Two breath-taking star-planets in the late sunset sky, my Big Beautiful Cats, they were a dazzlingly bright mystical pair in the dark teal wash of sky, with a band of cherry-orange gleam marking the horizon...the tame prairie is good to the Kougar.
~~~~~~~
Tonight, moi brings you an interview with Enchanting Evonne, her ATIV buddy, and a finalist in the American Title V competition.
Magical Mel, another one of the Kougar’s ATIV buddies, conducted the interview, already in progress...
I’m Evonne, and I come from Barry, which is a large town on the South Wales coast, not far from the Welsh capital city, Cardiff. Those who are into the cult series Doctor Who and Torchwood would recognize landmarks from the area, as it's where they are both filmed.
Mel: Last year, we all competed with paranormal manuscripts, but this year's contest is a genre free-for-all. What's your book's title, and subgenre?
Evonne: My manuscript is called Never Coming Home. It's a contemporary romantic thriller. I seem to have tuned into my dark side while I was writing it, as it has a very high body count and a number of characters meet rather gruesome ends. Not all of them the bad guys.
Mel: Sounds like one of those dangerous books! Can you tell us a little more?
Evonne: Kaz Elmore’s four-year-old daughter died in a car crash while on holiday in the States with her father. Now, six months later, Kaz gets a visit from a guy called Devlin. His account of what happened that day is very different from the one Kaz got from her ex-husband. She needs to find out the truth, and Devlin seems to be the only person who is willing to help her. But can she trust him?
Mel: When we talked about the book earlier, you mentioned that it opens in the U.S., but then it moves to London, and then to Florence. Why were those locations important to you?
Evonne: They were significant for me and for the book. I needed the car crash involving Kaz's daughter to be somewhere that was a long way from home, so that she knows very little about what happened, and is too overcome with grief to ask. Also Devlin is living in the States. Hiding out, if you like. Everyone thinks that he is an American, but he's not, he was born in Hackney, in London. He used to work for a very secret branch of the security services, which I invented for the purpose. When the book opens he is 'retired' and living under a new name.
London and Florence are two of my favorite cities. I lived for a long time in London, and I'd love to live in Italy. I hope that the atmosphere of both comes across in the book. There are also brief trips to France, Lake Garda, also in Italy, and Cardiff, in a short but vital scene at the end of the book. I always like to put a small glimpse of Wales into everything I write.
Mel: To this small-town Midwestern girl, that all sounds so exotic and beautiful! I can't wait to read your excerpts when voting starts. Can you tell us more about the conflicts in Never Coming Home?
Evonne: The book has quite a complex plot, so I had to weave the progress of the love affair and the emotional development of the characters in amongst the parts where I’m throwing people off high buildings. Both Devlin and Kaz are carrying baggage and have a lot of internal conflict. For some reason that she doesn't understand, Kaz trusts Devlin from the beginning. Everyone is telling her that she is wrong to do this and that is also what her brain is telling her, but her instinct is pushing her in the opposite direction. She is afraid that she is making a mistake, which she has made before, relying on a man to solve her problems, when she could and should be doing it for herself. She has no idea how strong she really is, or how much that attracts a man like Devlin, who admires her independence.
Kaz’s mother, Suzanne, was a wild child in the swinging 60s, and her lifestyle has given Kaz an insecure background that she is trying to repair. A lot of my books have an older woman in them, who has an influence on the heroine. I had a lot of fun imagining Suzanne's life as a model and party girl in London in the late 1960s. I will be interviewing Suzanne on author Sylvia Day's blog on 4 December. If everybody would like to drop in then you can find out more about her life.
Devlin’s got his own problems – he’s done some pretty bad things in his past, but now something inside him is changing. It looks like it may be his conscience coming to life. Meeting Kaz makes the whole situation a lot worse, because she seems to be able to push all the wrong buttons. He finds himself volunteering to help her, and it’s all downhill from there. Plus they both think that the other is hot. They don't actually managed to resist each other all that long -- my willpower wasn't strong enough – but, of course, they think that it's only a casual affair. I have news for them …
Mel: Sylvia has been so supportive of American Title. I'll be there with bells on! When you wrote NCH, did you do a lot of plotting, or are you more of a pantser?
Evonne: I’ve never been able to decide about this, because I do both. Never Coming Home was quite heavily plotted in parts, because I had to be sure that all the layers pulled together while Kaz is searching for her daughter. I had bits of plot written on cards which I kept shuffling to get them in the right order. By the sort of nasty coincidence that we evil writers like to throw into the mix, something from Devlin's past also comes back to haunt him. There was even more shuffling then, to ensure that everyone was in the right place, and even in the right country, to be doing what they were supposed to be doing.
In other parts of the book, particularly in the developing relationship between Kaz and Devlin, I often sat down to write with no idea of what was going to happen. I just let them tell me what came next. It took a bit of double checking and sorting out at the editing stage, but it all hangs together now -- I think! Now I just have to see what the readers of Romantic Times make of it.
Mel: I have to know - how did you react this time around when you heard the news you'd finaled?
Evonne: Getting the e-mail from Romantic Times was a very weird experience because, of course, I'm one of the Title Magicians who were finalists last year. So I was thrilled and excited, and also had a strange sense of déjà vu. When I sent off three chapters and the synopsis of Never Coming Home, I really didn't know if I could do it again, or even if they'd accept another entry from a previous finalist. As you know, I didn't even tell the rest of the ladies on Title Magic, not even when I got the request from Dorchester in July for the full manuscript. Only my mum and two close friends knew. They'd all encouraged me to have another try, but I didn't know what to expect. So – I’m living proof that you can have a dream come true more than once.
Mel: Well, you must be doing something right, Evonne. Dream big, and dream often! I'm looking forward to cheering you on!
Vote for your fave entry at the Romantic Times Website.
Now, just for the Big Cool Cats ~
Blocking My Sun... Flash of Sun and Beach
ONE
All alone. She sighed with complete satisfaction, and planted her elbows in the beach’s almost too-hot sand. The surf shone brilliantly, green turquoise with thin lines of iridescent bubbles on the rolling gentle edges. Sorrenna wore her favorite red bikini just in case. So far, no one else had intruded.
She reclined back basking in the burning delicious rays of the sun, with only her thin towel between her and the sugar-fine incredible sand that conformed to her body. Was this a slice of heaven, or what? She smiled, let her eyelids flutter closed and relaxed.
“You’re blocking my sun.”
TWO
The snarl in her voice should have warned him. She didn’t bother glancing up at him, or moving her perfectly curved body–designed for every carnal sin he’d ever had in mind. As he knew it would be. He’d been tailing her the past three weeks for a business client. Suddenly she’d left the city on vacation. The Dragon Lady of the corporate world, who advised when to fold ‘em and when to hold ‘em. When to expand. When to cut back.
Drave couldn’t believe his luck, even though luck favored him like blossoms attracted bees.
“Gonna do anything about it?”
THREE
Sorrenna ignored the crude insolent challenge. From his overwhelming potent smell as he baked in the high tropical sun, she figured he was muscled and male to the core. Sensually arching like a happy cat, she settled even more comfortably in her sand bed, deciding her best strategy was to wait him out. Men like him weren’t noted for their superior patience when dealing with the opposite sex. Still, it was more than annoying that he blocked her sunlight with his obviously huge body. Not one ray touched her skin.
“If I’d wanted shade, I would have brought an umbrella.”
FOUR
Drave had spotted her leaving the flower-prettified bar next to the lobby of his vacation hotel hangout, as he’d been checking in. He’d quickly thrown cash, practically dumped his bag on the bell hop, then stripped down to his suit when his feet hit the sand.
His breath hitched as she moved, tantalizing him brutally with not one thought of doing so. Scenes of her naked and writhing on his bed while he plundered her body with his, exploded in his head. Not to mention his loins exploded to instant need.
Down, he ordered his cock.
“Consider me your sun.”
FIVE
Sorrenna deigned to open one eye. All she saw was tree trunk-sized bronze legs.
After hissing a long impatient sigh, she reluctantly rolled over and wiggled into a comfortable position. It so figured. Finally she’d been able to sneak off on vacation and now this impossible lout wanted to be her ‘sun’. Maybe if she slipped into a nap, maybe if she snored, he’d get the hint pounded through his obviously thick skull like a damn ten inch nail.
Drowsiness seeped into her limbs along with the warmth of the sand. He didn’t leave.
“You’re a damn shade tree. Move.”
SIX
Drave stared at her voluptuous ass, so round and such a blatant invitation, with only a red strip of cloth in his way. He groaned silently. His entire body growled for her, a damn bear claiming a honey-filled tree. He forced himself not to grab his cock, rising like a sentinel on watch in enemy territory.
Front or back, she was the kind of woman a man watched, raised up his on fists, while his cock took her with long pillaging thrusts. While she moaned with extreme pleasure. And let him do whatever he wanted with her.
“I can’t move.”
A LARGE GLASS
SEVEN
Effing annoyed, Sorrenna stifled a massive sigh. Deciding to open one eye, she reluctantly peeked out the corner. Good God! The man’s organ towered like a friggin’ utility pole. Instantly her brain flashed a scenario of her saying, timber, as if she’d just sawed it off and the enormous pole now fell on top of her. Even worse, the ridiculous urge to cover herself with her arm almost caused her to do it. Forcing her casual reach, she idly lifted the corner of her towel, then pressed the electronic waiter.
“Large glass of ice water. As soon as possible, please.”
EIGHT
Ice water. For an instant his brain froze as if she’d just dumped ice water on his head. In another firing of his neurons, he realized that wasn’t the head she was planning on freezing with her large glass of ice water. What the fuck hell now? He wasn’t leaving. His feet wouldn’t move. And, damn, his cock felt like an anchor effectively weighing him down to the spot. Not like he could hoist himself, despite the lack of other patrons, and sail away. Mentally, he shook himself, thinking through the heavy carnal fog.
“Raoul, over here. I’ll get it.”
NINE
Sorrenna froze as if he’d drenched her with a barrel of ice water. Her heart pounded painfully. Now what? The odious beast blocked her sun. And blocked what she’d yearned for since the beginning of summer. To be alone, damnit! On vacation. Fury whipped through her, and she whipped around. Good god, it was even more humongous. Up close. And way too personal. She felt like her eyes crossed as she stared at his cock. Hell, no wonder he couldn’t move. A ton of cock weighed him down. She wanted to ask him if he’d ever considered reduction surgery.
“Leave.”
TEN
Her voice blazed ice and rage, and sliced up his middle. Her gaze trained on his cock, however, had him happier than a callow youth noticed by his first crush. Fuck, her full high breasts still jiggled, barely contained by the red scraps of material. There wasn’t one part of her body his cock didn’t want. Raoul placed the large glass of ice water in his waiting hand, said nothing, and quickly departed. Drave figured he had only three options. Pour the water out. Pour it down his pants. Or let her pour it on his cock.
“Your ice water.”
ELEVEN
Sorrenna snapped her hand forward, grabbed the ice water, and felt it nearly slip from her grip because of the cold sweating glass. Hanging on tightly, she scowled more formidably, as she held up the glass in a warning for him to leave or suffer the consequences. When he stood steadfast, refusing to un-root himself, she rose to her knees. Grinning with dark glee, she targeted his giant cock with her gaze. Slowly, with his torment in mind, she lifted the glass higher and higher, until it hovered directly above the jut of his trunks. Then she poured. Gradually.
“Enjoying?”
TWELVE
Clenching his eyes shut, and chomping his teeth together as if he bit the bullet, Drave let the icy agony take over his body. God. Hell, what ugly pain and what unexpected pleasure. The strange ecstasy stabbed through his cock, then flooded his loins. He quaked inside, the visual of her wrist turning the full glass of water so it spilled in a small stream onto the head of his cock, then the dream-like darkening of his trunks...weirdly, as erotic as hell. Even as the cold burned his balls like hellfire.
Shock, he decided. But fuck, he ‘enjoyed’.
“Yes.”
ANOTHER GLASS?
THIRTEEN
Yes, his answer clanged through her like an antique fire engine bell. She knew it was also an emergency warning. This man was dangerous. Dangerous to her. Dangerous on every level. Although his utility pole cock had diminished in size. Not much. Still, the thrill of some victory bubbled through her veins. Gradually, she surfed her gaze up his body, noting the bloodless clench of his fists. The tough bands of bronze muscle. The dark V of hair on his chest. The swimmer’s breadth of his shoulders. Finally, the determined V shape of his chin.
“Another glass of ice water?”
FOURTEEN
Hell, he didn’t like it. But he’d stand her all day letting her pour whatever she wanted on his begging cock. Even though shards of pain blistered along his length. He felt her slow perusal up his body, as if erotic razor blades cut up his torso. He clenched his eyelids savagely, the image of her lips tasting him, soothing him. First, sliding over his cock’s head. Blood poured into his loins, threatening to raise the sentinel again. Fuck! He wanted to tell her to lower his trunks, to put her sweet sexy mouth on his cock and suck.
“Please.”
FIFTEEN
Damn fucking dangerous. And a glutton for icy punishment. Sorrenna figured, why not? At least, if she couldn’t enjoy the sun, she could perversely entertain herself. Especially, since he seemed so stupidly willing. Dolt. What a dolt head. Actually, from her position, she couldn’t see his head. Only his clean-shaved tanned chin, stalwart, male stubborn. And the big lobes of his ears. But, not his head. Or his cock’s head. Though, the enormous spear-like tip was outlined by his wet trunks.
Sitting back on her heels, she plucked up the e-waiter device.
“Another glass of ice water, extra large, please.”
SIXTEEN
Damn, he shivered inside like a wind-buffeted leaf. Feeling again, the blaze-icy sting of water being poured on his pleading arousal. God, he wanted it again. And he didn’t. He wanted to watch her stream the erotic torture over his cock. But hell, not more than he wanted to jump her lusciously curved bones. Feel her struggle wildly beneath him, as he pleasured her to wanting him so desperately, she writhed like an utter wanton. Against his entire body. Then parted her wet thighs, crying for him to ride her to orgasm, into their oblivion. Theirs, alone.
“Yes, extra large.”
SEVENTEEN
Hell, she’d give his towering manhood its obvious due. It was definitely ‘extra large’. Crap, the whole man was extra large in stature. Or he wouldn’t be blocking her sun so effectively. Damn, she’d need an extra large glass of extra icy water to shrink that son o’ shooting sperm. Sorrenna nearly laughed hysterically. An image of her rolling, holding herself, laughing until her sides hurt grabbed her mind’s eye. Come to think of it, maybe that would cut it down to size. If she suddenly fell over in a screaming fit of laughter. Timber!!!
“Extra large for extra large.”
EIGHTEEN
Even though her voice dripped with a healthy dose of sarcasm, Drave’s ‘extra large’ bobbed appreciatively, straining the waistband of this trunks. Fucking hell, at least, her gaze remained fastened on his brave cock. But was that a suppressed giggle he’d heard? He bent forward, peering past the wet tent of his trunks to study her face. Her shoulders began to shake slightly, as if she controlled herself. She chewed on her cherry-plump bottom lip. And he would have bet a hefty sum, laughter glittered in her eyes. Hysterical laughter. Now the gorgeous swells of her breasts quivered.
“Go ahead.”
EXTRA LARGE LAUGH
NINETEEN
Go ahead? Had she heard right? Her stifled giggles escaped like small bubbles. At first. Her shoulders shook faster. Then her laughter burst free, springing up from deep inside her belly. Louder and louder. Hugging herself Sorrenna collapsed back on her heels. Her laughter erupted uncontrollably, cascades of rising sound. Whenever she managed to open her eyes, she only laughed harder, since the wet jut of his trunks remained impressively the same. Extra large, his cock still towered above her. Although, his balled fists were now white beneath his tan.
Sorrenna laughed as if she hadn’t laughed in ages.
“Timber.”
TWENTY
Timber?! Drave arched one brow, even as he ogled the sheer sexual beauty of her jiggling breasts like a damn deprived pervert. Her uninhibited laughter should have shrunk his libido down to a lesser size, and made his trunks feel a hell of a lot more comfortable. Nope. Like a besotted fool, he relished the sight of her unrestrained reaction to him, even though she howled harder every time she glanced at his unsinkable cock. My god, the delicate, yet lush line of her creamy throat, revealed as she laughed, tempted his mouth to consume her with kisses.
“Timber?...oh.”
TWENTY-ONE
Laughter threatening to split her sides, Sorrenna fell over on her side, her arms wrapped around herself. She rolled back and forth, the hot sand beneath her towel a wonderful cushion, and not a deterrent whatsoever to her unceasing chortles. Faster and faster, she shook with her shrill guffaws. God, it hurt, and she couldn’t make it stop. And it felt good all at the same time. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. Now all she could do was lay weakly on her back, with absolutely no sun shining on her, and laugh.
“Make it stop. Go away.”
TWENTY-TWO
No with a capital N, he wasn’t going away. Yeah, fuck, he could make ‘it stop’. Damn hell, he wanted to make it stop. But she’d never let him near her bed, let alone her precious all-perfect life, if he launched on top of her like a raunchy humping dog, and ravished her to a raw blazing lust. Here. In front of everyone. On a public beach. Not that he’d mind. He didn’t care with her. Truth to God. All he hellfire cared about was her. Having her. Fucking her forever.
“If I go away, I can’t make it stop.”
TWENTY-THREE
If you go AWAY, it will stop, she desperately wanted to shout at the brainless male who looked like he could be a man-bull hybrid. But, her vocal chords refused to cooperate. Nearly exhausted, and boneless as a ragdoll, Sorrenna opened one eye. It was still there and still damned extra large. Helplessly, she vibrated with more chuckles. Some crappy unhappy vacation, she thought, yet, shook with more laughter. God, her sides hurt. Hell, her hand was so limp on her belly, she couldn’t lift it. Damn, except for her uninhibited laughter, her vacation had taken a vacation.
“Get lost.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Lost in you. Lost between your sexier-than-heaven thighs. Lost between the gorgeous swells of your breasts. Yeah, baby doll, I’ll get lost. Lost in you until your pussy begs and bucks for my hammering cock. Drave accepted the giant-sized glass of ice water, the cubes rattling against the sides of the sweating glass as he brought it before his chest. His cock didn’t know whether to shrivel like a coward or do an erotic bobbing happy dance. God, she was the perfect temptress as she lay still, conquered by her own laughter
“You’ll get lost every time I kiss you.”
ICY DOSE...
TWENTY-FIVE
Yeah, sure. In what universe? Yet, her traitorous lips tingled, a tiny bit. It had been ages since she’d kissed a man. Balefully, and with one eye, she stared at the extra large glass of water above the man’s extra proud cock. Rivulets of moisture ran down the sides of the glass. Dripping down his beefy-sized, yet somewhat attractive hand. It was just too damn bad, for her, she’d laughed herself into exhaustion. Or, she could rise up and give his Mr. Extra Large another icy dose of her extreme displeasure. If he handed it over.
“Save me the trouble.”
TWENTY-SIX
Drave fastened his gaze on her, as he’d never done on anyone or anything in his life. Even when facing down the bad guys, holding weapons bigger than he held, who wanted like every fucking hell, to take him apart piece by bloody-dripping piece. Then throw him to the fishes. The urge to turn the glass over, and slowly pour a stream of icy water on her gorgeous middle, then dive down and lap it off her silken skin, before one drop escaped, scorched through him hotter than the sun.
“Hell, I am blocking your sun. You should thank me.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
His words rolled roughly over her flesh. And his bold stare penetrated her like she knew Mr. Extra Large wanted to penetrate her. Still recovering from her laughing fit, Sorrenna considered how to resolve her galling ridiculous situation. Mr. Determined Bull was not the type of man a woman appealed to for mercy from his humping lust. Quirky inspiration struck her the next moment. With the double whammy of her curiosity. Why not? She eyed the water glass for several seconds, then slid her gaze down to his cock. Then up. Then down again.
“Does it look like a bull?”
TWENTY-EIGHT
From her silent communication, Drave nearly dumped the glass of ice water on his own desperate cock, fiercely surprising himself. Still, her question stunned him even more. And he fucking figured, it had stunned her too. By her frozen expression, and the flash of wild fright in her eyes, quickly replaced with defiance. In a fraction of a second, he decided. Gritting his teeth, he slowly saturated the front of his trunks with icy water, outlining his desire for her. His cock complained, aching like fire.
“ Does it look like a bull? Or, am I bull-sized? What do you think?”
TWENTY-NINE
Never had Sorrenna felt so utterly still. She couldn’t feel her breath. For a cock, it did make somewhat of a majestic impression, in all it’s icy soaked glory, she had to admit. Effing hell, not that she knew much about a man’s penis, not being an avid *drooling* connoisseur of the male anatomy. Damn beyond damn, why had she impulsively blurted out a private thought? It had impaled her brain like a lightning bolt? Then leapt from her lips. What was she supposed to do now? Actually answer Mr. Extra Large’s questions?
“More like a marble monument, I think.”
THIRTY
It was his turn to bust a gut laughing. Drave allowed the corners his mouth to curl upwards, briefly. Too bad his ‘marble monument’ ached, burned viciously. Too fucking bad his cock strained toward her like a barbarian who’d finally found a woman after years of deprivation...or, he would let loose. Boom with guffaws. Shake the sun-drenched air. Fall beside her, and quit blocking her sun. Then touch her.
No, his restrained laughter quivered his stomach muscles, because his needy greedy cock ruled. Ready to mount her senseless.
“I’ll donate my marble monument to your private museum. Delivery date?”
DRINKS LATER...
THIRTY-ONE
Enjoying his clever-enough innuendo, Sorrenna allowed a small smile to curve her lips. Damn his giant blocking hide, it might be an invitation, yet his incredible perseverance would likely continue, whether she grinned, or not. He returned her smile in kind. Hell, at least, he looked at her face. Not just her body. Perseverance was a quality she admired, even if Mr. Extra Large’s bullish behavior was boorish in the extreme. In point of fact, she could use a man like him as a silent member of her investigations team.
“Go away now. I’ll have a drink with you later.”
THIRTY-TWO
Her little smile did things to his insides, his best lovers hadn’t done in bed, or wherever they’d fucked. Groaning inwardly, he shut his eyes, her plump beautifully-shaped mouth a torment he couldn’t endure, without straddling her like a mad mating bull, and taking her unwilling lips. God as his witness, he wanted her. Bad. Bad to the bone. His bone of aching cock, that refused to give up hope, it was going for a long sweet hot ride inside her sultry heat. Soon. He groaned inwardly again, a special agony coursing up his torso. A damn drink later...
“Promise?”
November 18, 2008
THIRTY-THREE
Promise. He wanted her to promise him she would have a drink with him...yes. However, the way he’d spoken it, he also wanted her promise that she would be his willing sexual prize, afterwards. For an instant, she stared unblinking at his stalwart frame, obviously not deprived of the sun’s benefits, since his skin was bronzed. Her eye traveled from his who-cares-if-you-kick-me shins upwards. And, she wished the sex-crazed idiot would, at least, turn to the side, so the sun could shine above the tip of his lance-like cock. So, she wouldn’t be deprived.
“Want a specially engraved invitation?”
THIRTY-FOUR
‘Yeah, written right on the hard length of my cock with your nails, baby doll.’ Fuck, anything to ease the pulsing agony. Her cute little nails carving out a special invitation, seemed a lot less painful, than his unrelieved manhood. Still, Drave liked her grit, hell, almost as much as he liked her beautifully curvaceous body. ‘Like’ being an available word, that barely covered the way he really felt. But, damn, yes, he wanted an engraved invitation from her, simply because it meant she’d show up. And he had to have that.
“Yes. As special as you can make it.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
Tomorrow, the Kougar will be blogging at Title Magic ~ Magic or Murder by Edit ~ the subject being process of editing her manuscript, Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~
A kiss of enchantment from the Kougar...
Yes, my Beautiful KitKats, rejoice if you have an Ipod or Iphone...Siren-BookStrand will be offering their titles for download. This post has been edited to remove the News Release ~ since some of the details have now been changed.
Just for the Big Cool Cats ~
Cruelty... Flash of the Caribbean Vampire
ONE
Cruelty can take many forms. I sit in the dark. In the back. In the corner farthest away from the gorgeous young women strutting their stuff beneath the pink-shimmering illumination inside the intimate private ballroom of a Caribbean mansion, belonging to a mysterious man everyone called the Vampire.
The lingerie designs they model not only excite the libido to a painful level, but each one is exquisitely unique and incomparably beautiful. I lust over most of them, my breath hitching ridiculously. God, I wanted to wear them. As I could have once. But, I’m too old. Too ugly. Too fat.
TWO
“May I offer you a drink, madam?” The man’s voice behind me was deep, impossibly deep, and definitely amused. I had no idea why he would find me amusing. Unless he found old and fat some sort of sick private joke? Yeah, mess with the fat woman and tempt the oldie into believing a man found her ‘interesting’. That’s a good one. Haha. Only I’m not laughing, creep.
“I believe you will find the mango sangria particularly refreshing.”
“Mango sangria?” Stupid, stupid! Why take the bait? I should just ignore him. Damn.
“A sip. I wish you to try it.”
THREE
“Wish all you want. No thanks.” Go away. Go find another victim. Irritated, my cheeks flushing...thank god, it’s dark...I return my attention to the filmy glamor negligees. I wish I could feel the silk and lace, the sheer whirl of color as it swishes and slinks over my hourglass curves, as they once were. Not so many years ago. I want to look in the mirror again, admire my own beauty. Maybe be admired. If it’s the right man. Passion untamed...god, yes.
“Please, I need your opinion.”
Suddenly, he’s sitting beside me. I blink like an owl.
FOUR
“My opinion,” I nearly stutter. No man can soundlessly move that fast, can he? His voice had come from my left. Now he sat on my right, his gaze focused on me as if he intended to feast on my face. Maybe he was, in a way. Maybe it was my blood he was after. I stifled a shiver, and chastised myself. The Vampire. I only recognized him because the magazine I freelanced for on the island, often featured him on the society pages. “Oh, I get it. For the magazine’s drink recommendations.”
“If that pleases you, then, yes, Sapphira.”
FIVE
“What else?” Damn, why had I said that? I’d just opened the door...
“I wish to know your palate.” Leaning back, he suavely crooked one finger.
I swallowed as if my life depended on it. I’d never heard of the Vampire interacting with anyone at his fantasy fashion shows. Yes, he attended the island’s elite social events, a stunning woman attached to his side, cleavage down to her navel. But not...
With debonair precision, a waiter from out of nowhere, it seemed, deposited two tall shapely glasses. The Vampire lifted his while I stared.
“To your health, Sapphira. Please taste.”
SIX
Okay, Cici, the mag’s owner would kill me if she found out I hadn’t ‘tasted’. Besides, it would be a coup of a society story, even though I’d only agreed to write up the fashion show because her usual reporter retched with morning sickness.
I pick up the cool curvy glass, then convince my hand not to shake as I slightly raise it. “To your health, Mr. Vorragozi.”
“Tell me what you think,” he encourages.
Are his eyes sparkling strangely? It’s not real blood, is it? Sangria...doesn’t that mean blood? God help me, if I’m remembering right, it does.
SEVEN
I sip. It’s so perfectly yummy-mango, I sip again. And again. Four sips. Five. I force myself to set the glass down. “Amazing. Very amazing, Mr. Vorragozi.”
“I prepared it just for you.”
“Why?” My head begins a pleasant swim. I smile.
“Tell me, what’s your favorite lingerie?”
“Baby dolls,” I blurt out as if I can’t contain myself. “Truth serum?” I ask, and hold up the glass.
“What would be your favorite color to wear?” His eyes glisten like black pearls.
“Red.” My tongue is utterly disobedient.
“Yes, I must have you in red.”
“Blood-red! What kind of cruelty...”
EIGHT
“Cruelty?” He inquires a moment after I’d firmed my lips, despite the maddening urge to blab like a chic lit heroine. I think his eyebrow is raised, but the darkness makes me wonder. Still, his tone is cool as his restaurant’s giant freezer. I know I’ve been in it, writing an article for Cici.
He waits with a patience I admire, or perhaps, he simply enjoys my mouse-like torture as I scurry in my mind to think of a way to escape.
“My age. I think it’s cruel.” So there, Vampire. Maybe that will turn you ice cold with revulsion.
NINE
“How old are you, Sapphira?”
Do I hear the faint drumming of his fingertips? God, I’d love to take another drink. The glass taunted me like a singing Siren.
“Please tell me,” he coaxed. Very persuasively.
It was either grab the glass and sip...or...”Fifty-eight.” I harden my jaw, then avert my face. “Satisfied? Happy?” I slice my tone quite effectively, I believe.
“Would you care to guess my age?”
Neutral, his voice, yet tempting, a caress of black velvet. Oh yes, there’s that underlying amusement.
I gage my chances at shutting him down. Not damn likely, I realize.
TEN
Still...I’m a sucker for the right challenge.
“Forty something,” I fling at him, tightly gripping my hands together. The Mango Sangria beckons and my mouth begs to taste ambrosia again.
He laughs...melodic and deep. Frissons of ecstatic pleasure seize my nerve endings. I sit paralyzed. Wishing I could move. But I couldn’t. I truly couldn’t.
I couldn’t even blink.
“I’ve been told thirty-five. Often.” He made no attempt to hide his amusement. The hypnotic glitter of his eyes danced in the dimness, and felt like a gentle stroke on my face. Odd.
“Actually, I’m one thousand and forty-one.”
ELEVEN
What the hell kind of drug had he put in that drink?
Maybe, it was blood. His blood? Vampire addictive blood. Hadn’t I read that somewhere? Some romance novel from years ago...however my brain is too fuzzy to remember, as if I’d indulged in drinking a Fuzzy Navel. Damn.
I finally blink. “Forty-one?”
“You’ll enjoy the dark side, my pretty Sapphira,” he promises.
“The dark side,” I mumble. Straightening my spine, I announce, “I don’t do the dark side.”
“Do?” He leans forward slightly. “I believe you’ll enjoy ‘doing’ me. As much as I will passionately enjoy ‘doing’ you.”
TWELVE
Shocked to my core...wherever that was, I scoot my chair back, then attempt to stand. It wasn’t happening. My legs have transformed to rubber. “I am leaving.” My chin high, I press down on the table to shove myself upwards.
Instantly...before I can even think about blinking, he is beside me, his hand on my arm as if he intends to escort me somewhere.
“Go away,” I snap, only able to raise myself part way. My temper emerging, I confront the devil vampire, “What drug did you put in my drink?”
“No drug. Merely a special flower essence.”
THIRTEEN
“What? The flower of Bloodroot?” I emphasize ‘blood’ while trying to pull my arm out of his gentlemanly grip. And why the hell does he smell like patchouli and expensive cigar smoke, some exotic mixture of the two which intrigues me more than it should.
“Several blooms from our local flora,” he calmly purrs. Again amusement hides in his voice, highly irritating me.
“Let go.” I stiffen.
“My Sapphira.” His tone humors me. “I will not have you harmed.”
“And spiking my drink with ‘special’ essences won’t harm me?” My tone goes for his jugular.
“It will only enhance our risque’ pleasures.”
FOURTEEN
“I’m not risque’ pleasuring with you,” I storm.
I would have tried jerking my arm away. But damn, I knew he wasn’t letting go. The horrid, overly sexy man.
“Yes, you will.” He’s leaned down to my ear, his tone intimate dark bait I yearn to leap for like a silly fish.
“No, I won’t.” Righteous temper is not confined to youth. “I don’t care what ‘special essence’ you put in my drink.”
“My Sapphira,” he vampire purrs. “Yes, you will.”
In a fit of temper I stomp on his foot. Though, really, I’m not wearing tramp chic spiked heels.
FIFTEEN
Yeah, my marshmallow-sole sandals are going to skewer his foot. He laughs, a low chuckle, just for my ear.
Damnit, I like the virile sound. My insides turn all buttery fluttery.
So what.
“I’ll scream,” I warn.
“I’ll kiss you,” he warns.
Kiss...it skitters through me like a thousand landing butterflies, their wings flapping.
I wiggle my arm in his grip, a useless exercise. Useless like me trying to run on the beach every morning. The only thing it got me was severely sore knees.
“Do you drink blood?”
The words dare their freedom before sanity claims them back.
SIXTEEN
Oh God...my heart thumped to beat any band. Ricky Ricardo thwacking the bongos in a fast Latin rhythm during an episode of I Love Lucy, seizes my mind. Does the Vampire hear?
How superior are his senses? Oh god, he has to be a Vampire. What else?
“You’re trembling, Sapphira.” He picks up the Mango Sangria. “Another sip?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I counter. Damn it to hell, my voice quavers like a helpless gothic heroine. And I ache to grab hold of the glass. Sip, then keep on sipping.
“Would you like me to taste your blood?”
SEVENTEEN
Seduction. Temptation. The ultimate sexual purr. His voice, a sound barely above a whisper, possesses my ear. Not just the sound. The rim of my ear tingles, pleading for the feel of his lips. The grazing of this teeth.
Omygod. The touch of his fangs?
“Does my rapid neck pulse of absolute fear thrill you?” I dare. With the truth. Why not? He must know. I feel the quick heavy throb below my ear and hate it.
“You thrill me, Sapphira.” He hovers the glass before my lips. “One sip.”
“Tell me the truth,” I desperately bargain. “Then I’ll sip.”
EIGHTEEN
“Which truth, my beloved?”
Beloved...what the freaking hell? This climbed the ladder of creepy exponentially, the way he’d spoken it. As if it were a true endearment. Omygawd.
“Whatever ‘truth’ is most convenient, of course,” I snipe at him. Ripping my gaze away from the sweating glass of Mango Sangria, I try to swallow away my awful thirst. Useless.
“In some respects you haven’t changed, my Sapphira.”
“You act as if you know me,” I snap back like a hoyden. And know, once again, I’d pulled a bonehead move...day-ummm, was that a boner in his black linen pants?
NINETEEN
“I do know you,” he asserts in a dark purr.
I blink several times, lifting my gaze.
“How? We’ve never met before.”
I look down again, expecting not to see what I’d seen. Suddenly, I can’t feel my breath. It’s still there, standing proudly. All too proudly.
“On the island. No, we’ve never met, my Sapphira.”
I stare at his hard-on for what feels like an eternity. Aware that he’s amused like some idle harem prince.
“Where?” I mumble, and jerk my gaze away.
The glass or his overly large cock. I’m trapped between the two.
“Sip. I’ll tell you.”
TWENTY
“Let go. I don’t want to know you.” Yes, a deep vein of stubbornness runs in my family. Hellfire, I wonder which vein he wants to suck on most. And why? He could be Mr. Suave Vampire and suck on any of the four young beauties now eyeing us. They blink their bright-lantern, doe-big eyes as if the magnetic poles are about to shift, tilting the known world upside down. Okay, it could happen. But if it were, there’d be mass panic. I could escape into the abyss of catastrophe.
“Yes, you do,” he assures.
“They want to know you.”
TWENTY-ONE
“They?” he asks as if I’ve actually caught him off guard. Yeah, right, Mr. Huge Boner vampire. It’s still amazingly upright and HUGE. I stare, rather than gaze at what I can never be again. Never was, actually. Beautiful, yes. Not that kind of thinner-than-thin glamor, chic always my constant companion.
“Go, suck their blood,” I prompt, closing my eyes. Could I just fall forward, dead weight, and crawl beneath the table...damn, desperation does breed it’s own insanity.
“I find their blood unappetizing,” he elegantly intones, right out of the movies. “You used to enjoyably suck on my cock.”
TWENTY-TWO
Shocked, no, shocked was not the word. My blood iced. Another ice age? The next instant my blood flamed. Global warming? There was no one word. I’m shocked in the extreme...but, my pique won out, stronger, fiercer, faster...
“Which one would you prefer me to suck on first, Mr. Vorragozi? Your abnormally large dick? Or, should I suck up the rest of the Mango Sangria? How about if I just suck your blood?”
“Dhalyon.” His voice rasped. I suppose because he was actually ‘turned on’ by my offer.
“Dhalyon,” I repeated, not understanding him.
“My first name is Dhalyon.”
TWENTY-THREE
I scowl and consider if I should bite his dick. Viciously.
“I wish you to know my first name before you ‘suck’ on any part of my very willing anatomy, Sapphira.”
“How very gentlemanly of you,” I snarl. “But you haven’t chosen what you want me to suck on first. I gave you three choices.” I emphasize ‘suck’ loudly. And almost feel as though I could stare the Vampire down. Almost. Instead the four beauties openly stare at us. I smile at them. Then give a little wave.
“Cruelty.” His growl was suave. “That I have not possessed your spirit.”
TWENTY-FOUR
“Cruelty?” I ask, stunned in no small measure by fate’s circular pattern.
“That I have not possessed your spirit in my bed. In my life.”
Something twists inside my middle, large as an anaconda. I want an explanation, so fierce I can taste it. Yet...from him. The Vampire.
”Which one?” I utter. And, I have no idea why, except my mind has been left behind in this latest beyond-weird development.
“I had hoped to make this easier on you, my special one.”
“By what? Drugging me with Mango Sangria?” I stab the blade of my voice into him. Sarcastically.
TWENTY-FIVE
Again, my heart thumps like bongo drums. “Okay, not the Mango. Or the Sangria. But whatever drugging ‘substances’ you used.”
Why I feel compelled to correct anything, I don’t have a brain cell left with any clue. Maybe, I merely fill the silence. A vortex of silence. Suddenly.
“I could disappear with you,” he says so softly I’m not certain I actually hear him. Except, inside, I know.
I blink. I sweat. I blurt. “Like a bat? A bat out of hell.”
“No. Like smoke. Poof.”
“Oh.”
“Poof,” he darkly whispers. “We would appear wherever I choose to take you.”
TWENTY-SIX
Okay, my insides have never felt so gooey-spooked. My eyes blink as if they’ve just snapped toothpicks in two. And I swallow, way past *I’m seeing-a-ghost fright*. The closest I recall is Rosemary’s Baby. Now, that was creepsville scary. Yep, and I’ve never gotten over that movie, either. Hell, I don’t like Halloween Haunted houses. Or slasher movies. Or...hell’s bells, as a kid, I didn’t watch the Twilight Zone after one episode, my nightmares were so gargoyle-flying hideous.
“Wouldn’t that look suspicious?” I give another wave to the four beauties, their interest still captured, as much as I’m still captured.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Oddly, I feel him vibrate with laughter. At odds with his statue-like phallus. Yeah, keep the Vamp amused. Maybe, he won’t poof me ‘somewhere’.
“Vampire Viagra?” I ask, staring pointedly at his well-defined, mushroom-shaped point. Damn, what a mouthful...if? If I ever had sucked his dick like he said...had I?
He shakes with more laughter. Until, his finger claims the flesh beneath my chin. I’m surprised by the heat, not by the length of his lone finger. He compels, more than lifts my face. His eyes, dark as midnight, flash like summer lightning.
“You were always my inspiration.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
I almost wish he would bite. Swoop down, and bite. Or do something. His gaze, darker than black, penetrates me, reminding me of a sword swallower. Yep, the force of his gaze is a sword I swallow. Yet, there is a plea, like the flicker of candle, in the depths of his eyes...for what I cannot give him. My few memories of other lifetimes don’t include him. Or any remembrance of vampires. Hell, it’s not like I ever actually knew one.
Time escapes with every breath. His finger doesn’t release my chin. Nor does his gaze unlock from mine.
TWENTY-NINE
The tension kills me, hacking up my insides like a Japanese restaurant chef on meth. Maybe, I should turn my head, the surrendering heroine in this scene...offer my neck, then point to my anxiety-throbbing pulse, and say, Do it, Vampire. Bite me. Bite me right here. Right now. Just do it. Just do it now. Except his gaze entrances me. And I remain obedient. Silly, foolish, stupid, beyond-being-an-idiot me.
“Not here,” he murmurs.
“Too much blood.” The words stumble from between my lips. I sway toward him, feeling impossibly fragile. I whisper, “Why be arrested for assault or murder?”
THIRTY
“I prefer the taste of your lips first.”
The pad of his finger travels over my sensitive flesh, finally grazing my chin, then leaving. It feels barren without his touch. Yet, panic has it’s claws in me. Torn between sensual perfection and my raging fear, I had begged fate to step in, have it’s way.
“My Sapphira.” His palms stroke up my arms. With passion he takes hold of my shoulders, an invitation to come nearer. To become his. I’m not fooled. I know he intends to claim me, regardless of whether I accept him now.
“Kiss me,” he entices.
THIRTY-ONE
The timbre of his voice is gorgeously dark. I sway, and come dangerously close to swooning.
“Kiss me here. Kiss me now,” he croons deeply, like the night he must prefer inhabiting. I swear he must be magnetized, or a true sorcerer. Every particle of my body and being is being pulled toward him. Yes, as much as he urges me forward, I move to him. He’s so tall, my head falls back. Rather than his devastating lips, I half expect to feel the prick of his deadly fangs. God...
“No,” I plead. “I’m too old, too ugly...too fat.”
November 17, 2008
THIRTY-TWO
An image of me, as I saw myself in the mirror...how I must look in front of anyone who now watches...and who wouldn’t watch? Unless pure disgust overcomes them, their bile threatening, and about to choke them. The debonair handsome most-desired man on the island about to kiss a woman who looks like me.
“Stop,” he whispers. It’s a command, a plea...and passion. “Stop, Sapphira.”
“Not here,” I murmur. Embarrassment climbs up my body like a thousand monkeys after bananas.
His mouth lowers to mine. “Here. Here now.” There’s no point in thinking about moving.
I’m captured.
THIRTY-THREE
“Sapphira.” He breathes my name as if it’s the first breath of his soul. Does he have a soul? Or is he cursed like Buffy’s Angel?
Fear and desire, my own breath escapes against his lips. I want the feel of his lips taking mine. I’m captivated by the shape, the masculine color....not that most men know how to kiss...they don’t, in my experience.
Pressed against the exceptionally hard length of his body, against the spearing tower that is his cock, I wait like I’m in a dream-slow scene, and smell his smoke-luxurious scent.
His lips seize mine.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Also! My Big Cats, an erotic romance scene from WHEN A GOOD ANGEL FALLS is one of the entries in the MIDNIGHT SEDUCTIONS **Endless Romance Writing Contest**
~ http://msaendlessromancecontest.blogspot.com/2008/11/savanna-kougarwhen-good-angel-falls.html ~
Cruel temptation smooch from the Kougar...
Naw...the Kougar girl is just pulling your long, supple and beautiful tail...teehee-purring. So far, her edits for Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis, coming from Siren-BookStrand, are progressing more than nicely...meow-smile. So far.
Oh, the sunset, my Gorgeous KitKats...stunning beyond belief...the colors were beauty beyond the intensity of neon, a cherry red, a deep tangerine, pinks to live for...such a staggering contrast to the current realities of this world. In fierce fact, the gap is unfathomable to the Kougaress...and utterly painful.
A moment, my Big Cats...to simply express blessings to all those caught in the California wildfires, may they all know protection and sacred renewal.
And, what is moi grateful for? The opportunity to create her novel to the best of her ability...important to the Kougar.
Tomorrow, Cruelty... Flash of the Caribbean Vampire continues ~
Later tonight, Volcano’s Angelic Forecast will be posted on the Siren-BookStrand Author’s Blog ~
Also, tomorrow, Pat Cunningham’s little bloggie will be at Title Magic.
Now, Just for the Big Cool Cats ~ the Kougar’s fifth flash with a flash added ~ imagine Adrian Paul in this role, pictured above ~ or, your perfect hero ~
His Superior’s daughter
1 ~
He entered the regal ballroom naked. It was his turn to choose the pleasure slave who would serve him for the duration of the intergalactic journey. I trembled a moment, cast my eyes downward. Would he know me? Remember...inform my father? Goddess of Miracles, no...please. I desperately craved this escape. No duties. Only my carnal obedience.
Bravely, I presented my face as he neared me.
“My cock ruts for you.” He tipped my chin up, regarded the depths of my eyes. His fingertips idly brushed downward, enticing the hollow of my throat.
He had just chosen his Superior’s daughter.
November 16, 2008
2 ~
I owned no words for the emotions ripping through me. Fear stormed every level of my being, and I felt as if a shower of arrows pricked my flesh. If he discovered...
If my father discovered...
Shutting my eyes, I swallowed against the press of his finger. His sensual touch was utter ownership. Yet, more fear stunned my senses as I remembered. He possessed a reputation for requiring passion beyond mere carnal obedience. For demanding a surrender to every extreme sexual pleasure of the flesh. For...
“You will be mine in complete obedience.”
I quaked within, while remaining still, subservient.
Smirk and smooch from the Kougar...
Brrrr...Big Kittens, it’s cold out there. The Kougar did a night run down to her mailbox...no, not four racing paws on the ground...but, inside the comfort of her van...still...brrrr...
Just for the Big Beautiful Cats ~ a Thanksgiving day card...the scene straight from the Kougar’s tame prairie, and painted in an old-fashioned style...maoow, and if you believe that one, this kitten has some old stinky fish to sell ya ~ http://www.thepostcard.com/walt/greet/holiday3/tnx.htm ~
Another lovely chat day with her Siren-BookStrand buddies on the FALLEN ANGELS yahoo loop...what you learn about your sister authors...well, you just have to be there...
PEARL ~ Not the oyster of your dreams ~ unless you’re a paranormal author. It’s time to nominate your faves for these prestigious awards ~ http://groups.yahoo.com/group/The_Haunt_at_PNR/ ~
Moi is yowling the info below straight from the haunted hallowed loop ~
P.E.A.R.L
Preview Weekend
This weekend we will be doing promos a bit differently -
ONLY
books and e-books with
January 1, 2008 - December 31, 2008 copyright
The PEARLS do not allow campaigning, promoting or vote for me postings
Anyone caught doing this will be disqualified.
Nominating for the PEARL begins in January, so THE HAUNT is allowing
all books eligible to showcase their works this weekend, to give
Paranormal Romance Reviews Membership a chance to find you books
and read them before nominations start.
~ http://paranormalromance.org/Award.htm ~
Categories
Best ANTHOLOGY: Voting is based on the entire collection. The collection must have paranormal elements in 50% of the novellas.
Best FANTASY/MAGICAL Romance - Story takes place in the natural world but featuring beings [mythical or real] with unnatural abilities. Stories may include visits to other realms. This category also includes ghosts and psychics. *
Best FUTURISTIC Romance - Stories in this category require the main plot to be set in a time far enough into the future for there to be significant developments (changes) in culture as we know it, or the introduction of an otherworldly culture which affects the contemporary world - plot involves two romantically linked central characters.
Best NEW AUTHOR - This applies to an author whose debut novel was released (for the first time), in the award year; and who also had a paranormal romance release within that year (can be the same). This applies only to book format offerings (print or electronic).
Favorite OVERALL PARANORMAL - Any single title paranormal romance first released in the award year.
Best Romantic SCIENCE FICTION & FANTASY - Stories which draw imaginatively on scientific knowledge and/or speculation in the plot and setting. Most often published outside of the romance genre, with the focus on a central character - the plot must involve romance.*
Best SHAPESHIFTER - Books in this category include beings that have the ability to take on different forms one of which must be human. Werewolves, Selkies, and others.
Best SHORT STORY/NOVELLA - Story of under 50,000 words, may be part of anthology, or published singly. Must have an ISBN for verification.
Best TIME TRAVEL - Stories in which main character[s] travel to a time period other than their own. Can be historical, contemporary, or futuristic in setting.
Best VAMPIRE - Darker and generally more sensual, these stories feature preternatural beings who subsist on human and/or animal blood, or life force (in the case of psychic vampires) often having magical powers and the ability to transform.
**********
OKAY...realistic meow here...the Kougar knows there’s no turkey leg on this PEARL plate for her...so, why showcase her novels this weekend? Just because she is proud of her writerly accomplishments, proud of her publishers and cover art...and very roaring-proud of her novel babies.
Now, just for the Big Cool Cats ~ the Kougar’s third flash, with an added flash ~
Ignored as usual...
ONE ~
Ignored as usual, she swayed to the sultry rhythms as she sat, occasionally sipping on the old-fashioned Sangria. It was the usual crowd, couples making themselves hotter, their bodies twined together like pretzels. And those who despised dancing, thinking the art of the music was all. Shaking her hair, she missed the man headed her way. A viking of a man. His golden russet mane waved below his shoulders...had he stepped off a dragon ship? Stunned as he strode toward her, she drank in his muscled thighs, impressive beneath leather pants.
“Dance with me,” he commanded, extending his hand.
November 15, 2008
TWO ~
Trepidation raced through her like wildfire. Instantly, her palms became clammy. His sheer size made her feel like cowering, not to mention all that mass of hard muscle. He could probably snap her like a twig, even if she wasn’t the 60's model, Twiggy.
Still, the command of his icy azure eyes and his domineering stance compelled her to extend her own hand. And something else, her own sharp prick of curiosity. Why would a man like him want to dance with her? The drive to know why had her standing up. He clasped her hand.
“Your beauty pleases me.”
Pearled lipstick kisses from the Kougar...
This is definitely the Kougar’s idea of a fun Friday ~
He’s waiting for just for the Kougar kitten ~
More Friday night fun ~ What the Kougar dreaming-wishes she was really doing right now ~ dancing ~
This creation is from: Adrian Paul by Stephy Carter ~ http://www.apbysc.com/home.html ~
Evening, Big Cats, what IS fun for Friday? Or...yowl...actually for Saturday, now. The Kougar is a huge proponent of fun. Sadly, the type of carefree fun moi has envisioned since tiny cubhood, seems non-existent in this life experience. Perhaps, a strange dream to have for a kitkat girl, carefree fun. Certainly, there has not been one moment of actual carefree fun, the Kougaress has ever experienced. Meow-oops! Except when playing with her darling doggies.
Not that there’s been NO fun...yes, purrs and roars of fun, at times. For which, moi is verra, verra grateful...as she is grateful for the panoramic view of breath-taking beauty outside her west-facing window. It was like the most superb, every-changing oil painting as the sun lowered on the horizon above the tame prairie during this windy chilly autumn day.
Fun comes in many shapes, sizes and in all manner of different ways and expressions. The Kougar believes as times worsen for many, that FUN will become something more and more seek out. Not just cheap thrills or the bling-bling celebrity affairs of today. No, the kind of fun which borders on living a take-me-away fantasy. The supper dance clubs of the 30's and 40's, for example. What sells the best during hard economic times. Well, let the booze and the good times flow...or roll, baby, roll...from the speakeasies to the elegant dressed-to-the-nines clubs, and every place of entertainment between...jazz clubs, big band swing, and affordable movie houses...
Or, the emerging realm of e-books with a whole universe of stories to escape into...perhaps, good news for all of us small print authors. Maybe...*insert languid big cat shrug here*...although, on a personal tail-flicking note, the Kougar would rather have good times for us all, than this way of achieving better e-book sales.
Still, the world will need new types of entertainment suited to the times ahead. Consider, the upbeat music, songs and the light-heated silverscreen movies. Just around the corner now? And adapted to the new tech modalities? Also, adapted to the new communities, who will come together during this time. Square dancing, anyone? Or good old-fashioned baseball? How about a new type of Renaissance Festival? What will we invent and re-invent as a culture?
For some new FREE reading fun, my Big KitKats...
Romantic Synonymous - for incurable romantics...
Hey everyone, have you had chance to check out *the never-ending story*...?
This is the brainstorm of Siren-BookStrand author, Judah Raine, and here’s the intro at ~ http://judahraine.blogspot.com ~
WELCOME TO OUR NEVER-ENDING STORY......!!!!
I'm running a Siren-Bookstrand Author challenge - an ongoing "group" romance. The Purpose? A whole lot of fun! The Rules? Very simply, each author has to pick up and add to the storyline, with a limit of up to 300 words per entry. They also have to end their entry on an "open" line, i.e. not complete a conversation, or scene, etc. so that the author following has just that much more of a challenge. Readers (and other authors) can add comments, make suggestions, etc. (Please, let's keep these "fun" - i.e. no "bashing" of any kind, no abusive language, etc.) The biggest rule, though, is the Purpose - HAVE FUN!!
WE HAVE THE WRITE TEAM
Judah Raine
Phoebe
Pam Champagne
Jami Davenport
Savanna Kougar
Nikki Sinclaire
Jane Leopold Quinn
Part IV has just been posted...
Friday fun smooch from the Kougar...
Good evening, my Beautiful Big Cats, it’s that time of year again. No, not just Thanksgiving *oops, the Kougar has neglected to mention what she is grateful for the last few days* ~ then, the holly jolly season of Christmas...NO! it’s time once again, to tune into the AMERICAN TITLE V competition. Yesterday, moi went for a stroll over to ROMANTIC TIMES online, to eagerly check out the finalist’s first lines, then to make that difficult decision...which entry? Does she choose to vote for?It was tough, since the Kougar had her top three preferences, one being Evonne Wareham’s entry ~ moi’s ATIV buddy, who finaled again this year, a feat never before accomplished. Take a peek at Evonne’s TITLE MAGIC blog today, for an inside look of what it’s like during the roller coaster ride of the American Title competition, sponsored by Dorchester.
Personal Note: Flavia seemed a bit subdued in her comments for this round. Have her fangs been pulled?
Purr-purring gratitude...the Kougar is entirely grateful for her Aunt, who has helped her immensely during the past few years. And! so grateful for all the hugs her doggies let her give them everyday, and their sweet little paw hugs back. She is also grateful it’s not cold today.
Below is an autumn garden picture, the Kougar discovered at
~ http://cottage-garden.org ~ wouldn’t it be loverly? If only there was more time in the day...
Now! Just for the Big Cool Cats ~ a claw snippet from the SPECIAL SECRET PROJECT ~
“God, Wendy. What you do to me.” Clasping her waist with one arm, he lifted her up, and plucked the bottle away from her, while she struggled valiantly against him.
“Horrible, despicable donkey beast.”
She slashed him good with her tone. Shoving her palm against his flank, she shot her flame against his flesh. Quickly, a small cloud of steam surrounded her hand. Zavier tamped down his laughter, but a few rumbling chuckles escaped. Disgusted, she removed her hand, tiny pops of sound bouncing between her palm and his body.
“The only thing you did, honey, was lessen my super libido. Good, since I’m about to cleanse your hair.”
“My new secret weapon,” she blasted back. “Maybe I should fire directly on the target next time.”
“You’d just be firing up the missile, honey. Full speed ahead.”
“So you say. I’d like to flame test it. See if it rises to the occasion.”
“I can’t wait for that test, honey.”
Lowering them into the water, Zavier had no real idea how to handle his wild kitten. Still repressing his amusement, he went on sheer instinct, bringing her to him, so her back pressed against his chest.
“You’re not invincible,” she haughtily slammed him over her shoulder.
“My heart isn’t invincible.”
Autumn kisses from the Kougar...
Oh, Kitkats, a busy shopping hunt for the Kougar today. Good meow late evening...so, moi is currently burning her eye sockets looking for a couple to star on the cover of her novel, MURDER BY HAIR SPRAY IN GARDENIA, NEW ATLANTIS, coming from Siren-Bookstrand ~ so far, yowling-argh, not much luck!!! With maybe one possibility, except the Kougaress has no idea where the pic came from, or who owns it, or even if it’s available for cover art use...so, since it was on Photobucket, moi will post it...and if any Big Wonderful Cat out there knows anything...all info appreciated. 
What happened to *Sweep You Off Your Feet* Passion? Most of the photos the Kougar looked at were tepid...romantic, yes...sweet, yes...passionate in a way...and showy-carnal...but, certainly not the passion of GONE WITH THE WIND, for roaring-example. 
Just for the Big Cool Cats ~ On the Alpha Male chat loop it was Heroes Who Spank day ~
Do My Heroes Spank...?
In ALL SHADES OF BLUE PARADISE ~ Baron Zaggry teases Lady Sheridan’s presented bottom with a leather crop. However, since she must train for, then ride in the Braverth, a warhorse sport, to save their horse lands ~ he’s careful not to ‘spank’ his slave lover too hard.
In WHEN A GOOD ANGEL FALLS ~ Volcano, my carnal cherub hero, lets Sedona know he will spank her, to her complete shock, if she doesn’t obey him in certain matters. After all, he’s been divinely ‘assigned’ to protect her, and care for her. Their mission: save Earth for humanity during the 2012 Winter Solstice.
However, since I don’t have any really good ‘spanking’ scenes in any my published books, yet ~ here’s a scene from a WIP, that has been adapted into Flash Fiction ~
ALL THAT STAR GLITTERS ~
Heroine ~ Sandia - Her Code Name
After a skiing accident where she technically died, Sandia was resurrected by friendly beings from another planet-world, who brought her to a hidden underground base, where humans and aliens work together on super secret projects.
Hero ~ Security Agent Drovv Zeghet of the V-Force
Drovv is supposed to be enjoying R&R on planet Earth, at a facility friendly to his people and other alien races. However, his world’s Princess has gone on another sex spree, pleasuring Earth men to death. Her father enlists Drovv to find stop her. The key to finding her, the Princess’s uniquely designed ring.
ONE
Tempted to touch the weird foam, she didn’t, unprepared for the horrible consequences, like her fingers melting off.
I’m melting. I’m melting. Sandia never knew if she remembered the Wizard of Oz from her childhood, or knew the movie because she’d seen it as part of her re-education program.
Shaking her head once, she turned toward the path. The icky foam had simply disappeared. A gleam embedded in the grass halted her. Tiny, radiating beautifully in a fan shape, it was like nothing she’d seen before. Entranced, Sandia slowly moved toward it. Dropping the branches, she bent over, peering intently.
TWO
His orb ship cloaked, Drovv entered Earth’s gooey atmosphere. Remaining on the standard entry vectors, he sent his code to Base. Accepted, he notified them of his new mission, time of arrival, with the Princess’s location unknown.
Drovv growled a few choice cuss words in his favorite language for rude crude expressions. Hurtling toward the North American continent, he honed in on the beam from the Princess’s ring. Forming a cloud around his ship, he slowed his descent, and sank over the southwest states. Near the curvature of Earth, the sun blazed white jewels of light over the Pacific ocean.
THREE
Sandia bent at the waist, staring at the bright glittering spot. “A fallen star?” she murmured, entertaining herself with the whimsical thought. “I don’t have a clue what you are. You do look like a tiny, tiny piece of a star ... stardust.” Her imagination soared, stardust sprinkling down from the cosmos, magically gracing Earth.
Not feeling any heat on her face, Sandia bent a bit closer, seeing the outline of a circle. “Like a ring...amazing,” she whispered. Enchanted and intrigued, she looked at the branches she’d dropped, checking for a twig small enough to lift up the star ring.
FOUR
“Nada,” she whispered. Daring her forefinger closer, she inhaled a deep breath. Slowly Sandia immersed her fingertip in the stardust shimmer around the ring. Cool. No heat at all.
“Wow!” Delicately she picked the ring up. “All that glitters isn’t gold.” Inspecting the strange mystical ring, she raised it higher. “All that star glitters...”
Sandia screamed. Brutal male arms encircled her waist, jerking her off her feet. Her air cut off, she sputtered, struggled. “No!” she screamed as the bear-muscled man slung her against his side, carrying her with one brawny arm. Rape flashed through her mind like a horror movie.
FIVE
“I will kill you!” she raged, and twisted violently. Uselessly. His arm was a horrible vice.
“Good disguise, Princess. We’ll play this your way.”
What the freakin’ hell! Princess?
“Princess!” she shouted furiously. “I am not your princess.”
“You fail to remember our one lusty encounter.”
Whoever he was? He thought he knew her. Sandia didn’t know whether to feel some measure of relief – or...? God help her!
“I don’t know you! Put me down!” she ferociously ordered.
“I’ll put you down soon enough, Princess.”
Blood pounded in her head, making her dizzy. His gruff peculiar voice pounded through her...
SIX
What? Is he a Sasquatch wearing clothing?
“No!” she shrieked as he powerfully leapt up the cabin’s porch steps.
He sat down on the top step, surprising her. “All due force authorized, Princess.” He hauled her over his lap, face down.
His intention sliced though Sandia. Disbelief seized her for an instant. Then she screamed her lungs out. Only interrupted by the heavy smack of his hand on her bottom.
Sandia’s hands flew back, her butt stinging nastily. The beastly man manacled her wrists with one hand, then smacked her harder. Pain flared over her bottom. Enraged, she struggled wildly.
SEVEN
“I hate you!” she furiously screeched. As she fought his hold like a mad woman, her pain lessened.
“Come willingly with me, Princess. And I’ll spare your pretty round ass, my hand.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” As soon as the words blasted out of her mouth, the impossible beastly male spanked her harder.
Shocked to her core, her butt raw with pain, Sandia stilled. Her entire body. And inside herself. She barely breathed.
Feeling her emotion, Drovv stopped. The possibility this was not the Princess held him as still as the medical straps he endured for bio maintenance.
EIGHT
Drovv allowed the energetic waves of his punishment to enter his palm. Damn asteroid! Too much pain for this to be the Princess. Still...
The royal birthmark. Instantly, Drovv turned the woman on her side, and unzipped her jeans. Rolling her back over, he swiftly tugged down the pliable faded material.
No dragon birthmark on her left ass cheek. Instead, he stared at the curvaceous beauty of the woman’s butt, deeply reddened by his hand.
Immediately correcting his error, Drovv caressed her generous curves, drawing away the fiery soreness. She was softer, and more voluptuous than the Princess.
Carnal inviting...
NINE
Star blast him! She was exceptionally beautiful. And too lush beneath his hand.
“What are you doing?”
Her voice, hesitant, small...yet, she expected his answer.
“A case of mistaken identity.” He spoke with lawful authority.
She paused, and took a deep a breath. “I told you I wasn’t this Princess. Let me up now.”
Her authority stabbed through him, righteousness, innocense...and something else.
He decided she carried the human warrioress gene, probably Viking. Because of her fair ivory skin, and gentle freckling. Because of her red hair, not fiery red. But flaming gold tumbling sexily to her waist.
TEN
Her tresses were similar to the Princess, yet more beautiful. He wondered how red the hair was on her sex.
“Quit rubbing,” she demanded. “Quit! – looking.”
That was the last starhole thing he wanted. “A spanking you deserved, and never received,” he growled.
She stiffened like a plank.
“I wouldn’t know.” A wind could have stolen her words. Unless, he’d bio-tuned himself to her.
“Ever kinky spank a woman?” she whispered. Frightened and excited, she dared herself, and him.
Drovv didn’t need a second invitation. Keeping her wrists imprisoned, he lightly smacked her ass. Her pink-stained cheeks jiggled, seducing him.
Smooches and swats from the Kougar...
Two breath-taking star-planets in the late sunset sky, my Big Beautiful Cats, they were a dazzlingly bright mystical pair in the dark teal wash of sky, with a band of cherry-orange gleam marking the horizon...the tame prairie is good to the Kougar.
