Snippet Saturday: Author's Choice

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's theme is author's choice. I've decided to share what Harry from Pack and Coven thinks about making his big getaway in a...Smart car. The excerpt is the beginning of Chapter 3, and it's in the heroine's POV.

***

June’s heart beat so fast and hard she feared Harry would hear it. What she was doing was dicey, and her coven hadn’t exactly approved it. Her coven wouldn’t have approved anything that tossed one of their members into pack politics. But she’d realized, when the idea of losing him struck her like a pie in the face, she had to try anyway. And she had to do it immediately.

She wouldn’t let him be forced into the Millington pack. That wasn’t fair to anyone, much less Harry. He was perfect the way he was.

Nearly perfect. He had kind of a potty mouth.

“A problem?” His bushy brows arched. “I wouldn’t call it that. It’s this woman who wants me to come to a party. I RSVP’d no.”

“A pack bond ceremony, to be exact.” June let the cedar fall to her side. She couldn’t purify his property and hide their tracks while tiptoeing around her kind’s sacred covenant about keeping shifters in the dark. “I understand why the alpha wants you—” Did she ever! “—but most indies don’t make good packers.”

“Ububobu whu?” Harry stuttered.

“I can help you, but you have to swear on your pelt you’ll never tell anybody what I did.”

Quicker than she thought possible, considering he wasn’t pack, Harry invaded her personal space, grabbed her shoulders again and pinned her against her car.

“What do you know?”

She could barely make out the words through his growl. His whiskey-colored eyes sparked pale blue with the onset of the shift. His tousled hair glinted blue-black in the sun. Oh Goddess, his scent was wild and musky, his hands strong. Being this close to him when he was riled was much more erotic than she’d expected.

She always had to be careful about getting close to Harry. His senses were keen, and some of her secrets had to remain secret.

Like the fact he’d been right the first time he’d called her name. Well, not right—her real name was June—but she’d been wearing her Sandie camouflage for years. She’d considered keeping it after the encounter in the tea room, but it took too much power to maintain. She needed all the magic she could squeeze out of herself to help Harry, so all she’d kept was a minimum facade of humanity.

“I know enough,” she told him. Summoning a spike of power, she channeled it into the cedar and poked his stomach. He jumped back with a yelp as if he’d been stung, which technically he had.

“What the hell was that?” He jerked up his shirt to check, and she nearly whistled. Shifters were physically fit in two-legged form, yeah, but his abs were especially delicious. With her libido dampener forfeit like her Sandie mask, all that black, silky hair on his chest, trailing down his midriff, weakened her knees.

“Sorry. Cedar has sharp needles.” If she came out of this with Harry ignorant about magic, her coven might not go completely off on her. They’d still be furious, but the covenant would be intact and so would Harry.

Now she just needed to stuff an angry werewolf into a tiny car and transport him to safety before she ran out of juice—and before anybody figured out what she was doing.

He circled her, prowling, his brows lowered. She had no fear he’d hurt her but kept her front to him anyway.

“So you know about shifters,” he said.

“I do.”

“What are you?”

“A person who knows?”

“How many humans know?”

Good, he assumed she was human. “Not many. And we’re not about to broadcast it.”

“Sandie?”

She shrugged.

He continued to stalk around her, making her a little dizzy. “What do you think you can do to help me?”

“I can help you hide.” Covens used magic to shield themselves from shifters’ senses, and she hoped to employ a variation of the spell on him. Or, more precisely, her car. They’d be safe inside while she fashioned a stronger disguise geared to Harry’s alpha chemistry. Afterward they’d toddle off while the pack dashed around like chickens missing their heads.

Easy peasy.

While she’d rather hide him in her house, people might check there. And she didn’t hate the idea of a road trip with Harry.

“I already have a plan,” he growled.

That didn’t surprise her. Harry was no cream puff. But neither was Bianca. “They cut the fuel lines on all your cars.”

“They what?” He ran to the garage and checked under a gray sports car, a minivan. “Son of a…gun. Even my truck?”

“And the motorcycle.” Indies had been forced into packs before. Millington wasn’t one of the worst offenders, but they’d know how to handle a wolf like Harry.

“What about the—”

“They got the loaner too. They’re not as dumb as you think,” she couldn’t resist chiding. Independence was all well and good, but a wolf had to be mindful. If he’d made himself less tempting, Bianca wouldn’t be so hot to add him to the pack. Harry should have behaved antisocially. Disguised himself so he didn’t seem powerful.

And virile. And sexy.

Wow. Right. Without the libido dampener, it was going to be a bigger struggle than usual to keep her hands to herself.

“They’re dumb if they think—” he began, but stopped himself. “Tell me your plan.”

“I fed your cats, packed your shaving kit and gathered everything we need.” She hoped. “We should hurry. They could be here any minute.”

He faced her, hands on his hips. “Did you wash my dishes and vacuum?”

“Your house didn’t really need it,” she joked.

He didn’t smile. Being threatened with a life sentence in Bianca’s pack would put anyone in a bad mood.

June shifted her weight to the other foot. “I’ll drive, okay?”

“I’m not riding in that…thing.”

***

For more info about P&C and buy links: http://www.jodywallace.com/books/packandcoven.htm

Jody W.
www.jodywallace.com * www.meankitty.com

MORE EXCERPTS!
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Rhian Cahill
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Lissa Matthews
Leah Braemel
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Shiloh Walker
Shelli Stevens
Zoë Archer
Lauren Dane

Snippet Saturday: Oopsie!

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's theme is shame, shame, shame, which I have interpreted as "Oopsie!" I thought I'd share the entire first chapter of "Field Trip" since it's got a heck of an oopsie at the very end. But don't worry, it's not a long chapter.

***

Geiger, the little piss-ant, sat behind me during the shuttle simulation and relentlessly kicked the back of my seat. He’d picked that seat because it was beside Clarice, not because it was behind me, his teacher, but that didn’t stop him from kicking.

“This is how astronauts used to travel between planets,” droned the Zhie tour guide. He was obviously not used to holding the attention of twenty Human and Zhie third graders from the Integrated Public School System of Earth on their annual field trip. We were only ten minutes into our day-long visit to The Space Station Freedom Museum and Amusement Park, and already the kids were restless.

“The early Humans didn’t know about dimensional cross points.” The guide, who’d introduced himself as Sergeant Chamblin, flicked his eyes from left to right, as if he were reading cues. His posture was as rigid as a post. “They used huge spacecrafts powered by dangerous fossil and nuclear fuels to propel themselves beyond Earth’s orbit. The ships were nothing like the sleek hep...hep...oh, hoppers. Hoppers of contemporary times.”

So maybe he was reading cues. Great. A newb. I resisted the urge to check the back of the room for any writing on the wall...of the cue or the ominous variety.

“Trips between planets took months instead of seconds,” our newb explained, “and travelers were hindered by cramped living conditions, faulty gravity emitters, radiation, and, horror of, uh, horrors, space rations.”

The folks in charge of writing the speech presumably thought they’d get a response out of the kids with that worn-out joke. And they did. A wad of gum flew across the room and stuck to the guide’s podium, an incongruous green blip on the black and white logo of Galaxy Prime.

Behind me, Geiger snickered.

Chamblin’s lips tightened, and one of his eyebrows arched. If he’d ever done an IPSSE tour before—I was starting to have my doubts—he should hardly be surprised that kids horsed around.

“As I was saying,” Chamblin managed, before an another piece of gum joined the first. The Galaxy Prime logo now appeared to have eyeballs.

With a sigh, I reached for the belt on my unpadded seat. If the first Human astronauts had had to squeeze themselves into chairs like this, no wonder they didn’t progress any further than their own solar system. Nobody wanted to be this uncomfortable for that long.

The buckle on the worn strap jammed. I struggled to disengage it as Chamblin asked, “If you’re quite finished hurling indigestible food objects at me, we’ll continue.”

When nobody threw anything else, he said, “Is everyone buckled up?”

No one answered. I could feel the kids’ suppressed laughter like the steam before a teapot whistles and pulled harder on the buckle.

“Are your backpacks stowed? It’s time for take-off.”

Again, no one answered. Chamblin’s angular face radiated annoyance. Literally. The reddish coloration started at his irises and bled across his nose, cheeks and forehead until anyone looking at him could tell this particular Zhie was ticked off.

The stupid buckle on my stupid belt was obviously broken, trapping me in place. I turned my head so the kids could see my profile. Too bad I didn’t change color like a Zhie.

“Class,” I said in my stern voice. “Answer Mr. Chamblin.”

“Yes, Mr. Chamblin,” all twenty chirped as one, punctuated by Geiger kicking my seat again.

“Sergeant Chamblin,” he corrected.

“Right, right.” I paused in my struggle with the buckle to salute him. “Sergeant.”

What a downgrade. Last year we’d had a General. With a sense of humor.

Chamblin, whose dignity and coloration seemed to have been appeased by my salute, made a big show of strapping himself into a seat modeled after a pilot’s chair. Slowly, he pushed the red lever on the arm that would start the ride. I freed myself just as the zero-g emitter coughed to life. My ponytail floated straight out from my head, and I shoved a foot under the edge of the seat to keep myself from drifting to the ceiling. All over the shabby cabin, items wafted into the air. The children laughed, grabbing for slurps, backpacks and buzz comms, and in one case, a shoe.

Chamblin fumbled with his seatbelt too. “Miss James, for your own safety, I must insist you return to your seat.”

“Give me a sec, Sergeant.” I batted a crumpled slurp out of my face, aware I didn’t present a very authoritative figure in mid-air. “Who threw the gum?”

The kids sneaked glances at each other, but no one aside from Clarice looked at me. It was too early in the day for them to rat each other out.

“Really, Miss James, it’s all right.” Chamblin’s eight-fingered hand chopped the air as he motioned me down. “Just relax and enjoy the unique and yet wholly secure experience of Space Station Freedom.”

I could tell I was making the guy uneasy, so I cast a hard glance at my known troublemakers and ended with Geiger. “Do not kick my seat again, mister. I don’t care if your toes are growing out and it feels good.”

With an expert twist—I didn’t spend two years in the Planetary Peace Corps for nothing—I did as Chamblin asked and buckled in. Disciplining the students was always up to me, despite my two TAs. Lem and Lon were mostly useless, alternately simpering at any adult female or gazing at me in bemusement when the children acted like, well, children instead of the sims in their training holos.

You’d think male Zhie would be accustomed to kids and their ways, but hey, it was a new generation, IPSSE education notwithstanding. Next thing you knew, female Zhie would start interning with the Centauri Ballet or something. Now that would be a show worth New Broadway prices.

Chamblin waited for me to settle before he continued. “As I was saying, the early Humans didn’t know about dimensional cross points, which is why the Zhie stumbled across the Humans instead of vice versa. The Space Station Freedom was where the Zhie initiated first contact. This is one of the actual transport shuttles used by our ancestors. Retrofitted for safety, of course.”

The first contact story was old news for all citizens of Galaxy Prime above the age of three. If we didn’t get through this portion of the tour soon, Chamblin was going to have a starship full of mutinous Phantasms on his hands, bored senseless into rampant destruction.

“And now,” he said, with a dramatic gesture at odds with his monotone delivery, “brace yourselves for the ride of a lifetime.”

He thumbed the button on the end of the pilot chair’s red lever.

For a moment, nothing happened. Children tittered. Lem might have too, or maybe Lon. Geiger tapped my seat with his toe, no doubt thinking I wouldn’t notice. Chamblin’s face pinked up again, which looked inflamed against the khaki of his uniform cap and black hair, but then the wide holoscreen behind him crackled to life, displaying Earth as it appeared from orbit.

The screen, to my dismay, remained flat.

Really? No projective capabilities? They’d had projective capabilities last year. Not a wise redesign choice. A flat screen would definitely not soothe my small, savage beasts, nor any others. I’d say at least eighty percent had been in orbit for real at some point. That screen had to be nearly as antique as the shuttle.

“Pure caca,” I heard Geiger whisper.

“The teacher said be quiet,” Clarice hissed. Perhaps he was grating on her nerves too. Unicom knew the singlet would test the patience of a Human saint, much less a nine year old Human girl.

The pod shuddered and jolted. The holoscreen fuzzed white, emitted a piercing whine and clicked itself off.

Chamblin frowned. The kids groaned. Their complaints began as whispers and rose like an ocean wave.

At least until the screen burst outward in a shower of red, fiery shrapnel.

You can buy the rest for 99 cents at:

All Romance eBooks
Amazon
B&N
Diesel eBooks
iTunes
Kobo
Smashwords
Sony

Thanks for dropping by and dealing with my crappy formatting! Blogger changed, and I haven't figured it out yet.

Jody W.

www.jodywallace.com * www.meankitty.com

MORE EXCERPTS

Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Rhian Cahill
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Lissa Matthews
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Shiloh Walker
TJ Michaels
Lauren Dane

Snippet Saturday: It's Raining Men

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's theme is "It's Raining Men." I don't know how the other Snippet authors are going to interpret this one -- should be fun to find out! -- but I am going to share an excerpt from Survival of the Fairest, because there's a small misunderstanding about some very famous men in it.

***

Speaking of exciting, she peeked at Jake under her lashes and thought about the kiss. The electric exchange of tongues and heat. The silken feel of his hair under her fingers. She was here to learn new things, right? To blend? A conversation with her sister about the sexual prowess of human males echoed in her mind.

It wasn’t as if Tali never planned to have sex, but it was difficult to relax when one’s partners all had political ambitions. Wedding a twosie guaranteed a higher position in Realm society. Even wooing a twin could boost status. Desire for advancement drove her suitors, not desire for her. Ani enjoyed the attention, enjoyed working through The Thousand Kisses, a series of mating rituals designed to enhance one’s chances of bonding, but the posturing, and the lack of actual affection, bored Tali to tears.

Fairies never knew whom they’d bond with, or if they’d bond with anyone. It was so…arbitrary. What if she ended up with a fellow she didn’t even like? Casual sex that could result in permanent bonding wasn’t something Tali had been inclined to try.

Jake, on the other hand, didn’t care about the status involved in courting a twosie. Didn’t hope they’d join forever and ever. Had no idea she was anything besides a tourist and a woman.

She was fairly certain he was aware of her as a woman.

“How much further is it, Jake?” Maybe she’d ask him to stay in her hotel room tonight.

Jake glanced at her. His hair gleamed in the low lights of the car’s interior. Their car idled behind others in front of the waterworks. His dark clothes blended with the seat that cupped him, and the half-smile at the corner of his mouth fascinated her. No men she knew had that twinkle in their eyes or those perfect laugh lines. Drakhmore clan members were dark like him, a little scary, but Jake Story didn’t scare her. Exactly.

“A couple miles, but this traffic’s pretty bad. So what are your plans? What else do you want to do while you’re here?” he asked.

She hid a smirk and wriggled deeper into her cushioned seat. “I want to attend a water park, look through a humble teley-scope, surf on the Internet, visit the White House, shop at a supermall and see baseball.” She wanted to do the things normal humans were lucky enough to do every single day. She wanted to know how human technology had replaced magic and what it would be like to live here permanently. She wanted to know more about Jake Story and why he made her tingle.

“There’s a water park at the end of the strip called Wet ‘N Wild. I take my cousins’ kids when they visit. Malls are everywhere. The White House is across the country.”

“I was testing you.” Tali could never remember how far things were in humanspace. The land the fairies inhabited in the Realm didn’t correspond to the continent here. “What about a humble teley-scope to see the stars? I read about it in HumanWa…”—oops!—“a science magazine.” Tali waited to see if Jake would catch her slip.

He didn’t. “There’s a planetarium at a community college nearby. Their telescope is nice, though. I wouldn’t call it humble.”

“Baseball and surfing?”

“No baseball, but we have an arena football team called the Gladiators. As for the Internet, you can check it out with any computer. That’s not very exciting when you have a whole city to explore.”

What else did she want, besides to kiss Jake again and run her fingers through that silky hair? “Oh, I want to see Chip and Dale.”

“The cartoon?” The traffic around them moved. Jake edged the car forward, and the bag around the mirror swayed. The music from the dancing waters faded into a babble of pedestrians and car horns. Humans young and old milled on the sidewalks.

What was a cartoon? She’d overheard the ballet praised by two female researchers. “They’re dancers. The Chip and Dale ballet.”

Jake pinched his lips together. “I see. Those Chip and Dales.” Traffic slowed again, and they halted next to a smaller casino called Holiday Inn Boardwalk. Orange lights blinked along the building’s edges, and a network of white scaffolding rose behind it.

“I gather their ballet is breathtaking.” Tali pushed a button in the middle of the car dashboard. She heard a rushing, staticky sound and punched another. “None of those skinny women in fluffy dresses.”

Jake’s face twitched, as if he were trying to keep himself from responding. Did he hate ballet? “There aren’t any skinny women with Chip and Dale.”

© 2008 Jody Wallace

***

Places you can find SOTF:

All Romance Ebooks
Amazon (paperback)
Amazon (ebook)
Barnes and Noble (paperback)
Barnes and Noble (ebook)
Diesel Ebooks
Fictionwise
Google
Kobo
Powells (ebook)
Powells (paperback)
Samhain Publishing (paperback)
Samhain Publishing (ebook)

Jody W.
www.jodywallace.com * www.meankitty.com

MORE MEN:
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Rhian Cahill
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Lissa Matthews
Leah Braemel
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Shiloh Walker
Shelli Stevens
Zoë Archer
TJ Michaels
Lauren Dane

Cattification: Super Meow by Ragdoll Stapleton

Today's cattified book that sadly required felines to be added in order for it to meet proper cat-code occurs at the beginning of a free giveaway campaign by the author, Rhonda Stapleton, which should last April 30 - May 4 or thereabouts. The giveaway is for the original, catless novel Super Zero in Kindle format, but my human says it's pretty good anyway. Go get it or at least read the blurb and see the cover, and then come back here so we can proceed with the improvements!

Super Zero’s page: http://www.amazon.com/Super-Zero-ebook/dp/B004XNKYQU/
 

Working for supercats isn't all it's hacked up to be...

When Jenna’s supercat boss The MooChing gives her the opportunity to safeguard the catnip crystal (a jeweled jingly ball that grants, changes or removes supercatness) she pounces on the chance, eager to do this easy, so-called "lap" job and earn stray-cat cred with the Midwest League of Supercattoes. To help her mission, the League assigns her a human partner, the somewhat smelly and super-tall Vigilante. Too bad he's also super-grouchy--and likes dogs. What a tragic waste of thumbs and can opening skills.

Soon, Jenna learns the threat to the catnip crystal is all too real, and her list of trustworthy cats and humans grows shorter than a skink’s tail after you tear off that blue part. But when she discovers something even more doggedly sinister afoot, involving Vigilante's canine arch nemehiss Dogwithoutrix, it'll take all her skills and a few of her nine lives to keep the houndy villainess from executing her plan to declaw and flea-collar the world's supercattoes... especially when Jenna accidentally becomes a dog herself!

She might possess a heart of purr inside, but outside, she’s all bark. Never has such horror been visited on any supercat. Except for that one incident with Slink the Stink and the Washing Machine, but we don’t speak of that.

***Note: Feline model is Spoink from www.meankitty.com and canine model is Lucy from the Stapleton household. Eyeball in moon courtesy of http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1028570).

*** Before proceeding with the cattified excerpt, you may want to read the original first! http://www.kindleboards.com/sample/?asin=B004XNKYQU ***

CATCERPT:

“I’m not giving her this.” With my beauteous maize-yellow eyes (enlarge cover to properly appreciate beauteousness), I stared in horror at the inscription on the back of the huge diamond jeweled collar, the curvy, flowing writing a mix of hairball sentimentality and ownership.

For B, My Love Shack(le) Baby.

B for Bitty Kitty, who just so happens to be my cousin…and the current secret, in-heat fling of my supposedly neutered boss Mason.

How could things get any worse?

“Give it to her, Jenna.” Mason calmly clawed up the teetering pile of paperwork on his large mahogany desk. He puffed out his fur, and I could see the lingering imprint from the red M on his supercat uniform (God help you if Mason overheard you calling it a costume), which, at this time, was carefully tucked away beneath the rumpled covers on the office bed, along with five stuffed mice, a pair of dirty human underpants, a snack for later, and a hairball.

M for The MooChing, which Mason Maulings, mild-haired businesscat and CEO (Cat Executive Officer) of MetalCat, became many years ago after a weird accident on tour in a local cat tree factory. It was speculated by many of the local meowspapers that Mason had more mechanical body parts than natural and was missing one special part entirely. And, of course, cats throughout the years have wondered if he ever earns his own food, or if he just uses his superpower to hog the hard-earned tuna of other kitties.

If the rumors were true—and given his present to my cousin, it sure seemed that way—there were probably plenty of lady cats who had let the MooChing have ALL their cat chow so he could save his money to buy stupid things like diamond cat collars. Not to mention, those lady cats might have something to say about The MooChing’s parts, including those “private” ones he’d supposedly had surgically altered by the Wicked Vet of the West, his Arch Nemehiss.

I glanced away from Mason’s fur and fought the urge to allow my nictitating membranes to cover my eyes. Whenever he got irritated with me questioning his authority, he liked to remind me oh-so subtly of his supercat status, either by hogging my kibble with his supercat power, or flashing his costume—er, uniform.

Unfortunately for him, Mason wasn’t the silkiest supercat anymore. His black fur, religiously dyed every six weeks to prevent those pesky grays from slipping through (I should know, because I bought the hair color for him—510B Onyx), was slicked back against his body, showing an increasing thinness, especially in those areas right in front of the ears that are always the first to go.

(Approximate appearance of Mason:

Winston from Meankitty.com: http://meankitty.com/2011/01/winston-3/)

I sighed and batted the bracelet back in its velvety blue case, kicking the box deftly into my carry-all. “I can’t believe you put me in this position. I’m supposed to be your shopper, not aid in your felicit affairs.”

Besides, I wouldn’t have picked out gifts like this in the first place. There was something to be said for more understated presents that actually had heart, not just reflected dollar signs.

Bitty Kitty, however, would be thrilled with the offering. Of course, she had as much brains as a box of dog hair (The old saying used to be “box of hair”, period, until the box of cat hair secretly collected by Beagle McBarkbark, the mad dog scientist, turned sentient and took out half a colony before it could be stopped), but what could I do about it?

Mason glanced up at me. The look on my face must have been odd, because he miaowed, shaking his head. From behind his desk, he dug into a drawer and hooked a claw in another velvet blue jewelry box, pushing it to me. “It’s just a present. But here. This should help.”

I opened it. Another cat collar, exactly the same. I flipped it over.

Darling R, just a small token of love. M

Small—right. One of those diamonds alone probably cost more than my human’s car. Well, at least Mason took care of things all around. His wife Rowrena, the second most powerful supercat in the Midwest, would certainly be pleased with the collar. Lord knows the kitty has more bling than a rapper. Of course, if you have a high-maintenance lady cat like that, you’d better throw sparkly trinkets that jingle and make electronic cheeping sounds at her to keep her happy.

Rowrena’s known better by her alter ego, Rapida. Goofy name, scary cat—she can move like no one’s business. I’ve never seen anyone dart around as fast as she does. She also has these razor-sharp claws that grow fast, hacking and slashing their way through enemies.

(Mystical from Meankitty.com)

She and Mason make a formidable team, which is why they head up the Midwest branch of the League of Supercattoes. The best of the best. Even my littermate Amy Miss Fluffykins Cutie Pie Dollface, a “lesser” supercat who can set fires with just her mind, envies Rowrena’s talents.

Hell, I just wished I could do anything, other than get entrenched in stupid affairs like this that detract from the real work that needed to be done. If I were a supercat, my name would be The Crouch-and-Jumper.

I popped the collar back into its case. “I assume I’m to deliver this one, as well?”

Mason simply blinked, waving a paw at me to leave his office. “I need to finish up this proposal. You can give your cousin the one, and have the other delivered.”

Hissing under my breath, I left, motioning for a human servant to close the door behind me. Through another servant, I ordered a courier to deliver Rowrena’s bracelet. My ever so slightly protruding back claws click-clacked down the pristine black-and-white tile hallway as I rounded the corner and trotted toward the front of the building.

The receptionist desk was empty. It was after five—well after, as Mason worked “on call.” Therefore, as his lickey, I worked on call too.

At least I had no worries about Carrie, the new annoying secatary, bugging me every five seconds about Mason. “Does Mr. Maulings need anything? Did he get my messages? Did he blah blah blah?” The kitty meowed a mile a minute about the most inane things, usually revolving around Mason. About three seconds into a conversation with her, you’d want to chew off your leg, just so you’d have an excuse to run away.

Fifteen minutes after the human made the arrangements, the courier arrived. I indicated the box, wrapped in paper from Carrie’s stash, so the courier would take it. Though he knew the spiel, as he’d done a few deliveries for us by now, I did this every time he picked stuff up, even if just for my peace of mind. Plus, with humans, you have to really drive things into their large, unwieldy brains, or it disappears into the void.

“This is an important, private delivery to Mr. Maulings’ wife,” I said. “It’s crucial she receives it immediately. Mr. Maulings likes working with you and your company, so we’d like to keep this relationship going.”

I paused to lick a paw and smooth my whiskers before widening my eyes to emphasize the importance of my next words. “He trusts you. And believe me, you don’t want to lose that trust. The previous courier learned that the hard way.”

That last part was total bulldog, but I found saying vague comments like that added to my boss’s feline mystique. And if they respected him, they’d respect me too.

The guy, looking down at me with fear in his round pupils, swallowed hard and nodded seriously, pocketing the wrapped package. “O-okay.”

He took off, biped-style, not even bothering to wait for the elevator, but dashing down the stairs.

Meowsion accomplished.

***

You're all welcome. Now go get the original and just IMAGINE the main characters are cats as you read it :). Will they defeat Dogwithoutrix or will Jenna be stuck as a canine forever???

Meankitty & Jody W.
www.meankitty.com * www.jodywallace.com

Snippet Saturday: Author's Choice

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's theme is author's choice. I thought I'd share the first page of the sequel for Cooley's Panther that I'm working on right now. Hopefully even if you haven't read Cooley, you can still jump into the story.

***

Cooley began her campaign to seduce her neighbor Evan Saballo like any nice Southern girl would do. She took him a pie she’d baked herself, and she wore a nice linen sundress to do it.

Evan, however, didn’t even glance at the dessert. Or her breasts, or her legs, or her lovely pink pedicure. Instead he glowered at her face, squinting into the bright May sunlight streaming through his doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” She smiled and raised the pie higher. “Bringing you a little something to eat.”

He widened the crack in the door slightly. He wasn’t looking especially perky. Well, neither would she if she spent half of each night running amuck in the local park.

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

“Maybe not now,” she teased, “but you will be later. Our kind has a high metabolism.”

At the mention of their “kind”, Evan’s glare intensified. It had been three days since the disastrous evening when she’d had to rescue him from the police station. Three long days in which she’d waited for him to thank her, at the very least. She’d discovered a check for the bail money in her mailbox the morning after he’d gotten arrested, but that had been their only communication.

You’d think two special people who’d finally met someone like themselves would have become inseparable, or at least chatted over an iced tea about the ins and outs of life as a shape changing panther, but no. Evan seemed as glad to see her and her pastry as he had been to see her at the police station, which was to say, not very.

***

Jody W.
www.jodywallace.com  * www.meankitty.com

More Choices:

Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Rhian Cahill
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Shiloh Walker
Lauren Dane
Shelli Stevens
Lissa Matthews
Zoë Archer

Meankitty Wants to Know: Kendall Grey

Kendall Grey is the author of INHALE, a book described as an urban fantasy by the author and described by me as a long tail about some big fish and some humans. She's donating all the proceeds from the sales of her fishy trilogy to... Well, you'll see in the interview. You can find out more: http://www.kendallgrey.com/ and you can find her profanity on Twitter at https://twitter.com/#!/kendallgrey1 (not for the faint of eyeball).

1) While I respect that you want to save the whales and you're donating the profits for INHALE to whale education programs, why did you decide to be a writer instead of a cat sanctuary owner?

The husband is allergic to cats, so we can't have any. :-( It makes me very sad because I do so adore your species.

There are so many great organizations already out there for cats. It would be redundant to start a sanctuary. But I often donate to such causes, so I do support you, I promise!

2) Why do you think cats are better than dogs? (Since you call yourself a writer, I trust your answer will be eloquent.)

Cats are clearly more intelligent and have more interesting personalities. Dogs have two settings: bounce and sleep. Cats are multidimensional, mysterious, and they don't bark or eat their own poop [like the dog in the photo]. Therefore, they are superior.

3) Since you already explained your household is deprived of a cat due to a husband's "allergies", which we have heard many times before, would you care to discuss why so many writer-females tend to attract biologically inferior mates? I mean, it was YOUR hypothesis, so now you can explain it. (PS If you need us to block hubby's IP address so you can answer honestly, send it in a separate email.)

It's because we women like to take care of people. These idiot males don't know how to organize milk cartons in the fridge based on the freshness date. They can't load dishwashers properly for maximum cleansing effectiveness. They can't find what they're looking for in the closet when it's staring them in the face. And when they get sick, it's never "normal" sickness. It's MAN sickness, which is by definition 1000 times worse than any other form of sick. So, we smart writer females -- who have way more sense than any male -- take care of the stupid oafs because no one else will.

4) Would you like to share some stories of your floppy dogs embarrassing themselves or being otherwise ridiculous?

I have a long-haired miniature Dachshund. She's very cute, but she has a habit of humping her bed until she falls over. Not sure what that's about, other than sexual frustration. She also likes to steal the kids' underwear. She's not the sharpest tack in the box.

5) How do your dogs make it harder or easier for you to be a writer?

She makes it easier because she lies next to my leg while I work and keeps me warm. [Note: apparently she helps with laundry, too!] Occasionally, she'll look up at me with her cute doggie eyes as if to show her approval. That makes me feel better about myself. However, I'm fully aware that I'd be much more inspired with a cat to keep me company. Some of her cleverness would surely rub off.

6) I see that the word "cat" only appears in INHALE when you're using kitties to describe other things. "Kitty" and "feline" don't appear as individual words at all. Do you plan to rectify this sad lack of felinity and demonstration of poor writing skills in a future book?

Isn't imitation the sincerest form of flattery? You see, by comparing my characters to your fine species, I extol the virtues of your greatness. Show, don't tell, I've been told. ;-)

7) If a cat and Lily the whale from INHALE had a conversation, what do you think they would discuss? (More info about Lily: http://www.kendallgrey.com/?p=3493)

Feelings. Definitely feelings. "Why are you sad today, beautiful cat?" Lily would ask, and then she'd listen for hours. She's all about emotions.

8) You also did a lot of research about Aboriginal Australians for INHALE. Where do cats fall in their various cultures or mythologies? Somewhere important, no doubt.

According to Wikipedia: "Ngariman is a cat-man who killed the Bagadjimbiri, two dingo gods and sons of Dilga, an earth goddess. In revenge, she drowned Ngariman with her milk by flooding the underground cavern where she killed her sons." Hmm...Australia doesn't look like a very promising place for you, my friend.

9) Your world for INHALE has some speculative aspects which include dream worlds that aren't so dreamy and elements that aren't particularly inert. Which kind of Elemental would a cat be? Are cats all one element or would different cats have different leanings?

Cats would be Air, hands down. Air is the Element of intelligence, which your species possesses in abundance.

10) If you threw a book release party for INHALE and invited people, humpback whales and cats, what would be on the menu? Do you think cats would like krill? (Link to INHALE on Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12980966-inhale)

Oh yes, I'm sure cats would enjoy krill. Baleen whales also eat schooling fish like herring and sand lances, so I think you could find plenty to eat at my party.

11) Is this one of the stupidest Wiki questions, ever? http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Are_cats_and_whales_the_same

Yes. Yes, it is. Did you know whales evolved from a wolf-like mammal 50 something million years ago? The carnivoristic (yes, I made that word up) tendencies of whales and cats are the same, but that's where the similarities end, I'm afraid.

12) What are your favorite works of fiction or cinema involving cats or favorite fictional cats? Ok, what about whales?

I'm quite fond of Catwoman from the Batman series. She's not technically a cat, but she's close. I used to dress up as her -- rubber cat suit and all -- at sci fi conventions. I hear Catwoman will make an appearance in the new Batman movie coming out this year. This pleases me greatly.

"The Whale Rider" is a movie about a girl from New Zealand who searches for her identity amid a broken home and finds whales along the way. If you haven't seen it, you really should. Total tear-jerker for me.

13) Did you know it's been clinicially proven (by me) that writers with cats make more money and are happier in general?

I did not know that. What if I put up a cat picture on my wall? Will that bring me happiness and money? Maybe I could get a stuffed cat...? Or one of those hypoallergenic Dr. Evil sphinx cats! That would be awesome. :-)

(Burt from Meankitty.com -- this is what you are missing, human!)

***

Sincerely,

Meankitty & Typing Slave
www.meankitty.com * www.jodywallace.com

Snippet Saturday: Villains

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's theme is villains. Villain POV, villainous monologue, bad guys doing bad things -- I do have that in my books sometimes! Granted, I tend to write grey villains with really mean senses of humor, but they're still hanging around the plot, making things harder on the hero and heroine. Or just the heroine, since there's not a "hero" per se in my newest release A MAGE BY ANY OTHER NAME. This novella is a chick lit meets fantasy mashup of a heroine who saw something she shouldn't have, and it's finally come back to bite her in her snoopy behind in the form of her nemesis from the magical college she attended who has challenged her and her wizardly boss to a duel that might just be do the death...

[[Note that this excerpt does contain spoilers of a sort.]]

***

“Sir, could we speak?” Mary begged. “Privately.”

“In a moment.” Williwim clasped her shoulder in a fatherly way. “Rufus, Victoriana, did I mention to either of you that our Mary’s a named mage? She was spending time in the trenches to perfect her grasp of low magics. Back to the basics and all that.”

The Council representative, Mage Rufus, tucked his hands into his opposite sleeves and inspected Mary with small, piggish eyes. “She don’t look like a mage.”

“Pish, Rufus, mages come in all shapes and sizes. How interesting and...modern. You are so clever to have found her, Williwim.” Victoriana fluttered her eyelashes at Williwim and ignored the Countess’s snort. “What’s her name?”

Here it comes, Mary thought.

But something worse came.

A nasal female voice, oozing with scorn, interrupted her mentor. “Wizard Williwim, I presume?”

They all turned. A young woman with red hair and an equally red, angry face approached, slightly ahead of Professor Grantus. His beard and thicket of tawny hair were as lionish as ever. Both were dressed in black, though Grantus’s long doublet and breeches were embellished with gold, as were his tilt-toed shoes. A thin, dark man in white robes, their referee, paced behind them.

“Ah, there you are, Professor,” Williwim said. “Was beginning to worry you’d mistransported yourself.”

“Dream on. We’re here to retire you, old man,” Lily responded.

Williwim raised an eyebrow. “Does your assistant speak for you now as well as fight for you?”

The townsfolk in the stands quieted as they spotted the foreign spell casters and referee approach their Countess and her wizard. The verbal battle before the challenge was as much a part of the show as the spellworks themselves.

“Finally,” Rufus muttered. He waved a thick wand, amplifying the speakers for the benefit of the audience.

Grantus shook his mane. In a deep, booming voice that projected well, he replied, “At least my assistant is named. I hear your new assistant was unearthed at a spellball factory to support your doddering efforts.”

Williwim gestured at Mary, where she’d ducked behind the Countess. “I was just about to tell Victoriana and Rufus about my assistant’s fascinating history. Mary?”

Mary wanted to melt into the ground. Here it comes. Here it really comes. By the Ladies, she wished Williwim had taught her that disguise spell.

She stepped from behind the high-backed chairs and shuffled to Williwim’s side.

Lily and Grantus took one look at Mary, in her dumpy gown and stole, and burst into laughter. Mary willed her expression to remain blank. She couldn’t tell if they were shocked to see her or amused she’d thought she could hide from them.

Ugly memories resurfaced. Her shoulders hunched. Lily’s goatish titter was still the perfect counterpoint to Grantus’s smutty chuckling. She’d heard it so often at Concerto, it still haunted her occasional nightmare.

***

If you want to read the whole story, you can buy it at:

All Romance eBooks
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Smashwords

*
Jody W.
www.jodywallace.com  * www.meankitty.com

MORE BAD GUYS:

Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Rhian Cahill
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Shiloh Walker
TJ Michaels
Lauren Dane
Shelli Stevens

Cattification Part 2: Excerpt of Light My Laserpointer

Since the excerpt is so long, we've broken Jodi Redfurr's cattification in 2 parts. For part 1, check this out: http://blog.jodywallace.com/2012/04/cattifiation-light-my-laserpointer-by.html It has the explanation, the feliniated blurb, the cover, etc. You will *definitely* want to check out the original excerpt at the Samhain Publishing site: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/light-fire-p-5939.html

***Note 1: There is some mild kitty profanity in the following excerpt.

*** Note 2: As all the participants in the following excerpt are of the feline persuasion, we have taken the liberty of translating catspeak to English instead of the ‘meowmeowmeow’ humans tend to hear. You can see an excerpt with the meow's intact in PrettyKitty of the Nile: http://veronicascott.wordpress.com/2012/03/12/jody-wallace-meankitty-cattify-priestess-of-the-nile/

***

“Take your precious contract and shove it up your dog’s butt.”

His tail lashing, Aslan Furrytuna pounced on the fat sheaf of papers, running in place until all of the paper skidded toward the middle of the massive mahogany table where he was currently sequestered with fifteen members of the Kittykoni council. The papers twirled across the slick surface, drawing intense stares from Aslan’s colleagues. It was all they could do not to leap onto the table and sit upon each piece of paper, for sitting on a piece of paper is infinitely preferable to sitting on plain wood. Truthfully, colleague wasn’t the preferred term Aslan would use for any of these old farts.

“You will fulfill its terms.” Thomas Kittit shifted in his seat, his considerable bulk prompting a floof from the leather-upholstered cushion. A trace of fire shimmered in his cold blue eyes. Obviously he saw no need for his temper to spiral out of control. As head meower for the council, Thomas expected his demand to be met.

Too bad he didn’t know who the hiss he was dealing with.

Aslan surged to his strong black paws, crowding over Kittit. Stabbing the table with enough force to scratch the surface, he granted Thomas a ferocious scowl out of eyes he knew were the brilliant yellow of plain mustard, not that murky beige, spicy mustard mess. “I’d like to see the army of strays you intend on using to carry out your request.”

“It’s not a request, dog-boy.” Kittit shoveled a butter-covered, pill-sized dose of venomous hostility on the last mrow.

Thick silence descended on the room. The other council members watched intently, waiting for Aslan’s reaction to Thomas’s verbal gauntlet. He had no intention of satisfying their thirst for a cat fight. Kittit’s antagonism was nothing new. The cat had made it clear from the start he objected to Aslan being named Supreme Alpha-Hairball of the clan. Though Thomas argued that a three-year-old didn’t have the maturity to fulfill the role of leader, Aslan suspected the real reason Kittit’s fur was in a twist was because the cat had been jockeying for his son to achieve the rank of top cat. Or in this case, top meankitty.

Uncovered-effing-poo for him.

“You would break almost nine lives of tradition? What else do you plan to arch your back at in the name of selfishness?” Ripe contempt underscoring Thomas’s question, he kicked his back leg toward the massive bookcases lining the far wall. “Next you’ll suggest we hold a giant bonfire and toss the sacred Kittykoni texts in for kindling.”

Growls of dissent rumbled around Aslan, provoking an answering growl into escaping his throat. “You know well I have no intention of doing any such thing. But I see no point for this ridiculous mission. I’m fine where I am, living with my parents and their staff.”

“If you don’t do as told, you leave us no choice but to enforce the banishment doctrine. You’ll be named STRAY.” Kittit leaned forward, his flattish, Persian features practically glowing with triumphant glee. “Go ahead and take your walk of shame while wearing a cone-collar and limping from the ministrations of the Evil Vet. I certainly won’t stop you.”

The heavy thump of a cat landing on the table preceded a paw swatting Aslan’s shoulder. Cherry pipe smoke—his father’s human staffer’s personal vice—drifted to Aslan. Turning, he met the regret in Liam Furrytuna’s expression.

“Thomas is right. It’s your duty to carry out the contract.”

Sharp betrayal knifed through Aslan. His father’s claws pricked his skin, an attempt to enforce the seriousness of his words.

“I don’t say this to hurt you. But we must uphold the legacy of the Kittykoni. Already too many have forgotten the ways of our kind. We’ve got cats living on the streets, going feral, tolerating dogs... It’s chaos all around.”

Aslan struggled to corral his frustration. “It’s called evolution. Not necessarily a bad thing.”

A cough heavy with incipient hairball chuffed from Kittit. “What you call evolution I call demoralization.” He too jumped on the tabletop, sending a shudder through the ancient wood. Kittit was one fat cat. “Humans used to squee at the sight of a Kittykoni, and take us home and feed us all the fish we wanted. Now they taunt us by portraying our kind on Internet meme blogs.  Cheezburgers and invisible biking all the time, for all that’s unholy!”

Aslan rolled his eyes. “By Lion, you’re right. LOLCats is a conspiracy cooked up by humans to bring us sobbing to our bellies in shame. I wonder how the devil they discovered our secret love affair with bad spelling?” Jaguarsus, but Kittit’s idiotic paranoia and obsession with that one spot under the fridge was exhausting at times.

“You are out of line, dog-boy.”

“And you are an asshat.”

He and Kittit exchanged fierce glares, neither willing to blink and award the other an edge. The staring contest was on. The soft click of his mother’s claws tapped a warning on the floor as she approached the gathering. Still he kept his focus centered on Kittit.

“Aslan, please be reasonable. Now is not the time to ruffle the fur of the council.”

Thomas broke eye contact first--YES!!!--and twitched his whiskers at Maggie Furrytuna. Aslan burned with the desire to swat the smarmy look off the other cat’s smushed-in face.

“Listen to your mama, dog-boy. She’ll steer you well.”

Aslan glanced at his mother and took in her beseeching expression, her pupils as big and round as a Precious Moments figurine. Her paw lifted and batted at the silver cat claw suspended from a delicate chain around a random cat scratcher in the middle of the table. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the cat scratcher before, but it was clearly a custom job, since the claw was the insignia of the Kittykoni. As a direct, pure blood descendent of Lucius, first of the mighty cats, Maggie Furrytuna was the closest thing to royalty the clan possessed. The others revered her and in return, she did not take her responsibility to them lightly. As her son, Aslan was expected to dewclaw the same line. Even when everything inside him roared, lionlike, at the injustice of being caged inside a cat carrier with an antiquated tradition.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” He bit the agreement out woodenly.

“Good.” Kittit didn’t disguise the triumph in his loud, Siamese-like voice. “I’ve taken the liberty of booking a red eye for you both. You’ll be leaving for Michigan early tomorrow morning.”

Presumptuous son of a bitch. Flicking his whiskers, Aslan spun from the table. He took three bounds before Kittit’s statement fully registered with a resounding yowl in his consciousness. Apprehension slithering along his spine, he stalled.

“Both?” Slowly, he turned.

A satisfied smirk revealed Kittit’s front fangs. “Surely you didn’t think you’d be the only one fulfilling the contract, given your special circumstances?”

With some doing, Aslan kept his pupils normal. “Of course not.” He pivoted and stalked the remaining distance to the large double doors leading from the council chambers. There he clawed at them repeatedly, meowing, until one of the human staffers waiting in the shadows opened the door. In the hall, he scratched the door again, returning to the council chambers, repeating the scratch-demand three more times before he had relieved his aggressive feelings.

Once he finished door-scratching, he buckled to the fury boiling inside him and tore into a vase of flowers like a feline hurricane. Petals flew. Glass shattered. Shaking pollen from his fur, he strutted to the front entrance of the Seattle-based Kittykoni cat house. (Not to be confused with human cat houses, naturally.) He stepped outside, his focus immediately riveting on the monster dually pickup straddling two parking spots in the rear of the lot.

At least he wouldn’t have to go looking for Jace. That was the Furrytuna human staffer’s truck, since he and Jace hadn’t yet bothered to find their own humans. Which, Aslan realized, had resulted in this stupid mission.

Angry hisses funneling from his mouth, Aslan stalked toward the truck, the silent pad of his paws providing his littermate zero warning that he was five seconds away from getting his furry ass whupped.

Aslan leapt onto the hood and spied Laurie Kittit sprawled across the bench seat in a sun spot, her tight, well-groomed fur shining on her sleek body. Jace, Aslan’s littermate, was licking Laurie’s ears as they enjoyed the warmth together. If the delirious purr coming from Laurie was any indication, the sunspot was a good one. A really good one.

“Oh Meow! You’ve almost got that itch. Don’t you dare stop.” Still purring, Laurie dug her claws into the truck’s black leather seat, ripping it as she kneaded.

Aslan slammed his body onto the windshield, howling like a banshee. Laurie jerked her eyes open and shrieked when she spotted him. His disinterested glance skipped over her fluffled tail.

“Sorry to break up the party.” He wasn’t. Not by a long shot. If Kittit discovered his daughter was getting her ears licked by Jace during her mouse break, a cat-pan-crap-storm would erupt. Aslan didn’t have the patience or the time to deal with it. “I need to speak to my littermate. Now.”

A pitiful mew filtering from Jace, he scooted onto his haunches. He licked his white paw one last time, his narrowed pupils glinting with annoyance. “This better be hairball important.”

“We’re leaving for Michigan in the morning.”

Jace blinked. “Wait, you mean…?”

“Yeah.” Aslan pushed the remaining words through clenched fangs. “We’re sharing the new human servant.”

***

I know! So much better, right?? No cold, scaly, weird dragon things, no kitten-making, no glorification of the two-legged form. Cats, cats and more cats.

(Speaking of Cats, Cats, Cats, this is a good kids' book: http://www.amazon.com/Cats-Lesl%C3%A9a-Newman/dp/0689866976/

I hope you have all enjoyed today's double post. Check back soon to see what happens next! (Not between Aslan and Jace, though that does rouse some curiosity, but on the blog.)

Sincerely,
Meankitty & Jody W.
www.meankitty.com * www.jodywallace.com

Cattification: Light My Laserpointer by Jodi Redfurr

We have a new cattification today, which is a two parter since I'm posting the excerpt here this time. First, though, let's check out the deliciously felined cover and blurb for the human romance novel, Light My Fire, by Jodi Redford. It involves something about twin males who can change into dragons and who decide to, repeatedly, attempt to make kittens with some lady. I don't know. Humans are weird. I can see why my Typing Slave wants me to fix this stuff.

As purr usual, we recommend you check out the original before proceeding with the cattification!

Light My Laserpointer by Jodi Redfurr

Original is Light My Fire: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/light-fire-p-5939.html

Double the furpower, triple the sleep...

Aslan Furrytuna’s orders are clear: Find the woman, claim her as a human servant—and share her with his dumb-as-dog, white-furred littermate. Distasteful as it is, the Kittykoni council insists the ancient custom be honored. Or Aslan will be banished....to a house with dogs in it.

One glance at Dana Colourpoint, and Aslan is thrown into the kitty version of a tailspin. (Not to be confused with a kitty tail clothespin, something you should NEVER EVER DO.) Claim her? Heck, yes, he’ll claim her. Not only does she have opposable thumbs, but she tends to sit still for long periods of time and fiddle around with laserpointers! Problem is, she has no idea her father signed her up to foster pooches, from birth. As in, puppies. As in, poop and pee and whining everywhere. (Which does explain why the dog-fostering people keep showing up with baskets of the annoying things, but nobody ever said Dana was quick.)

Dana has fostered enough peek-a-poodles to fill an insane asylum. Two gorgeous kitties hanging around her back porch, staring in the windows, meowing and claiming to be her owners? Par for the course. Until they give her a tantalizing glimpse of their inner beasts, which makes her think she’s the one headed for a padded cell—for actually considering their demand that she no longer foster dogs but instead serve kitties, for life.

Her resistance melts away under the onslaught of two kitties who shed enough fur to coat all the couches in a six-block radius. Especially when she realizes most of her clothes match Aslan's pelt. But with a town full of dog lovers and a Nemesis Stray lurking in the shadows, surviving a week of Aslan and Jace’s double-teaming, stairs-galloping, catpan-scratching, laserpointer-leaping, bed-hogging will be the least of her problems…

Warning: Contains two sheddin' on the beddin' kitties and their not-so-unwilling human convert. A few collar malfunctions and inappropriate use of kitty treats, as in, Dana locked them in the drawer before Aslan and Jace were finished gnoshing. You might want to have your local pound on speed dial in case any dogs show up during the reading of this book.

I shall be posting the cattified excerpt here in a trice. If you'd like to line up for a cattification of your own, just contact my human. She's better with the emails than I am, what with her opposable thumbs and tendency to sit still for long periods of time, qualities in a two-legger we cats clearly appreciate.

Sincerely,
Meankitty & Jody W.
www.meankitty.com * www.jodywallace.com

PS: The gorgeous feline models on our cover are Sam (black) and Sassi (white) from Meankitty.com. Sam doesn't have a Gallery page at Meankitty since he isn't actually MEAN, but Sassi is at:  http://meankitty.com/2012/04/sassi/

PPS: Part 2 with the excerpt is here: http://blog.jodywallace.com/2012/04/cattification-part-2-excerpt-of-light.html

Snippet Saturday: Bad Boys at Night

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's theme is bad boys at night, which has presented me with a bit of a challenge.

I don't write many "bad boys". I can't think of a single male protagonist in my books who would willingly wear leather pants (when not performing, a la Jake in Survival of the Fairest), and none of them are more than a skooch over six feet tall, if that. Tarkin in "Heat" is more like five six or five seven. While there is one hero (Harry in Pack and Coven) who is a mechanic and works on motorcycles, they're not his locomotion of choice. In fact, he spends most of his vehicular time during the book in a Smart car, which he isn't happy about, but still. Embor in One Thousand Kisses is an uptight do-gooder, although his political opponents think he's pretty rotten, while Jon Tom in A Spell for Susannah -- well, he might be the closest thing I've written to a rascal except there aren't any night scenes that exemplify that particular character trait.

I know. What kind of romance writer AM I? The kind who wrote this guy:

***

Cooley lived a ripple-free existence, didn’t make waves, measured twice and cut once even when it didn’t matter. Sometimes it seemed the additional caution was the only thing keeping her from falling into little, fragmented bits.

A leopard loose in her neighborhood definitely required extra caution. A scruffy, unfriendly man two doors down, a man who could be anything from a zookeeper to a murderer—another situation that required extra caution. Extra maneuvering. Especially since she’d awakened his interest, or something, this afternoon. She hadn’t meant to wake the beast, just get a look at him.

When four-thirty a.m. arrived, Cooley dressed in black, put on shoes, and loaded her pellet gun before slipping outside to crouch in the deep shadows beside her gazebo. Around her neck, she placed her camera.

When the leopard trotted by, giving her house a long, luminous glance, she flowed after him. Since the cops had failed to make headway today, she’d find where he denned. Leopards were nocturnal, lazing through the heat of the day as they digested their meals or tussled with their young. And a black leopard was even more a creature of the dark.

Cooley had good night vision, and she saw the leopard’s ears flick when she climbed the woven wire fence. She clutched her pellet gun and hoped she didn’t have to use it. The only shooting she wanted to do tonight was with her Nikon.

The leopard didn’t turn. Cooley breathed a sigh of relief. She scented the big cat’s musk, both sultry and acrid in the brisk night air. She was ready for a run, but as it happened, she didn’t have far to go. All grace and sinew, the cat vaulted into Evan Sabello’s back yard.

Cooley crept under the part of Evan’s oak tree that extended over Mrs. Grinfeld’s pasture. In the timid glow of the stars, she watched in shock as the sleek leopard rose on his hind legs and blurred like an out of focus television program. With an audible snap, the big cat morphed into Evan Sabello himself.

A magnificently nude Evan Sabello, his pale, muscled limbs gleaming under the sliver of white moon.

Cooley rubbed her eyes. He was still there, still built like a legend, tight abs and curling dark hair on his chest and privates, strong thighs and long, elegant feet. He shook back his tousled hair and strode across the open dirt of his back yard.

That was some secret he’d been hiding.

****

Yeah. I'm working on the sequel :)

A few places you can buy Cooley's Panther:

Amazon
Apple/iTunes Store
Barnes and Noble
Diesel Ebooks
Ebook Eros (Diesel)
Kobo
Smashwords
Sony eBookstore

Jody W.
www.jodywallace.com * www.meankitty.com

More nighttime naughtiness:

Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Rhian Cahill
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Lauren Dane
Leah Braemel
Shiloh Walker
TJ Michaels
Zoë Archer