New In Print from BtV Authors!

Click on the images to find out more! Congratulations, ladies! (And hey, did you guys consult with each other on the one-word titles? [grin])

Selkie Island now on sale

Today my novella, Selkie Island, goes on sale. It manages to combine my love of a maritime setting with my love shapeshifters. I’m excited to see it at My Bookstore and More!

Here’s the blurb:

Gone without a trace…now danger tracks them to their one safe harbor.

A hundred years ago, her mother’s plea gave Morag a second chance at life—but not as she knew it. Now she lives a mostly solitary life as a selkie, seal in winter, human in summer, barely aging while her family and friends pass away. As the lonely years become almost too heavy to bear, she clings to the memory of one intense summer affair with a young man who left her, as humans always do.

Nine years have passed since Clay hitchhiked to the Maritimes, where he embarked on a memorable if short-lived affair with a mysterious woman. Their enchanted time together called him back a few months later—but she had disappeared. Now, wounded and desperate, Selkie Island is the only safe harbor he can dredge from his feverish haze of pain.

When a strange boat plows onto the beach, Morag is curious—and shocked to discover her long-lost lover, unconscious and hurt. Nursing him back to health is the first thing on her mind…right after she convinces him she’s real.

As real as the danger following in his wake…

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Here's the opening of the book:

She heard the boat first, its vibrations traveling down through the water. This arrival was a rare occurrence, and she felt driven to investigate the intruder. Leaving the ocean floor—she wasn’t far from the island—she angled her body, undulating upwards at top speed. She hit the surface and caught sight of the boat headed towards her and her island.

As it came closer she saw that it was surprisingly small. These days only larger boats seemed to venture this far out from the mainland. Most people gave her island wide berth—it had certainly wrecked many boats in its time—but this one was aiming for Selkie Island, and she didn’t know what to make of that.

Curiosity was her first and strongest emotion so she waited, just below the surface. The occasional seal hunter or angry fisherman existed, so she kept her profile low as the boat passed by, then followed in its wake, swimming along behind it. It struggled in the rough water, making its way through the large waves.

Her vision through air wasn’t terribly clear, but a single man appeared to be slumped over the steering wheel. How odd. Intruders—visitors, she corrected herself, deciding to be positive—generally did not come alone, and they usually arrived in warmer, gentler weather than that of a gray, wet, windy spring day.

It was hard to describe the excitement growing in her, though she knew she should feel more cautious given the terror engendered by the last set of strangers who’d landed on her island. But loneliness was a powerful force in her life, and as of now, it swamped her fear.

He rounded the point, rather clumsily, and she heard the boat scrape a rock, harsh enough to cause damage. She cringed, not wanting the man to sink the boat. Never before had she rescued anyone from drowning, and the logistics would be challenging. Seals didn’t have limbs useful for lifting humans, and her human shape would very quickly become lethally chilled in the spring ocean.

Thankfully, the boat was not immediately harmed. It kept going, rather grimly she imagined, towards the little beach that she considered hers. A mild sense of territoriality rose within her. Still, human conversation was something she sorely missed, and it had been a couple of years since she’d last spoken to anyone.

Maybe. Her sense of time was deteriorating. She knew it. And at some point she might lose it forever and forget what was human in her.

But not today, it seemed. She braced herself, for this wasn’t the time of year she changed. Usually she waited for summer and heat and sun. Her seal body was never cold, only sleek, thick, furred and comfortable. On the other hand, her human body did not like the cold and over the years, that body seemed to become a little thinner, a little weaker and less able to withstand the elements. As if it was fading from disuse.

Rain began to fall. The gray sky had darkened since the intruder’s arrival. Morag dragged herself onto the rock, and like the rock, she lay half in and half out of the salt water. Her focus turned inward.

She was never sure of the passage of time when she shifted forms though it felt instantaneous and perhaps it was. Certainly the first transformation, or what she remembered of it, had not taken any amount of time. It couldn’t have, she’d just died and the magic had needed to work quickly.

She allowed the energy to engulf her—it was always her choice—and the seal was gone, only its shadow-light living within her. In the seal body’s place, she’d become a wet, sodden human, shivering in reaction to the shock of change though she wasn’t yet cold.

Pulling herself out of the water, she crouched in this new body, already growing familiar, becoming hers. Then she crawled up the short cliff onto the bank. Rising, she remembered her height and enjoyed being on two legs and lifting her arms to the wind. She ran for shelter, a little astonished that it was so easy to embrace the human body after this length of time being seal. She came to the old house from the other side of the island than the intruder, wanting to reach home first before he could catch sight of her. If she was clothed when they met, he’d be less likely to think of having sex with her. At least, that had been her experience over the years.

The door opened, and she breathed a sigh of relief at gaining shelter from the wind and rain. Human skin was not much of a barrier against the elements.

Her shack remained hers, she saw with satisfaction. The lighthouse-maintenance workers continued to ignore her home, and her relation left it unlocked after doing his yearly drop of supplies. Her family had not yet forgotten her, even if some years the supplies went untouched when she couldn’t face the human solitude of living on the island by herself.

However, one day, her sister’s descendants would forget. Not only had she outlived her first family, at some point in the future she would outlive their memory of her and she would, finally, be lost.

That was her future, but now her curiosity about this lone boat in spring, before the fishing season, had drawn her out, drawn her home. If only the clothes were still in the chest… Yes, she saw as she lifted the cedar lid. Whenever she returned after a period of time away, she feared someone had decided to clean out the house, taking her clothes with them.

Her older relations used to visit with her during the summer, but the newer ones made her shy. They didn’t believe in her and had no patience to wait for her to summon up courage to appear before them. They jumped on and off the island, anxious to get the drop over and done with. She’d overheard more than once that they only visited to placate their elderly mother and her crazy ideas.

Morag’s niece was now an old woman.

Before dressing she wrung out her hair as best she could and tied it in a knot. She wanted to cut it off, but not when she was rushed like this. Growing nostalgic, she pulled on pants, sweater and jacket, all of which had been given to her by the one who’d loved her. Clay had been the most patient of everyone, waiting days for her to appear before him. Once he’d landed on Selkie Island, he’d acted like he’d had all the time in the world.

She hugged his clothing to her, a frail echo of the embraces she had given him and he her not all that long ago. When she was seal, she didn’t miss him as keenly. But she was human again and it felt as if he’d left yesterday.

He was the only one she’d ever laughed with since her immediate family died.

Enough. Humans, she had to admit wryly, were too nostalgic. The pragmatism of the seal fell away when she shifted from that body. Here, now, she had to focus on the intruder and ignore her memories. She set off from the house.

Morag didn’t take the direct path to the beach where the boat had landed. Instead she circled around to it, silent on her bare feet, stopping before she might come into his view.

But as she peered past the point he wasn’t there, though the boat had been pulled up from the shore. Not far enough for this time of year when the tides could be high, but she’d think about that later. First she needed to locate the boat’s owner while keeping her advantage—she knew he was here, but he didn’t know she existed, and for now it should stay that way.

She walked carefully by the boat, listening for movement and hearing none, though it was windy. Cautiously she started up the small bank, and froze at the sight.

The man was there, lying on the ground of all things. She’d expected him to be moving, at least standing. It was an odd place to rest, if that’s what he was doing. He still hadn’t seen her. His back remained to her.

Was it a trap? She waited, silent, then stepped closer to get a better look.

Recognition slammed into her, stealing her breath. She took another step, shaking now, wondering if she was mistaken, wondering if she was no longer able to distinguish among the different humans. Was her memory shot and she thought every man was her lover, Clay?

He was sleeping and that made her uneasy. He shouldn’t be sleeping in the rain, curled into himself. She breathed in and smelled the slight metallic tang of blood. Her heart, which had stopped beating during her shock, started up again.

“Hello,” she whispered and got no response. That made her scared for him. Something was terribly wrong. “Clay?”

He didn’t stir and her uneasiness grew. She drew closer.

He was older, which surprised her. Because she’d barely aged, he shouldn’t have either. But he did not live by her rules, and it was him. He smelled of Clay, that distinctive musk, perhaps a bit stronger with age. She’d liked his smell though he’d been embarrassed by the statement when she’d made it that summer, so she’d only said it the once.

“Clay,” she repeated. He had a scar on his chin now and more wrinkles where before the skin had been smooth in his youth. His forehead was creased in pain. And still he didn’t stir.

She placed a hand on his arm, and for a moment he didn’t react to that either. Then he pulled air into his lungs, a sound of alarm rising with that inhale, and his eyes flew open. He rose, grabbed her wrist hard and yanked her to the ground as he rolled to lie on top of her. A stone dug into her back, his weight made it difficult to think, and bloodshot, unseeing eyes stared down into hers.

“Clay?” she said for a third time. Her voice sounded weak, unused. “It’s me, Morag.”

His gaze seemed to sharpen despite the dullness in his eyes. Shock gave way to recognition and disbelief. His mouth opened slightly and she thought he might speak. Instead his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped on top of her.

Well. At least his bruising grip relaxed. She rolled them back over, not sure if she wanted him to wake up again or not, though that hadn’t been an attack so much as a shocked awakening. The pressure of being lain on might have panicked her, but it was Clay who’d loved her at one time. All of her emotions were overlain by confusion, yet she felt a strange, aching relief.

Because she’d never thought to see him again. He was from far away, he’d only been a visitor, and still he’d come back to her.

Mind you, she’d rather he were conscious and happy to see her. Remembering his hot hand encircling her wrist, she touched his cheek. He was burning up. She’d thought it had been windburn giving his dark face a ruddy complexion, but it was a high temperature. She sat back on her haunches, bracing herself to try to wake him again, hoping he wouldn’t try to initiate another wrestling match. Despite her efforts, he couldn’t be roused by her shaking or her pleading. Which probably wasn’t a good sign.

It took her a few minutes to slide her body under his and rise, balancing him on her back. It wasn’t so much his height, though he was taller, it was his muscular, solid frame and her human weakness. Still they didn’t have far to go and she half-carried, half-dragged him up the path towards the lighthouse and home.

She laid him down on the ground in order to go open the door and set something up for him inside. There were old blankets in the chest and she used that as a bed, placing them on the wooden floor before returning to drag him in and lay him on them. He was muttering now but not really aware, and again, she touched his face, alarmed by the force of the heat. Her hand was cold so she pressed her cheek against his forehead, and her heart started to beat fast with fear.

Sarah had caught a fever one summer, almost died of it, and Morag’s mother believed that only by keeping her cool had she saved her younger daughter’s life. Morag bit her lip. “I’ll be right back, Clay.” On impulse she kissed his cheek. Then she picked up a pail and ran for the ocean, her easy source of cold water.

She had her work cut out for her. As little as she knew about humans, she recognized that. But she would apply herself to saving Clay. Later she’d try to figure out what his reappearance on Selkie Island actually signified. For him. For her.

It meant a lot to her, his return. Because no one but her mother and sister had ever come back for her.

Jorrie Spencer
www.jorriespencer.com
Puma in print
Selkie Island in ebook

Back from Vacation

Okay, before I write my post I'd just like to note that I'm excited to see that my cat-shifter romance, Puma, is now on sale in paperback on Amazon! Though it's not officially on sale until August 4. Anne Cain did the lovely lovely cover.

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I'm back from vacation and brain dead. There's also a very cute cat stalking the clover in our front yard. These two sentences are not much related.

I actually find it harder to be online during the summer, there are so many distractions! I'm curious if internet use decreases in July and August or not. Or if it's just me. September is the month to hunker down again and focus on the jobs, and I tend to be more online then. (And read less.)

So I did some reading on vacation and that was a lot of fun. Among the books I read were a selkie romance (Sea Lord by Virginia Kantra), historical fiction about slavery (The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill, published as Someone Knows My Name outside of Canada), alternate history with dragons in the Napoleonic wars (Empire of Ivory by Naomi Novik), fantasy of manners (The Privilege of the Sword by Ellen Kushner) and a historical romance (Broken Wing by Julia James).

Often I'll read romance only, but then I'll suddenly want to break out of that reading pattern and pick up quite different sorts of books. What have you been reading this summer?

Selkies and other water shifters

I recently sold a novella (my first standalone novella) to Samhain. The heroine is a selkie. So I got curious to see what other selkies or ocean-creature shifters had been published by Samhain. I figured there would be a few and found six. In no particular order, I'm going to list them, and if I miss any let me know!

I'm giving some teasers from the blurbs. There look to be some interesting reads of all different sorts. I love to see different takes on this. Books 5 and 6 are coming soon, by the way, and not yet released, though I think they'll be great summer reads. (Mine's not out till August, and it's entitled Selkie Island.)

ETA: Added #7

1. In the Shadow of the Selkie by M.A. duBarry

   In the dangerous world of the selkie underground, a selkie vampire king and a mortal woman join forces to fight the queen of darkness that would destroy them all.

2. Heart of the Sea by Sela Carsen

   Can the promise of true love overcome a bitter Selkie curse? Ronan Burbank once had it all. Wealth, privilege, a thriving company. But one tragedy turned everything he touched to ash. Meriel Byrne’s life was fairytale perfect until the day she fell into the sea off the Rhode Island coast.

3. Sealed With a Kiss by Lila Dubois

   When a man who isn’t human is accidentally enslaved by a woman who has no idea what he is, the result is magical. Signing up for a one-week adventure vacation, Helena expects to be kayaking in the Pacific, not having every sexual fantasy fulfilled in her guide’s bed. Ocean is more than he seems, his kayaking business a cover for his deepest secret.

4. The Ocean's Shadow by Jennah Sharpe

   Storms erupt when a merman’s treasure is stolen from him. A dark, shadowy creature haunts the waters of Copperberry’s rugged coast. Feared by the villagers, he incites lust in the lonely women of the town. A servant, escaped from abusive employers, Claire never expected to live through the storm she threw herself into.

5. Lycan Tides by Renee Wildes

   Selkie princess Finora is all too familiar with betrayal. Betrayal by her curiosity, which led her from the sea. By her body, which yielded to a handsome human under the full moon. By the human, who hid her skin and took its location with him to his grave.

6. Tidal Wave by Vivian Arend

   After she’s gifted with a beautiful, dolphin-etched medallion, she finds herself surrounded by the golden boys of summers past. Her body is filled with longings she can’t explain and dreams of blue lights that turn into lovers. Joshua Marley and his cousin Anthony are merfolk, a people capable of living beneath the waves as either dolphin or human.

7. Abhainn's Kiss by Carolan Ivey

   Hidden away on a misty island off the Irish coast all her life, Abhainn has no idea she is the last of her Faery race—until a troll tries to kill her. Her peaceful world shattered, she has only days to fulfill her destiny. She must defy a curse that dooms her to hide from the sun, and take her rightful place in the Great Circle on the Isle of Avalon.

   
   

Feral

I have a new book on sale. There are actually a number of great books now available at My Bookstore and More, including a cowboy anthology featuring, among others, Lorelei James, and a historical m/m romance by Charlie Cochrane.

Feral is a shifter romance, two men, one a cougar shifter, one a wolf. So one's a loner and one's used to being part of pack.

Here's the blurb:

Seduction is his only chance for freedom…and love is a death sentence.

Even among shifters, Ethan is a rare breed. So rare, he’s spent the last eight years in hiding from the werewolves who once captured and tortured him. Now a tranq dart has cut short his feral existence. Waking in human form in a locked room is more than a living nightmare…it’s reliving his worst one.

Yet in the troubled eyes of one of his captors, he senses a weak link. One he can use to escape—by seducing his jailer.

Bram’s life as pack omega isn’t easy. As long as he obeys his alpha he is protected. However, there are some things he just can’t bring himself to do. Keeping a precious cougar shifter prisoner is one of them, especially one who has somehow managed to capture his heart.

Setting Ethan free could be a death sentence for both of them, for Bram’s pack doesn’t take betrayal lightly. And the alpha is set on revenge.

Read an excerpt here.

Dabwaha

If anyone has been following Dabwaha recently, you'll know that Patricia Briggs's Iron Crossed beat out Joanna Bourne's The Spymaster's Lady to win, though not by a lot.

I actually voted to have Patricia Briggs's Cry Wolf win, just fyi. But I happen to be a big fan of both finalists.

Briggs has been writing fantastic urban fantasy for a while. Her world has werewolves and coyote shifters (the main female protag) and vampires and witches and many other beings. Each type of person is fully realized and well-thought-out. No type is wholly bad, or wholly good. The Mercy Thompson series allows Briggs to explore these different parts of her world because Mercy is a coyote, not really a part of any one society, though she has close ties to werewolves because she was raised by their leader. (Cry Wolf is part of Briggs's Charles and Anna series and is more closely focused on werewolves. Since I love werewolves, that's great too.)

Brigg's books have romantic elements, but they're not romance.

The Spymaster's Lady is certainly romance. It's fantastically written with close attention paid to detail, as well as language. There are some clever twists and I completely fell for the heroine and her ingeniuty. I don't read a lot of historical romance, but when I do and I love it, I really love it.

Anyway, there were a lot of good books listed for Dabwaha and I'm going to try to read a few more of them than I have, especially Blue-Eyed Devil by Lisa Kleypas and The Price of Desire by Jo Goodman. Both Dear Author and Smart Bitches ran Dabwaha, and they'll probably run it next year. I'll be keeping an eye out for it. It was a lot of fun!

Poison in print

This month I have a new print release, Poison. It will be released at the end of the month at Amazon and other places, but it's already available at Barnes and Noble, Books-a-million and Powells, which is very cool.

Anne Cain did this absolutely lovely cover, and I adore it. Here's the blurb:

In this world, trust is hard to find…and the one thing they need to survive.

Tobias Smator lives down his late father’s execution by avoiding the spotlight—and responsibility. He doesn’t mind what people think of him as long as they leave him alone. Still, in this unremarkable half-life he’s fashioned for himself on deceptively low-tech Rimania, he’s not safe from political intrigue. Someone wants him dead.

Alliance operative Geln Marac’s orders for his first assignment were simple: Stay uninvolved. Those orders go out the window, however, when he delivers an antidote to save Tobias from death by poisoning. His reward? Possible betrayal that lands him in the hands of police interrogators. To protect the Alliance, Geln resorts to a temporary mindwipe.

Tobias is fascinated by the amnesiac man who saved his life. But Geln has attracted the attention of the high-powered Lord Eberly, who would use him as a pawn. Rather than sacrifice Geln to the political wolves, Tobias chooses to embrace his heritage.

Geln’s memory reawakens to a precarious situation with no source of protection—except Tobias. There’s only one way forward for both of them.

Trust—or die.

You can read an excerpt here.

Elephants

Elephants fascinate me. They're not beautiful, but they are amazing, in shape and size and especially in personality. So I wanted to share a couple of videos about elephant sanctuaries. (This is my first attempt to embed videos here to bear with me. I'll put in links too, in case.)

The first documentary is from 60 minutes and is about an elephant orphanage. The very sad thing is that more babies are being orphaned since the ivory trade has opened up again. It used to be that the baby elephants would simply die because humans couldn't care for them even if they wanted to. But someone has created a milk formula that can allow the babies to thrive and with that (and many hard workers), there's now an orphanage.



The second video is about a sanctuary for older retired elephants. They go to this sanctuary and generally become best buds with another elephant. But sometimes friendships can surprise everyone. It's very sweet, even if the reunion is a little heartbreaking.

January

In some ways, January and September are my favorite months. I guess I like beginnings, or I like the end of vacations. Even if I like vacations too!

But routine is a friend to me, and it's great being back in the swing of writing again. I finished up a project in the first week of January—not that there won't be edits. And I've got two new ideas running around in my head. So this week I want to write partials. Which are, obviously, beginnings.

One is easier than the other. It's set in the same world I've been writing in for a while, with shapeshifters (cats and wolves) as well as the occasional psychic. I'll read up a bit more on cats, because I like doing things like that. But most of the work is in the story itself.

The second project is in a different place and has different research needs. It makes me excited, to read about history and lighthouses and seals and the ocean and…well you get the idea. But that takes times, of which I never seem to have enough. But I'm still going get a partial out of this. I'd hate for the idea to fade away. This way, if I write my partial, then if I have to leave the idea alone for months (because of the other project), I should be able to find my way back to writing the entire thing.

Anyway, who else has writing projects for 2009? Or reading projects? I've signed on for a reading challenge which I hope I can keep up with. First assignment is reading a category, so I'm going to look for an old Silhouette Intimate Moments (my favorite and, sadly, now-defunct line) and read that. In fact I better pick it up soon!

The week before…

I'm not one of these people who gets everything organized ahead of time when it comes to holidays. In fact, I tend to stick my head in the sand until I no longer can. Particularly now, because I find December pretty overwhelming, to be honest.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the actual festivities. But I find gift-guying difficult, and there just never seems to be enough time in December. It speeds by like the shortest month of the year, even if it's thirty-one days.

I still have to:

1) Buy gifts. Though at least I know what I'm getting (for the most part).
2) Decorate the tree. Though at least the tree is up.
3) Wrap presents. Kids will often help with this one.
4) Prepare for cooking (though I don't have a heavy load)
5) Put up more lights around the house. (I know, they should all be up by now.)
6) Christmas cards, which may turn into New Year's cards.
7) Clean the house!

So, what do you have left to do before the holidays?

Lioness mothering antelopes

A few years ago I followed the story of a lioness, apparently childless or cubless, who kept adopting baby antelopes. I was fascinated. On the surface, the story is cute, but unfortunately doesn't end well, which isn't really surprising. What it does show is this lioness's drive to mother.

In 2002 on a game reserve in Kenya, a lioness adopted an oryx calf. Usually lions eat oryx calves. But this lioness protected the calf from other predators and lay down with it, the calf apparently "curled up under the belly of its adoptive mother". I remember thinking when I first read about it, oh, it was an orphan. But, no. The lioness "chased away the oryx's natural mother". When I realized that, I thought, uh-oh. Because not matter how good its intentions, I just don't think a lioness is as well equipped to mother a baby oryx as a mother oryx is, even if the lioness sometimes allowed the calf to nurse before reasserting her relationship.

Said relationship lasted a fortnight before a lion stalked the pair, killed the calf while the lioness was sleeping, and then ate it. The lioness was apparently very angry and "went around the lion about 10 times roaring".

Three months later she was on her third adoption. The second adoption failed because the oryx (and the lioness who did not hunt during this time) was becoming malnourished and the wardens removed the calf from the lioness and placed it in a zoo. The third adoption was a 3-day old calf. The poor calf's mother kept hovering around trying to presumably reach her baby while the lioness was fiercely protective of the calf, not letting humans near them.

Well, the lioness became a tourist attraction, which must have been a bit intrusive for her and the calf, being surrounded by vans and tourists. They even named her Kamuniak, meaning "blessed one".

By the fifth adoption, one animal behaviorist describes the lioness as having a mental disorder. After rescuing three of the oryx calves from the lioness, the wardens decided to let nature take its course. So the fifth adopted calf died of starvation. Clearly the lioness had figured out how to protect her "babies" from other lions—she didn't hunt while in mother-mode—but not how to feed them.

After the fifth calf starved, the lioness…well, she ate it. And there doesn't seem to have been more adoptions since. At least they didn't reach the international news. Perhaps that put an end to her adoptions. She hasn't been seen since 2004.

There is a wikipedia page for Kamuniak. There are also some video clips of the dysfunctional relationships. It's an unusual story, I think. Some people hold it up as heartwarming, but I actually find it more sad than anything. I mean, what a life for the calf! There is some suggestion that the lioness did not have a pride and this may have played a role in her adoptions.

Jorrie Spencer
Now available: Puma

Puma

My new book, Puma, a cat-shifter romance, is now out. I'm excited that it is featured at Books on Board, made #2 on the My Bookstore and More bestseller list and got an 81 from Mrs. Giggles!

BLURB

Only in each other will they discover how to be truly free.

Callie, a cat-shifter, is a loner by virtue of the puma that lives inside her. After a job gone bad, her very human need for contact sends her in search of the only family she has. Callie finds her foster sister in a disturbing living arrangement. Something is seriously wrong in a place where people “belong” to one man and silence is enforced to the point a seven-year-old girl pretends to be autistic.

Dev Malik thinks it’s odd to see a strange woman in the tall grass behind his house, but he doesn’t have the time to ponder why. He’s too busy trying to shelter the child and woman in his household from Scott, the control freak who lives with them.

The truth is more dangerous than Callie imagines. Scott’s control is powerfully real. And Dev’s need to protect the vulnerable is as strong as Callie’s own. Their desire is as inevitable as it is frightening, for only by looking deep within each other will they find the strength to free them all from an unspeakable evil.

Warning: This title contains explicit sex.

EXCERPT

Instead of replying, or even responding to her statement, his gaze dropped to her mouth. His hand slid over her shoulder, across to her neck; fingers forked up into her hair and made a fist to anchor her head so she couldn’t move. His mouth was a mere breath from hers.

“I’m going to kiss you, Callie.” He watched for her reaction and she didn’t know if she was supposed to give a verbal yes, or not. He must have seen something to encourage him. She thought he would kiss like before: sudden, deep, all his for the taking.

His lips brushed hers and before she could protest his leaving, he returned, caught her lower lip between his gentle teeth, scraped it lightly. Like the end of this morning’s kiss, but this was a beginning. A noise rose from her throat, in question, in desire, and with the fist that held her hair in his grip, he angled her head.

“God,” he said, a guttural sound, before his mouth covered hers, forcing her mouth open, stroking her tongue with his. He tasted of mint and chocolate and Dev; and she tried to welcome him though all she could do was accept as he devoured her. She’d been kissed before and hadn’t much liked it, hadn’t liked the invasion. Dev was different, demanding, yes, but focused on her. His large hand splayed across her back, between her shoulder blades, and pushed her flush against him so they had full-body contact. The flood of sensation, from his talented mouth—she had never felt so thoroughly kissed, his tongue demanding hers to dance, then withdrawing to explore her lips before delving in again—to the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

She actually went weak in the knees.

As she sank against him, he cupped the back of her head, holding her in that kiss, while the other arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to him. He slid his hand under her T-shirt and clasped her ribs, his palm and fingers warm against her skin.

His tongue released hers, and he retreated to nibble her lips. He kissed across her jawline and descended to her neck where he sucked at the sensitive skin there. Her throat vibrated, half-groan, half-purr, all pleasure. As he kissed across her collarbone, he said, “Callie, Callie. I want us to make love.”

He pulled back sharply then, as if to give himself a shake, and she reached for him, hands on his shoulders, scared he would go away. She couldn’t stand it, couldn’t take being released by him now.

He eyed her while he raised his hands to rest upon hers. For a terrible moment, she feared he was going to remove her hold on him, return to that “don’t touch” manner he sometimes projected. Instead, he caressed the backs of her hands, feather-soft strokes of his fingertips over her knuckles, between her knuckles and, most sensitively, between her fingers. She trembled in reaction, amazed that her hands could react to his touch so. A warmth gathered in her belly.

He did lift her hands off, but linked fingers with his and brought their arms down together, pulling her up against him again. Perhaps he too craved touch despite his… She bit her lip.

“What, Callie?”

“Earlier you said you weren’t interested in sex.”

He stiffened and she closed her eyes, wishing the thought hadn’t flitted through her mind, wishing she could have lied or at least fobbed him off with a “nothing”, though it was important to her that she be honest with Dev.

She rested her face against the crook of his neck and willed him not to push her away after her reminder. When she kissed him, he shuddered. They were soft, almost chaste kisses, not like his that had ravaged her neck.

He brought her arms behind her, clasped both wrists in one large hand, while with his other, he pressed a palm against the small of her back. Her belly felt him hard against her. Aroused.

That made her smile into his neck.

“Look at me,” he demanded, so she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “You like that, that you’ve made me hard, that you’ve made me want you?”

“Yes.” She struggled a little, which resulted in her writhing against him, but he didn’t release her arms. Lifting his free hand to her face, he held her gaze to his, palm on her cheek. With the pad of his thumb, he traced the bone just under her eye, traced her cheekbone, then ran that thumb over her lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

It made her breathe faster, these words, these intense caresses, this attention. He trailed fingers down her neck to the swell of her breast. He was watching her very carefully as he lightly palmed her breast and her sensitive nipple began to ache.

“Dev?” She wasn’t sure what she was asking.

“Hmmm?” His mouth dipped to her neck, teeth scraping the soft skin, then soothing it with a kiss. And again. His hand slipped under the hem of her T-shirt, and rose to catch her nipple between thumb and finger, rolling the nub. “Do you like that?” he murmured as he kissed her throat.

She arched against him and he swallowed her “yes”, his mouth taking hers in a punishing kiss.

Her knees gave out this time, but he caught her, finally releasing her arms, though not her mouth, as he lifted her and she wrapped herself around him. He brought her to the bed.

She tried to contain her disappointment as he set her down on the mattress. He yanked off her shirt, then his, her shorts then his, all in short order. It had been a revelation, this kind of foreplay, but now he was ready to have sex.

He crawled over her and for a moment she thought he was going to move up so he’d take her mouth, but he reached back and pulled her up so they were face to face again, her under him. He’d wanted to make love, she remembered, and that reassured her.

“You make me feel, Callie.” The words seemed almost to be dragged from him and she touched his face, roughened because he hadn’t shaved.

“I think you’re beautiful too, Dev.” She wanted to offer him something of her feelings, though that barely described her real emotions. Tentatively she ran a hand through his short hair, which was surprisingly soft to touch.

“Are you scared to touch me, Callie?”

“No.” The question caught her off guard, and it must have shown.

“You prefer that I touch you?” He skimmed a hand down her side and across her stomach. Her underside. It made her feel vulnerable and he seemed to notice, because he crossed his palm back and forth across her soft belly until she relaxed into the touch. “Tell me what you like,” he urged.

She didn’t know. He traced some ribs, but he didn’t release her gaze so she said, “I like you.”

He smiled then, so pleased, the smile wider than she’d observed before, like she was seeing a new Dev.

“I like everything you do. You make me feel so warm. Inside.”

His slightly bemused expression made her add, “Is that wrong to say?”

“No,” he said immediately. “Nothing is wrong to say.”

Jorrie Spencer
Buy Puma here.

Writing Seasons

Well, my summer flew by. It's hard to believe it's late September and the leaves are starting to turn. There are a number of reasons I look forward to September, even if I regret the passing of summer, but one of them is that I can always refocus on my writing. Summers, not so much.

I've started a new book. The opening is trickier than I'd realized. That opening is the foundation of the book for me, and I need to make it solid before I can write the middle. If not, I start feeling like my characters are puppets and I'm jerking their strings around. Not the effect I'm going for.

I hope to be finished this book by winter. Winter is also a good time to focus on writing. Everyone hunkers down, the days are short, and apart from the holidays, it's generally a quieter time around here. So finish this book and, fingers crossed, start another. I've had the seeds of it for a while.

Spring is short and sweet here, but it's when the big distractions begin. It's when I need to finish up any major projects before the arrival of summer. Because summer, while I love summer, is damned hard to write, between vacations and renovations and everyone underfoot.

Good time to read though.

The Strength of the Wolf in PRINT!

I'm rather feverishly packing and unpacking today, while my kitchen is being tiled. But I wanted to post the blurb and excerpt of my latest print release, The Strength of the Wolf. This is my amnesiac werewolf story, follow-up to The Strength of the Pack. And I love it so much. I'm just thrilled I got to publish it with Samhain, and got an awesome cover by Dawn Seewer to boot.

Blurb

For longer than she can remember, Veronica has been wolf. Dreams give her a name and the image of a brother. Memory gives her nothing and no one.

Book Two of the Strength series.

One late winter day, David Hardway saves a malnourished wolf from a trap and takes her in. During her time with David, the wolf finds in herself the desire to be human again.

David loves the wolf he saved, but dislikes the strange woman who asks for his help. Still, he is incapable of turning away someone in need and despite himself, David becomes intrigued. As Veronica strives to remember why she abandoned humanity for wolfdom, David becomes determined to save her from her violent past.

But others are in danger and Veronica will have to act to protect her newfound pack.

Excerpt

It had been a mistake to be human yesterday, to sleep human in that barn. But after a long winter as wolf, she hadn’t been able to resist. Now there were consequences—the dreams haunted her.

She wanted the dreams. They gave her a brother who named her Veronica.

She didn’t want the dreams. Their violence disturbed her.

Had men always frightened her? She should know. But all she knew were wolf observations—the snow was beginning to melt and the days were longer—and wolf feelings. The she-wolf felt skittish this close to houses and cars.

She trotted, not allowing herself to dash in panic. Though the smells were wrong. Her nostrils quivered with gasoline and pollution, and even the distinctive musk of man. Her lip curled.

She moved forward. The smell turned abruptly to metal. Metal touched her paw and pain slammed down.

The bones crunched together. In her shock she yipped high, one time. Reflexively she pulled away, to no avail. She tried to make sense of the event. But it was happening again, this separation from her wolf’s body, as if it weren’t her own paw crushed between metal teeth, as if she were watching herself.

Her heart threw itself against her ribs and picked up speed, urging her to run. But when she pulled, the foot’s ligaments tore.

Think! She froze, crouching, ignoring the fire in her foot. Despite everything she’d lost, she was a thinking being. The trapper would find and kill the wolf. There was nothing for it but to turn human.

And freeze to death.

With a will that threatened to break, she forced herself to look at the trap, to touch it with the other forepaw. Possibly she could shift to human and use her left hand to free the broken one. She closed her eyes and worked her way towards a shift. But it was too soon. The panic would not allow any kind of focus and her body, with the temperature falling below zero, resisted the change.

She heard whining. Her throat betrayed her with a noise she couldn’t quite stop. To struggle all winter, to look forward to spring and the chance to be human again, and then to end like this. To stay wolf would get her killed.

It was dusk. No one, surely, would come till tomorrow. She had time to calm down, to concentrate on the change she must make.

Numb with pain and lack of circulation, her captured paw began to freeze. Her brain refused to focus on the shift. The whining didn’t stop though she tried to close her throat.

Time, she repeated to herself, when she could think that clearly. Panic does not last forever.

Then she smelled man.

***

Spring was late this year, which suited David Hardway just fine. He didn’t always get to snowshoe in mid-March and he’d set out this morning for one last hurrah. Soon the snow would be gone and visitors—the human kind—would invade the park. He didn’t consider himself a visitor, even if he lived and worked in southern Ontario. He’d grown up near Canoe Park and he allowed himself a proprietary sense of place.

He loved being here, even in drizzle, like the freezing kind that had just ended. Not that his snowshoes would be useful for much longer in these conditions. Good thing the truck was nearby. Just when he picked up speed, an animal cried out, high-pitched with pain. David stopped in his tracks. He waited to hear it again and perhaps locate it.

The park remained silent, except for the occasional car passing by. David turned and walked, straining to catch the sound of an animal in distress. The whining was so soft, it took a minute to register.

He listened carefully, then broke through the bush to make his way towards the creature. This wasn’t a poor-me sound, this was an I-hurt-bad sound.

The whining stopped. As he came upon a narrow deer path, he saw a wolf jerk, trying to get away.

It couldn’t. Its leg was caught in a trap. He moved closer. The trap was steel-jawed, not rubber-lined. This creature was doomed to death, not radio-collar and research. Or had been. He was going to change that. And report this to the park. Goddamn traps. He set aside his anger and focused on the quivering wolf.

“Hey,” he called.

It whined. Its entire body cowered, ears flattened, while its lips pulled back into a snarl.

“That’s right. Don’t go down without a fight. The thing is, I’m on your side.”

He crouched, not close enough for it to bite, and it growled and snarled, showing its teeth.

“Good. You haven’t been here too long if you’re willing to fight, right?”

It shut off its threats, as if realizing they were futile. Its eyes pleaded with him.

“I bet that hurts like hell. Those damn things usually break the paw. Listen, I want you to get used to me for a minute while I figure out how I’m going to help you.”

Its skinny body trembled. This past winter it hadn’t prospered. Shoulders jutted and the coat was decidedly lackluster. Despite its large size, he thought it too delicate to be male, but maybe that was just starvation.

He swore, though softly, so as not to alarm the wolf. Her large gold eyes seemed to glow at him, and he stared back, waiting for her to break eye contact.

After a time, she did. He had to establish the upper hand, though that in itself would not free the wolf from the trap.

“These traps are illegal, you know. The park is supposed to protect you guys, not kill you.”

She whined.

“That’s right. I want to help. Let me free you before the trapper comes back with his shotgun. Or before that paw of yours is ruined. Your life isn’t going to amount to much if you lose a paw.”

He edged forward, still out of reach of those teeth. She didn’t move. He opened his bag and took out his thick gloves. They wouldn’t fully protect his hands from a wolf bite, but they’d help.

He pulled them on. “My name’s David.”

As he approached, she began to shake again.

“Easy.” He braced for her to rush at him. Her whole body was vibrating. But she just stayed there, ears laid flat, crouched as low to the ground as possible.

Carefully, he placed his left snowshoe on top of her body. Not a lot of weight, but enough to prevent her from lunging at him.

She froze, whimpered.

“If you hurt me, I won’t be able to help you, okay?”

She wouldn’t look at him now, though her constant low whine wound through his nerves.

He talked, repeating himself, about friendship and help and trust, commiserating with her pain, making his voice a low, soothing vibration as he reached for the wolf’s damaged paw, always aware that she could snap at him.

He examined the metal trap and found the release. His sister’s boyfriend had demonstrated how they worked. In order not to further damage the paw, he moved as little as possible as he clipped the mechanism open and pulled the teeth apart. He eased her paw free and snapped the trap shut again so it wouldn’t clamp onto another unsuspecting animal. Winter had been hard enough for the four-legged without traps to worry about.

Moving slowly and deliberately, he backed away, taking his weight off her, retracing his steps so he was a good five feet from her.

She didn’t stir.

“If you were a dog, I’d take you into my sister’s to fix that paw. Are you going to get up and return to your pack?”

She lay still and he walked around to see that her eyes were closed, as if she was unconscious.

Damn. Now she might freeze to death, if the trapper didn’t come back and shoot her first. He wished his sister were here with a tranquilizer.

Once again he inched towards the wolf and after five minutes of ever increasing physical proximity, which included touching her pretty much all over, he concluded that she—definitely a she—was out cold.

Well, he might be an idiot to carry a wild, unsedated animal, but he couldn’t leave her. He bent down, lifted her over his head and placed her on his shoulders so her legs hung down in front. With his heavy load, he trudged towards his truck. For a skinny wolf, she was big. In fact, now that he had a moment to think about it, her large frame and black fur were unlike the park wolves he’d seen.

“Where are you from, girl?” he murmured. “We’re off to my sister’s, in case you’re wondering. Nell will look after you.”

Nell was a vet and though she’d scold David for being a stranger, she had a soft heart. She’d help.

The trap, he’d report later. He hoped they nailed the bastard who’d set it.

Jorrie Spencer
Coming soon: Puma

Writing Speed

Dear Author had an interesting post the other day entitled The Punishing Publishing Schedule. It talks about the pressure to produce, from a reader's perspective. I thought that was rather interesting.

Personally, I would rather have a book a year with each book being the best that the writer can produce after having a year to contemplate the work than having a new book every six months and having quality suffer. But selfishly, I recognize that if more than a year passes, my desire or hunger to read more might wane. Lengthy absences can hurt word of mouth buzz, particularly for a new author. And, frankly, I love the back to back releases.

People do seem to agree that less than one to two books a year, and readers can lose interest in a series or forget about the author. People also seem to agree that one book a year per author used to be the norm. Reasons given for the change vary, from Nora Roberts to ebook publishing to I don't know what else.

I'm not a particularly fast writer, at one to two books a year, so this issue interests me. I do sometimes feel at a disadvantage. Some of my favorite authors (Laura Kinsale, Jennifer Crusie, Loretta Chase) don't put out multiple books a year. That said, I'm also a Nora Roberts fan and obviously she produces quality and quantity. So I certainly don't believe that slower writers automatically write better books. On the other hand, I suspect industry pressure (and frankly it is impossible for a writer, aspiring or published, to be unaware of it) does result in authors writing faster than their "natural" speed, whatever that is.

A while back, Sylvia Day raised this issue at Romancing the Blog in her column, Too Much of a Good Thing. She asked:

Is it possible that one day we’ll go to the bookstore and find the romance section filled with books penned by a small group of super-prolific authors leaving no room for those who write less swiftly?

I hope not! I'd like there to be many kinds of authors with many kinds of books. I've tried not to sound defensive in this post. Because I'm not fast. But aside from that, I also just find the whole writing process and how it varies fascinating. I've heard writers say they couldn't just write one or two books a year, as they'd get bored. Whereas I'd get bored writing more than that, because, for me, my books get more and more interesting, the longer I stay with them and revise them and dream about them. (Until the very end, when I've had enough and it's time for them to go out the door.)

So do you write fast or slow, or does it depend on the book? Do you mind if your favorite authors put out too few (or too many) books a year?

Coming Soon

I love visiting Samhain's coming soon pages. So I thought I'd look at which paranormal/science fiction/fantasy books are going to be released in June. (And stand back in awe of the cover art while I'm at it.)

Lots of exciting stuff!

Coming June 6



Coming June 10




Coming June 17



Coming June 24

Poison

My new book, a futuristic m/m romance entitled Poison is now on sale at My Bookstore and More!

Didn't Anne Cain do a fantastic job with the cover?

Here’s the blurb:

In this world, trust is hard to find…and the one thing they need to survive.

Tobias Smator lives down his late father’s execution by avoiding the spotlight—and responsibility. He doesn’t mind what people think of him as long as they leave him alone. Still, in this unremarkable half-life he’s fashioned for himself on deceptively low-tech Rimania, he’s not safe from political intrigue. Someone wants him dead.

Alliance operative Geln Marac’s orders for his first assignment were simple: Stay uninvolved. Those orders go out the window, however, when he delivers an antidote to save Tobias from death by poisoning. His reward? Possible betrayal that lands him in the hands of police interrogators. To protect the Alliance, Geln resorts to a temporary mindwipe.

Tobias is fascinated by the amnesiac man who saved his life. But Geln has attracted the attention of the high-powered Lord Eberly, who would use him as a pawn. Rather than sacrifice Geln to the political wolves, Tobias chooses to embrace his heritage.

Geln’s memory reawakens to a precarious situation with no source of protection—except Tobias. There’s only one way forward for both of them.

Trust—or die.

Warning: this book contains hot nekkid otherplanetary manlove.

Read an excerpt.
On sale here.

Obviously this was written under my Joely Skye pen name. It was actually written a few years ago when I was reading a lot of science fiction. I had a lot of fun with this one!

In print!

So my book The Strength of the Pack is now in print. I'm in Canada, so I haven't seen it here yet. But there have been reports here and there of sightings in bookstores, both Barnes and Nobles and Borders, in the States. I can't tell you how exciting that is for me!

And thank you, everyone, who has taken the time to let me know the book is out there. An especially big thank you to the one who took pictures of The Strength of the Pack in a bookstore. Needless to say, I had to post those photos on my blog!

Here's the blurb:

Seth Kolski, a werewolf, hides his heritage and passes for normal. Until he meets Jamie.

Book One of the Strength series.

Since his sister disappeared two years ago, Seth’s solitude has intensified. Despite his deep need to be part of a pack, he sets himself apart, wary of humans who fear the wolf in him.

When Seth hooks up with a crush from his past, loneliness and physical desire overcome his distrust. Jamie welcomes his attentions, albeit a little shyly, and Seth rationalizes they can have one night together before they part.

For Seth can never be part of a regular family. No normal woman is going to accept his freakish nature, nor his past violence. Especially a single mother determined to protect her family. However, Seth and Jamie’s bond runs deeper than he knows. He cannot return to the shadows. Yet exposure may bring danger to them all.

If you're interested, you can read an excerpt here.

Doctor Who

I'm hooked on Doctor Who. I never did watch the old shows. Until recently, I didn't even know what Dalek and TARDIS referred to. But my husband did and so when the new Doctor Who came out on video, I got the first season. I thought the episodes were fun, particularly when my favorite character, Captain Jack, was onscreen. And then we got to the last episode of season one and…there was a new Doctor Who.

I was so disappointed. I liked Christopher Eccleston! But, by the time I hit the second episode of season two, I loved David Tennant.

I am, actually, reminded of Star Trek: The Next Generation. (Take a moment to remember my deep crush on Jean-Luc Picard.) I know the show has a different feel, but the sense of wonder and anything can happen, well, that is the same to me.

Take the episode "Tooth and Claw" which has Queen Victoria, werewolves and martial artist monks! I'm sold.

Plus, they keep dangling Torchwood in front of the viewer so I am just waiting for Captain Jack's return. Even better will be watching Torchwood itself.

Any Torchwood and Doctor Who fans out there? I know I'm behind the times, but at least I have a lot to look forward to.

13 reviews

Thirteen book reviews that have piqued my interest:

1. Grimspace by Ann Aguirre at Dear Author
   
2. Like a Thief in the Night by Bettie Sharpe at Mrs. Giggles.
3. Heart of the Winter Wolf by Dani Harper at Book Utopia.
4. The Tea Rose by Jennifer Donnelly at AAR.
5. Heat of the Night by Sylvia Day at Darque Reviews.
6. Demon Night by Meljean Brook at The Good, The Bad, The Unread.
7. Beautiful Girl by Shiloh Walker at I Just Finished Reading…
8. General Winston's Daughter by Sharon Shinn at AAR.
9. No Commitment Required by Seressia Glass at Dear Author.
10. Paul's Dream by Rowan McBride at Book Utopia.
11. Caine's Reckoning by Sarah McCarty at Karen Scott's.
12. Dawn's Awakening by Lora Leigh at The Good, The Bad, The Unread.
13. The Spymaster's Lady by Joanna Bourne at Dear Author.

Well, obviously I read reviews at Dear Author! But also a number of other sites. The last, 13, I've even bought and is on my tbr pile.

So which reviews have you read lately that got you interested in a book?