Pic from White Wolf : Native American Actor Rick Mora Helps Abandoned Huskies To Find New Homes
Yes, Rick Mora resembles my latest hero, First Chief Dolozhan Venturri.
Summer howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.
How’s summer treating you? Wow, the Fourth celebration on the tame prairie was four days of boom-boom fireworks, some literally sounded like bombs [okay, the NSA will likely key on the word ‘bombs’, but so it goes in this beyond-insane world].
Okay, I have a big, high-wheel mower on the way...it was on sale...so, I stretched the credit thing...anyway, hopefully my health will hold up, and I can do what I call creative mowing, or leaving much of the wildflowers and herb-medicine plants uncut... plus, I want the precious butterflies and bees, the wildlife, to have enough food. Speaking of, it’s been interesting listening to the deer at night...or one time I surprised, I think it was a doe, when I opened my mailbox—there’s a lightly wooded area at the end of the pasture—anyway, she let out a sound of warning I’d never heard before. And no, I won’t be trying to tame any of the wild critters around here because I want them to retain their flight instincts. There are hunters, and if the supply of food goes south, or there’s hyperinflation...well, the wild critters deserve a fighting chance.
So, I’m continuing to write on my latest WIP, Sensual Sabotage...the hero’s character traits, who he is, is starting to unfold. I’m wondering if he’s some type of shapeshifter...? We’ll see. ~grins~
What I do know, he’s a high-level officer on a space sex-pleasure cruiser, which is beyond amazing in scope and the luxuries provided. However, our heroine, never intended to be on this pleasure ship...but due to unexpected circumstances...
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Here’s a *raw, unedited* peek of what has been written on Chapter Three... so far...
With a slight bow, he pivots toward...wow! It is a coach—ebony in color with gilt scrolling, and rather Victorian in design.
The door swings open at our approach revealing rich, wine-red upholstery. In gentlemanly fashion the commander stands aside, and I step inside. Since the luxurious bench seats are the same in appearance, I hold my breath, choose a side and sit down.
What incredible comfort. Without thought, I sink deeper and a sigh escapes. It’s been years since I could afford such furniture, like most on my ex-homeplanet.
Once he seats himself opposite me, the Commander touches an inobvious button, and we shoot straight up. I barely notice the movement, yet see the upper levels flash by from the corner of my eye.
“I would offer refreshments, Ms. Wyzex. However, this will be quite the short trip.”
“Kind of you. A question if I may.”
“Of course.” His expression is one of gentle amusement. His body language suggests he is open, and somewhat indulgent.
“Other than blood, how do you fund your pleasure cruises? I’m not that familiar with your culture...other than your people have a good reputation in the galaxy at large.”
“Natural abundance. We believe in creating all that is needed, and desired by society as a whole. Our people give what they don’t need, or use—food, fabrics, materials for shelter. And there is trade, individual to individual, as well as huge trading marts, bazaars you might call them.”
He folds his arms in a loose manner. “We do use gem and rare-metal jewelry as a currency. This is true onboard ship for products and pleasures beyond a certain level of general prosperity—where trade is not viable.”
“My universal card is useless, right?”
He arches a dark brow. “Women are always taken care of, Ms. Wyzex. You need not concern yourself. Everything will be provided. Although.” A hint of a grin forms on his face. “If you wish to participate in producing food as one example...or if there is a service you would give to others—not sexual,” he adds. “Or, perhaps, you are of a creative nature. We are fond of all the arts. By all means, join in. We will welcome you.”
How do you feel suddenly hollow inside...and yet there’s a glimmer of excitement tingling inside me?
The coach pod slows and we ascend into his ship through what appears to be circular bay doors. Smoothly, we alight, and the door swings open.
“Commander, you are needed on the bridge,” an officer type formally states while standing at attention.
“Is my brother here?” Commander Vonec disembarks, his movements all power and grace.
“First Chief Venturri has just arrived from his duties.”
Vonec turns offering his hand to me. I hesitate only a moment, then place my hand in his, and walk down the short ramp.
Wow! Talk about a collection of amazing spacecraft and touring shuttles. Wow, oh wow.
I am so entranced by the sight, I hardly register when the Commander releases my hand. Also, I miss the man striding toward us.
As I look around, my heart skips a beat, maybe two—as romantically trite as that sounds. Oh, they are definitely brothers. The resemblance is strong, alright.
Only I find the First Chief more dashing. Tingle-me-hot dashing. His carved features, the waving flow of his dark bronze hair, the falcon intensity of his gaze—the panther smooth way he moves—gawd yes, he’s definitely a renegade after my heart.
Or the sexy renegade who stars in my fantasies. To my inner horror, I run my gaze over his lean but muscular physique, easily seen, given his uniform.
No, I don’t linger on his male package. I’ve never been a crotch watcher like some of my girlfriends. An intelligent conversation is a must to get my desire all revved up, and juicy.
Quit staring. Yeah, like a silly little girl.
My cheeks burn, becoming red no doubt. I avert my gaze enough so that I’m not openly gawking at him. Snap out of it! How ridiculously embarrassing.
Besides, a lover is not on my life list, not right now, for a whole slew of reasons. Not that Mr. Dashing Renegade would even be interested. Probably not.
And since this is a sex-pleasure cruise—crew included as I understand it from rumors—he likely has any number of very eager erotic partners.
Still, warning...warning. Wailing sirens sound inside my head. When his gaze intently sweeps over me—before his full attention is on his brother, the Commander.
Initiate frigid bitch persona. Now!
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Wishing you romance on the wild side…
Kisses, Savanna Kougar
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