Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-244-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor & Satire, Collections
Theme(s): Ménage, Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Magic and Mayhem
Length: Collection
ISBN: 978-1-60521-244-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor & Satire, Collections
Theme(s): Ménage, Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Magic and Mayhem
Length: Collection
Blurb:
Four strong, sexy women, four kooky, supernatural dilemmas, four fantastically hot men. Four stories of the most unlikely, improbable way to find the love of your life. Join Felicity, Charlie, Frankie and Addison for a series of zany Dakota Cassidy adventures!
This collection contains the previously released novellas Catnipped, A Were-Cat Christmas, Werelock, and Confessions of a Wannabe Witch.
Excerpt:
Catnipped
Dakota Cassidy
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2009 Dakota Cassidy
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.
“You fucking redneck! I’ll kick your stupid ass!”
“Bring it, you asshole!”
Charlie Ledbetter beat feet into Fabulous Furries, her local pet store, grabbing a cart and hurrying past the two very large, very angry men who were clearly not happy with each other, judging by their livid scowls and clenched fists. Both were rather impressive in height and girth, but the guy with the jet-black hair was just a bit scarier than his lighter-haired foe.
Charlie shivered when she stepped around them. They gave off this bad ju-ju she wanted nothing to do with.
Being the “avoid trouble” kinda chick she was, she didn’t linger. Besides, Renee would kill her if she was late for her pork tenderloin with orange sauce and dinner was always on time at her best friend Renee’s. Time was of the essence.
Charlie scurried to the chew-toy aisle to pick up a new bone for her dog Pinky. Her Pug-Chihuahua mix needed some kind of entertainment while she was at the bookstore or her furniture would suffer in the way of shredded cushions and scarred wood. Pinky went through bones like J-Lo went through husbands and to not have a healthy supply of them meant her couch would meet a long drawn-out death.
Strolling along the aisle, she fingered the green dental bones, hanging neatly in a row. Pinky’s breath smelled like a Jersey dump and apparently, these bones promoted clean, sweet breath. But the Pinkster loved the clear bones and whatever made Pinky happy…
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the two men she’d seen in the front of the store, stalking one another in the cat food aisle beside hers. The lighter haired of the two stomped behind the guy whose hair was so black it gleamed blue highlights, yelling something.
And it didn’t sound like they were fucking around.
“I told you to stay the hell away from Tasha, you motherfucker!” the taller by an inch or so guy with light brown hair hissed between clenched teeth.
Charlie couldn’t help but overhear their anger over this Tasha. Yet she snapped her eyes back to the bones hanging in plastic wrap and turned her cart the other way, trying to focus on picking the right dog bone for her very picky Pinky.
But they weren’t making it easy. The conversation heated up and the hotter it got, the juicier it got. It was like rubbernecking. Charlie couldn’t turn her listening ears off or keep herself from sneaking peeks at grown men behaving like children.
“She’s not yours anymore, Quinn, and why would she be when she’s got this?” The raven-haired guy answered back and that was when Charlie caught another glance of him over her shoulder, grabbing at his package with a meaty paw.
Hoo boy.
She turned back around and made a face, jamming her chin into her jacket. Jesus, men really did think it was all about the schlong.
And it so wasn’t. Not that it hurt, mind you, but it didn’t amount to everything.
A loud growl went up and it struck her as odd. It was so deep and resonant, it almost didn’t sound human. With that, more words followed.
And they weren’t very nice in Charlie’s estimation, but she couldn’t blame the guy. The really dark-haired guy had thrown the “package” card into the universe. Men were sensitive about their meat and the lighter-haired guy was apparently no exception.
“I’ll -- fucking -- kill -- you!” he spat with succinct timing.
Oh, good. A death at Fabulous Furries. Sooooo not something she wanted to witness. But suddenly she had no choice. The thwack to her back, shoving her into her cart, was sharp, knocking the wind out of her momentarily. Her fingers clenched the cart while she sucked in a lungful of air before she turned to confront the Neanderthals.
God dammit! She bruised easily.
Gripping her side, she massaged her rib area, then narrowed her eyes and focused on her targets. Charlie stepped directly between both panting men, planting her hands on her hips. She faced the darker-haired guy and waved a finger. “Hey, knock it the hell off! You just crashed into me. I don’t know about you, but I hear there’ve been lawsuits over less. Now this is a public place. Can’t you see I’m in deep deliberation over which bone to choose for my precious? Jesus! I can’t think with the two of you yelling. Now take your business elsewhere. There are people here trying to shop in peace.”
Ooooh, but Cro-Magnon man clearly didn’t like to be chastised. He flipped the guy behind her the bird, then narrowed his gaze at Charlie. “Shut up, you bitch, and mind your own business,” he sniped, the set of his mouth forming a sneer.
Charlie gasped.
He. Did. Not.
Charlie, while usually not one to engage, became enraged. The motherfucker. She stood on her tippy toes and stuck her face in his. “I’m sorry. Was ‘bitch’ the word you used? For the love of dick, couldn’t you be more original? You slam into me and I’m the bitch? Ohhh, I so don’t think so. I’m going to find store security.”
But Charlie didn’t have time to finish telling the fucktard off.
The lighter-haired guy did it for her -- with menace. “Don’t call the lady a bitch, you fuck-up. I swear to God you have the mentality of a two year old!”
Okay, so the guy with the black hair didn’t much like being compared to a toddler -- though Charlie didn’t think he was far off the mark -- because the next thing Charlie knew, he was grabbing at the guy behind her and somehow after a scuffle of grabby hands and flailing arms ensued, she ended up in a big old manwich, stuffed like a piece of bologna between two men, the one on top of her weighing at least a good two hundred pounds.
The whoosh they made when they hit the ground was softened for Charlie because she landed right on top of the raven-haired, mouthy guy.
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