Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Dawg Town: Mad Dawg by Tuesday Richards

Dawg Town: Mad Dawg
by Tuesday Richards

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-252-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Ménage, Shapeshifters
Series: Dawg Town
Length: Hot Flash


Bryce's bad day in Barkus, Kansas, starts when he dodges a prairie dog and lays down his most prized possession: Midnight. Can his day get any worse? Mad Dawg's about to find out.

Dolly Madison's car breaks down a mile outside of town. She walks into the closest building where opportunity knocks on the wooden bar.

What secrets does Barkus, Kansas, hold when the cute and cuddly are among the residents?


This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"Couldn't have been a comfortable walk in those shoes." The country God spoke with a sensually deep voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I walked from the parking lot." Dolly snarled out the lie. She'd scuffed her favorite shoes. One heel was loose and would need to be repaired.
"The only reason a lady like you would walk into a joint like this is if you had car trouble and had to walk." He took a swig of his beer before he continued. "If you're here of your own accord, with a car parked out front, then you got more brass than anybody here."
Bucky sat another longneck in front of the man with heavenly blue eyes and short brown hair that begged to be touched. "Mad Dawg, leave the lady alone." He turned back to Dolly. "Don't worry about him. He's just upset 'cause his best girl was in an accident today." Bucky's attention was called away when six other men hit the bar bellowing drink orders.
"I'm sorry to hear about your… girl. She's in my thoughts."
"Thanks, Dolly," Mad Dawg muttered through his beer bottle.
Bucky was again front and center with a stressed crease in his forehead. "Man, I wish I could get decent help in this place."
The comment caught her attention. I couldn't be this lucky. "Bucky, I can help. I'm a trained bartender."
He seemed skeptical -- it could have been the raised eyebrow that gave it away. "No offense, Dolly dear, but what could you know about tendin' a biker bar?"
With a smirk, she unzipped her Vera Bradley purse, pulled out credentials, and slid them across the bar. "I'll admit, not much about biker bars. However, I am certified."
Bucky let out a slow whistle. "Good school. Prove it."
She slid off the wooden stool, stepped around the counter, put her purse in a cubby, and grabbed a bar towel. Dolly pushed an end of the folded cloth into her back pocket, thanking Liz Claiborne for the thick-heeled collection this year, and reached for a tumbler. "Did I hear a few of you call for a whiskey sour?" she yelled over the buzz of people. Three people raised their hands from the end of the bar. "Comin' right up."
Dolly grabbed three highball glasses from the rack and lined them up on the bar. She dropped some ice in the tumbler, and with a couple of flips of the whiskey bottle she did a nine-count pour into the steel cup. A flick of the wrist had the bottle back on the shelf and the sour mix in hand. Filling the tumbler the rest of the way, she slid the sour bottle down her arm into the well and at the same time put the top on the tumbler. With a few shakes and a flip, she poured the drinks, tossed the tumbler in the sink, and slid the glasses down the bar, where they stopped in front of the patrons who ordered them.
She heard six beer orders shouted. Dolly reached into the cooler, grabbed six longnecks, and flipped them one by one over her head, catching them one at a time and popping the cap off the bottle on the edge of the bar. She filled the orders one by one in a single line down the counter.
The bar fell silent with the last of the orders filled in record time. She cleaned her hands on the bar towel from her pocket, swiped the counter quickly, and washed the tumbler. Dolly walked by Bucky on her way from behind the bar and pushed his jaw closed.
With a gulp, he choked out, "You're hired. Get back behind this bar." He took one side of the bar, and she stayed close to Mad Dawg the sex God, serving the other half.
"Hot damn, there's a new sheriff in town, ladies. Hold on to your man," a blonde biker babe in the back shouted over the commotion.
Dolly looked at Mad Dawg. "Is that a good thing, or should I worry?"


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