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http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1385
Blurb:
Survival show star Foxxe Wylder thinks his season ending show in Yellowstone may be as stale as his career, and he's ready for a break prowling the urban jungles back home. He didn't plan to hit a coyote on the road, nor that the charming little canine would turn his world upside down.
Reno never wanted pack life, and the idea of finding a mate and raising a litter of pups isn't on his wish list. Neither is being hit by Foxxe's SUV. Then, Foxxe's producer gets an idea -- Foxxe will release the cutest coyote on TV back into the wild, now that the vet has taken care of him. However, one stubborn coyote has ideas of his own.
Excerpt:
Foxxe Wylder downshifted his new toy, a brand new coal black Lincoln Navigator. Yeah, he knew the jokes about how "luxury" and "SUV" were a contradiction in terms, but Foxxe figured he'd earned a few benefits because of his job. He wasn’t looking forward to the next challenge that was for sure.
As if he could read his star's mind, Foxxe's producer Wayne tapped on Foxxe's shoulder. "How many more hours before we make it
to Yellowstone? "
Foxxe checked the GPS. Yeah, he loved the gadgets. He wouldn't have the luxury --there was that word again-- of a GPS or even a compass once they started filming the next episode of "Wild Survival" for the audience of the Discovery Channel who ate up every one of Foxxe's adventures of survival. "I'm guessing an hour or two, maybe. Who's our contact again?"
A soft snore from the front passenger side made Foxxe grin. His faithful cameraman Andy snoozed in the pre-dawn darkness, clutching one of his smaller expensive cameras like a kid cuddling a teddy bear. Andy had celluloid on the brain and had since childhood. In truth, Foxxe considered Andy braver and crazier than even himself. Foxxe was an ex-Navy Seal with too many medals for bravery and undetected crime for his own good, but any cameraman who worked documentaries ate great white sharks for breakfast and cleaned his teeth with lionfish quills. Nothing scared those crazy bastards but missing the shot.
Wayne slouched back in his seat. "Dr. Jeff Gleason, a volcanologist. He's your guide in." Wayne pulled out his ever-present notepad and Blackberry from under the paper piles he’d spread all over the back seat. "He's not happy about it, but his bosses at USGS insist he do this. I'm trying to convince him his job includes allowing us to film him. He's a Comanche. Our research
assistant waxed poetic. Apparently he's..."
"...A sex god waiting for a temple or other such shit. Yeah, I heard her." Foxxe sighed. He didn't need Wayne to know his star was gay, and he damn sure didn't want his fans to know, or the network would cancel the show for any excuse they could find. Foxxe held no illusions about his bosses. They were predators, all of them, and if they smelled any sort of weakness in you, they'd exploit it mercilessly. They thought Foxxe was some macho war hero who fucked six women a night, and Foxxe reaped the rewards of their illusions. However, the reality was that Foxxe went without sex more often than not.
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1385
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