Wednesday, November 14, 2012

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A Pussy, a Pirate, and Poachers

People say a picture is worth a thousand words. In my case the picture of a female pirate inspired a book. I stared at the print for days, saving it on my computer. I kept going back to it. Then I was struck …what if. A few weeks earlier I’d seen another image of a black panther. The thought floated through my mind. What if the pirate and panther met? The difference being the big cat wasn’t really a pussy cat at all. I traveled through every twist and emotion my characters faced and in some cases was awed by their reactions. As I typed I can honestly say I never saw a lot of what they went through coming.

For that simple fact alone this book found a special place in my heart. Please enjoy the blurb and excerpt below. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I loved writing them and feel free to contact me and tell me what you thought.

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Milla didn't know who or what she pissed off but she was having the worst week of her life. Her ship had sunk during a freak storm. Luckily, she'd gotten her crew and most of her cargo off.  But somehow she ended up on an island with a neurotic cat, a black panther to be more specific. Her week from hell culminates when they land on an island owned by an ex-drug lord with security issues.
Then there was one little issue she didn’t see coming. Ole pussycat wasn’t a panther at all.

Alex had no clue why he didn't want to leave the infuriating woman. At least he didn't until he got a good whiff of her. Now all he could think about was mating her. That alone was ridiculous, she was human. What made it worse was her penchant for illegal activities.  As an ATF officer he was geared and ready to take her down for smuggling. Now he found himself doing anything to protect her. And she thought her day was bad.

Taking a different route from the one he'd started on, Alex headed back toward shore. Milla was sitting close to the waterline, staring at the sea. She shook her head as she rose. He watched her chest rise as she took a deep breath and started limping toward him. This was his chance to disappear into the jungle. Alex chuckled at the realization he didn't want to leave her. He needed to decide, however, if he would shift to cat or appear before her as a man. Loping toward her, he changed back into his panther form.
Stopping just out of her line of sight, he blended in with the foliage and watched as she walked the beach. Milla was about to walk right into him when she realized he was there––only inches stood between them. She jumped back, falling on her ass, and backpedaled to put some space between them. He stretched his front paws and eased from the brush. His stare clashed with hers. He finally had the opportunity to get a good look at his captor as he sat on his haunches and took in every nuance from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.
Milla's hair had dried into a two-tone afro of black and blonde. Her large eyes dominated her face and were the color of liquid gold. High cheekbones and plump, bow-shaped lips completed her features. His gaze skimmed over her tan skin.
The blue tank top she wore was ripped up the side, exposing the soft curve of her breast. Her sodden jeans clung to her curvy hips and were intact with the exception of multiple long cuts in the fabric on the inside of one leg.
Guilt washed over him. He'd been angry at being caged with no way to free himself on a ship that was sinking. He continued his study of her. She was missing a boot. The missing footwear was his fault too. She dug her hands deep into the soft silt, pushed up from the sand, stood, and limped a few more steps back, favoring her left leg.
She never looked away from him. Alex could hear her rapid heartbeat from where he crouched. His cock jumped. The predator in him responded to her fear by crouching low to the ground and flicking his long tongue out to wipe his muzzle. Alex prowled toward her.
"Nice pussy cat. Remember me? You saved me." She spoke quietly, raising her hands with the palms facing him.
Why did she insist on talking to him as if he were a housecat? He was a predator, not a pet. He growled his frustration and watched her eyes widen. The smell of fear rolled off her. He chuffed at the odor surrounding him. Suddenly she planted her feet, and her scent toned down considerably.
"Listen here, kitty; I am not your enemy. We're caught in a bad situation. You can go your way, and I'll go mine, but after the night I've had, you'll have a fight on your hands if you expect me to lie down and be breakfast." She turned her body toward the trees and, after a glance over her shoulder, limped away.
Turning her back on him was a bold move, and he was impressed. Alex walked behind her. His gaze was drawn to her ass, cupped so lovingly by the jeans. The sight made him groan inwardly. Damn, but she had a nice ass, and once she got hold of her emotions...he'd even admit she would make one hell of a cat.

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