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Some of you may know that I have a little jack russel terrier named Sassi. She goes everywhere with me, and my kids think I’m much nicer to her than I ever was to them. I point out that she adores me, never argues and thinks I’m a Godess. What’s not to love?
Today I took her to the vet because she had a small lump on her head. At first, I thought it was just a mosqito bite or something similar, but it’s been a couple of weeks and it didn’t go away. The vet (whom Sassi also adores) removed it and sent it away for a biopsy, although she thinks it’s nothing to worry about.
The problem is that Sassi now has stitches just behind her left ear, and she has to wear a cone for the next fourteen days so that she doesn’t rip them out.
As you can see, this gets in the way of her number one hobby, playing with the basket ball. It also means she can’t pick up a tennis ball to play fetch. It’s going to be a VERY LONG two weeks! She is currently laying in the middle of the living room floor pouting. I’m not laying odds on that cone lasting the full two weeks. She’s a very smart little lady.
Series: Stargazers
Title: Wild
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-181-7
Genres: Futuristic, Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Themes: Magic and Mayhem
Release Date: July 10, 2009
Author: Anne Kane
http://www.annekane.literalseduction.net
Publisher URL Changeling Press – Erotic Fiction
BLURB:
Unfairly sold into slavery, Stargazer Anaya plans her escape carefully, stowing away in a ship belonging to the cynical bounty hunter, Ryland. She just needs to avoid detection until the ship docks at the next port of call.
When Ryland discovers the beauty, he assumes she’s a runaway sex slave and offers her a choice: be returned to her master or stay and serve his every desire.
EXCERPT:
“And what do we have here?” Ryland reached out and snagged the woman’s arm as she tried to slip past him. “Did you really think you could scurry around the bowels of my ship without me noticing?” With a quick twist of his wrist, he slipped a set of immobilizer cuffs over her hands and smiled grimly when numbness slowly stilled her flailing limbs.
She let loose with a string of inventive curses, some of which he’d be willing to bet were anatomically impossible. What did she expect? Stowing away on a bounty hunter’s ship had to be one of the stupidest things a sentient being could do.
Despite his anger at the inconvenience her presence on his ship would cost him, he let out an appreciative whistle while his gaze swept over her lithe body. She looked even more delectable in person than she had on the vid-scans. He’d been too preoccupied with the new intel he’d gathered on his current target to detect her presence until the ship was well away from the docking ring.
Last sleep cycle, she’d grown careless and triggered an intruder alert on the lower decks. He’d searched for signs of a pirate attack before he’d realized the intruder was a lone female, scavenging food from one of the dispensers. She must have stowed away during his last docking. A runaway slave, most likely. There were quite a few slave farms in this sector where the slaves, both male and female, were bred for looks and a high sex drive.
Angry red chafe marks at her wrists and ankles suggested a less than caring owner, which would explain her willingness to risk the harsh penalties for running. He didn’t approve of beings who mishandled their slaves, so he felt no compulsion to return her to whomever she’d fled from. Grunner, the serial killer he was tracking, already had a good head start. Returning the woman to her owner would set him back at least two solar cycles, and possibly give the killer enough time to find another victim.
She’d chosen his ship; she could take the consequences.
He held her at arm’s length while she continued to curse. Ample curves softened the lean lines of her slender body and a mane of dark, shaggy hair framed her round face before tumbling down her back in an untamed mass. Her green eyes slanted upward, giving her a slightly exotic look. Right now, those eyes glared up at him and she twisted helplessly in his grasp. For a slave, she had quite a temper.
Which might explain the marks on her wrists and ankles.
He really didn’t have time to deal with an abused female right now. On the other hand, he couldn’t very well throw her in the brig and forget about her. He jerked her forward with a little more force than necessary. “What’s your name?”
“Anaya. Who the hell are you?” She snarled another oath when he refused to loosen his grip on her arm.
“I’m Ryland, the owner of this shuttle, so you can shut up, Anaya, and pay attention.”
The woman fell silent and stared up at him with a stunned expression on her lovely face. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear no one had ever told her to be quiet before.
He lifted her hands and stared pointedly at the angry red welts on her wrists. “I don’t approve of abusing one’s property. There are a number of ways to administer discipline without leaving marks on the flesh. I don’t have time to play nursemaid, so if you don’t want me to return you to your master, you’d better come to an arrangement with me.”
She looked confused. Just what he needed, a slow-witted female to deal with. He took an exasperated breath and tried to think of a way to explain the situation in simple terms.
He grasped her shoulders and glared into her amazingly bright green eyes. “I don’t want to waste the time necessary to turn around and take you back.” He stroked his finger down the front of her tight suit, noting the way her nipples hardened under the light touch. He smiled darkly. “You can be my pet body slave and stay on board, or I can call your master and arrange to have you returned to him — or her — at the next port.” He traced the delicate structure of her cheekbones. “Your choice.”
The woman’s jaw dropped open, and she stuttered, “Y-you want me to be your b-body slave? Like a sex slave?”
Hi Patrick, and welcome to my blog. I always love meeting authors, and finding out more about them. Tell us a bit about yourself. When did you decide to become a writer?
First off, it’s a real pleasure to be on your blog. I think in a lot of ways writing a bio was the hardest part of putting out a book. I’ve always liked talking about people who don’t exist rather than myself. It’s probably also because I’m not that interesting. I grew up in the middle of the mitten in Michigan, got an accounting degree to pay the bills, and moved to the Detroit area to work. The way things are going, I might not be there much longer. See, that’s why in my bio I talk about all the things I’m not.
As for when I decided to become a writer, I don’t think it was a conscious decision. Though I think it was helped along quite a bit when I played Little League baseball and realized I had no talent at the national pastime. Before that I wanted to be shortstop for the Detroit Tigers like Alan Trammell. Sadly those dreams were crushed, but in third grade we were tasked with keeping a journal and I filled mine with stories of my brother’s and my toys. From there I’d write little stories and make my own little comic books too. So it really just snowballed from there as I got older.
What’s your writing schedule like? Do you get up at 5am or are you more of a midnight type of person?
When I wrote “Where You Belong” I followed a pretty grueling schedule. For about three hours on Monday-Thursday I’d go to the library after work and write. I was pretty much living on ham sandwiches throughout that time, which in this economy was probably a good thing. On Saturday I’d write most of the day from 10am-11pm at the library and then the local Starbucks or similar place. I did usually let myself have Friday off to watch a movie and Sunday to watch sports and catch up on my domestic chores; that helped keep me from burning out.
Overall I think my brain functions better later in the day. I’ve never been much of a morning person and it usually isn’t until after lunch that my brain really kicks into gear. In college there were times when I’d stay up until 2am or later to work on something.
I know writng a book is really only the beginning of the journey. Actually getting it published is often a more grueling process. How long did it take you to find a publisher for your book? Was it a difficult journey?
Unless you’re a celebrity or something like that it’s a pretty difficult journey for just about everyone. There’s nothing more bruising to the ego than getting that form E-mail rejection from an agent, let alone twenty of them in the same afternoon! You’d think it would get easier the more years you’re at it, but I still find myself dwelling on every rejection for days afterwards.
How did you feel when you were offered a contract?
When I actually saw the book for sale on Amazon I couldn’t help smiling that Cheshire Cat grin for hours and hours. There’s nothing more wonderful for a writer than to see the book out there, except for seeing someone reading it!
I can’t write without at least one pet within reach. Do you have any quirks that help you when you are writing?
I’m not sure how quirky it is, but I always have my headphones on to pump out some music while I write. It doesn’t matter what music really; I just find that it helps me focus and to tune out the rest of the world if I have something playing. Though for the most part my music tends to be mellower, not heavy metal or gangsta rap or something like that. Other than that I don’t have a lot lucky sock or pair of underwear or anything that helps me out. I’ve written in all sorts of places from coffeehouses, libraries, my home, all the way to secluded campgrounds. I like to joke that I could probably write in a hurricane—so long as I had my headphones and juice in my MP3 player.
Now for a frivolous question. Do you have a favorite flavor of ice cream?
Anything chocolate. Plain, with almonds, brownies, fudge, or whatever as long as it has chocolate in it!
Did something in particular inspire this book, or is it just a matter of an idea that grew?
This book has been at least seven years in coming. It was about then I first read “The Cider House Rules” by John Irving. I was one of my first real exposures to what you might call “serious literature” outside a school setting and I was blown away. I loved the book so much that I told myself I had to do something that good someday. I tried a couple of times but couldn’t seem to find the right story.
Then with all this publicity about gay marriage because of Prop 8 in California and similar amendments in other states I started to hear a lot on the subject. What I heard from the opposing side always sounded ridiculous to me, most of it along the lines of, “If we let gay people marry, next they’ll let a man marry his dog!” It was so silly that I finally found something I wanted to say. Looking back at “The Cider House Rules” and also “The World According to Garp” they gave me the solution to how I could make a statement while still telling a good story. So it let me achieve two important goals at once.
Your book deals with a social issue that is very much a hot topic these days, and I have to admit, the story line intrigues me. Do you consider yourself a social activist?
If you saw me, you’d realize I’m one of the least active people on this planet. But no, I’ve never been much of a political activist. I don’t even put bumper stickers on my car. For me to do the kind of stuff Frankie does in the book as part of her gay rights group—throwing nasty things at dictators, storming a college campus, and parading through a small town in a Technicolored bus—would be impossible. I’d faint dead away before even getting close.
Really as I mentioned earlier, I didn’t want to preach in my story too much. I’d much rather focus on a character and a story than on the politics. Politics are divisive, but everyone can appreciate a good story—and if it helps educate or persuade them on an issue then that’s a great side benefit.
What is your favorite way to relax?
When I’m stuck on a story and want to relax I’ll usually take a walk somewhere: a park, a sidewalk, or even a mall. A little fresh air and change of scenery can do wonders for your perspective on things, not to mention it’s healthy for you. On those times when I really just want to shut my brain off entirely I have no problem vegging out in front of the TV watching a movie or sporting event. Actually I think any writer needs to do that once in a while so they don’t go insane—or more so. Think of it like this: even God needed a day off.
Do you have plans for another novel? If so, can you give us any hints?
It may be morbid, but I like to joke that I’m like a shark when it comes to writing—the day I stop writing is probably my last day on Earth. Though sometimes I like to take a little mental breather by working on something less serious. Right now I’m working on an old-school sci-fi story about invaders from Mars. The twist being that the “Martians” are actually human colonists coming back home. It’s a little different than other stuff I’ve done, but bariety helps you stay fresh.
As a total sci fi geek, I’m going to make you promise to let me know when that one hits the shelves! Or if you need a beta reader, hint….
So tell me, where can we go to find out more about you and your writing?
For more about “Where You Belong”, visit my website at http://www.whoisfrostdevereaux.com.
Thanks a lot for having me on and asking such great questions!
BLURB:
Orphaned at an early age, the closest people in Frost Devereaux’s life are the free-spirited Frankie Maguire and her conniving twin brother Frank. Over the years Frost’s life takes him from the lush fields of the Mideast to the burning heat of the desert to the sparkling promise of Manhattan. His heart, though, never strays far from the two people who have meant the most to him. Ultimately, Frost must decide where—and with whom—he belongs.
EXCERPT:
I wake up again and the hand is gone, but I’m not alone. I sense a figure lurking in the shadows, hovering there like a ghost. I think at first it’s my mother; unable to speak I revert back to babyhood and whimper in what I hope is a reassuring fashion. The figure, caught, shuffles forward and I see it’s not my mother—it’s my father.
“Hey, kid,” he says. “How you feeling?”
This is a stupid question as I’m in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines with my face wrapped in bandages. He hesitates before taking the seat next to my bed. For what could be a minute or an hour he sits there, staring at me as he searches for something to say.
“It’s too bad about your mother,” he says.
Though not quite four, I understand this means something terrible has happened. I whimper again, this time mournfully. This rattles my father; he twitches uncomfortably in the chair. He doesn’t want to be there and I don’t want him there; I want Mommy. My father was only the man who lived in our barn.
His hand reaches out to touch my forehead, but his skin is sweaty and warm, not the cool, soothing presence of my other visitor’s. I try to move my head to shake it away only to find I can’t. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid,” he says. His hand moves across my forehead to the bandages. He peels these back gently and then leans close to me so that he can see what lies underneath. Whatever it is causes him to quickly pull his hand back, letting the bandages fall into place again.
“Oh shit,” he whispers into the darkness. I’m too young to know the meaning of this expression. Still, from his tone of voice I gather something’s wrong and whimper again. “It’s all right, kid,” he says, trying to sound cheerful. I know he’s lying. I know things aren’t going to be all right. Not ever again.
My father pats my left hand with his. “Hang in there, kid,” he says. He backs away until the shadows swallow him again. He pauses for a moment before making a decision. The door clicks shut. I wait a moment for him to come back, but he doesn’t. Not ever again.
Series: Dawg Town
Title: Hustle
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-228-9
Genres: Humor, Paranormal, Hot Flash
Themes: Shape-shifters
Release Date: July 6, 2009
Author: Anne Kane
Publisher URL Changeling Press – Erotic Fiction
Watch the Book Trailer: Here
BLURB:
Kaylee has no idea that she’s a prairie dog shifter, or that the reason for all the male attention she’s been attracting is her first heat cycle. When her boss fires her in a jealous fit of rage, she decides to go find some action at the local biker bar.
When the cute little dawg waltzes onto his turf, Logan isn’t about to let any of his buddies get their paws on her. A game of pool turns into a sexy seduction as Logan introduces her to loving, Prairie Dawg style.
EXCERPT:
“I’m a legal assistant. Or rather,” she corrected herself, “I was until an hour ago, when the bitch I worked for accused me of being a disruptive influence and fired me.” She looked up at Bucky as the plump bartender placed a frosty bottle in front of her. “Thank you.” He gave her a friendly grin before turning to amble back to the bar.
Logan let out a low whistle. “Let me guess. You were getting more of the male attention than she was?”
Kaylee glared at him. “Well, it’s not my fault. I’ve worked there for over a year, and all of a sudden, the damned idiots are making passes right and left. She should have fired some of them.” She tossed her head and her long hair flowed down her back in a silky cascade. “What is it with guys, anyway? When I walked in here you all stared at me as if I’d sprouted horns. Do I have a ‘Kick me now’ sign on my back or something?”
Logan let his glance slide over her, and noted the color staining her cheeks. More like a “Fuck me now” sign. He debated using a glib lie, but opted for the watered down version of the truth. “You’re gorgeous and available and looking for some action. It’s in the way you walk, the tilt of your head. Hell, it’s in your eyes. Any man who’s still alive can sense it the minute you enter the room.” He nodded. “Not likely a bunch of lawyers would have the common sense to realize it, but your co-workers would have been affected by the increased pheromone level.” He paused and gave her a wry grin. “Ex-co-workers.”
“Well, it’s not my fault they behaved like they didn’t have a brain to share between them.” She took a ladylike sip from her bottle of beer, and her attention wandered to his shoulders.
He suppressed a triumphant grin. She might not have appreciated the attention of her co-workers, but he wasn’t a lawyer, and he knew how to treat a fine dawg like her.
A sudden smell permeated the bar, and Kaylee wrinkled her nose in disgust. Before she could ask, Bucky stomped across the bar and flung open the front door, screaming incoherently into the night. She looked at Logan, who just smiled and shook his head.
“Peppie’s up to his old tricks. Damn skunk shifter’s really been getting under Bucky’s skin lately.” He smirked. “Maybe it’s his way of getting Bucky to notice him.”
Kaylee laughed and took another swig of her beer. “Maybe I could convince him to haunt my former employer.”
“You’d have to actually catch sight of him first. He manages to leave his mark without getting caught.” He admired the rise and fall of her breasts under the form-fitting blouse she had on.
“Care for a game?” He let the question hang in the air between them for a moment, shifting to a more comfortable position as his cock reacted to her proximity. “A game of pool. There are three private rooms in the back. I’m sure one of them is available.” She frowned at him, and for a moment, he thought she was going to refuse.
“What the heck. I don’t have anything better to do tonight.” She glanced at the felt-covered table visible through the nearest doorway.
Logan felt the corner of his mouth curve upward in the beginnings of a grin. “Great. After you.” He admired the saucy sway of her hips as she preceded him through the doorway, pausing beside the assortment of cues.
He pulled the door firmly closed behind him. What he had in mind didn’t need an audience.
LOL! Just kidding. Here’s a great way to celebrate my national holiday.
July 1st is Canada Day! In celebration for all our Canadian authors, editors, and readers, we’re having a Canada Day party! One day only, as long as it’s July 1st somewhere in the world, use the discount code Dominion09 and you can take an extra 10% off anything you can fit in your www.ChangelingPress .com shopping cart.
Happy Canada day!
