Jackson sat down next to Abebi. Even with her baby bump showing, he couldn’t stop wanting her. Every time he saw a pregnant woman, Jackson inhaled and delighted in the taste of feminine pheromones rolling across his wolfish taste buds. Each woman smelled different. Humans had a distinct tang to them. Abebi and the other shifters of the pack tasted unique. Their odor together here in the room ramped his male horny id into overdrive. One of the women present kept giving him the once-over stare. She’d smiled at him and winked more than once. Jackson was sure if he stood up, his obvious reaction would be present for all to see. Hiding a hard-on wasn’t easy when his cock felt like it was swollen and ready to orgasm from the first touch from any of the women present.

 

Abebi shifted in her seat. The group baby shower for the pregnant women of the pack as well as their extra partners made sense. Ten females besides herself were expecting babes. A couple of human newcomers to Remoor Beach were present. They shyly flirt and smiled as the men attending the function talked with them. At first, they hadn’t known how to take the gathering until Remo had introduced the group and explained that flirting was harmless unless someone decided to take it further and that was up to all involved to work out. Jackson sitting next to her indicated where his preference laid for the moment. How was he taking things? Abebi turned catty-cornered to Jackson and put her hand on his.

 

Jackson’s gaze met hers. Abebi nodded and wet her lips. Time had come to speak her mind. “Jackson, I said I’d think about sharing you. I wonder if you’ve given much thought to sharing me or what opening our relationship means to you.”

 

Jackson bobbed his head and wrapped his hand around hers. “I’m new to sharing a gal of my own. Back in the Peak, females in heat were open targets. Cross mating didn’t occur much unless you frequented Dante’s Interspecies Pleasure den. Here its accepted and encouraged. I prefer this community over the purists views.”

 

Abebi inhaled and glanced over her shoulder. The two hunks she’d been dreaming about for the last three weeks were standing close by wearing nothing but loosely knotted towel sarongs. The hot-tub was heating up. Remo loved hot-tubing as much as he loved making a woman climax. Abebi ducked her head as vivid images of the two and Jackson fondling her as she lounged nude in the hot tub flushed searing heat over her. The need to orgasms rocked her genitals and throbbed deep within her belly.

 

Jackson smiled as he watched Abebi flush. Her cheeks and neck faint red tinge told him she was shopping the males in the room as much as he was the women. Sex oozed from all present. No one seemed bothered by it. This party wasn’t about getting it on or scoring as some of the human males referred to it. Rather the attendants were open to pursuit and acknowledged their sexual interest as positive. Jackson found he liked being able to think about other women sexually without having to worry about Abebi being upset. Flirting was fun and the idea of taking up with a few of those present intrigued him.

 

“Have you decided if you’re willing to share me? Open our relationship up to include others?” Jackson scooted closer to Abebi. He straddled the bench he sat on and pulled her back to him. “Lean on me and tell me what is going on in that pretty head of yours.”

 

Abebi’s suppressed laugh vibrated his chest. Jackson reached down, cupped her chin, and tilted her head gently back until he could see her face. Her mirth light up her eyes and her cheeks colored more. Abebi’s grin was infectious. Jackson leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. As he pulled away, Abebi spoke.

“Sharing can be awkward. I’ve never been in the position of the one making the decision affecting more than myself. Most of the males I’ve pursued were single and wanted a dalliance for a while with no permanence. Now I’m part of a couple as well as a larger extended group. I’m unsure at times.”

Abebi reached up and patted his cheek as she sighed.

 

Jackson nodded. “I understand. I’m there too. Remo said each couple works out their own rules and agreements. I’ve given that some thought.”

 

“Me too. Sandy said she and Mick have one that requires disclosure often and early. No surprises if possible. Of course, acting without notice is frowned upon with them. Its a matter of declaration of intents.”

 

Jackson chuckled. “Darling, you’re more important to me than any other female, critter or human. I signed on cuz I wanted to not, not because I was forced. I can look and lust. Taking another filly into my bed is gonna be a decision you will know about and are comfortable with. Okay?’

 

Abebi’s smile grew and deepened as Jackson hugged her. “Let’s try this ground rule for now. If we see someone who we are interested in and want to pursuit even for just a sexual interlude we tell each other first and talk it out. If more develops we keep on communicating, and no unprotected sex. No more unplanned pregnancies, right?”

 

Jackson lifted Abebi’s hand from her stomach where it had laid protectively cupping their pups. He nibbled her fingers before kissing her palm and closing his hand around hers. “No unplanned anything darling. Keeping you and anyone else we’re interested in safe is of utmost importance to me. Now as to what’s got you blushing—tell me who and how I’m involved.”

 

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

 

Happy Weekend Gang!

 

Sorry for the late posting.  End of the month at work as well as two holidays in two weeks is enough to tire anyone out.  The Spice Homestead celebrated a wonderful loving Christmas among our family of five at our own domiciles.  Its great to have this much love in my life and loving family members.  I hope your Holiday was joyous and filled with those you love and hold dear.  May the New Year bring you love enriched, multiplied, and increasing.  May the next year be filled with joyous happiness and laughter and very few moments of tears and fears.  Keep on sharing a good book or two with your spice and loves! Happen over Bookstrand.com and pre-order HOT FOR TORREY or one of my other books.  JET LAG BLUES is on sale for half price.

 

Smiles,

Solara

 

Hey  look at this! The cover to my new release coming in January.  Book 1 in the Cascade Bay collection.  Take a look at my books coming page for an idea of the Holt and Torrey’s story.  I’ll post more blurbs and excerpts once I’ve gotten the word from my publisher, Siren-Bookstrand on final edits and revisions.

Smiles,

SOLARA

I have the following news on  Hot for Torrey:

Heard from my publisher. They offered contract and I said yes! Looks like January 2013 release date. Seequee!!!

“What job?”  Jackson burped as he tried to swallow his mouth full of burger.  Damn, Remo knew when to catch a dude off guard.

Remo slid another half-full beer glass to Jackson.  “Now that you’re eating son, listen up.  A few more swallows won’t have you drunk. “

Jackson continued chewing. Listening didn’t cost him anything.  Besides his cash would stretch so far before he needed work.  Cattle herding and cowboy work wouldn’t be plentiful amongst the beach crowd.  The rodeo circuit closed for the season.  And there was that piece of paper he’d signed.  A blood oath that no shape shifter took for granted.  If Abebi passed by the window one more time, Jackson swore. . .

“Son, eyes here.  Ears here.  That sweet she wolf will be back.  She’s agitated.  They get that way in their first trimester.  Keep your focus.”  Remo smiled, waved his hand in front of Jackson’s face.

“Yes, I’m listening.”  Jackson drained the second glass of beer.  “Make it good, Remo.  Agitated fillies don’t settle easily.”

Remo nodded his low laugh barely audible.  “Relax Jackson.  Remoor Beach is my family’s haunt for more years than either of us has lived.  I intend to keep it in the family as long as possible.  But humans are amongst us.  We’re an oddity to them as they are to us.”

Sandy walked past Jackson.  She paused near the front door.  “Remo, I’ll take Abebi over to Starbuck’s.  Maybe Lacey will have her afternoon pastries done so we women can keep out of your hair for a bit longer.”

As the front door swung shut, Remo turned back to Jackson.  “Best way to get accepted into the pack is to become involved.”

“Involved?”  Jackson didn’t like the way Remo stressed the word.  And his sideways glance sent shivers up and down Jackson’s psyche in ways that caused goose bumps to cower.  Not a good sign.

Remo leaned on the bar, toying with a toothpick.  “A united community means peaceful co-existence.  Got us a few mixed species families making homes here.  Hell even the pack is a mixture.  Sandy is married to my brother-in-law.  He’s an owl shifter from London.”

“You’re married to a bird?” Jackson almost spit as he got his words out.  So much for enjoy the last few sips of his beer.

“Long story for another full moon.”  Remo shrugged.  “Been with her two decades plus.  The last of our brood is off to college.  My baby girl is moving away.  I can’t be in two places at once.”

“So where do I fit in?”  Jackson stood, his hands resting on the bar palms down.

“Into a Hawaiian shirt and shorts.” Remo tossed a multicolored flyer on the bar along with a lanyard with a badge attached.

Jackson read the large print on the flyer.  His eyes widened.  He began shaking his head.  “No, there’s got to be another way.”

“Best way to get to know everyone is to jump in.  Judging the annual sand castle contest on my behalf is the stamp of approval you need.  I ain’t gonna be around to protect your hide.  I’ve got mine to defend by riding shot gun over college males eyeing my baby girl as she moves into her dorm.”  Remo pushed the lanyard to Jackson.

Jackson eyed the judge’s badge.  He liked art and beauty was in the eye of the beholder.  This might not be so bad.  “What’s a Hawaiian shirt and shorts got to do with this?”  Jackson held the badge up.

Remo winked.  The slow grin spreading across his face had Jackson ready to dash out the door.  “Official uniform of the judging committee.  We need to stand out you know.  Be easy to spot.”

Magic and Love’s Ornery Kick

I’ve started a new sieral over at my weekly blog at Shape Shifter Seductions.  I’m posting the first three parts here.  I’m thinking about posting on both blogs for those who don’t follow me over at Seductions.

And with out further  ado here is the story:

Jackson pushed his Stetson back further on his head.  So much sand and water.  He glanced down at his bare feet.  His name brand jeans rolled up to mid-calf greeted him as his eyes continue upward.  In his left hands, he held his battered cowboy boots.

“How the friggin’ shit did I end up here?” He winced at his words along with his tone.  He knew how he got here.  It still didn’t make any sense.  Not that magick and wishes made sense.  He’d followed his heart and her.  Love did weird things.  He didn’t know how weird until he met her.

Jackson sighed as another wave swept inward, stopping near his sand covered toes.  It felt good to be out of his boots.  The sun warmed more than his neck and hands.  The heat off the sand caressed his tired worn soles and moved up his legs trying to cajole him into laying down and pulling all the warmth inside.  His heart beat almost in time to the rhythm of the waves pounding the shore with each lap of their strength.

Two blocks up the center street of town, Abebi worked.  Her small shop catered to the locals and their artisan ways.

 Easels and paints filled one part of the storefront.  Midway bins of multi-colored chalks, art pads, and crayons took up one side.  In the back corner, a child-sized table sat with different sizes of coloring books strewn upon it.  Opposite it, racks held adult paint sets and complex artistic instruction books.  Near the cash register, where he’d seen her as he’d watched her through the window, easy to do items lined the shelves.  Her hand written sign offering half hour art lessons caught his eye.

Abebi rang up the largest sale of the day.  The grade school’s summer art program began in two weeks.  They came to her for supplies every year.

 This year they wanted her to teach a weeklong course on how to follow your heart through art.  The instructor smiled when Abebi stuttered and stammered.    She sketched and dabbled in watercolors.  Nothing of fame or even local interest.  She drew, painted, and colored for her own enjoyment.  After the instructor explained why they wanted her to teach, she’d agreed.  Too many of the children didn’t understand following their passion and letting their creativity out.  Some of their parents could barely afford to pay the rent or put food on the table.   If for a few hours a day, she could help the kids ignite their heart light and find a moment of value, she’d do it.

She looked up and caught his reflection in the window.  Jackson had found her.  Not a bad thing.  How she wasn’t sure.  Two full moons prior they’d run through the pastures and woods of Talbot’s Peak backcountry hunting nothing but each other.  Their howls joined the other wolves racing through the area mate hunting.  She knew those nights of passion were just that.  Passion come and gone—or so she thought.  No he’d followed her home.  How she wasn’t sure.

Abebi’s hand caressed her flat stomach.  A tiny flutter joined by another told her what those nights summed up to.  Shape shifters knew instinctively when they caught.  Pregnancy mattered amongst the natural shifters.  Jackson’s family was one of those.  Hers no one knew.  Mutant and mutt were the kindest words whispered about her before she’d escaped the pack that pushed her out. Talbot’s Peak was but a stop on her journey to find her home.  She’d found it here amongst the sand, sea, and sun.  The local pack of sea wolves didn’t care where she originated or how.  They co-opted her in shortly after they‘d discovered each other running in the foothills.

Sea wolves loved the beach, the sand, and the sea as much as they loved running through the hills.  Many speculated on their breed and origins.  One legend stood out in their lore above all others. Two lone wolves, male and female, found each other.  Their first full moon together, they’d morphed into Native Americans counterpart. Each told their story.  As the night progressed, their howls and yaps brought others to them.  The others told their stories and why they had no pack.  By the first tinges of dawn, a new pack formed.  All agreed each had their worth, their beauty, and their purpose.  None were without a home or a hearth to call their own.

Abebi found hers with them.  Jackson might too.  She didn’t know.  She wasn’t sure if his howled love song that night was real or faked.  His presence said maybe it was real.

Abebi sighed as she looked out the door.  Jackson was nowhere to be seen.  Where had he gone?  She protectively cupped her stomach.  Was her aloofness too much?  Was he having second thoughts?  Fear mixed with bits of remorse bubbled in the acidic caldron of her belly.  Wiping a lone tear off her check, Abebi reentered her shop.  There would be time to hunt Jackson down after she closed up.  The twenty miles of Remoor Beaches housed too many pack members for Jackson’s whereabouts to remain unknown for long.

Abebi slammed the cash register drawer closed as she finished counting the last of the day’s receipts.  Another thirty minutes had passed and no one of the pack reported seeing a tall out of place cowboy wandering the town.  Wolf Scat!  The man couldn’t be hiding right under noses.   Or could he?  One call usually took care of notifying the pack watch command.  Had some link been missed?

Jackson sat on the bench closest to the street he came down until he found the beach.  He pulled his boots back on wishing he didn’t have too.  He noted the sandals most everyone wore.  He’d seen the shoe store up the street next to the department store with the window displaying the flowered shorts.  Shorts were bad enough.  Flowers too?  Oh hell no!  Sweat rolled down his back and wet another portion of his jeans waistband. Jackson fanned himself with his hat.  

 Back in Talbot’s Peak a man needed his hat when he rode the range.  Here there was no range.  Only miles of sand and water.  Ocean he heard two of the kids digging in the sand call that over-sized pond.  Okay, he knew the difference between an ocean and pond.  Problem was he couldn’t see the other side of this one like he could back home.  Except home didn’t feel right anymore.  Something called him here.  Said follow her.  So he’d wished and asked magickal help. 

 Boy magick had a kick worse than an ornery mule!  By some intercession he laid here in a place called Remoor Beaches.  Jackson dropped his hat on his head and shoved off the bench.  A beer and a burger called to him.  He recalled a bar two block up offering said lunch for a few bucks.  He’d worry about a place to stay later.  The help wanted sign he’d seen wasn’t encouraging.  Waiting tables and signing didn’t mix for him.  He howled better than he sang.  Crooning took talent he sorely lacked.

Half way up the street, he saw her.  Her determined stride caught his attention first.  The way her breasts swayed with each step almost mesmerized him.  Christ he had it bad.  He practically missed the woman jogging by him.  Her generous cleavage moved in rhythm to her pace.  A cough interrupted his sightseeing. 

“You must be new in town.”  A medium built male waved at him near the entrance to the bar.  “Come on in out of the heat.  I’ll buy you a cold beer.”  The male turned and held open the door.  Cool air filtered out and over Jackson’s face.

Jackson hesitated.  Why would a stranger be offering to buy him a beer?  “Why?” Jackson startled as the man motioned him closer.  “I’m the welcoming committee for Remoor’s Sea wolf Pack.  Name’s Remo and alpha’s my game.  Along with bar entrepreneur.”

Welcome to Agua Caliente

Jackson looked both ways before following Remo into the dark interior of the bar.  A bold lettered yellow-stenciled sign took up two-thirds of the window of the interior door, Remo held open.  It read Agua Caliente.  Jackson understood enough Spanish thanks to his great grandpappy twice removed.  That family story crept up at family dinners when Cousin Felix drank too much tequila.  Jackson shook his head and continued on inside.

Remo rounded the bar, nodding at the blond wiping down the table closest to them.  “Sandy, get a couple of burgers from the kitchen.  Mine well done and yours?”

Jackson swallowed hard.  Remo was politer than most alphas Jackson encountered.  Experience sent chills down his spine warning him to be wary.  Still this wasn’t turf he knew and a much different species than the one he left back on the peak.

“Uhmm- – -“Jackson perched on the barstool near him.

“Look dude, you look hungry enough to eat a goat raw.  Sandy would appreciate it if you didn’t hunt her down tonight during the full moon.  Besides good help is hard to find.  And eating my business partner will get you in more manure than you need right now.”  Remo finished filling the large beer glass he’d taken from under the bar.  “I don’t know about your home.  Here we treat folks with manners and hospitality”. Remo slid the glass across the bar to Jackson.

“Make mine like his.”  Jackson picked up the glass, saluted Remo with it, and drank.  Nothing unusual about the beer.  Draft with a head on it and cold just the way Jackson liked his.  “Thanks.”

Remo watched Sandy give Jackson the once over before she shook her head and walked into the kitchen clucking her tongue.  He turned. Leaning on the bar, he motioned Jackson closer.  “Dude, let me give you the rules.  Then we’ll commence with intros.”

Jackson drank more beer, then nodded.  He knew when to keep his wolf yap shut.  Being a distant second cousin of Talbot’s Peak’s head wrangler held no restrictions.  In fact, more often than not, some punk wanted to pick a fight to whoop ass to show he was wolf enough to fight the current pack alpha.  Jackson stayed away from pack politics.  He didn’t even acknowledge his family bloodlines so trouble couldn’t find him as easily.    Whatever Remo had to say, Jackson would listen to and then decide how to eat his burger and clear out of town without causing a ruckus.

“One,” Remo began.  “When a pack female gets pregnant the pack rejoices.  Two, if we know who the daddy is- – -Hi Daddy.”  Remo pointed at Jackson and waved.

“If we know who daddy is we give him the options.”  Remo’s smile reminded Jackson of the pictures of the old bobcat his great grandma tangled with during her moonshine running days.  That wry smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes and yet told you sit still before shit happened.  Jackson kept nodding and swallowing more beer.

“Slow down on the brewsky son,” Remo advised.  “Need your wits about ya before the food arrives.”

“I hear ya,” Jackson said.  “Please go on.” He pushed the glass away from him.

“Okay, third, you got choices.”  Remo laid a sheet of printed-paper on the bar.

“Choices?”  Jackson reached for the paper.  Remo snatched it away.

“Hear your options out.”

Jackson arched his eyebrows.  “Go on,” he softly growled.  He didn’t like threats.  He smelled one coming.

Remo tossed back his head, laughing, howling, and laughing again.  “Feisty!  Good!  I like variety.  You’ll make a good addition.”

“A good addition?”  Jackson planted his feet on the floor, ready to defend himself.

“Your options are:  flee, fight, stay, or join the pack.  Even a combination thereof is welcomed.”  Remo tossed the paper at Jackson.  “See I’m not a bad s.o.b.  Just an overly protective alpha who wants to live in peace with my neighbors.  Not find pieces of my family, friends, and pack all over the place.”

Jackson glanced down at the paper he trapped against the bar with his hand.  What Remo had summarized read down the sheet.  Two blank lines stood out near the bottom.

“And these are for?”  Jackson gestured at the blank lines.

“Signatures.  Yours and mine.”  Remo laid a pen on the bar.  A sharp point projected from one end.  “Your signature indicates you’ll abide by the rules.  Mine says I accept your choice and decision.”

“And if I don’t?”  Jackson stood up ready to make a break for the door if necessary.

“You’re welcome to stay but. . .”  Remo raised the pen.  “There’s an unattached attractive female carrying your youngin’.  Do you want another male claiming her and the babe?  Or are you wolf enough to do your duty?”

Jackson held out his hand.  Letting go of Abebi would cut out a huge chunk of him.  He didn’t know if he could walk away.  His heart skipped two beats every time he even considered it.  “Give me the pen.”

Remo snickered.  “Ain’t no pen boy.  It’s a prick.  We sign in blood. Our pack lives by our blood oaths regardless of our origins.”

Jackson inhaled deeply.  He held out his finger, gritted his teeth, and waited.  Sharp momentary pain pierced his index finger.  Bright red blood welled up and over the tip, on to the paper.  Remo handed him the pronged pen.  Jackson scribbled his name boldly across the first line.

“Good choice mate.”  Remo held out his hand.  Jackson pricked the finger closest to him.  Remo grabbed the pen and signed below Jackson.  “Now about that job.”

Bring one, bring all! Time to get your ‘read’ on, and enjoy an eyeful of yummy hotness. Plus, win prizes.

Come visit me over at Shape Shifter Seductions for an eye full of man candy!

Jory came out of Marissa’s coffee shop, turned the corner on to Main Street, and stopped dead in his tracks.  He blinked, looked again, and tried to swallow.  Great, television cameras, hordes of people, and paparazzi blocked his path.  Who the hell had let the cat, sorry Momma, out of the bag?

Jory cursed quietly in every Welsh foxy wolfish curse he knew.  A lad needed his more colorful words for moments like these.  Praise be to his grandparents for teaching him his mother tongues.  Blended were-animal families weren’t the norm.  No, they stood out when full moons came.  Then there was Talbot’s Peak.  Folks got along regardless of their animal, preference, and oh yeah, their shifting abilities.  Poor Gill down at Rattigan’s.  He still needed assistance conquering his latest obsession, Louie’s pack of werewolf biker cousins.

 Jory looked down at his extra tall mint mocha sweet tea.  Just past scalding with the whip cream topping cooling each sip as he enjoyed- – -fuck with enjoying, he needed gulps to get his bravado going.  Who’d ousted his idea?  As he moved down the sidewalk, he downed half his drink.

Every business touted one of them.  Sizes varied in shape, and posting.  Jory walked past the dress making shop, Tammie stood in the window hanging a large quilt.  She gave him a weak smile and waved.  The black circles under her eyes spoke volumes.  How many of the blasted things had she made? He wanted to hug her for encouraging him.  Her quick wit and sewing talent had produced a beautiful wonderful gift, the quilt that adorned his bed.  Her nimble fingers stitched a set of matching pillow shams and the best part of her gift a replica of his artwork in a flag to hang on his front porch.  Now who had taken this to the next level?

“Hey Jory!” rang out over the growing din of people clamoring about as he reached the middle of Main Street.  Dante Hancock walked toward him.  Several people armed with cameras and microphones swarmed with him.  Jory rolled his eyes heavenward and gulped the last of his drink.  Crushing the cup in his hand, he whispered the one foxy wolf prayer he knew.  Wolfish gods and fox goddesses, grant me your wisdom and strength to get through this with harm to none unless they are stupid enough to provoke it.

“Hi Dante,” Jory forced out, managing to keep his angst out of his tone.  “What can I do for you?”

Dante gripped his hand as if he wanted Jory to pick up on something.  Jory slightly shook his head.  He knew the quiet universal signals most wolf packs used to communicate.  Dante even spoke some fox.  This combination handshake and eye roll didn’t make sense unless he was using one of Jory’s fave combination words.  Their literal translation came out as help me with this dumb assed xenophobe.

Dante tugged at his arm.  Jory hesitated.  Dante didn’t swing that way.  What did he want?  Jory shot a quick glance around the group surrounding them.  Kitty stood at the outer edge nodding and smiling.  Okay, she knew what was going on.  Great, everyone knew but him?  Dante closed in on his personal space.  Jory stepped closer.  Maybe Dante had something to tell him in the whispered tones wolves used when they talked quietly.

No such luck.  Dante enveloped him in a huge hug.  Jory gulped and stammered.  “Dan-dan-te what are you doing?”

“You came up with this idea.  You explain it.”  Dante’s grin reminded Jory why he hung with his fox cousins more than his wolf ones.  Talk about the wolf minding the herd.  Lord, what had he walked knee deep into?

“Gentlepeople, this is the founder of our celebration.  Welcome to Talbot Peak’s National Shifting Day celebration.”  Dante moved behind Jory putting him in the spotlight.

Jory licked his lips and spoke.  “We of Talbot’s Peak want to embrace our differences and uniqueness.  Many of us are combos, combinations of different species and humans, or mixtures that get past our separateness to come together as a community, families, and folks wanting to be accepted.”

Cameras clicked, nods came from the denizens of people at the edge of the crowd.  Microphones shoved in his face stayed put.  Jory inhaled, tossed back his head and howled.  “Happy National Shifting Day everyone!”

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

Happy Week Gang!

Keep cool and safe!  Share a book or two with your spice and loves.  I know I am!

Solara

Louie picked up the picture laying on his desk.  His heart skipped one beat, then another.  He blinked twice.  If he inhaled too deep, his chest ached.  How had she found him?

 

He laid the picture back down.  Picking up the envelope he’d recently opened, he glanced toward the office door.  Good, it was shut.  No one would dare bother him for another thirty minutes.  Being the boss had its moments, like taking lunches behind closed doors that none questioned.  Well except Bettina, and she didn’t follow protocol unless she made the declaration.  Sometimes her queenly ass could be a royal pain.  Their nightly strolls down to Miss Elly’s diner for Red Blood Sundaes had folks talking.  Miss Elly’s homemade ice cream topped with her secret chocolate sauce and dark Bing cherries cured many a shifter’s sweet tooth.  Bettina’s cravings had cleared out Louie’s baked goods as fast he could make them until he introduce Bettina to Miss Elly.  Now sanity reigned most of the time.

 

Louie turned the envelope over, examining front and back.  No return address.  A smeared postmark revealed little of the city of origin.  The date showed 1974.  Thirty years plus.  Where had the time gone?  His little—no his grown daughter might be a parent herself.  Maybe even a grandmother.  Easing the card out of the yellowed envelope, Louie stared at the simple lettering stating Happy Father’s Day.  His hand shook as he opened the card.

 

The usual generic verse about Dads and their importance decorated one side of the inside two pages.  A handwritten note on the opposite page caught his attention.  Louie swallowed hard.  He knuckled a tear off his cheek as he read.

 

                                             Louis,

                    By the time you receive this, Arisa and I will be gone.  There was a time when love would have kept me by your side and our daughter not asking where Daddy is as I tuck her into bed each night.   Your choices proved too costly and dangerous for our safety to stay.

 

                    No matter how good the money and prestige, working for the mob, especially the supernatural mob, is not worth putting your wife and child at risk.   Maybe someday, I’ll tell Arisa the truth about her father.  Until then you are as dead as your name.  Thank the Gods I never took your name.  Nor do you know my real name.  There was a time I would have trusted you with that.  Not now, probably never will you know who I am. 

 

                      Why am I even sending this picture to you?  Maybe I want you to hurt as much as you’ve hurt me.  You’ll never know your daughter’s love or see her grow up.  I will and every day I’ll be the center of her world, not you.

 

                          Maybe someday you’ll find peace.  I doubt shape shifters know the meaning of the word.

 

                                    Your soon to be ex wife

 

Louie carefully laid the card down.  He pushed away from his desk.  He moved toward the window closest to him.  Closing the blind, he inhaled.  No one would see the tears he needed to shed.  He turned and made his way across the office.

 

 Life on the streets in New Jersey taught him many lessons, hard ones and ones that remained with him to this day.  Trust never came easily.  It was earned and could be taken away just as easily.  Lord, how he had that one knocked into his head many life times over.  He’d taken risks along the way.  Learned that life was given for a reason.  He didn’t regret many of the last few choices he’d made.  The one big one he did was not finding his daughter before now. 

 

Louie lay down on the couch he kept in the office for late nights and naps.  He needed one.  Once he woke up, Mooney, Nick, and Penelope’s Aussie Penguin were getting a visit.  Somewhere out there a daughter waited for her father to find her.  This Father’s Day signified a new beginning.

 

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Happy Weekend Gang!  Happy Father’s Day to all our male readers!  I’m glad the warm weather is here without the abundance of a heatwave.  What a week!  Two nights of power outages.  One last Sunday authorities say a raccoon juiced himself on.  Last night another two! The joke around the spice homestead is a squirrel or two decided to try jury rigging their power supply.  Watch out Gill! 

 

I’m off to enjoy a good book or two with my spice and loves!  

Check out my other blog at Shape Shifter Seductions.

 

 

SOLARA 

Please stop by and say hello.  I’m attending all week and signing at the Giant Book Fair on Saturday.  I’ll be signing RED HOT and JET LAG BLUES.  Come on by and enter my raffle to win a role in one of my upcoming books or a lovely basket from our gang at Shape Shifter Seductions.

 

Solara Gordon

 

http://www.bookstrand.com/hot-for-torrey

Excerpt

STORY EXCERPT

“Torrey, I’ll admit I’m anxious. I don’t think you want me to say out loud what I am uneasy about.” Holt pulled out the chair closest to her and sat down. Stuart rounded the table and sat next to Joanna.

“You’ve gained more manners, I see.” Torrey’s flushed cheeks told him she’d rather not continue in the direction his thoughts were running.

“Always had them. You just never saw them enough to realize how polite and courteous I am.” Holt reached across Torrey, snagging a handful of oyster crackers. He tossed several into his mouth.

“I didn’t know you hadn’t eaten,” Stuart offered, nudging Joanna. “We got here earlier, figuring we’d meet you for dinner.”

“Depends on what you call eating and dinner.” Joanna’s emphasis on eating and dinner left little to any of their imaginations as she continued. “Don’t know about you and Torrey, Holt. I know who Stuart is eating for dessert, or his second course.”

“Water,” Holt coughed. Blast Joanna and her punning sense of humor. The cheesy grin she wore set ripples off in more places than Holt liked.

Torrey slid her glass of water in front of him. “Crackers a bit salty?” Her arched eyebrow and rolled eyes didn’t help.

Holt gulped water, swallowing. He reached for a napkin. If his eyes kept watering, he’d have to leave for fear of losing a contact. Dabbing his eyes, Holt kicked Stuart under the table.

Stuart startled. Sitting upright, he glared at Holt. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know.” Holt hoped he plastered the best innocent grin he knew how to fake across his face. “Now that I have your attention, though, we could use a couple of fresh drinks. How about I buy and you get them?”

Holt tossed a twenty on the table. If Stuart didn’t pick up on the non-verbal signals, he deserved another kick, a well-placed kick in the seat of Stuart’s jeans if Holt could reach them.

Joanna claimed the twenty and rose. “Come on, Stuart. We’ll get the drinks. Torrey needs a fresh one. I know I do.”

* * * *

Torrey glanced over her shoulder as Stuart and Joanna threaded their way through the crowd toward the bar. She turned back, facing Holt. “Why are you here?”

She kept her hands below the table. Clenching and unclenching her hands did nothing to relieve the new flutters her stomach did each time Holt’s gaze ran over her. The heat rolled off him in huge waves, threatening to overwhelm her if she didn’t keep her icy shield in place. Problem was her hormones had different ideas. The man knew how to read her. He’d learned how to turn her on and keep the heat going. Chemistry didn’t need a catalyst with him.

“I’d ask you the same thing. Except I probably know why you’re here.” Holt laid his arm on the table and leaned forward. “Things didn’t work out, did they?”

Torrey scooted her chair further away. Even a bit of space might allow some air in to help cool down the blasts boiling up between them. “I’m here because I want to be. What do you mean it didn’t work out?”

Holt toyed with his napkin before his gaze met hers. She swallowed hard. His eyes smoldered like they had when she’d cried out his name as multiple orgasms claimed her. He wanted her just as he had then. She couldn’t deny her attraction either. This time she wasn’t going to jump in bed with him. Acting upon lust worked great if all she desired was another fling. Those were easy and came with a premium she wasn’t buying. Short and intense brought a slack in need but no long-term emotional connection to complement the physical satisfaction.

“If things had worked out, would you be here?” Torrey cringed at Holt’s emphasis on the word had. Damn, could he read her that easily? How much did he know?

“What if it hadn’t? I remember you saying that no woman would tie you down. You wanted to be free to pursue what came your way. You said I could do the same.” Torrey paused. Rubbing her lips together, she watched the glint in Holt’s eyes dim. She gripped her hands together under the table. Apologizing would only tell him what he said was true. Before he’d started dating another woman, he’d come close to taking a good chunk of her heart and sanity. Rumors flew hot and heavy concerning his involvement with the other woman. He’d never denied the juicy tales nor did he answer her e-mails and calls asking for clarification. What right did he think he had to sit here and challenge her?

Holt leaned closer. His hand reached for her. “Torrey, I know I said some dumb things in the past. And that line was the lamest. Truth is, two years ago I lived in the heat of the moment. The flash of passion ruled my libido.”

ADULT EXCERPT

“Giving up already?” Torrey started to rock back on her heels away from Holt.

“Hold on, please. How about some good old-fashioned spooning with intercourse combined?” Holt reached up and fondled Torrey’s breasts. He scooted forward, captured each nipple in his mouth, sucked them, and let go. “I want to come together like we’ve done in the past if we can coordinate things.”

Torrey sighed. A stiff yawn followed. She looked at the bedside clock. Two p.m. While it wasn’t late on a normal day—what had been normal about yesterday or today?—they were both short on sleep and running on adrenaline from last night. A nap curled up in Holt’s arms felt right and made sense. Falling asleep in a postcoital embrace sounded wonderful. Later on at dinner, she’d tell him what her newfound feelings were. She’d take a chance on saying out loud the three words she whispered two years ago each time she saw him and kept hidden in her heart ever since, I love you.

Holt eased out from under Torrey and stood. “Make yourself comfortable, lady. I’m ready to finish what we started. I want to come long and hard deep inside you.”

Torrey rolled to her side. “Probably a pillow under my hip makes sense since you’re taller than me. That way you can ease into me from behind and still play with me as you like.”

Holt smiled and reached for the box of condoms sitting on the nightstand. “Neither of us is going to last long once I touch your clit. I know how wet you are.” He tore open the foil packet, eased the condom on, and kneeled on the bed. “Ready if you are, my darling.”

Torrey tried to vocalize her consent except her throat tightened on her, going dry from her mouth down to her vocal chords. All she could do was nod and smile. As she lay back on the pillows, she wondered how good Holt was at reading sign language. Not that she knew any. Maybe if she pointed, nodded, and smiled he might understand.

* * * *

Holt watched as Torrey kept enthusiastically nodding. He inhaled to keep from snorting and laughing. He’d gotten to her so much that she couldn’t speak. He wasn’t going to miss out on a golden opportunity. He reached out, capturing her nipples between his thumb and finger. He twisted and pulled like he’d done earlier, but this time he drew the pressure and pulled all the way out to the edge of her erect nipples.

Torrey arched her shoulders, forcing her breasts forward. Holt caught the look of pleasure flooding her face before she closed her eyes and exhaled. He let go of her nipples and followed her down on to the bed, bracing himself on his elbows and forearms so their chests were mere inches apart. Holt matched his breathing with Torrey’s. It was as if they were one in actions, thought, and focus. They lacked the last intimate physical connection, his cock deep within Torrey, rocking them to whatever number of mind-blowing orgasms they could reach before sleep overwhelmed them.

Torrey gently fondled him until his eyes met hers. She licked her lips and glanced at her hand. Holt gulped air as she tightened her hold on him. “Easy, darlin’. Much more of that and I’ll come.”

Holt rolled to his side as Torrey let go. “Come on top and ride us to the crest and back, love.”

Torrey swallowed hard and smiled. “Yes,” she managed to get out, despite her hoarseness.

Holding Holt with one hand, she used her other to steady herself as she straddled him. Moments later, she guided him deep within her. Holt placed his hands on her hips, stabilizing her jerky movements. “You set the pace,” he groaned on her next downward plunge.

* * * *

Torrey sucked in air as Holt rose to meet her. He held her steady barely moving his hips as he thrust rapidly in and out of her, stroking the fire waiting to explode deep in her belly. One last lunge deep within her and he fell back, breathing hard. “You are so wet,” he groaned. Holt’s hands dropped to his sides. “Baby, I don’t know how much more you can take. I’m ready to explode.”

Torrey smiled and ground her pussy tight against Holt, leaving no space between them as she began short jerks of her hips, mimicking what he’d done to her minutes before. “You said set the pace. I’m gonna enjoy the ride for a bit longer.” Holt groaned deep in his throat as Torrey tightened around him. The look on his face along with his short breaths said she had him right where she wanted him, hard, skirting the edge of a strong orgasm, and deep inside her.

Torrey picked up speed as her own need grew. Twice before at Holt’s encouragement, she’d ridden him. Both times, their mutual orgasms sent them both out of their bodies and into a space where nothing but being there together mattered. Of course, mind-blowing orgasms happened with others, but nothing compared to the aftercare that they lavished on each other. Torrey sucked in her stomach as tight as she could and milked Holt using the Kegel exercises she recently learned. The healthcare team at the shelter was right! Ripples set off more ripples and in turn created a stimulation that had Torrey panting along with Holt.

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Hello Readers!

Looking for a scorching sizzle of a read?  Look no farther!  Hot for Torrey is now available!  Grab your copy!

Smiles,

Solara