Upcoming: Werewolves and Muses

Aaaaah, Christmas is over and that means it’s time to get back to work. Personally, I’ve been unwinding by knitting a pair of socks (edit: just joined Ravelry. BE MY FRIEND) and rewatching the first season of My Little Pony (WARNING MUSIC OMG) because my brain simply cannot handle drama right now. My son’s birthday is only a few days before Christmas. He turned two this year. And my god. The stress. But that’s all over now! I’m looking to wrap up a quick little werewolf/beast erotic romance novelette (novella? depends) titled Bait for the Beast in the next few days, and then it’s on to His Canvas (The Billionaire’s Muse, #2). And it promises to be raunchy and dramatic and really fucking fun. I hope everyone had wonderful holidays this year. Dallas had the second white Christmas I can remember, and I’ve lived here almost all my life. Stay warm, stay safe, and try to relax before we hit the ground running in the new year! A teaser from Bait for the Beast:

At first she couldn’t understand it, couldn’t assimilate it. Her scientist mind would not accept its existence. For a long moment, she was utterly certain she was hallucinating, completely positive that her dreams were coming to life in her mind and dancing across her eyes, completely imaginary and yet masquerading as reality. The drugs in her system, the fear, the cold, all were converging on her brain, making it play tricks on her. Such things didn’t happen. Twisting an arm, Bonnie pinched herself, hoping the pain would jerk her out of it, would wake her up, but all it did was hurt.

The creature still stood there.

It was huge. Covered in fur, a hulking mass of muscle limned in silver light. It stood like a gorilla, massive forearms, crouching hind legs. Like a man, but of monstrous proportion. Plumes of silvery mist puffed from its hidden mouth, blooming and fading. One pointed ear and one former ear, now just a stump, sat atop its head, swiveled toward her. Listening.

I’m going to die, Bonnie thought, very calmly and clearly. I am going to die.

The world took on a certain clarity, and she watched as the creature took first one step toward her, then another, and another. It crossed the small clearing in seconds, its monstrous limbs eating up the earth between them with ease.

It was strange, but the closer it drew, the calmer Bonnie felt. Distantly, the med student part of her was droning on and on about the psychological response to life-threatening stressors, but the part of her that was in the moment, feeling as trapped as a mouse beneath the paw of a cat, was thinking, in a bemused sort of way: How beautiful.

Beautiful the way a tiger was beautiful. Huge and weirdly graceful, and every inch a deadly creature. Death personified in the body of a beast.

Then it was standing over her, and its scent hit her.

Rich. Musky. The smell of sap and ice, the smell of blood on snow. A high bright tang of blood streaked across a dark, oily hide. Leaf mold and turned earth. The dying of the light.


A tiny thrill, sweet and swift, scurried from her heart to the base of her belly, and there it burrowed, growing warm, and then warmer, and then warmer still, gathering heat like a fledgeling flame.

The sensation was so strange and foreign to her that she almost didn’t recognize it, and when she did she stilled in shock at her own inappropriate depravity.

The smellaroused her.

Of course it does, she thought.

Bonnie started to giggle, a giddy, tinkling sound. She couldn’t help herself. Of course this would happen now. After years of searching for the right guy, after late-night drunken kisses with other girls, trying to find out if she were gay, after a cascade of boys desperately trying to turn her on and finding her still bone dry, after submitting to a humiliating exam to indeed confirm that she was a virgin before being thrown out here into the woods, of course she would discover what aroused her in the waking world had been what had aroused her in her depraved dreams all along.

Of course it was the stink of monster. Of course. And now, feeling the swift, singing arousal zipping through her veins, tickling her clit, curling around her nipples, she was going to be eaten. A virgin sacrifice for the beast, only finding what her body had apparently desired all along at the moment of death…