Dear Pants

Dear Garments in my Pants Drawer Masquerading as my Friends,

We need to talk. Maybe you’re dieting, maybe you’re on an exercise kick, maybe you just cut that afternoon soda, but recently, you’ve changed. You used to be forgiving and kind, always ready to provide flattery and comfort. I could take you anywhere and never regret my choice. You had perfect manners and your behavior was all that is exemplary in a pair of pants.

However, I’ve noticed that you’re no longer the garments I took in so many years ago. You’re snippy with me, and you’re uptight, and you are often cutting. You make me look bad in front of my friends, and my mirror, and you also make me uncomfortable. And to say you’ve become judgmental is an understatement! Pick, pick, pick. Pinch, pinch, pinch. Crack, crack, crack. Is there no end to your evil ways??

After we’ve been together so long, I expected better of you. And that is why I will be favoring my REAL friends yet again, Miss Yoga Pants and Mr. PJs. Sure, they aren’t quite as experienced in the social niceties of “leaving the house” and “looking like I bathed”, but with the right shirts to help them stumble through the challenges, we can work with that.

Or maybe I’ll just prove I can do without you ENTIRELY. How would you like that? Madame Mou-Mou is much nicer to me, and so is Susie Swingdress. THEY never threaten to slice me in half when I bend over. THEY never ride me up in the no-no place like some kind of denim dominatrix. And when I’m done with them, they sweetly subside into the dirty laundry without leaving red marks all over me, tracery of the torture I was forced to endure.

Don’t think I can’t quit you, mean pants. Because I can. So you’d better shape the hell up and change back into the garments who once swore to love and protect me, through sickness and in health, until death or really indecent holes in the crotch do us part.

Sincerely,
A Totally Unchanged Person Who Is Disappointed In Her Pants
www.jodywallace.com * www.meankitty.com

Cattification: Ravensblood by Shawna Reppert

The book Ravensblood by Shawna Reppert was released in December 2013. It’s about humans who like ravens. Now, I don’t think the eat the ravens, which was kind of a disappointment to discover, because ravens seem like they might be pretty meaty. Thus we have undertaken the project of making this book more tempting to readers and cats with a little cattification action.
 
As always, with our cattifications, we urge you to inspect the original before savoring the delights of the claw job we have done on this author’s cover and blurb…
 



In a life of limited food choices when sometimes dry kibble is the best you can get, can a dark house cat oust the neighborhood dog and save the world?

Catwyn Ravenscoffed. (Likes: eating, string, sometimes eating string, and catnip. Hates: dogs, being wet, not getting to go outside) The last heir of an ancient pride of dark cats, he holds the secret to recreating the Ravensbreast, a legendary magical recipe of immense deliciousness.

Hissandra Greensfur (Likes: yowling at the moon, hunting mice, taunting indoor cats. Hates: dogs, being wet, having to live inside) is a Guardian of the Yard. Magical law enforcement for the elected feline council—and Catwyn’s former housemate and lover. She is trying to live down her embarrassing past of being a housecat. And then her past comes to the yard, asking for her to move back indoors.

As a youth, Catwyn wanted to be a Guardian of the Yard but was rejected because of his declawed status and allergy to flea medication, necessitating his being kept indoors at all times. In his pride and his anger, he had turned to Willhound, the darkest and most powerful dog mage of their neighborhood. Willhound wants a return to the old ways, where the most powerful dog was ruler absolute—even over cats! And certainly over the best bits of tuna and meat. But Willhound would not be a halfway-decent dog from the fairy tales where dogs and cats got along. He would reign in barking and fleas and eating all the best stuff, but also carrion, which he would roll in and bring home on his fur, and that’s totally gross.

Catwyn discovers that he does have a conscience—and a longing to keep the tuna for himself. It’s rather inconvenient, since he knows that damned hog Willhound is not going to share. He becomes a spy for the cat council that Willhound wants to overthrow, with Guardian of the Yard Hissandra as his contact.

Their secret meetings through the glass back door must be kept secret from the beastly Willound. Hiss and Catwyn form a plan to trap the drooling dog outside his warded back yard that has one of those invisible shock fences…never to return. Then they can get down to the business of catching a raven and delicately poaching it for magical good tastes.

But Willhound is one step ahead of the cats, with Catwyn’s life, his tuna, and the secret recipe of Ravensbreast all in danger.

***

Meankitty & the Human Who Types
www.meankitty.com * www.jodywallace.com

Snippet Saturday: Always On My Mind


Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors select thematic excerpts from their work and share them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday’s snippet is always on my mind. Thought I’d share this scene from Claustrophobic Christmas when our hero, James, is trying to figure out why he keeps obsessing over the heroine…

***

James watched Darcy go with mixed feelings. The one person he paradoxically had and hadn’t wanted to see more than anyone in the world, and damned if she didn’t show up. Speak of the devil.

But Darcy Burkell was no demon come to ruin his life and cast his soul into Hell. Hardly. She was kind of a goody-two-shoes. Kind of fussy. Kind of frumpy. God, that sweat suit!

She was the kind of woman he never had anything to do with, but at the same time, she was all he could think about. She made him laugh and she made him worry about her and she made him crazy wondering what it would be like.

Itbeing sex. With her.

When he’d shown up at her office, her hair had been in all these dark, shiny curls and she’d had two buttons undone on her blouse so he could see a hint of pale cleavage. She had enough to entice but not so much it looked like her chest would get in the way when they were mashed up together, hot and heavy. And then there were her tight skirt and round hips. Yeah, a man could grab onto Darcy and not get tired of her any time soon.

But instead of being happy to see him, she’d stared at him like he had two deformed heads. And proceeded to make up some crap about a boyfriend he knew was crap the minute she said it.

Even in that day-glow sweat suit, he still wanted her, and he neverwanted a woman who’d shot him down. Thanks, but no thanks. There were plenty of easier women. And by easy he didn’t mean slutty, he just meant easy to predict, easy to be with and easy to leave.

His feelings for Darcy had crept up on him like kudzu. One day he’d been thrilled to have a punctual client who asked for material that inspired him, and the next he’d noticed that whenever he took a great shot, he wanted to share it with her. He passed the world’s largest garden gnome en route to a job, and he wanted to laugh at it with her. He saw dolphins leaping in the Atlantic…the aurora borealis over Nome…the foamy white spray of a waterfall in Brazil…he wanted to turn to her and say, “Look, Darcy. Would you look at that? It’s almost as amazing as you are.”

Not so amazing if she’d had the poor taste to reject him, he supposed, trying to patch the gaping wound in his ego. Women, right? Can’t live with them in their condos, can’t ask them to live in your tent.
 

*****

Jody Wallace
Author, Cat Person, Amigurumist
http://www.jodywallace.com  * http://www.meankitty.com  

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MORE EXCERPTS

Myla Jackson
Lauren Dane
Leah Braemel
Caris Roane
Eliza Gayle
McKenna Jeffries
http://shilohwalker.com/website
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Lissa Matthews
TJ Michaels
Mari Carr

Snippet Saturday: Action

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday’s snippet is action. Below you will find a bout of fisticuffs and other hijinks from my fantasy romance Survival of the Fairest, and below that you will find links to other SS authors’ fight scenes. Browse away!

Setting up the scene: Protagonists Tali and Jake thought they escaped the antagonist, the fairy Embor, but he and his minions caught up with them in a different Vegas casino. Several of Jake’s fans become involved in the altercation.

***

“You folks are going to have to move. You’re blocking the way.” A man in a uniform who looked like a guard waved his hands in a shooing motion. “Don’t make me call the police.”

“No need for that! Just having a gab session with the ladies.” Venus flipped back her ropes of hair. “Ask that dude why he’s bothering us.” She pointed at Embor with a fingernail that had to be at least two inches long.

Tali peeked around the blonde woman to see what Embor would do.

“I merely wish to retrieve my possession.” The Elder glared at the human, and his hand fidgeted above his bulging jacket pocket. What was in there, a spellglobe? Using one of those in the presence of humans was certainly not in line with Realm policy.

The guard frowned. “Are you trying to say one of these ladies has a possession of yours?”

Venus wagged her finger. “I know he can’t be calling us thieves.” Several of the ladies turned to glare at Embor. “We got nothing of his.”

Embor clarified his comment. “The young lady in the center. She needs to come with me.”

The guard wasn’t impressed. “Since when are other people possessions? I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises.” Two more security guards hastened to the scene while the patrons in the casino enjoyed the show. Several bright lights flashed. Human photographic devices. She’d always wanted a camera.

Elder Embor flinched and Tali felt a mean smile brighten her face. He was one of the chief political advocates of noninvolvement with the humans. A real policy-banger. It wouldn’t look pretty on his Court record that he’d caused this commotion. And she’d definitely tell everyone too. Embor could sevendust her, but by Loken, he couldn’t seal her mouth, a fact he’d been heard to lament on occasion.

Some sense of caution finally leaked through his glacial brain. “Sir,” he said to the guard, “it will be as you wish.” He gestured, and most of the fairies melted toward the front of the casino.

“You too, buddy.” The guard loosened his shoulders as if expecting a fight.

Nothing happened for a few tense seconds. Embor nodded. Then, chaos.

The tree-sized fairy grabbed Jake’s shoulder while the female tried to shove her way into the circle to get Tali. Venus threw herself on the back of the fairy menacing Jake and let out an earsplitting screech. More palace guards protested and moved in. Embor tried to muscle his way between the blonde woman and a redhead, but they wrapped their arms around his body.

“Hello, gorgeous!” said the redhead in a throaty voice. “Where’ve you been all my life?”

Tali didn’t have a chance to enjoy the sight of the shocked and priggish Elder in their embrace. Two other ladies grabbed her arms and headed toward the back of the casino. No black-clad fairies marred her path.

Son of a sevensie, was she going to get away? But what about Jake?

Tali heard the smack of flesh against flesh followed by a masculine grunt and a thud. A glance over her shoulder revealed Jake sprawled on the floor, rubbing his jaw. Venus still clung to the huge fairy’s back, but he didn’t appear to care. Several guards grasped him by the arms and tried to pull Venus off him.

“Jake!” she cried out.

“Talista, do not accompany those persons.” Embor whipped out his communication device, but the blonde lady snatched it from him and dropped it down her capacious bosoms.

“Give that back.” Embor shrugged off one arm only to have another wrap around him from the other side. A hand rumpled his hair.

“Search me, baby,” she said. “I think you’ll be really surprised at what you find.”

Even as she strained to watch, Tali’s escorts zipped her around a block of machines and she couldn’t see or hear any more.

**

Places you can buy Survival of the Fairest:

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

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

MORE ACTION:

Lauren Dane
Shiloh Walker
Delilah Devlin
Shelli Stevens
TJ Michaels
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
Felicity Heaton
Eliza Gayle

Snippet Saturday: Emotions

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday’s snippet is emotions.

I’m going to share an excerpt from Stalking Evan, the sequel to Cooley’s Panther, which has Evan, some awesome cats, and a variety of emotions in it. In this scene Evan is upset, and when he’s upset he finds that he wants to shift into panther form. I have made a few edits to Evan’s language since he’s a d*mn pottymouth and I don’t usually post THAT much cussing on my blog.

******

Panic jolted into him like a cat pouncing on a leaf.

Evan jumped out of his chair and slammed out the back door, breathing harshly in the cool spring air. The times he’d seen a therapist about his “recurring nightmare” of being held captive, the drugs hadn’t helped, but another thing had. He could break the panic cycle if he did something physically tiring until his brain changed topics.

The main thing that seemed to work was going for a run. On four legs.

His vision fuzzed with the incipient change. He crouched, head down. Prickles erupted across his skin like ten thousand pins of pain and pleasure, alternating into one overwhelming rush.

No, wait, shit. He had on clothes. Evan squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to taste the lemony bitterness of the change, tried not to feel the exultant lengthening of his body. He had to tamp it down long enough to struggle out of his favorite sweat pants.

It was like postponing orgasm when he was seconds from the top.

His mind fumbled for baseball stats. Hell, he didn’t know f&ck-all about baseball. Evan sprawled on the wood and concentrated on listing the states in alphabetical order until the prickles in his skin subsided.

The rough, weathered boards of the porch stabbed his cheek as he rolled his head to the side and coughed. He opened his eyes. His cat buddies lounged serenely nearby, as if a wild beast hadn’t almost come clawing out of the nut-ball human ten feet from them.

From this angle, he could see a collar with tags glinting around the neck of the black cat. Spotty’s hair was long, but he or she seemed to have a collar too. He hadn’t been that close to it before; despite visiting him a lot, it was skittish.

“What the hell are you looking at?” he asked, voice crackly.

Staving off a shift left him achy. He dragged himself into a sitting position, skull pounding. The black cat yawned, thrust out its front legs in that peculiar, heiney-arcing twist cats favored, and paced over to him to bump its head against his leg.
Evan touched the beast hesitantly. Its fur was warm and slick, and the bell on its collar jingled. Curious, he flipped up the tag. “If found, please call Nicola Johansen, 615-55KITTY.”

What the hell? This was her cat? A realization tantalized just out of his reach, something obvious he should be able to put together.

What was it? What?

He snapped his fingers at Spotty, who gazed at him for a long moment before ambling almost within reach of his fingers.

He snapped again. “Come here, cat.”

The cat rolled onto its back, writhing and watching him out of the corner of its eye. Meanwhile, Blackie kept headbutting him until he rubbed a hand down its spine.

It was Spotty whose collar he wanted to see. He patted the boards. “Kitty, kitty?”

The cat’s dainty white paws folded against its chest, and he could hear it purring. Its fluffy tail whipped from side to side. Its belly was covered in thick, creamy fur. And yes, there was a collar and tag.

Did it want to be petted? Was that why it was showing its belly? As Blackie twined around him, Evan crawled over and reached for Spotty’s neck.

Quick as spit, Spotty snatched his hand with its front paws, claws out, and began kicking its back feet into his arm. He cursed and tried to free himself, but that only incited the cat to bite.

Sharp teeth nipped his fingers while even sharper claws embedded into his skin. D#mmit! He’d heal when he shifted, but it still hurt. He latched onto the cat’s collar and squinted at the tag in the dim light issuing from his windows.

“If found, please call Nicola Johansen, 615-55KITTY.”

Cats on his back porch. Cats on his front porch. Cats all over his property. Cats congregating. Cats watching him. Cats and panthers.

Cats and Leandra.

Oh, Jesus.

These little f()ckers were Cooley’s spies.

***

Places you can buy “Stalking Evan”:

All Romance eBooks
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Kobo
Smashwords

Thanks for dropping by today!

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

More Excerpts:

Lissa Matthews
Rhian Cahill
Shelli Stevens
Eliza Gayle
Leah Braemel
Myla Jackson
Caris Roane
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
HelenKay Dimon
Shiloh Walker
Delilah Devlin
Lauren Dane
TJ Michaels

Meankitty Wants to Know: Georgie Lee

We have a book release celebration/interview today with author Georgie Lee, whose Hollywood romance novel STUDIO RELATIONS has been published today (December 11, 2012) by Montlake Romance. Ms. Lee writes romance novels but used to be a scriptwriter. “When not writing, Georgie enjoys reading non-fiction history and watching any movie with a costume and an accent.” (quote from her official bio & picture from her website)

No mention of movies with CATS that have accents (but not costumes, because cats DO NOT like to wear clothes). Be sure and stop back by tomorrow when we’re cattifying STUDIO RELATIONS (better title: Poodlio Relations). Also check her Goodreads Page (link at the bottom) for a giveaway of the book in its pre-cattified state.

1) Why did you decide to be a writer instead of a cat sanctuary owner?

Sometimes I think herding cats would be easier than writing, especially when a scene or story isn’t going the way I want it to. However, since the zoning codes in my county prohibit keeping more than about ten pets, writing will have to suffice for now. Also, writing is something I’ve always wanted to do, but it took me a while to find my way to romance. Despite having read romance for years, I originally wanted to be a screenwriter and I moved to Los Angeles to pursue my dream. While I didn’t take Hollywood by storm, once I decided to try my hand at romance, it felt like I’d found my true calling and it’s been a fun ride ever since.

2) Why do you think cats are better than dogs, pigs, horses, goats, ferrets, rabbits and other so-called pets? (Since you call yourself a writer, I trust your answer will be eloquent.)

I love ancient Egyptian mythology and Hathor is my favorite goddess. She was the goddess of love but also the Eye of the Sun, the avenger of RA. There is a great myth about her wrecking havoc on mankind in her feline form. As much as I love dogs, there isn’t a similar great myth about a canine goddess ripping mankind to shreds and only being stopped by a large pool of beer.

3) Further expressing your eloquence, what is the worst thing about dog sitting for about a thousand and twenty four dogs, which I hear you like to do?

Cleaning up after eight little ankle bitters is the worst part about watching them. I deal with this by keeping them outside as much as possible, but even this isn’t easy. When I have them outside in the upper yard, I have to do a head count every few minutes to make sure no one has done a runner. On more than one occasion I have had a little one sneak into our much larger lower yard where coyotes have been known to wander. I haven’t lost a pooch yet, so I must be a pretty good dog herder.

4) Tell me about the felines in your fiction. How often do they appear and how big a part do they play in your narratives?

I am ashamed to admit that felines do not make appearances in my stories (hangs head in shame).

5) On the off-chance you have yet to incorporate cats into your fiction, when or how do you plan to rectify this egregious error and demonstration of poor writing skills?

Now that the error of my ways has been pointed out to me, I will do my best to include a cat in one of my future books. Perhaps the heroine in my current WIP needs a feline friend? What say you, readers?

6) What are your favorite works of fiction or cinema involving cats or favorite fictional cats? As a golden age movie buff, I expect you have a long list, right?

The list is so long that I can’t type it all here. However, one great film from the list is Bringing Up Baby in which a leopard stars alongside Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant. I also follow the adventures of Bucky Katt (Get Fuzzy) each morning.

6.5) Do you know any great tales of Hollywood movie stars and how nuts they were for their cats?

Tippi Hedrin, best known for starring in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, is a passionate advocate for large cats. She has raised millions for Shambala, a lion and tiger sanctuary outside of Los Angeles, and advocates for legislation to protect big cats.

7) Why don’t you write me a poem about cats? I’ll publish it in the interview. I’m probably as prestigious as a lot of literary journals. (And I pay in copies, too! Print it out as many times as you want.)

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
cats kill rats,
but they didn’t kill enough to stop the spread of bubonic plague in the 12th century.

8) How were dogs and cats regarded during the ancient Roman period, during which Mask of the Gladiator is set? While cats probably weren’t worshipped in 41 AD like in the good ole days of Egypt, were cats considered as awesome then as they are now?

I’ve read conflicting stories on whether or not Romans were really into cats. Some people say Romans were not fond of cats as evidenced by the lack of cat artwork. Other sources say cats were associated with the goddess Libertas. Earlier this year, a cat led a man into a previously unknown ancient Roman catacomb and I think that is pretty awesome. You can read more about this awesome cat in the Guardian article. http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/oct/18/cat-2000-year-old-roman-catacomb

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

I did not know this. Does the size of the cat correspond to the amount of money made? If so, I need to adopt Garfield.

10) How do you think writers are like cats?

I think writers, like cats, have nine lives. All of us, on more than one occasion, has “died” because of a rejection or a bad review. However, like cats, we can land on our feet and keep going.

Links
Buy link for Studio Relations – http://www.amazon.com/Studio-Relations-ebook/dp/B008RBSNYY
Website: www.georgie-lee.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/georgie.lee.96
Twitter: https://twitter.com/GeorgieLeeBooks
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2985551.Georgie_Lee

***

Sincerely,

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

Snippet Saturday: Talk, Talk, Talk

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday’s snippet is talking, and I’m sharing an excerpt from Stalking Evan where the heroine has got her big chance — she’s got the hero in her house, eating pie, and thinks they’re going to start being friends now! She’s wrong…at least this early in the story.

***

“I’m glad you came over,” she told him. She hadn’t only imagined him in bed, she’d been considering his life. How had he coped? How had he changed? How was he like her and unlike her? “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

He raised an eyebrow, his fork halfway to his mouth. “That so?”

“Not that way,” she hedged, and covered it with a small laugh. A polite person did not reveal her desires so early in a relationship. “In general terms.”

Evan was obviously not happy being a panther. All evidence suggested the gift had depressed him, and he deserved more sympathy than scorn. She could overlook the state of his house and person if she knew it was temporary.

“Trying to decide how to convince me to mow my yard?” he asked with a glint of humor.

“Maybe.” She tucked her hair behind her ears again, wishing she hadn’t already changed into her at-home outfit of comfortable, cotton pajamas. The flowered blouse and pleated trousers she’d had on earlier today had been much prettier. “Mostly I’ve imagined what your life must be like since the change.”

“To be honest?” He glanced up at her. “It’s shitty.”

“Was it bad before?”

He paused, as if deciding whether to share details. “Not as much.”

Just as she’d suspected. She wanted to hug him, and she wasn’t sure if it was libido or sympathy. “I’m sorry, Evan. You can talk to me. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

He looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. “Talk about what?”

“About how you feel. About being depressed.”

He drank his milk, never taking his eyes off her. “Who says I’m depressed?”

“You said your life is bad. And then there’s your house.” She waved in that general direction. “Have you always been messy? Somehow I doubt it. I read up on this. Allowing your living conditions to deteriorate could be a reaction to—”

He interrupted her, and he didn’t sound depressed—or defensive about his housekeeping. “It’s my house. I can do what I want in my own house.”

She frowned, remembering the details of his kitchen, his floors, his dishes. “There’s nothing…clean. And the germs. Can’t you smell them? I mean, smell the difference in my house.” She closed her eyes and inhaled as a demonstration, the delightful odors of chocolate, lemon furniture polish and narcissus flooding her sinuses.

When she opened her eyes, his gaze was focused downward, at her…her chest. So there was a man in there.

“I don’t seem to get sick anymore,” he said with a shrug, turning his attention back to the cake. “I can handle the germs.”

“Still.” A hardy constitution didn’t mean it was enjoyable to live in squalor. “Didn’t your parents teach you any better?”

He set down his fork, his plate practically as clean as before she’d put cake on it. “My parents?”

“That came out wrong.” What if he was an orphan too? She was usually more polished than she’d been with Evan, but he made her nervous. He was so important to her, so extraordinary, that she flubbed her lines. “What I mean was, didn’t you have to pick up after yourself?”

He lifted one shoulder. “We had a housekeeper.”

“La ti da.” She and Gran had kept house fine, the two of them. Gran had taught her all the domestic arts and had homeschooled her until she’d been fourteen. “Do your parents…are they still alive?”

“Yeah.”

“I wish mine were.” She took a breath, interrupting a confessional on her part. This was about Evan, not her. “Have you told them what happened?”

“None of your business.”

She set her fork down too. “It is my business.”

Evan didn’t answer for a minute, staring at her with something akin to amazement. “How the hell do you reach that conclusion?”

“We share a secret,” she said. “And you sort of owe me.”

“The envelope I gave you says I don’t owe you squat.” He rose, fork and plate clattering. “I need to go.”

Another flub. She’d taken the wrong approach, reminding him of the arrest. Cooley hastened after him as he strode toward the back door. He couldn’t go yet. She hadn’t gotten through to him.

“Wait, Evan. I know you don’t owe me. I wanted to tell you I appreciate the refund.
That was everything I had set aside to pay my quarterly taxes. You know, for small business owners.”

He sighed, stopping at the door, and met her gaze. “Why won’t you give up?”

***

Places you can buy “Stalking Evan”:

All Romance eBooks
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Kobo
Smashwords

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

More talking:

Rhian Cahill
Shelli Stevens
Anne Rainey
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Lauren Dane
Shiloh Walker
TJ Michaels
Leah Braemel

Snippet Saturday: Lean on Me

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This week the theme is lean on me. I thought I’d share a snippet of one of my older books, a novella that’s sort of in the same world as Survival of the Fairest and One Thousand Kisses — Liam’s Gold. This excerpt, from the very beginning of the novella, answers the question what are friends for?

***

The doorbell buzzed while Liam was in the shower. It was barely audible over the rush of water, even to his sensitive ears. He slid the bar of Irish Spring, his favorite soap, back onto the wire rack, rinsed quickly and cranked off the faucet.

The doorbell buzzed again.

“Hang on, hang on,” he muttered. It was probably Sal here to fix the computer he’d fried with another virus. She had terrible timing, but if she cooled her heels on the doorstep too long, she’d get pissed and he’d have to pay somebody to repair the demon box.

His cash flow was diverted to other things right now—-more important things.

He wrapped himself in a concealing robe and padded, dripping, to the front door. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his body. He just didn’t want Sal to notice his skin was as flaky as phyllo dough.

He checked the peephole. Sure enough, his next-door neighbor, Ms. Salvia Rose Winter, leaned against the porch column with a scowl on her pretty face and her computer repair kit balanced on her hip. As always, he felt himself lighten at the sight of her, at the funny way her mouth bowed when she frowned. Grabbing a pair of sunglasses, he slipped them on and opened the door with a flourish.

“Hey there, Sal my gal.” Liam flashed his most charming smile, the better to keep Sal’s attention on his face. He needed about a gallon of moisturizer, stat. “Long time, no see.”

Sal pushed up the brim of her cap. Her sky-blue eyes narrowed. “You’re not speaking to me, remember?”

“And here I thought you were the one mad at me.” He’d been avoiding her, but the reason she assumed was not the reason why. “Guess I was wrong. Well, here you are now. Bygones?”

She dug in her repair kit and handed him a Tupperware box. “Gram sent cookies. What’s up with the shades, Cory Hart?”

“Hangover,” he lied. He didn’t have his contacts in, so his shamrock-shaped irises would disclose to any human he wasn’t altogether normal.

“Are you alone? You’d better be alone.” She eyed his plaid robe and wet hair with a suspicious glare.

“Of course I’m alone.” He’d been “alone” more than she realized of late. He was too close to completion to risk sex. Too close to completion to invite a Finder spawn into his house, but that was a risk he was willing to take since it was Sal.

His gal Sal.

She gave a decisive nod. Her blonde ponytail, shoved through the back of her cap, bounced. “I can give you three hours. But don’t bitch me out about firewalls and filtering software this time. Everyone uses firewalls.”

He motioned her in and shut the door. “I couldn’t surf my favorite sites.”

“Porn sites.” Sal tightened her lips, but to him she still looked kissable.

“A guy’s gotta have hobbies.” As they walked through the house, Liam was careful to stay behind her. Not that Sal knew flaking skin was one of the signs, but she had the genetics to recognize him. Her heritage was the main reason he’d bought the house beside her and her grandmother. Nobody, but nobody, would expect a leprechaun in the final phase of deuchainn to live next door to Finder humans. Nobody would expect a leprechaun in any phase of deuchainn to live next door to Finder humans.

“What stupid thing did you download this time? Lesbian three-ways?” Sal whisked into the master bedroom and wheeled out his office chair. She flexed her hands and fingers over the keyboard.

“Come on. Don’t you think I’ve learned my lesson? It was a greeting card. Probably from your grandmother.” He’d sent it to himself, actually, so he could hose his computer. Viruses concealed the electronic burps and glitches his presence caused in electronic equipment.

“You should get a Mac.” Her voice was gruff, but a tiny smile fluttered across her lips. She inserted a disk and booted up the system in safe mode.

He leaned over her shoulder, close to her ear. She smelled like roses-—not her grandmother’s roses, but the whisper-sweet scent unique to Sal. “I appreciate your help, Sal. What would I do without you?”

****

Places to buy Liam’s Gold:All Romance Ebooks
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Samhain

Jody W.
http://www.jodywallace.com  * http://www.meankitty.com

More friendship and support:

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

Snippet Saturday: Life is Beautiful

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This week the theme is life is beautiful. I’m going to share a scene from a bit later in Stalking Evan than Chapter 1, when Cooley is excited that maybe she’s getting through to her grouchy neighbor. Life in this particular moment in the book, as far as Cooley is concerned, is pretty great.

***

Cooley sniffed, more discreetly than he had, and noticed most of his irritation had dissipated. Good. Perhaps he’d listen to reason now. “I always figured the cats visited me because I put food out for them, but if they come to you, too, it’s not the food. What if they watch us because they know what we are?”

“Huh.” His eyes glinted, like he’d considered it but couldn’t bear to agree with her. If only he’d quit being so stubborn. Didn’t he see what an ally she could be?

She certainly saw him as a potential ally. Among other things. His resistance wasted their time, as did this kooky discussion about mind-controlling cats.

“Thank you so much for telling me this,” she continued. “I didn’t know the cats liked you too. It’s fascinating. I wish I could talk to them.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Don’t you?”

“No.”

“But other panthers can talk to them?”

He grunted.

“Would you care to move our conversation to the den?” The soothing marine blue and green colors of the decor might calm Evan the rest of the way. “You can tell me about our people and their cats,” she offered, trying not to sound too eager.

He rubbed his chest again and shifted his weight. “I can’t stay long.”

“Why not? It’s barely eight.” She didn’t know if it was because she was a panther, but she’d always been fairly nocturnal.

“I have to…you know.” He tilted his head toward the park.

She laced her fingers in front of her. “I can help you with that,” she said, hoping it was true.

He crossed his arms. “How?”

“You can start by finishing off a cake with me.” Whenever she felt an inconvenient urge to run, she ate chocolate or papayas, performed yoga, took a hot shower with scented bath gel, things that increased her serenity. If the urge to shift was particularly bad, she went for a swim at the recreation center. Immersion in a pool snapped her out of it in a way that bathing didn’t. “I find that de-stressing helps. Have you tried yoga?”

“No.” His gaze cut toward her kitchen, visible through a doorway in the dining room where they stood. “What kind of cake?”

“Chocolate. Technically it’s a triple chocolate dream cake with whipped icing.” When she’d realized serenity helped tame the tiger, so to speak, she’d experimented with different things that enhanced serotonin levels. Within reason, of course, because she did not approve of recreational drugs. “Does that sound too sweet for you? It’s sweeter than the apple pie.”

Caught in a fib, he had the good grace to look sheepish. “Sounds okay.”

“Milk to drink? Or would you prefer a nice red wine?”

“Mi— No, I would not like cake,” he said.

“I’m going to have some. It’s no bother.”

“All right, fine. I can hold off five minutes.” He rubbed his arms briskly. “The more I fight it, the more it hurts.”

Aw. Her lingering annoyance washed right away at that admission.

“Bless your heart. Let me get you some chocolate. It really will help.” He followed her into the kitchen, where she divided the remaining cake into two slices and poured milk. If she gave him wine, he might think she was trying to get him drunk.

She put the cold glass into his hand, their skin brushing. It tingled like the first time they’d touched. Prickles spidered up her arm.

He gave a brief shudder.

Cooley wagged a finger at him. “I know you felt that. Admit it.”

He stared at her. At least it wasn’t a glare. “Static.”

“It is not.” She wanted to touch him again. “Can I try—”

“No.”

“It’s a panther thing, isn’t it?” She pretended she didn’t mind the fact he kept telling her no. “Right?”

“Have it your way.”
Oh, she would. Eventually.

Places you can buy “Stalking Evan”:

All Romance eBooks
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Kobo
Smashwords

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

More beauteousness:

Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Leah Braemel
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Lissa Matthews
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
HelenKay Dimon
Lauren Dane
TJ Michaels
Shelli Stevens

Zombie Teresa

Poor Teresa. She’d always been a bridesmaid, never a bride. Which was fine by her until she met Max and realized they were meant to be. The wedding would have been glorious, too, if it weren’t for the fact it was located at ground zero of the Zombie Apocalypse. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health…and in death they parted. Mostly because Teresa ate Max’s brain.

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