Happy Halloween!

 In honor of the season, I'm posting this little goodie to go along with the "Indian Thriller". I wish the actual reboot had been a lot more like this.

Life Imitates Art (and Vice Versa)

I know it's been a while, but I just found this the other night and I had to share.

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:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6znZC778Jq0

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...

Something funny

Just a little something to prove we’re still alive out here.

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

Hide and Seek

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—

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 finally found one of JJ's books. That’s twenty-three pages of other people’s books, most of which were written by authors whose names are nothing at all like J. J. Collins.

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?

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.

So, to help out, here are the pages for JJ's books on Amazon. Just plug these in and you’ll be fine:

 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

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

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

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

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

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

Or type “J. J. Collins” and the title of the book you’re looking for. It’ll come right up. Maybe.

Note that Priceless and His Super Neighbor are not shapeshifter stories. Priceless is futuristic; His Super Neighbor is a contemporary. All are M/M. J.J.'s got this thing for Destiel.

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!

End of an Era

It won't be a happy New Year for this fangirl: Supernatural 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.

Good Grief, Dean!

A one-moose open sleigh

And a final farewell from the cast

Happy Holidays to everyone!

Release Day Tomorrow ... And That's No Bull

Cock and Bull Story, 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:

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 luchadores. 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.

Contains M/M sex

www.evernightpublishing.com

EXCERPT

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.”

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.

Immediately Gallano moved his hands upward, to knead his neck and shoulders. The smaller man cooed at him, pleased. “Yes. So very much better.”

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.

No. He dare not encourage the pushy little bird. What was he thinking?

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.

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.

Tauro slapped his hand away. “Behave yourself. Are all you chickens so grabby?”

“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.

“Don’t be so melodramatic. It’s only a bit of flesh.”

“That’s far more than a bit.”

“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.

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.”

“You couldn’t wrap your fingers around it.”

“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.

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?

For You Super Fans Out There

You'd think I wouldn't have missed this, especially with Avengers: Endgame 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 His Super Neighbor, 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

  https://www.evernightpublishing.com/his-super-neighbor-by-j-j-collins/

Coming Wednesday, May 8: the release of Cock and Bull Story! I'll post an excerpt tomorrow.

Coming Soon

Check it out - artwork for J. J. Collins's latest release, Cock and Bull Story. No release date yet, but when I get one you'll hear about it.

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.

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.

Random Bit of Flash Fiction

“What’s this?”

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.

I braced for an explosion and told her. “It’s , ah, I just noticed that we didn’t have any smoke alarms, so I picked some up.”

“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 talk to each other?”

“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 you don’t hear an alarm upstairs because you’re down stairs, you still find out something is going on, because all of them go off.” She made a cute little face at the box. Werewolves were generally attuned to body expression, but I’d never seen that expression on anyone before. Bemused, maybe? “What’s funny about it?”

“Nothing, sorry. I just got a mental image of gossipy ladies from the 1950s all gathering on the street because their smoke alarms all told them that someone burned dinner.”

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.”

“Mooney, you are not going to put these things in Ziva’s house!”

“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!”

It's That Time Again ...

For the annual Supernatural 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!

Yes, This is a Commercial

...but I hope you won't mind. His Super Neighbor 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.

Also, a note to Serena, if you're still here: yes, it's Those Two again. ;)

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.

Be Warned: m/m sex, no shapeshifters or actual superheroes

you can get it here


Excerpt:

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.

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.

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.

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.

“I thought we were doing this,” he murmured against Cullen’s throat.

Cullen peered beyond his shoulder. “Your room. It’s … clean.”

“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.”

“I’m not complaining,” Cullen said quickly. “I was expecting, I don’t know, a den of iniquity or something.”

“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.”

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.

“What are you still doing in your clothes?” he said roughly.

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.”

Foreplay over. Let the games begin.

Too funny not to share!

I’m just going to drop this right here for your viewing pleasure...

https://youtu.be/Uu4x8U_PLJA

🤪🤣

More 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:

* * * * * * * * * *

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.

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. I just have garbage for dinner, dress badly, and drive a lawn tractor any time I leave home.

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.

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.

* * * * * * * * * *

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!

`Rebecca 

Playing With Autofill

I found an article while browsing Face book that had me in stitches this evening. Botnik Studios put out an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation created with predictive keyboards. You read that right, they deliberately auto-wrecked themselves. It's gloriously hilarious.

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!

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:

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.

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.

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.

I can’t win, leave, join, or die. I just keep playing the game.


Not bad. I think I'll keep adding to this story to see where it goes!

~Rebecca

Too 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!

~Rebecca

http://cheezburger.com/4369669/customer-service-wolf-has-a-different-way-of-dealing-with-costumers?bypassCache=true

'Tis the Season

... for the annual Supernatural holiday pic. Have a Grinch-free Christmas, folks!

Strange Weather Here Lately

"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.

"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.

"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.

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.

"So, is it a natural phenomenon? The snow, I mean?" he finally asked.

"Yep," I said, my mouth full of fluffy pumpkin goodness.

"How? They sometimes call Corpus Christi 'Crispy Corpses' because it gets so hot down there."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"So this is Global Warming, not magic?"

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.

A Long Time Between Posts

My daddy, Christmas time when I was about four years old.

Hi! Long time, no post. Sorry about that. It's been an "interesting" and eventful year for me on a
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.

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.

~Rebecca

Good Intentions

(found this unedited bit of silliness in my files and decided to share.)

“Dammit, lady!”

Charlotte clapped her hand, the one not holding an egg, to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“You should be. You got egg all over my dang coat!”

“It wasn’t meant for you. It was meant for that murderer in the beaver jacket. Although … are you wearing sheepskin?”

“Yeah.” His lips pulled back in a snarl of a smile. “Killed the sheep myself.”

“Excuse me?”

He tossed the coat aside and shifted. A huge gray wolf stood before her.

Charlotte screamed. And threw the egg at him. It splattered across his muzzle. She quickly palmed another, just in case.

Ralston shifted back. “Okay, you’re getting a spanking for that.”

“You stay away from me!”

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?”

“You know damn well I was aiming for the beaver coat.”

“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.”

“You mean she—”

“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.”

“I only egg people wearing fur.”

“I’m a shifter. I can’t help wearing fur. When will you PETA freaks realize we don’t need your help?”

“Maybe you do. Aren’t shifters endangered?"

“Not as much as you right now. Mrs. Ainsley can sue you for assault, y’know.”

“I’m not having breakfast with you. I don’t even know you.”

He held out his hand. “Ralston Durham. And you would be … ?”

“Charlotte O’Keefe.” She defiantly took his hand, and shook it. And remembered, seconds too late, the other egg in her palm.

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.”

Just Out from J. J. Collins

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.

EXCERPT

“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—”

“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.

Then he leaped at Dillon.

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.

Dillon had his knife. One thrust and it would be over.

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.

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.

So long. Too long since he’d had any relief, or so desperately wanted it.

Only when he realized Kaz was tearing at his fly did Dillon come back to his senses. This was all happening too fast.

Somehow, he got his eyes to focus. “Don’t I even get dinner first?”

“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?”

“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 mating urges, he couldn’t help thinking. “—Are going to have to wait.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“It’s Dillon. Dillon Royce.”

“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.

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.

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.

Available from Evernight