You know that squealing sound that girls, some women, and even some men on TV are known to make when pictures of cute baby animals are shared? That’s not the passionate squee we’re exploring over the next couple of weeks. I and a bunch of my romance author friends are going to attempt to elicit a squee that is best described as passionate from you, our readers, each day until Valentine’s Day. Feb. 1-13.
What is a passionate squee? It’s the sound (If not audibly then definitely in your mind) you’d make if your celebrity heart-throb were pacing towards you with that “I-want-you” look in their eyes. Sqweeeeee!
FEATURED AT TITLE MAGIC ~ Happy Year of the Fire Rooster and Sexy Saturday kisses, everyone. Rainy days and Mondays... that song plays in my head just thinking about this week's theme: My Sexy Rainy Afternoon. Okay, the only rain scene I can think of is in BRANDED BY THE TEXANS. ~~~~~~ Here are SEVEN sexy paragraphs~ Kylie emerged from complete blackness, and felt as though she crawled up a long tunnel as she woke up. Was it raining? Something splashed on the roof above her. If so... She snuggled deeper, reaching for her pillow. An instant later alarm raced through her. This wasn’t her bed.
John Wayne starring as Rooster Cogburn in "True Grit"
Winter-gray howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers. Well, isn't this just perfect for us erotic romance writers. I'll bet lots of us authors will be taking advantage of the Chinese Year of the Fire Rooster, which begins today, on the New Moon. ~big smiles~ A Fire Rooster Hero ... now there's a characterization to please a heroine. I should create one for Wolf Peak Territory ... oh for enough time! Oh, and this just hit the ole brain—what about Rooster Cogburn, the irascible western hero John Wayne played in "TRUE GRIT"? Update: Author lost...author lost...okay, you know when you have specific plans, a goal to reach, a deadline...well, since that collapsed with the Box Set... yes, I'm still writing on that story, my Wyoming Wrangler erotic romance, and it's going pretty good ... however, I'm not certain where to jump next... or actually where to jump since that story is really just designed for a Box Set ... currently, I have certain restrictions—the ole bugaboos of time and energy—that limits what stories I'm able to write ... a lot of mental energy is require to construct and worldbuild a story ... anyway, so there it is ... plus, I'm dealing with several life challenges... meaning, in part, I never know what I can get accomplished. In all truth, as I think I mentioned before, I've thought of what I'm calling a taboo erotic romance that would only be available at Smashwords, simply because there seems to be a market... but whatever...??? Anyway, here are SIX PARAGRAPHS from the temporarily titled, Wyoming Wrangler. Unedited, of course. Dale Vilogo shut the door of his Dodge Ram pickup with a flick of his wrist. Saturday night, and like he figured, most of the townfolk poured inside the country western bar and danceclub. The vintage brick building dominated half a block. Waylon Jennings singing "Highwayman" streamed through the open doors, and hell yeah, excitement electrified the air. Dale paused in his long stride, shooting his gaze to the wide open Montana sky. The first stars of night twinkled, and reverence for the heavens filled him as always. But yep, sure enough, there was his shooting star. A blazing flash across the darkness. Then gone. Ever since his days as a kid on his family's ranch, he'd had an uncanny knack for seeing fireballs. One summer he'd counted over a hundred meteorites streaking across the black starry skies. It was purely magic. No matter the science behind the atmosphere-burning meteors, every sighting quickened his heartbeat—felt magical to him. Yep, no doubt, luck was his companion tonight. Dale grinned wide striding for the entrance of the Thunder Corral.
New Day Howls and Yowls, shapeshifter lovers. So last week, I had started a blog about the latest story I'm penning... that is, was *penning* for a BOXED SET... the whole venture has blown up, and blown apart... why? ... lack of clear communication about the heat level of the stories... seems as though the author who put forth the parameters and asked for participation wanted sensual and steamy romance, however she included erotic romance as an option without saying she wanted 'tamed down' erotic romance.., well, the rest of us just assumed: okay we're writing erotic romance like regular... okay, that turned out to be a big dramatic problem, that ended in the yahoo planning loop being obliterated ... whatever ... if I knew how to do BOXED SETS I'd try it, given several of us would still like to go forward ... but I don't really have a clue about how to go about it, as far as formatting, and such... to be honest, I don't know if I have the energy and time... it's been tough these past several weeks ... and this morning a connector hose on the hot water heater sprung several leaks ... at least, I could simply turn the hot water off ... but the problem still has to be solved, since my attempted solution DID NOT work... at this point, I'm hoping to order a new connector hose online, if I can find the right one... ~sighs~ Anyway, last week I was going to explain a bit about the hero of my WYOMING SPACE ALIENS 'contemporary' erotic romance, that I was writing for the now nonexistent BOXED SET... "My hero, Dale for short...his first name is Daletori... is a true Wyoming cowboy, a horse wrangler. However, he's not exactly an Earth human. True, two of his grandparents are pure Earth human...however, his people are known as the Rahtoul, and they arrived on Earth in the 1930s. Having a natural affinity for the ranching way of life, this original group of ETs established a small town and community in the midst of the Wyoming wildlands...yeah, the wonderful Western state of Wyoming is not that populated. Is it? Why did the Rahtoul come to Earth...well, it has to do with *freedom* ... the culture of freedom for ALL sentient beings throughout the galaxy, as a whole. For, as it's said, the cost of freedom is eternal vigilance—to paraphrase Thomas Jefferson. [Quotation: "Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty."] ... yep, this is true even in a galaxy far, far away. Oh, and since this will be the Chinese Year of the Fire Rooster or the Fire Cock ... well, how much naughty fun is that?" Currently, given it was yesterday that the CRASH AND BURN happened... I'm not certain what my next move will be. I'm at ground zero, given my WYOMING WRANGLER story was tailored for this BOXED SET, and I don't really think this novella works as a stand alone... not right now. Yep, all that time and energy and authorly research is very possibly wasted. ~Sad sighs~ However, a big shout out to fab author, Kate Hill. She featured a *story sample* from BLACK CAT BEAUTY at her blog on January 17th. ~http://kate-hill.com/compellingbeastsblog~
Dante, the alpha leader of Wolf Peak, surveys his territory.
Howls and Yowls, shapeshifter lovers.
This year of 2017, the Full Wolf Moon is in the sign of Cancer, a cardinal water sign. This should give a big good boost to the emergence of the Aquarian Age ascension, to the quickening-continuing AWAKENING of humankind and Mother Earth herself. After all, Aquarius is the sign of the water bearer. It's certainly been a liquidity time just before and since the new year began...at least, around this Big Cat. Look around, the world is moving fast, changing fast now, like the constant and unending magnificent motion of an ocean. It's my contention that timelines are joining, switching, and the immediate future is altering at a rate that makes it difficult to psychically perceive what will be true. This is one reason I haven't continued with Volcano's Angelic Headline Forecast over on the Title Magic blog. That, and I just can't find the time to devote to this massive endeavor right now.
Three of the white wolf shifter ladies enjoy the full moon's bright rays.
One of the Sentinel Guards on patrol at Wolf Peak. Protection of the pack and ALL the shifters and supernaturals in the community is always a priority.
Singing to the Wolf Moon, a time-honored ritual and celebration.
The girls paint their fur pretty colors and join in the howling good time.
What cosmic dreams are made of...wonderful for a wolf's spirit and soul.
Dante's right-paw wolf man wishes ALL a HAPPY HOWLING NEW YEAR. He's seeking his mate.
Yep finally, SHAPESHIFTER LOVERS, I was able to finalize and Indie publish Sable and Devon's erotic love story. Here's the Promo. The SMASHWORDS BUY LINK is at the end. And yes, BLACK CAT BEAUTY is in their Premium Catalog. Also, I'm waiting for Amazon Kindle to make the ebook live.
Black Cat Beauty
Chronicles of Sable Kiki, Book One
Shapeshifter Erotic Romance, A Halloween Fantasy Novel
Seduction by cattitude, Sable Kiki's covert assignment is Devon Zant, rising movie star. Problem: she's captured by his super-powered passion.
~Blurb~ A private Halloween party in a Gothic mansion hidden in the Hollywood Hills. Add one party crasher, Sable Kiki, a naughty black cat with a sexy wild human side. Her covert assignment from her devious, always-cunning father: use her seductive wiles to discover the truth about Devon Zant, a movie star/musician on the rise to super stardom. Posing as the superhero actor, Devon Zant, D'Torr has arrived on Earth seeking revenge for the capture of his younger brother, and to assist in stopping a powerful interstellar enemy. The leviathan warfleet of the Altirrux wants rule of all intergalactic trade routes to Earth, endangering the survival of D'Torr's race, and all the inhabitants on the rare blue jewel, Earth. ~~~~~~
Sable Kiki ... she's back ...
Halloween Seduction With Cattitude and Claws
How To Defeat a Hollywood Black Arts Witch
The Brykkitv, an Alien Race of Men, Notorious For Capturing Catwomen Shapeshifters
Leashed By a Superhero For His Mating Pleasure
Sable shivered within. An assignment from her father was an assignment from her father. And could not be ignored.
Devon Zant was not to be ignored, either. His alpha male vibes demanded she come to him.
Sable smiled feline-seductively, her natural confidence returning. She tipped her head back, keeping her gaze beneath his as she approached. One step away from him, she halted.
Instead of blatantly perusing his masculine assets—yet—she studied his classically carved features through her half-lidded gaze. The god Hermes and the half-god Hercules, blended as one—and definitely more strikingly handsome than either—that was Devon Zant's face.
From on high, his gaze scorched over her, tingling her skin. Glints of lightning sparked in the depths of his eyes, and she was astonished by how blue they truly were—not sky blue. Not Paul Newman blue. No, his eyes were deep iris blue, and so brilliantly luminous that for an instant she thought she observed an aurora of color slide across them.
No wonder a movie camera, even in the age of digital, couldn't completely capture the true color of his eyes. Nor could any camera do full justice to his hair.
His auburn mane just brushed his shoulders and was nearly black, with fine streaks of burnt gold and bronze. She could analyze by the smell he hadn't dyed the color. Au naturel, his hair was obviously a hairdresser's dream.
Full and wide, flirtatiously, Sable smiled. She flashed her gaze over him, her attitude one of pure female admiration.
"Sable," she softly rumbled her name for him.
Excitement, like electrical currents, skittered through her as she waited and wondered. Would his smoky strong voice be sexier than the capacity of a digital mike?
His gaze broke from hers, roaming over her auburn tresses, which were not quite as dark as his, and blazed with reddish tints. "Your hair?"
"Not colored and like my name." Sable used her voice to stroke him. Entice him. She languidly moved her hips so the thick waves of her hair rippled over her back and butt.
"Beautiful. Gorgeous. I've never seen such lovely hair...Sable."
Oooh, Cat Goddess Bastet! Could Devon Zant stroke a woman's ego.
"I could say the same about your hair," she breathlessly purred, even though being star-struck was so not her thing.
"Have you ever cut your hair?" he asked, as if the answer really mattered to him.
Sinfully, deeply, darkly male—his voice. Torrents of *take me*desire flooded through Sable.
Her super sensitive ears also tuned into a tonal quality that was pure—clear as a bubbling mountain stream. Sable realized as a lead actor, he touched the soul of an audience with his voice.
"Not for years. I've only trimmed the ends." Evidently, as she spoke, all the air deserted her lungs, and now rushed back into her lungs.
"Good. Don't ever cut your hair."
If she had willed it, Sable could have orgasmed over the velvety purr of his voice.
Right there on the steps. In full view of him.
Slow as a sweltering summer breeze in New Orleans, he reached toward her hair. His fingertips slipped down one strand as if she were unreal and about to vanish before his eyes.
I feel like a mystical creature. Where's my misty portal?
"What's your full name, Sable?"
"Sable Kiki. I don't use my last name." She added a throaty purr just for him.
"Neither do I, beautiful catwoman."
His tone held such mystery, she blinked. Her pulse hitched with sudden uncertainty, and surreptitiously, she sniffed for anything that would make him other than a topsider—or not fully human.
Nothing. Nothing she could detect.
"Sable Kiki." More than a sensual purr, he spoke her name like a sacrament—at least, to her cat ears.
She didn't speak, almost unnerved,. Instead Sable stared at his broad superhero chest revealed by the clinging fabric of his simple button-down black shirt.
His exposed skin , in the shape of a V, was the color of her cocoa when a third of it was heavy cream. Sable licked her lips, since he wasn't watching.
He gently lifted a long strand of her hair, sliding it between his fingers. "What is it you want?"
You. "Are you gay?"
Sable planted her fist on her slanted hip, even as she tilted her chin so her face was beneath his again. His intense gaze seemed to hunt every inch of her face.
She gave him a sassy smile. A small grin curved his stunningly formed mouth.
"Gay as in Zorro, The Gay Blade?" he asked. "Or gay as in, shall we gaily roll in the meadow of bright blooms, entwined, our bodies perfect lust against each other?"
His eyes twinkled for only an instant. Languorously, he twined her hair around his forefinger, waiting for her answer.
"You tell me...big up-and-coming movie star." Sable deliberately traveled her gaze down, then up the impressive length and breadth of his cock's bulge beneath the black pants that were just a few steps away from a superhero's tights.
I could come deliciously on that hunk of meaty sausage.Assuming it was real and not an anatomy prop.
She sniffed, and her gaze flew to his face. The tip of his cock dripped with his male essence.
He skimmed his palm over her breast , then lightly circled her belly. Studying her eyes, he covered her loins with his hand, and rubbed, exciting her.
Bastet, help! His alpha-male touch pleased her way too much.
Deciding to play along until fortune favored her, Sable traced the dominant planes of his face. His features beckoned her artistic nature—and not to mention—owned her sheer female admiration.
"A black cat always has her own comfortable bedroom." Sable tried not to purr the words, but...
"Don't worry, my black catwoman, I'll make certain you're satisfied." His eyes sparked as if they held starfire.
Who was this man? No human...
The scent of his scorching rut for her filled her nostrils, distracting Sable. She yearned to lazily undulate beneath him. She wanted to curl and stretch, be her cat self with him, then take his super man, strong cock inside her—all, as she lost herself in his starflame eyes.
Don't think like that. You can't have him. He's dangerous to everything, to everyone you love.
Devon rubbed his cheek, his jaw against her fingertips. As she opened her hand wider, he brushed his face against her palm. The slight sandpaper scratch of his stubble heightened her passion, already threatening to rage out of control.
His hand slipped over her mound and cupped, a pleasurable claiming of her. Sex-wise, the man knew what he was doing, alright. Soft zings spread through her pussy as he kneaded her swollen mound.
He fastened his gaze on her face as if nothing, no one else existed. Sable knew bliss softened her features, and ignited her turquoise-colored eyes.
"My wet black cat," he praised.
His gentle massage of her pussy only made Sable crave more of his touch, a fiercer handling.
"I want you in my bed. I want you in my bedroom."
There it was embedded in his voice. He wouldn't allow her refusal. Yet, she had to persuade him...anything to escape.
"Un-trainable, I told you. You don't want me in your bed."
"I prefer a challenge. Mild-mannered women don't interest me."
Oh Goddess, no!
Overwhelmed by how sexily he fondled her pussy, Sable moaned. She arched like her cat self. Closing her eyes, she widened her thighs as his fingers tantalizingly stroked the outline of her sex lips.
"Come to me, my black cat beauty." He smoothed his fingers beneath the scoop neckline of her one-piece catsuit, and skillfully peeled away the filmy black fabric. "Sable, I want you naked."
Before she could protest, Devon freed her shoulders, and rolled the thin Lycra costume away from her breasts. Using both hands—his manner intensely sensual—he eased the stretch fabric down her arms, over her hips, then pulled it down her legs.