Snippet, snippet, sniiiipeeeeet!
*scrambles in between furiously clicking on Christmas shopping links and running through edits* HELLOOOO, lovelies!
Are you settled for presents? Haven't even started? Time has long since lost all meaning, so I'm finding myself looking at the calendar and wondering where those days I had set aside for online shopping went. We just had Halloween! And Thanksgiving was only five minutes ago.
In other news! Have you heard about Shifter Central? A whole bunch of us awesomesauce authors are trying it out and inviting you, dear readers, to join us in learning the ropes. So far, it seems a little like Facebook Groups, just without all the infuriating posts from relatives that pop up with a stray click back to the newsfeed. Getting a better feel for it is my (now-late) December project, so come join me on this journey with a clicky-click right here.
Don't forget to check out the fantabulous PNR Advent Calendar! Clicky-click!
Talk to you next week, lovelies!
xoxoxo
***
What the fluffing fluff had she been thinking?
Oh, she knew the thoughts that had flown through her head and the offer that promptly exited her mouth. She even understood the reasoning behind them. But the reality of a six foot and however many inches firebreathing hottie sleeping not even ten feet from her wasn’t something she’d properly thought through or had time to prepare for. Every inhale was a reminder that he was there. Every exhale drove her cougar’s claws a little deeper.
Mate.
The whisper had started in the night, between one sleepless toss and another turn. The light of day had burned away whatever her cougar saw in the man; the chill of the wind had blown away the rest. Locked together in the darkness with his scent building and building until there was nothing but decadent wood smoke and hazelnuts to breathe in made her cougar want to prowl across the room and lick him from head to toe.
Her dreams--when she finally found sleep--carried her straight into the dirtiest imaginings she could muster. Slick skin, hands stroking, being taken right to the edge again and again, only to be denied. When that final release crashed over her, she dang near jerked awake and marched over to where his soft breaths rose and fell, just to see if he matched up to his dream twin.
Mate.
Absolutely not. She wasn’t setting herself up to be hurt again. The dumb, idiot beast was simply looking for a way out of the pain and latched onto the first delicious piece of manmeat that came along.
Mates were a bunch of garbage, anyway. Everyone wanted to believe they’d found their fated connection, but that’s all it was. A connection. Someone to spend the years with, and who might decide one day that they just aren’t feeling it anymore. Preordained, written in the threads of fate? She lived in the real world, not a fairytale.
The worst--the absolute worst--thing about her unplanned sleepover? She really had to pee. And what further proof of her non-fairytale life did she need? The princesses were never plagued with a full bladder.
|
