drake angled his chair toward her. He pushed his plates away from him.
“Only one of Rodger’s attendants is a blood relative. His choices caused a nasty battle between his mother, grandmother, and him.” Drake leaned back in his chair, picked up his wine glass, and drank. “Jon and I are the closest to family he allowed otherwise. The rest are old friends.”
Drake paused in his conversation as servers reached between them to clear plates. Coffee cups and saucers appeared next with silver coffee pots. Cream pitchers and sugar bowls came next. Each table received a duplicate set up.
Tina held on to her seltzer drink until the table was cleared and the servers moved on. Setting her glass down, she glanced at Jon. “Care to elaborate on Drake’s reply?”
Jon copied Drake’s action, angling his chair so he faced her as well. He sipped his wine twice before he answered.
“Neither Drake nor I are related to Rodger. We’re high school friends who attended the same college. My family lives four hours away. Drake’s in another state.” Jon sat his glass down. “We figure we spent enough time here as cousins would, so Mrs. Daniels became Aunt Helen. The mother hen neither of us wanted or needed.”
Tina quickly sat her glass down, swallowing to keep from spitting her mouthful all over her. Jon’s description of the head dragoness couldn’t be more spot-on. She wondered if Rodger knew what astute friends he had. Tina smiled as she turned her coffee cup over. She reached for the pot close to her.
Drake stayed her hand. “That’s decaf. Is that what you want?” He pointed to another pot close to Jon’s elbow. “That’s the real stuff. Both are vile to me. I asked for tea.”
Tina slid her hand down Drake’s arm until her hand covered what she could of his. She heard movement from Jon’s side. Lord, were the two trying to outdo each other? Tina lowered her lashes and tried to sneak a sideways look to see what Jon was up to.
Warm breath caressed her ear and neck as Jon spoke. “Maybe a cup of half each is what you prefer. Which one gets the bottom and which one gets the top?”
Tina gulped, unable to get her tongue to move as images of Drake and Jon sandwiching her between them flickered to life and dimmed as rapidly as they formed. She blinked, hoping to catch the last one for later on as she drifted asleep, sated from breaking in her new vibrator. At least her dreams wouldn’t be so cold and lonely.
Before Tina could reply, a throat cleared in front of them. Tina looked up. Merde! The old bat stood there glaring at them. Tina swore Mrs. Addams’s eyes moved over Drake and Jon as though she was sizing up how to skin them and offer them up as steak tartar for the evening snack post cake-and-coffee course.
Drake entwined his fingers with Tina’s. He smiled, placed his napkin on the table, and leaned forward. “Yes, Grandmother Addams.”
Jon laid his napkin on the table and stood. “Do you need help Ma’am?”
Tina bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from chortling. Mrs. Addams nodded, pointed to both Jon and Drake, and walked off. There was a tinge to the old woman’s cheeks that suggested embarrassment or her own memories had ignited a fire that the old bat wasn’t sure how to quell.
Drake raised Tina’s hand to his lips. He slowly worked his fingers free from hers. As his gaze locked with hers, he dragged his fingertips across her palm, scratching lightly as he moved toward her wrist.
Tina clenched her legs and ass as Jon matched Drake’s moves except his fingers trailed down her arm, lingering in the fold her elbow made as she tried to raise her arm. Goose bumps rose from the top of her shoulders, down her arms, and across her chest until they reached her breasts, tightening around her already aching nipples. A deep breathe wouldn’t help. The bra she wore chafed her tingling skin with every breath she took.
How much more she could withstand and not be obvious, she wasn’t sure. As Drake rose, Tina looked around him. Janet and Rodger were nowhere in sight. As she looked around the room, breathing as deeply as she could, Tina caught the two pairs of eyes glaring at her, Mrs. Daniels and her daughter. Crap! Double crap! The old bat must have spilled what she thought she saw.


BUY LINK FOR TINA'S TREASURES:  http://www.amazon.com/Tinas-Treasures-Cascade-Publishing-Menage/dp/162741813X/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1439045701&sr=8-6&keywords=solara+gordon

Time Out for A Well Needed Pause

Happy Weekend Gang!

The weather plus extra hours at the day job have tired the Spice Homestead out.  I'm taking a time out to finish up edits and revisions. 

Hope you enjoy the cover for Tina's Treasures.  As soon as I have a solid release date and approved blurb, I'll post more.  Until then, enjoy the anticipation and the delicious cover artwork.


Until next week,

Solara

The Lusty Ladies of Talbot's Peak Present ...

“Is this everybody?” Mistress Penelope did a slow-mo turn in Java Joe’s cramped back room, more to show off her skintight rhinestoned catsuit than to do a check of the roster. Satisfied on both counts, Penelope announced, “All right, then. This meeting of the Talbot’s Peak Ladies Society Wednesday Afternoon Book Club is hereby called to order.”

“That's ten minutes right there," Ziva said. "We need a shorter name."

Jamie raised his hand. “Point of order here. I ain’t no lady.”

“None of us is, sweetie. It’s just an expression. And we had a shorter name, but the Lusty Ladies Book Meet got us too much of the wrong attention.”

Mary Ewing waved for an explanation. “Men wanted in,” Penelope said, moving her lips slowly so Mary could follow. “They weren’t into reading, either.”

“Unless the book in question was The Joy of Sex.” Greely made a face. “I dated one of those guys once. ‘Joy’ and ‘sex’ were mutually exclusive terms in his case.”

“Now that we’ve discouraged the bad element,” Penelope said, “we can get on with our meetings in peace. Get to the good stuff, as it were.” She took her seat and crossed her legs in a prim move that made Ziva snicker. “Who wants to start?”

To no one’s surprise, Jamie raised his hand again. “Another classic from—” Ziva coughed into her hand. “Tempest Arouz?”

“Why don’t we just cut the crap? It’s Lamar. Everybody knows it.”

“I’m all for it. I like a good male-on-male tale,” Penelope said. Heads nodded around the circle. “Is he going to write another one about Dillon and Coltrain?”

“As a matter of fact … ” Jamie stood. He faced Mary so she could read his lips, but spoke to the entire group. He held up a sheaf of papers. “Lamar just sent this one off to his publisher. It doesn’t even have a cover yet.” He shot a glance at Penelope. “You’ll probably want to make one up.”

“If it has hot parts. Does it have hot parts?”

“C'mon. Lamar wrote it. It’s all one big hot part. The readers get so wiped out by the time the real sex happens it’s like overkill.”

Ziva leaned forward, nearly tipping her coffee mug. “Does Dillon stop being the world’s biggest douche and finally admit how much Colt means to him?”

"You know I can't spill that. We’re going for a series here. Y’can’t throw everything into the pot first time out. What’ll you do in the next six books?”

Penelope immediately pounced on the “we” and got the hot blush she was looking for. “I’m helping out with this one. Kind’a. Colt’s a photographer. Lamar keeps bugging me for tips.”

“I’ll just bet he does,” Penelope murmured. “Speaking of tips, have you had a chance to test that advice I gave you?”

Just when you thought a red wolf couldn’t get any redder. All the ladies giggled at the tint of Jamie’s skin. “I thought we were talking about fiction here.”

Taking pity, Penelope said, “All right. Back to the business at hand.”

“Does he?” Greely asked. “With his hand. That scene in the last book was one of my favorites.”

“It goes a ways past hands in this one. If I say any more I’ll wreck the plot.”

Mary was gesturing frantically. “Out the door and to your right,” Ziva said.”

“Ain’t that,” Jamie said. “You haven’t read this series yet, have you? Okay. Dillon’s a cop and Colt’s a crime photographer. They solve mysteries, then they—” At a loss for the word for “fuck” in sign language, Jamie settled for jabbing his forefinger through a circle of his thumb and index finger. Mary nodded, understanding.

"Dillon’s a real hard case,” Greely said. “Closeted as all get out.”

“Can’t imagine who Lamar based him on,” Ziva said.

“And where’s the hot Latin sex?” Penelope said. “Lamar always writes these smoldering Hispanic characters. Dillon and Coltrain? Has he gone Anglo on us?”

“Dillon’s mom was an illegal Mexican. It’s one of the secrets he keeps bottled up. It’s why he’s so randy in bed. All that frustration’s gotta blow off somehow.”

Greely bounced up and down on her chair. “Excerpt! Excerpt!”

“Lessee.” Jamie riffled through the pages. He cleared his throat. “Dillon ripped the newspaper from Colt’s hands. ‘I don’t want to read about it,’ he growled. ‘I want to do it. I want to do you.’ ’So what’s stopping you?’ Colt said. 'This.’ Dillon tore Colt’s belt away and practically ripped the zipper down its length. ‘And this.’ He hooked his fingers into the elastic rim of Colt’s briefs. His eyes dared Colt to stop him, to tell him anything but yes.” Jamie looked up from the pages. “You hear something?”

“Just my heartbeat and a lot of ragged breathing,” Ziva said. “Don’t stop now.”

Suddenly the ventilation grate near the ceiling popped off. A huge snake slithered down the wall to form a coil on the floor. The coil reared up and turned into Lamar. He glowered at Jamie.“So this is what you do on Wednesdays. Darkroom, my ass.”

“It’s a room,” Jamie stammered. “It’s dark.”

“This is why you can’t be with me? Because you have to be with—” He looked around. “Hey. You’re all women.”

“Last time we checked.” Penelope took command. “We’re a book club. We’re big fans of Tempest Arouz and her work. I’m the one who coerced Jamie into giving us previews. You’re fast, but it’s still a long wait between books.”

“And we’re going nuts with this whole Dillon/Coltrain thing,” Greely put in. “They should … ” She broke off and stared at the nothing between Lamar’s legs. “Where’s your ding-dong?”

“Somebody else explain to the frog that snakes are built differently. So that’s it?” Lamar said to Penelope. “You dragged my boyfriend away from me so you could talk about books?”

“So we could talk about dirty books,” Ziva corrected. “There’s a big difference. I’m assuming you read 50 Shades?”

“Couldn't get past the first twenty pages.” Lamar sniffed. “Christian's a rank amateur. Why am I only hearing about this group now?”

“Well … ” Jamie’s blush achieved a whole new level of red. “I know you think I don’t like what you write, but I do, really. Only if you knew that, you’d want to … ”

Lamar grinned. “Do all the stuff in the books?”

We thought you were already, Mary signed.

“We’re fascinated by the creative process,” Penelope said. “Could you tell us where you got the idea for the series? And why a series? You’ve only written standalones up until now.”

“That’s because up until now I was standing alone.” Lamar had no trouble switching over from miffed to center of their rapt attention. “Now that I’m in a committed relationship, I want to explore that in my writing. Hence the continuing story of Dillon and Colt.” He hooked his arm around Jamie’s waist and yanked the uncomfortable wolf against his naked serpentine body. “Let me tell you what prompted that scene my biggest fan here was reading.”

“How much of it was based on real life?” Ziva wanted to know.

Lamar’s grin got bigger. “Funny you should ask.”

# # #

Out in the coffee shop, two cowboys on a break listened to the peals of laughter echoing from behind the door to the back room. One of them sent a questioning look at the barista. “Book club,” the Goslin girl said with a shrug.

The cowboy snorted. “You kidding me? Books? They sit around reading? They call that fun?” He slurped a mouthful of coffee. “Women. They don’t know how the hell to have a really good time.”

MUSE ON DEADLINE. . .NO MAKE THAT ONE STORY ONLY!!

Sorry Gang that I missed last week.  The crud monster paid a visit to my office and laid low a couple of coworkers near me.  I fought off the monster and won for now.  This week between work and things happening at the Spice Homestead, Rachel and Tyburn got another week off.   Pris tells me there's more fire and spice coming from them soon.  Mean while I'm finishing up the second book in my Cascade Bay Series, working title Tina's Treasure.  A hot menage is happening with a HEA for our heroes and Tina.  Here's an excerpt for your reading pleasure:

 “Dude,” Drake fussed pointing at Jon. “I ain’t French kissing you.  So put your tongue back--”

“I am,” Tina dared and caught Jon’s face in her hands.  She leaned over to him and pressed her lips to his.

“--in your mouth,” Drake finished watching a smoldering kiss unfold before him.

Jon’s hand came up to Tina’s shoulder.  Her hand visible to Drake worked its way through Jon’s hair leaving patches standing up as she threaded her fingers deeper into his locks. 

Drake twitched as his view moved downward.  The outline of Tina’s taut nipple pushed against her top.  There was no mistaking how turned on she was.  Drake reminded himself to breathe and enjoy the simmer.  There were benefits to voyeurism especially during a scalding hot threesome.  Additional benefits came from the warm-up which he intended to be part of.  Compersion also became relevant.  Appreciating Jon and Tina enjoying each other fueled other things and more enjoyment not just for himself, for all of them.

Drake glanced up to find Tina and Jon watching him.  Drake jerked and shuddered a bit.  “Stop that,” he retorted.  “Not nice staring at me like that.”

Jon smirked.  “And you weren’t busy taking in the view?”

Drake stuck his tongue out.  Jon began shaking his head as Tina spoke.  “I’m taking advantage of this.”

Her head with lips puckered blocked Drake’s view of Jon. Not that Drake cared at the moment.  He leaned forward, his own lips puckered ready for Tina’s kiss. 

Her lips met his.  He reached up to steady her as she leaned toward him.  Her hand slipped up his arm until it rested on his shoulder.  Working his fingers into her loose locks of hair, he kneaded urging warmth into his touch.  His free hand moved upward until her breast, taut nipple and all filled his palm.  He traced her areola with his thumb, close to her nipple and back down the underside toward her ribs.

Tina opened her mouth as her subtle spasms reached his hand.  Drake closed his eyes and pressed his lips firmer against hers.  He traced the small opening with the tip of his tongue waiting for a signal she was ready for an age old mating dance to begin.  He’d tasted her earlier on the beach as tart juice flavors from their smoothies mixed tantalizing each of them with the headiness more passion could add.  Now the sharp cheese essence mixed with the cracked pepper crackers they’d eaten as they talked after dinner.  Her tongue met his as he ventured deeper into her recesses.  She gave as good as she got.  Their tongues dueled chasing and retreating until they broke apart gasping for air.

“Wow,” Jon huffed.  Drake looked down to where Jon’s hands rested close to his crotch.  Telltale signs of his turned-on state bulged against his jeans zipper.  Drake knew the ache and want that echoed what Jon must be feeling.  They needed, Tina included, follow through.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Until next week, remember to share a good book or two with your spice and loves!  I will!

Smiles, 

Solara

Script Writing?

I have to say, I adore my muse...but sometimes she confuses me.  Take today for instance.  She insisted that we start this flash as a script.  Wha-ah?  I'm not a screen writer so what the heck?  Anyway, she wouldn't let up and wouldn't agree to anything else...so, here's stab one (dialogue) at script writing.  I wonder if there will be a step two?  LOL

~~~

Ziva:  “Go,go,go…”

Penelope:  “Come on, water boy, save some for the end…Mistress Penny has a lot riding on this race.”

Ziva:  “Mistress Penny is it?”

Penelope:  “No, Z, you may not call me that…unless you let me take you over my knee.”

Ziva:  “Ha, Nick’s not quite there yet, Penelope, check back later.”

Penelope:  “Mistress…come on you overgrown guppy, sprint to the finish!  Mama needs a new whip.”

Ziva:  “You know he has to throw some of the races.  Can you imagine all those medals as only gold?  There would be questions.”

Penelope:  “I know…I know, but damn what’s the point of being a shifter in the Olympics if you can’t use the goods?  Especially when I have money riding on them.”

Ziva:  “I’m surprised any of the town’s athletes ever gain permission to participate and now with that weightlifting mule attempting to shift mid-lift…he’s lucky the humans assumed it was a dislocation.”

Penelope:  “That donkey’s gonna have some words with Dash, that’s for sure.”

Ziva:  “He’s gonna be eating hoof…”

Penelope:  “Fucking right he will!  I should lay down some green on that fight now.”

Ziva:  “Who’s your bookie, Pen?”

Penelope:  “Just no on the Pen business and I book with the same person I get the Cuban’s and 30 year old scotch from…Louie.”

Ziva:  “That rat has his nose in everything…”

Penelope:  “Yep…  So, Z, I heard you were one hell of a runner in high school…why don’t you partake of the Olympic Games?”

Ziva:  “I hate to lose.  What about you, Penelope?  What’s your claim to Olympic fame?”

Penelope:  “Ha, my skill cannot be set on the world wide stage…yet!”
~~~

May all your dreams be Olympic in size!


Serena

Dragon Dating...Step One

“I will not do this!”  Erol had reached his absolute limit with the pesky camel’s insistence that he follow her directions to the letter.  Tuxedo’s and dance lessons were bad, but this he just would not do.

“You have to.” Her patience wore thin, he could tell, but he would stand firm on this.  He would not go up there and do as she asked.

“Why does her father not bring her to my castle as is the way it should be?”

Her eyes rolled again and she counted to three through deep breaths.  “And do you have a castle?”

Hmm, yes that might be a problem.  He’d been scouting out area in this Talbot’s Peak to build a new castle, but had yet to find the perfect place.  The mountains were good, what with their caves and all, but he much preferred the submerged privacy found beneath the underground ocean. 

“Erol?”

“No, not a castle as of yet, but I have the perfect grotto picked out.  The jewel bespeckled walls will be a fine background for her beauty.  Yes, her father shall bring her there and leave her for me.”

A choking sound beside him stole his attention away from the plans he was making for his future bride.

“Oh Erol…”

The crazy camel in the car seat next to him was laughing – at him?  How dare she!  “I do not see anything funny about what I said.”

“Of course you don’t, and let me assure you what you said, while romantic in part, is in no way funny…”

“Then why do you laugh and mop away your tears?”

“Because it’s laugh or cry, Erol.”

Well that made no sense to him.  Were all females so confusing?  Would his mate be reduced to tears at the slightest of things—gah, he truly hoped not.  In fact, the first order of business would be instructing her to not produce those cumbersome bits of emotion.  Yes, that would do the trick.

“We may leave now…move this conveyance of yours back to my forge.  You will need directions to the grotto in order to give to her father.  I’ll assume he knows how to get underground…once there go to the rightist-most point on the beach and wade out until he hits the drop off…”

“Whoa, stop right there, Erol.  I’ll not be instructing Greely’s father to chain her up inside your Grotto.  That is not how things are done…remember 21st century.  You will get your ass out of my car and go up to her door and respectfully, ask her to dinner or coffee or bloody high tea if that’s what you like.  Now get!”

Erol protected his bits and pieces from the suddenly kicking camel pushing him from the ridiculously sized transport she drove. “That was a bit rude, don’t you think.”

“Go up to her door and ask her out…do it right or you’ll feel my hooves alongside your head!”

***

Greely wiped her eyes for like the thousandth time over the last few days.  She still couldn’t believe she’d been marked as unacceptable at the pond.  She would never live down that humiliation.  Her mother had, of course, been the first to call with disappointment in her voice and a suggestion that she move to a different town.

Damn that blacksmith.  She’d never done anything to him but admire him from afar.

The knock at the front door was an unwelcome surprise, but even more so was who she found on the stoop.  “You’ve got a lot of darn nerve showing up here!”

“Go get me your father, fair one.  I would speak to him.”

“Are you kidding me?” Greely pushed at the barbarian’s chest in hopes of moving him away from her door, but he was built like a granite sculpture.  It would take more than thirty of her to move him in anyway significant. “I’m an adult.  I don’t live with my mommy and daddy.”

“Who then protects you from the unscrupulous defilers out there?”

“You mean men like you…”  Greely stopped, mid-sentence, arrested by the look in the blacksmiths eyes.  Fear lived there, not annoyance or disgust as she thought she would see.

“I will never harm you, only cherish you.”

Right.  Did he really think she could believe him?  “Is that why you had me banned from pebble pond?  Made me unacceptable by my own kind?”

“No, I merely staked my claim.  Like the gifts on your doorstep.”

“Those were from you?”  Greely didn’t know what to say.  The gifts were both sweet and confusing…much like the man it would seem, but she didn’t know if she could trust him or even if she wanted to.  Scratch that…she wanted to, with every stupid part of her libido. 

“Yes, did you like them?”

“They were…interesting.”

“Excellent.  Now go wash the mess from your face and bring along your coat.  I will take you to your father’s side for protection and I will talk to him about your future.”

Greely was stunned by the sheer audacity of this man.  “I protect myself, Mr. Blacksmith.”  Greely slammed the door in his face, happy that she’d had the strength to shut him out, but depressed that she was still a major player in the Doomed Love Club.
~~~

May you each find a jewel bespeckled Grotto of your own this weekend, filled with a sexy dragon who knows how to ask for a date, of course!

Serena

Purple Boots, A Mink Stole and Jingly Bells...

Prudence Penelope sashayed down the hall towards sin. There wasn’t a more appropriate name for the room painted in arousal red and containing apparatuses which must have been designed in hell.

"Breathe." Between the gentle reminders to continue taking in air and the tippy-tap of her purple fuck me boots Penelope assumed everything would be okay.

Dante’s call letting her know there’d be a room ready at the pleasure club by six left her floored. While Penelope adored spending time at Dante's, especially in sin, no way could she maintain her word to Burgess under such strain.

In fact, the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near reminders of the orgasms she'd given up.

Dante however insisted she be there at six and follow each directive he set down.
1. Wear the boots. Tied tight and all the way to the top—no folding them over.
2. Wrap the mink around her throat.
3. Only bells allowed beneath her trench coat.
4. No orgasms.

Rule four became almost impossible to follow considering where the bells from three were laced. She smiled though as Danny's coarse little tongue slid up her neck and behind her ear.

"I'm excited to, Daniel. Two months is far too long to be apart from our blue-haired penguino.”

Burgess had been called away on some super secret, not to be divulged, mission so long ago. The wait for his return began to grind on their nerves.

The last night they shared together he'd requested one thing from both she and Danny—stay celibate until he returned. By the final orgasm wrung from one another, Penelope hadn't seen a problem in remaining sex-free. She’d thought he would only be gone for a short time, but as seven days turned to thirty the urges became harder to ignore.

When one month bled into two, she and Danny neared their breaking point. Being highly sexual in nature they needed a release, but a promise was a promise.

“Okay, we must to calm down.” Penelope tugged at her boots one last time and straightened out the trench coat. “I’d adjust the bells too, Daniel, however that would force me to break my promise, 10 steps away from our Aussie.”

Penelope reached for the handle and pushed the door open, unprepared for the sight that greeted her.

“G’day, Mistress Penny…”

Too long without has turned Mistress Penelope into something of a terror...not letting us see into that room was just mean.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Serena

Zombies Sighted on Black Friday!

~~Attn Talbot's Peak residents, Zombies have been sighted at stores in surrounding towns, partaking of black Friday deals.  Stay safe...you've been warned.~~

Ziva smiled as she made the last of the tweeks to her Friday post on the Guts and Butts site.  The not so gentle reminder to the more than human sect of Talbot's Peak was like a secret service announcement to the world.  The last thing this sleepy little town needed was a group of Were's shuffling and jostling in a line of humans trying to score the best deals on the worst shopping day of the year...

Trampling was just the beginning of the ugliness a group of shifters could cause...

It was a good thing most animals were wierded out by zombies and crowds - her little jpg warning above ought to be enough to keep the shifters in town and away from angry mobs...she hoped.
~~~

 Stay safe today, and if ya'll go out for deals...watch out for Zombies and out of control Were's!

Serena

Steel Saber, A New Tabot's Peak Neighbor

Steel  Saber came down from the mount’n

And gazed at the really weird fount’n

It was a dog dish he was seeing

That’s why he felt like peeing

His prowess he felt like a flout’n

Of this town he’d heard stories

About shifters in all their glory

Some were cats and some were dogs

Some turtles and assorted frogs

Yet they lacked those with heads so hoary

He liked the town’s feel

The people seemed real

But he missed the age of his teens

A time when none preened

And the humans could be his next meal

Should he eat Barney or Fred

Or leave them just shy of dead

Then to slake his thirst

And show them his worst

When he took Betty and Wilma to bed

~~~

 Wow, clearly I've been neglecting my poetry of late that this post would come out not just as a poem, but a really weird limerick!  

Yeah, who am I trying to kid...weird or not, I love limericks.  :D

How about ya'll, feel in the mood to share a little ditty about the Saber-toothed devil in the picture above?  Give it a whirl and remember a limerick follows the standard (aabba) rhyme scheme.

Serena

Can I Be Next?

“Don’t you dare say it Nicolas McMahon, don’t you dare…”  Ziva poked her ragged-nailed finger into her stubborn assed mate’s chest with no success at making a dent.  He was too solid, too alpha and too damn bossy for his own damn good.

“NO!”  

 Ziva saw red as her male turned towards the computer and reached for the mouse—his intent clear, to delete the nude purple fairy she’s scaled walls and risked her life to get.  She couldn’t let the big lug get the better of her on this…she just couldn’t.

“Gah!”  With no warning and no gentleness she flung herself at her mate and curled her arms around his neck.  No loving embrace was this, nope, roping one arm around his throat and catching it with the other she drew up her knees into Nick’s back and applied the sleeper hold he’d taught her.

“Zee…” He wheezed, arms flailing trying to make purchase in her clothing.  She wouldn’t release him though, this was too important to her.  This picture was the first thing she’d done that made her feel like a real reporter, not a cub.

Nick dropped to his knees jarring her, though not enough to make her release him.  She could tell he was close to passing out, but she had to make sure she had time to hit the publish button.  A faint growl, felt more than heard, was her chance.  Ziva reached over to the mouse—seeing his eyes on her finger—she clicked.

“I love you, mate,” she whispered, holding his head as they headed to the floor.  “But I have to do this.”

 ~~~

“Brava, Z!”  Penelope leaned against the doorjamb and slowly clapped.  She was definitely aroused by the sight of the luscious she-wolf riding her mate to the floor with a choke hold good enough for a turn in the MMA.  “You finally got in touch with your, she-beast; got that pic on the site, and took down the desk defiler there.  I’m impressed.”

She moved closer to the panting predator cradling and stroking their editor’s face. She tugged on the thick tresses of Ziva’s hair until her head fell back and wolf eyes connected with her own avian ones.  “Can I be next?” 

~~~

Who knew Nick was such a light-weight to let a she-wolf take him down?  On the other hand, he would never hurt his mate...I wonder if Ziva recognized that?

Have a warm and wonderful weekend!

Serena

Nude purple fairy's in Talbot's Peak?  See for yourself...CLICK ME 

Five Guesses Why? Editor Nick

Ziva crossed the last T and dotted the last I on this week’s Friday Five before hitting publish.  All that was left now was to sit back and wait for the bellow sure to come from down the hall. 

“Zeeeeeee!”

Right on time.  She could always rely on Nicks need to know.  Even now, with his nostrils flaring and his eyes all squinty, her mate was an incredibly sexy male and a hell of a lot of fun to tease.  Laughing Lupa but she loved Photoshop!

Five Guesses Why?   Editor Nick 

1. He’s trying to release an atomic wedgie…
2. He and the sheep have become overly friendly…
3. He has a secret cat nip problem…
4. He’s channeling Little Bo Peep
5. He’s on his way to the vet for his annual gland expressing…

….Ohhhh, and Ziva has left the building!

~~~


Have a wonderful weekend!

Serena

The Winged Ghost of Room 306

Wow, looks like I was long winded today.  It's been a rare occasion lately, but Hawke, Ally and little Rosie sure had a lot to share with me...

Rosie's looking forward to next weeks Halloween thrills in Talbot's Peak, and so am I!  I wonder what gems will be appearing on the blog hopping trail from our wild and unruly residents.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

~~~

“Mama, mama…”  

Ally smiled at the sound of her youngest as she finished checking in the next guest at the counter.  “Room 306, ma’am…and remember,” she whispered in a conspiratorial voice.  “That room is said to be haunted by the ghost of this hotel’s original proprietor, Chief Eagle - Flies by Moon.  There’s and oil painting of him in your room, I’m told, and he comes to admire it on a nightly basis.”

“Oh lands be, I hope he does child.”  The sturdy, grey haired Mrs. Ryneson who, for all the world, reminded Ally of a rhino, snorted through her ginormous nose.  “See, I reserve this room every year before Halloween in the hopes of seeing sexy Chief Eagle’s ghost, spending some quality time with Mr. Ryneson in Talbot’s Peak and ending the week by going to the annual trail ride.  I’ll tell you young lady, if I had a few less years on this body I’d be leaving here with another calf on the way…”

Ah calf… Ally didn’t have time to dig any deeper into the strange wording Mrs. Ryneson seemed to be using before she had her own calves tugging at her shirt.

“Mama…”

“Where’s the food…”

“This town is boring…”

“I’m off to scout for Chief Eagle, child…good luck with this brood of your own.”  Mrs. Ryneson smiled as she moved off in the direction of the stairs.

“Mama, guess what…”

“What is it Rosie?”  Her youngest had really come out of her shell in the last few months of living in Talbot’s Peak, but had yet to make any ‘real’ friends.

“Yo, mom…food.”

“Yo, Silas, can the rudeness.  There are fruits and veggies in the room.  Go eat some.”  Ally watched him storm away with his everything bores me brother tagging along behind.  Those two were going to be even more of a handful once girls and cars entered the picture, and with no male figure in their life it was going to be hell on her, but that was a problem for another day.

Today, right this moment, it was about the pouty nine year old in front of her.

“I’m sorry, Rosie, what did you want to tell me?”

“Guess what I heard today?”

“Hmmm, let’s see, you heard about the Great Pumpkin?”

“That’s pretend, mama…”

“Well,”  Ally stood there with her finger tapping her lip, pretending to think and waiting out the exuberant girl who was dying to tell her the news. “Could it be that you passed your test, today?”

“No, ah, I mean,” her daughter’s struggle to gather her thoughts was written plainly on her lovable face. 

“Yes, I passed the test, but that’s not the news.”

“Good job, Rosie!  See, with study…”

“Mama!”

Ally took Rosie’s hand and moved her away from the desk and over to the cushiest of couches in the lobby and sat them both down.  Intent on focusing only on what her sweet flower had to say.

“Sorry, Rose, you have my attention.  Why don’t you tell me what you heard today…”

And so began the animated telling of all things Halloween and Talbot’s Peak.  Almost all the businesses went all out with decorations, some places offered special brews for adults, and it was said that the costumes in this town were out of sight in their accuracy.  Ally wasn’t sure what that was all about, but she’d planned on taking Rosie out this weekend to find one of the special outfits.

“…And then next weekend there’s a trail ride and haunted house!  Mommy, can we go?  Can we?”

“I’m sure we can make that work, Rosie.  Tell me though, did you hear about this at school?”

“Nope, Hawke told me all about it.”

Ally’s stomach dropped at the mention of the figment of her daughter’s imagination.  It had been at least a month since she’s talked about the imagined ghost friend she’d named Hawke.  A month since Ally had sat her daughter down and explained that ghosts were not real and that it was okay to make real friends here in Talbot’s Peak, because they were not leaving.  She’d been convinced that Rosie had understood.  She’d hoped that since she’d heard no more about the elusive Hawke that Rosie was ready to let go of her imaginary friend.  Yet here they were again, talking about the ghost as if he were real.

“Rosie, what did we say about Hawke?”

Her daughter looked down and pressed her lips into a frown, anger rich in the taut hold of her body.  “You don’t think he’s real, but he is mama, he is and he’s right here with us…”

***

Hawke hurt for the child of his heart, the little girl he intended on making his daughter upon returning to the land of the living, but he understood a mother’s fears for her child’s mental and emotional health.  Rosie was shy around others of her own age, not due to lack of self-esteem, but because of her unusual gift.  She could see the dead surrounding those around her.  They couldn’t reach her, yet.  Her psychic shields were still strong, but as she grew, they would erode; leaving her defenseless and at the mercy of too many voices and demands. 

He would not allow that to happen.  She was touched by the greater being, given a gift only few had and it was his duty to teach her how to handle them.

“Little Flower, don’t be angry with your mother, she’s only worried for you.  Because she is unable to see me, she fears for you.”

He watched the two women who would become central points in his life, relax.  Their bodies lost the tension and their faces softened.  They were like two little chickadee’s sitting on a log.  So similar in looks yet vastly different in attitude.  The younger he would raise and teach the ways of his people, but the older he would marry and mate.  He would offer her, his soul and ask for hers in return.

First though, it was time to start convincing the luscious Ally that there was nothing imaginary about him, and to do that, he needed a bit of Rosie’s help.

“Little Flower, would you tell your mother something for me?”

The smallest of nods told him she’d heard his request.

“Mama, Hawke asked me to tell you something…”

The tension in his soul mate returned at her daughter’s words, but she listened.

“What’s that, Rosie?”

“He said, what he comes to admire in the dark of the night is not the ab-h-horrent oil monstrosity in room 306, but rather the lovely lady in suite 102.  He prefers the moon light as it reflects over you beautiful, chestnut hair.”

Hawke smiled at the eye widening shock fluttering over Ally’s face.  He was awfully glad they had remained sitting as his mate had just gone as white as his insubstantial body.