Calling All Cougars!

Sandra looked up at the body in the tree. It wasn’t a dead body—it looked too much like a sleeping woman to be a dead woman. She gulped apprehensively, trying to convince herself it was just a statue or something. You know how those marketing yahoos will come up with kooky ad campaigns from time to time. What better way to advertise the first annual Cougars and Cubs Jamboree, right?

She’d found the flyer under the wiper of her car last week after a stop at the pet shop to look yet again at the selection of dogs. She was forty-five, still attractive, and newly divorced after being married to her high school sweetheart for almost thirty years. Getting a little dog to carry around everywhere was what all the other former trophy wives did in her Beverly Hills neighborhood. Of course, she had never really fit in with the other arm-hangers, which was probably why her rat-bastard husband had traded her in. Not for a younger model, but for one her age who was now at least 80% silicone. Sandra had refused adamantly to get a nose job, boob job, or any other job that didn’t entail actual work.

So now she was trying to figure out what she was supposed to do with her life. All she knew how to be was a fake trophy wife. The flyer had looked interesting. More interesting than a teeny dog crapping in her purse, anyway. If Demi Moore could go out and find herself a husband half her age then surely going to a Cougars and Cubs event wouldn’t send her own two grown daughters into a fit of “but Mo-om! You are embarrassing us to our country club friends again!”

Sheesh. She couldn’t help it. Sandra had grown up in Idaho, the youngest daughter of a potato farmer. She’d done all the “correct” things for as long as she could remember. She’d dated the quarterback, lead the cheer squad, ect. But the “correct” things in Podunk, Idaho were not the same as in the Hills. She didn’t want a dog purse, a plastic face, a perfect spry tan, boobs that made her back ache, or any other fake stuff all the other trophy wives wanted. She looked damn good for her age; why not flaunt it?

Sandra pulled the now heavily crumpled flyer out of her dog poop free purse and looked it over again.

Honestly, that didn’t sound exactly like what Demi Moore and the other celebrity cougars were doing but really, since she didn’t really “get” most of the finer details of frivolous housewifery, that was only to be expected, right? She squared her shoulders, tugged her brand new Louis Viton duffel bag out of the back seat of her car, and trudged up to the visitor’s center. She was determined to find at least one facet of California high society she could do right. Maybe she’d even walk away at the end of the week-long trip with a brand new boyfriend younger than her kids!

****************

Kevin eyed the bit of human fluff as she struggled to pull her ridiculous bad out of her ridiculous little car. What in the blazes was a female like that doing in the heart of Yosemite National Forrest? He dismissed her with a feline snort of ridicule. Whatever. He had a cats-only shape shifter camping trip to put on thanks to his meddlesome mother. He grinned as he looked over the list. Moms and cubs only. Oh, and any single females of suitable breeding age. Just the thing to make sure he had a surfeit of females—single parents and motherhood-minded females—to vet and trot out in front of him. Would she ever stop trying to make him hook-up and settle down.

“Excuse me…”

He looked up then frowned. It was that bit of human fluff. He looked around to see if she had really meant him, finding no one else nearby. He looked up at the sign over his head, reading “camping trip sign-in.”

“I think you have the wrong guy,” he said curtly then dismissed her again.

“Well fine!” she snapped. “I know I signed up for the Cougars and Cubs event a little late, but I know I freaking signed up for it! If this is how you … you… people are going to treat a paying guest—one who’s driven half way across California just to attend—the fine!”

Kevin looked up at the woman, shock making him just stand there and look at her dumbstruck. Dawning horror began to fill his gut when he realized someone had screwed up and invited at least one non-shifter. Oh hell. What now?

The Crazy Cougar and the Mad Bear... Yosemite Week Continues

End of summer howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Well, here it is, my flash scene for the pic hanging to the right of this post. Likely, it’s rough around the edges since I’m a bit under the weather. But, I hope you enjoy.

The Crazy Cougar and the Mad Bear

Half bombed out of her mind, Sirakusa squeezed the glass between her hands. Blocking out the good-times voices of those around her in the Yosemite’s late night bar and lodge, she stared into the depths of her alcoholic beverage. Made with vodka and coffee liqueur, the drink known as a Black Russian reflected her mood.

“Men are just dogs, doncha know,” she snarly greeted the son of a bitch -- likely a shapeshifter predator of some kind like her ex-fiancé -- and like herself.

Since her third drink -- this was her fourth after eating dinner several hours ago -- he’d been stalking her with his gaze from his solitary position at the bar. Now he towered above her. His burly frame had to be well over six feet, the complete opposite of the young stud who had professed to love her... then left her the minute his pack leader showed teeth.

Yeah, she could pick ‘em, couldn’t she? Balless bastards, every single one of the so-called men of her un-colorful, but long-in-the-fang past.

Why the ‘leave-her-alone’ hell hadn’t the towering, too young cub gone away... as in shoo, I’m not interested? Although, before she glanced back down, Sirakusa had caught a glimpse of bulging biceps beneath his black leather jacket. His muscled chest wouldn’t quit. Oh, and there was his unshaven square jaw, his dark unruly hair... his fathomless midnight eyes... though, she doubted his eyes were merely black in color. She damn certain wasn’t looking up to find out.

“Oh, I get it,” she snipped nastily, “you’re one of dad’s enforcers. Yeah, forgot. I didn’t make my scheduled --”

His weight hit the chair next to her, rattling the table, and her already shaky nerves. Sirakusa figured she didn’t jump out of her skin because she’d thoroughly anesthetized herself, and was nearing drunken collapse.

“Go away. I’ll call tomorrow,” she sneered, or as near as she could get to that tone when three sheets to the effing wind. Speaking of wind, a run through Yellowstone sounded good. If she quit drinking now, she could manage a shift, and work off some of this alcohol -- yeah, lessen her hangover. She had a yen to feel the wind ripple her fur. Her coat had already thickened for winter.

After shoving her drink to the far side of the small table designed for a couple, Sirakusa started to rise. Her head whirled as if she’d thrown it inside a dryer. Yeah, how scat-stupid she’d been to wash the beta coward’s clothes, and act like his wife. They’d even planned a modest human-like wedding.

Holy moly crap! Could she ever catch a break?

No, she thought as her eyes crossed and her body lurched forward. About to catch herself, or, at least, try, Sirakusa felt herself grabbed and hauled sideways. Her butt thumped on top of a pair of iron-hard, humongous thighs.

“Hey! Let go.” Twisting, she took a swing at his unshaven jaw.

When her fist sloppily grazed his neck, she spat, “I told you I’d call. Give dad a report.”

“My handle is Mad Bear. What’s yours?” All too easily his gravelly voice penetrated, and coiled through the center of her numb body, all while he eased her against his unyielding frame.

Bear! With her brain slow on the uptake, Sirakusa didn’t struggle as he wrapped his huge arms around her in a sort of a friendly bear hug. Okay, so he wasn’t one of her dad’s enforcers... who could keep track of them all?

“Crazy Cougar... that’s my handle,” she snapped, although her words lacked any significant bite, even to her ear.

“Cougar,” he growled, vibrating her ear, and vibrating her nether regions enough to wake them up from their liquor-induced stupor. “I thought so. I’d offer to buy you a drink, mountain pussycat --”

“Pussycat,” she shrieked, her tongue not cooperating with her outrage. “Fall’s almost here. Aren’t you about to eat berries by the ton, and hibernate? Or something...”

His thumbs caught her nipples -- the briefest caress. “I do like eating berries. Sucking on them too.” His nose nuzzled the rim of her ear. “For a very long time. Before I even think about hibernating.”

Despite the boozed, liquidy state of her body, Sirakusa shot upright. From their half-mast droop, her eyelids flew wide.

“What if I suck your berries to bright red?” he growly seduced.

Stunned, but suddenly burning with what could only be labeled needy desire, Sirakusa tried in vain to think quickly.

“No hibernating,” she ended up muttering.

“No. No hibernating,” he rumbled in a base note that strummed her to mating heat. “Mmm-mmm, don’t you smell ripe and juicy?” His large, very large fingers gently shoved between the apex of her thighs. “What if I lick that berry later?” Applying just the right pressure to her pussy mound, he stroked upward.

Sirakusa stifled a yowling moan. Still, she arched, the back of her head pressing hard against his chest. Rawrrrr... oh yeah, her hedonistic side was about to take control.

“I scented you the first moment I entered... my little crazy cougar.”

His enormous hand settled on her belly, and he rubbed lightly. Again, his strokes were just the right pressure. Wondering if he had an internal touch o’sex-meter, Sirakusa simmered on the ‘I want it’ heat setting. She was about to boil wild and hot for it.

If he didn’t stop doing... but, she couldn’t do this. Not again. Unless...

“Tell me you’re over thirty... at least. Maybe...”

He stilled, and she had her answer. Okay yowls, she gave him credit for not wanting to lie.

“What does it matter?” His lips nibbled her ear, and he possessively vised his arms around her. “We’re shapeshifters. We have a longer than long lifespan.”

So, Sirakusa concluded as she wantonly trembled inside, not only was he not looking for a one night stand... maybe, he was planning on ‘not’ hibernating with her during the winter months.

In that instant, Sirakusa realized her nose hadn’t been wrong. Even through her alcoholic haze, she scented his need to mate with her. Beneath her butt, his cock rose to the occasion. Then kept on rising with impressive strength, lifting her butt.

“This can’t happen.” She shivered violently, her emotions gathering like stormclouds.

“I carry my tribe’s ancient potion. A longevity cure-all --”

Sirakusa’s strangled scream interrupted Mad Bear’s startling revelation. The tattoo below the nape of her neck sparked pain through her. That meant only one thing.

“Raid,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Run! Shifters, run!” Sirakusa threw back her head and loosed her kind’s warning scream.

Bolting to his feet, the chair crashing behind him, Mad Bear cinched her middle with one arm. He slung her against his side and sprinted for the bar’s side entrance.

With her head pounding like Metallica performed inside it, and her tattoo still spraying fire through her, Sirakusa hung on for the ride. Around them, at least half of those inside the lodge’s large bar dashed for the nearest exit. Heedless of who was in their path, they pushed outside. Anything to escape.

Sirakusa didn’t blame them. It was why her family had held the magical ceremony when she was a mere toddler-cub. Her aunt, a medicine woman, had drawn the tattoo on her, then with the sacred smoke she’d burned it into her human skin.

Since that moment, Sirakusa always knew when the military’s elite, secret Shapeshifter Hunters were about to strike. She rarely knew who they targeted, or if they were casting a wide capture net. Because she ran far and fast, and never looked back.

It was only later that she heard the horrific, break-your-heart stories by those shifters who escaped their capture.

Mad Bear kept her tight against his side as he stealthily ran between the parked cars, SUVs and pickup trucks. Knowing they owned the advantage, most of the shifters had taken to the surrounding terrain. And, if they were smart, they would have scouted out the best escape routes, as she already had.

Halting beside what looked like a heavy duty Jeep to her, Mad Bear uttered a low growl as he quietly unlocked the passenger door. “They’ve got the place surrounded.”

Efficiently, swiftly, he placed her inside, and shut the door without a sound. Sirakusa had to wonder why they weren’t racing through the densest part of the forest. Not that she was in best shape to run for her life. Pain stabbed her head repeatedly, and her metabolism remained sluggish, even with adrenalin surging through her veins.

Noiselessly slipping inside despite his bulk, Mad Bear turned the ignition key. She heard a bare hum of sound, and the Jeep seemed to start. At least, they crept forward.

“Why...?” she began.

“Electric motor,” he whispered, interrupting her.

A sudden blaze of light caused Sirakusa to clap her hands over her eyes, and hope they weren’t being targeted.

“Hang on,” he growled. “Sorry in advance for your head.”

Seconds later, they whipped back and forth between the parked vehicles, and from lane to lane. Sirakusa grabbed whatever she could hold onto, and wished she’d never thought about drowning her sorrows.

With a keening moan, she clenched her eyelids. It didn’t do her any good. The tires squealed torturing her eardrums. They spun a hundred-and-eighty degrees, and he sped over rocky ground jouncing her back and forth.

After long minutes of this torment, he slammed to a stop. She felt them make a turn, and the Jeep crawled somewhere. “Get ready to shift,” he boomed. “They’re on our trail.”

Without thought, Sirakusa kicked off her platform shoes. At the same time, she slid out of her velvet stretch top. Within seconds, she’d stripped off her matching leggings. Always prepared to shift at a moment’s notice, she rarely wore anything she couldn’t easily remove. For the same reason she didn’t carry a purse, only using her pockets.

Hearing his door open, she glanced in Mad Bear’s direction, and not only noticed he’d shed most of his clothes... enough of an eyeful in every way... but, also, there was an outcropping of rock around them.

“Jeep should be secure,” he growled fast. “But we aren’t. They got sniffers on our trail.”

Sniffers! “How do you know?”

“Listen.”

The telltale whine of the sonic locator devices entered her ears. Worse, they were being detected. With fear chasing away the nasty fuzzies in her head, Sirakusa initiated her shift, and launched out the door.

“Follow me,” he shouted after her. “I know how to elude them.”

For some reason she didn’t doubt him. Besides, she wasn’t familiar with this territory. The onslaught of smells told her that much. Once Sirakusa landed on all four of her cougar paws, she swept her gaze around.

Goddess do tell, he was a giant of a bear, and she swore she’d never laid eyes on his kind before. He loped in front of her, and soon they were racing up the side of forested cliff, along a narrow path.

All Sirakusa knew was that the creatures of the night had made themselves scarce, and that they traveled for over an hour, running ever upward. With the elevation, the scent of the plants and trees changed.

Feeling the last dregs of her energy drain away, Sirakusa wasn’t aware when she finally collapsed, or when the blessed darkness claimed her.

***

Her head rested on something hard and chilled. Seeking the comfort of her pillow, Sirakusa tried moving her cheek. That’s when she awoke with a start, and felt the sharp chafing of her skin between her breasts, on the length of her belly, and on the inside of her thighs. What in the effing hell...? Where was she?

Feeling a dew-laden breeze on her dangling arms and legs, she cautiously peered downward. In the silvery light of early morning, she saw a huge, apparently naked man. He seemed to be on guard, his back pressed against the substantial tree trunk.

Attempting to ignore the aching throb of her temples, Sirakusa struggled to remember anything. Anything at all. Had they...? Who was he?

Oh, Goddess, she moaned to herself, and briefly shut her eyes. Obviously, she’d tied one on. Yeah, not her usual behavior. But she’d been so despondent, then beyond that, to the point darkness owned her spirit. Everything had seemed endlessly bleak as looked back on her life.

And now... scat!

Did she dare ask him who he was? Why...? What if he’d abducted her?

Uh-oh! Did she morph and make a run for it. He’d risen, and was turning...

“Morning, Crazy Cougar. How’s that head of yours?”

The sound of his baritone voice -- even at this distance she could see the commanding glitter of his dark eyes, his square unshaven jaw. “Mad Bear,” she burst out. With her ire rising fast, she demanded, “Why am I up here?”

“Had to put you up there while I led them away from you.” He paused, tilting his head so he had a better view of her face. “The Hunters don’t aim the sniffers that high.”

Mad Bear gave her a triumphant half grin. Moving so he stood directly beneath her, he spread his magnificently muscled arms wide. “I’ll catch you, sweet little mountain cat.”

Oh, what the... with her head still reeling and rocking, why not?

Sirakusa maneuvered herself with care, then rolled to the side, and let herself drop. True to his word he caught her as if she weighed little of nothing. Definitely points in his favor.

“This wasn’t how I intended our first night together,” he rumbled in a teasing manner.

Lost in his coffee-colored eyes, filled with amber beautiful glints, she murmured, “It’s a long trek back to your Jeep.”

“Yep. But, I’ll hold your hand, my crazy cougar, and maybe you’ll decide to tell me your name.”

“Just... maybe I will.”

His sudden kiss caught her off guard. Sirakusa moaned as his lips took possession of hers and didn’t let go. Not for a long while.
~~~~~~

Have a Magickal Shapeshifting Week!

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~

Vacation in Yosemite Week

(This week at Shapeshifter Seductions we're doing our take on the photo up there, generously provided by Larry Alexander, history buff and author of Shadows in the Jungle and other WWII nonfiction. He likes to send me dirty jokes and pics like this. Larry, this week is for you. I'm forwarding this post to your wife.)

Look What the Cat Dragged In

Felicia awoke with a pounding headache, in a strange tree on a mountainside she didn't recognize. "Hairballs," she muttered. "What the hell did I do last night?"

She tried to get up and nearly slipped off the branch. The rough bark bit into her naked skin. Felicia swore with more imagination. Where the scat had she stashed her clothes?

Extending her claws for a better grip on the branch – her head made it feel like the whole tree was swaying – Felicia steeled herself and looked below. No clothes. Just great. A rumpled black-and-silver fur coat lay in a heap at the foot of the tree. Okay, better than nothing.

The fur coat stirred and yawned. An enormous black-and-silver wolf got up and shook himself. Would you look at those cat-damn teeth. Instinct got the better of her, and she loosed a hiss before she could stop herself.

The wolf looked up, surprised. He spotted her and wagged his tail. Rising up on his hind legs, he shifted into a hunky, blackhaired man. Felicia groaned. Man? Better make that puppy. He couldn't have been older than 23, unless she were very lucky.

“Hey, babe.” The wolf-shifter grinned up at her. “You ready to go another round?"

Another? Oh scat. Felicia rubbed at the cannons going off inside her skull. “Give me a minute.”

“Sure thing, babe.” The wolf scratched his hairy crotch. His big, youthful, healthy, hairy crotch. Definitely to her taste, even on a wolf. That explained the “round” last night. Or “rounds.” Where was memory when you really needed it?

Felicia leaped from the branch and landed on all fours beside the wolf. He looked even younger up close. Are you even old enough to shave? she wondered. “I don’t suppose you know where my clothes are.”

“Back at the jeep, I guess. That’s where we left ‘em.”

A jeep. Transportation. Finally, the morning had a plus. She slipped a peek at his crotch again. Fine, then. Two plusses. “Okay. Where’s the jeep?”

“Um, in the parking lot?”

Getting there. “Where’s the parking lot? I mean, where are we? Big picture.”

“Oh, okay. We’re in Yosemite National Park. My pack rules the river valley and half the mountain.” He looked around nervously. “This half, I hope. I don’t know how far we ran last night. Oh scat. If we’re in Bigfoot’s territory he’ll have my ass and your tail.”

“Yosemite?” Not Talbot’s Peak. Not anywhere close to Montana. “How the hell did I end up in Yosemite?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who showed up at the bar last night.”

The bar. Right. Finally, memory decided to tease her with a few ill-chosen hints. She’d left Talbot’s Peak in search of male companionship. Between all the wolves and the recent tiger invasion, the cougar population had made itself scarce. Even the bobcats had left town. Wolves were okay in a pinch, but a steady diet of them wasn’t part of Felicia’s life plan. So she’d packed up her jeep and headed west, in search of new mountains and, hopefully, whatever lions might roam them.

Instead she ended up at some dive of a shifter bar and yet another wolf bed-buddy. Fan-scattin’-tastic.

“Look,” she said, “Hoover – ”

“Harper.”

“Harper. Right. My memory’s a little fuzzy.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. You were really knocking ’em back last night. I never saw anybody down so many Rocket Launchers without, y’know, upchucking. Not even Bigfoot can chug a Rocket Launcher. Babe, you were so awesome.”

Accessing memory. Rocket Launcher. Straight-up Irish whiskey, beer chaser, catnip garnish. That explained the head-pounding. “Who was buying?”

“You were. You had a table by yourself and said, ‘Just keep ’em coming.’ So we did. I was supposed to take you home because we were closing. My cousin owns the place, so I get to hang there. I, um, may have joined you for a couple of drinks.”

“I’ll bet. And afterwards we drove out here and … ”

“And decided to work off the alcohol.” His pleased expression vanished in a puff of panic. “I didn’t take advantage of you. Swear to Lycaon.”

“Relax, pup – I mean, Harper. It’s cool.” Her memory might be a little fractured, but she had no doubts who must have initiated last night’s post-bar activity. Felicia had climbed too far up the tree to be picky any more, drunk or sober. This Harper seemed like a nice pup, and he was definitely easy on the eyes. Where were you when I was 16, she thought. Or 25. Or 30. Or 35. No need to ask where he’d been last night.

Now the time had come to face the dawn. “I need clothes,” she decided, “and some really strong coffee. Can you get us back to the parking lot? I’m a bit turned around.”

“Sure, no prob. Uh, Felicia? You don’t feel pregnant, do you?”

Felicia laughed. “Don’t worry, sport. I don’t think our species can mix. Tell you what: you get us to my jeep and I’ll buy us breakfast. Agreed?”

Food always set a wolf’s tail to wagging. Harper brightened at once. “You bet. I think we came this way.”

Suddenly a chorus of howls broke out from just over the rise. Felicia tensed. She knew the sound of a hunting pack when she heard it. The tone of this one said, “Whoopie, we just found a cat to chase.”

Harper went white. “Bigfoot. We must be on his turf.”

“Would running help?”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

“Let’s go.”

Six Sentence Sunday: Chapter Ten ~ Such Primal Hunger

From the Kougar’s Writing Den ~ White Fang, Ace Reporter

*Unedited Six Sentence* progress on the latest WIP novella...

Chapter Ten ~ Such Primal Hunger

Z’Pasha watched as speculation shadowed White Fang’s eyes. An intense shade of blue, they reminded her of sapphires thrown on top of a summer mountain lake.

Given the super wolf’s keen intelligence, and his devotion to fair play, she’d gambled on being forthright. He would accept no less. Not, and remain her friend. Or, her lover.
~~~~~~

Have a Magickal Six Sentence Day!

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~~~~

~~~ Find out more about Six Sentence Sunday at ~ sixsunday.com ~~~
~~~~~~

Cason Awakens

Cason groaned and tried to open one eye. His stomach rushed up to meet his throat. Inhaling sharply, he lay his head on his forearm. What the hell had hit him? Why did he feel like he’d tied on a 3 day drinking binge with his frat brothers? Fuck, the last time he’d been stupid enough to do that he’d woken up to find Nitchell hovering over him. Had the little bastard slipped him - - -

Images slammed through Cason’s mind. Vivid underwater scenery and glimpses of far off mountains faded as he drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. His stomach sank back to its normal position, close to his navel. Raising his head with care and caution, Cason opened one eye. He counted the pairs of feet near him. At least five people stood nearby. Shit, what had Nitchell done now to draw attention to them?

“I think he’s coming round.” Nitchell’s fake cockney accent rankled Cason every time he heard it. Having a sea sprite for a guardian angel didn’t make life any easier, nor did wondering what else the gods might decide to throw at him. When had he pissed them off so thoroughly?

“Nitchell, lower your voice,” a female scolded. Cason’s eyes roved up the pair of feminine legs closest to him. They stopped at her red haired thatch. Another darker colored one stood next to her. When had Sandra taken up with women? Did Nemos know?

“Yes, I know every purr she makes, my friend.” Cason’s gaze inched left. A hand waved before him. His eyes clapped shut as he groaned.

“Nemos, move before I throw up.” Cason no more than spat out his last words and his stomach spewed up his throat. Several gut retching minutes later, two sets of hands helped Cason roll over.

“Take it easy.” A softer unknown feminine voice offered. “Jaxson has gone to the house to get you some water and a clean shirt.”

Cason shielded his eyes as he tried opening them again. Next to Sandra, another nude female stood. Nemos squatted near him, sniffing the air. “Do I smell that foul?”

Nemos smiled. “No, keeping an eye on the beach and those that approach. Two yards in either direction are groups that could move toward us. Right now they are interested in the waves and surf more than a group of people standing around.”

“If he can stand, we need to move back up behind our privacy fence. The life guards are coming on duty soon.” A tall black haired male stepped around Sandra and her companion. “I’m Jaxson and this is my mate Tessa.” He pointed to the lithe blonde next to Sandra.

“I’m Cason.” He tried to sit up. His vision blurred and his stomach lurched. “Can someone halt the train trying to run over me again?” Cason grabbed his head and swayed upright.

“Easy said than done mate,” Nitchell quipped. Cason squinted at him.

“Nitchell what the hell did you do to---“A female groan drowned out Cason’s next words.

All turned to face the lone woman still prone next to them. Her ash blonde locks hid her face. Her nude body left little to the imagination as she turned on her side.

“Who is she?” Cason staggered to his feet. Easing his way away from her, he wondered why he felt an over whelming need to protect her.

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

Have a great weekend all! I'm spending it with my loves and their loves.

Smiles,
SOLARA