| Dawg Town: First Snow |
| by Selena Illyria cover art by Reneé George |
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| ISBN: 978-1-60521-364-4 |
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| Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor & Satire |
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| Theme(s): Interracial, Shapeshifters |
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| Series: Dawg Town |
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| Length: Novella |
Blurb:
Robbie's a prairie dog shifter. Kitty is a Scottish Terrier shifter. They've been friends since infants and lovers since their teens. Unfortunately, when their parents, former best friends, had a fight, Robbie and Kitty became the Romeo and Juliet of Barkus.
They'd been hiding their love affair for years when Kitty decides she's had enough. It's time to put up or move out. Robbie left to tell his parents and has now returned to claim his mate.
Excerpt:
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Kitty rolled over and groaned. A glance at the clock revealed it was one in the morning. She'd been awakened yet again by an erotic dream of Robbie, only to come back to reality. With a sigh, she punched the pillows and tried to get comfortable again. It didn't work. She missed him, missed his long, hard body pressed against hers. She yearned for the scrape of his hairy legs against her smooth ones and wanted to hear the soft, soothing sound of his breathing as he slept.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she dashed them away angrily. He hadn't called in a month, and it seemed as if he was avoiding the bar altogether. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful or angry at his absence. Sure, she could do her job in peace, but it wasn't the same not seeing his smiling, happy face among the boys. Kitty would even put up with his horrible jokes if that meant he'd come back to the bar.
The boys refused to tell her what was going on, which only pissed her off more. Silently, she thought they blamed her for Robbie's disappearance from the bar. She wasn't sure whether to be pissed with them for blaming her or mad at herself for not quitting after she'd broken things off with Robbie. Now she was left in a quandary. Did she continue to waitress at the Prairie Dawg bar or move on? There were a few jobs in town she could try her hand at, but none of them would be as much fun as the bar.
She rolled onto her back and let out a soft sigh. The minutes ticked by, and sleep didn't tug at her eyelids. With a groan of frustration, she threw back the covers and padded out of her bedroom and downstairs. Kitty went into the kitchen and made herself a mocha cappuccino. While the milk heated up on the stove, she went to the window and peeked out. Delicate veins of frost decorated the panes and showed an opaque picture of bleak ground of dull colors. Only the evergreens planted in her front yard and around her house gave some relief from the bleakness. Even the sky was a sad gray instead of deep, dark blue.
Kitty missed seeing the stars winking and sparkling at her as the moon traveled across the sky. She turned away from the scene, took the milk off the stove and poured the boiling liquid into her coffee mix. A small smile curled her lips as she thought of what Robbie would say had he witnessed such a sight.
"That's not coffee; it's crap. Let me make you a real cappuccino." This would of course create a mess in her kitchen and all for a small cup of coffee that wasn't even hot by the time he served it. She used to tease him about his coffee snobbery, just like his beer. He couldn't drink just any beer. It had to be a specific brand; even then, it wasn't perfect. It had to be nice and cold, not in a can but a bottle. Lastly, he refused to just throw it back; it had to be drunk nice and slow.
She took a sip of the cappuccino, savoring the bitter sweetness of the coffee. With a sigh, she wandered over to the fridge and opened it. There, on the top shelf, was a six-pack of his favorite beer, untouched. She hadn't had the heart to give it away.
The beer was just like his stuff, all over the house. Kitty had asked him get his things, but he had never stopped by, and she hadn't wanted to call him for fear that she would take him back. Robbie's worn leather bomber jacket still hung on a hook near the back door. His hiking boots were in the living room right next to his backpack. In her bathroom, she still had all his toiletries.
When Kitty's thoughts turned to her bedroom, she let out a soft sob. His shirts still hung in her closet along with two spare pairs of jeans. His brush sat on her dresser, and another of his jackets was slung over the back her overstuffed wingback chair. The candles he liked were still scattered around the room. Everywhere she looked in her home, she saw him, them.
Her knees and hands shook. She sat down in the nearest chair and put the mug on the table before covering her face with her hands. Kitty began to sob uncontrollably.
"I wish I could forget you," she whispered.
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