Wednesday, August 31, 2011

WIP Wednesday - Alien Salvation

Alien Salvation is not so much a WIP anymore since it is under contract and simply waiting to be added to the release schedule.  Still, I thought it would be fun to tease with a little excerpt:

“My name is Lindsey.”  She bit her lip.  Was she really about to do this?  She thought about her father’s drawn face, her mother’s twig-like arms.  Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead.  “I’ll be blunt, Dramok.  My family is starving.  All the food has been looted from the stores and there’s precious little to hunt in Fort Lauderdale.  We don’t even have anything to use for bait to catch fish, and—”

Bacoj held his hand up, stilling her stream of nervous words.  “You fast speak too much, Lindsey.  I no understand.”

Okay.  Then we’ll just cut to the chase.  Lindsey said, “Kalquorians like Earther women for sex, right?

Three mouths dropped open in cartoonish shock.  She almost laughed despite her growing terror.  The expressions so didn’t fit the aliens’ faces.

Blinking fast, Bacoj answered, “We are need for species survive.”

“Then the rumors of your imminent extinction are true.”  At Bacoj’s confused expression, Lindsey said, “You like sex for its own sake?”

Bacoj exchanged looks with his clanmates and received very Earther-like shrugs.  He returned his gaze to Lindsey.  His tone was hesitant, as if afraid he would get the answer wrong.  “We like sex.”

“With women?”  She’d heard so many stories about the Kalquorians that she had to be sure.

“We like sex with women.”

Lindsey couldn’t help another nervous swallow.  “Fine.  I’ll trade sex for whatever food you can spare.  I can’t say I’ll be very good since I’ve never done it, but it’s all I have to offer.”

The effect of her statement was instantaneous.  Even as the three men stared at her in continued surprise, the air was suddenly thick with that cinnamon-y smell and the bulges at their groins swelled.  Lindsey fought the urge to run screaming.  The only male sex she’d ever seen belonged to a statue in an illicit art book she’d gotten from a friend.  From the looks of things, her would-be lovers were much larger.  Frighteningly so.

The biggest Kalquorian, the scary one Bacoj had introduced as Japohn, spoke in a hoarse voice.  “You give sex for us?  All of clan?” 

Lindsey forced her eyes to meet his.  Blue-purple, they were beautiful to look at, the least threatening feature the man possessed.  “That’s the offer, big boy.  Willing sex from me for food.”

The soft voice of Vax spoke next.  “How many to feed?”

“Three.  Myself and my mother and father.”  The tension in their exchanged looks told her she was asking a lot.  Tears welled up in Lindsey’s eyes.  Where would she get food for her parents if they said no?  She blinked back the evidence of momentary weakness.  Her tone was less than diplomatic as she snapped, “Well, do we have a deal?”

 Vax said something in his own staccato language.  Japohn answered, his glowering face easing to show concern.  Vax shook his head before delivering another burst of speech, his gentle smile growing.  Both men looked to Bacoj, who nodded.

He smiled down on Lindsey, his eyes bright with eagerness.  “We make trade.”  He reached for her.

Lindsey stumbled back a step, her guts flip-flopping.  She thought of her parents on the rooftop three blocks away, watching the exchange.  If Aaron knew what she’d agreed to on his behalf, he’d throw himself down the stairs again.  “Can we do this inside?” she asked, looking towards their ship.

Bacoj nodded.  “Sleep mat inside.”

“Okay.”  Lindsey’s stomach churned with nerves, and she couldn’t help but look at the large bulges in the Kalquorians’ pants.  Handsome as they were, she was sure she wasn’t going to like their attentions one bit.

She turned to wave towards the office building where her family hid, letting them know everything was all right … okay, lying to them that everything was all right.    Her heart pounding, Lindsey marched up the ship’s ramp past the men and entered its interior.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday - Alien Slave (WIP)

From Alien Slave, a WIP and fifth book in the Clans of Kalquor series:

    Her large brown eyes half-lidded in trance, Dani traced the hard ridge of bone along Reggie’s back.  It broke through his gray skin, a purplish-black lumpy crest.  The first time she’d seen an Isetacian, she’d thought the creature had been horrifically injured, its skin flayed to expose the skeleton along the spine and joints.  When she’d discovered that was the norm for the six-legged race (or six-armed … with Isetacians, it was impossible to tell), she’d been both fascinated and repulsed.

    Becoming a sex slave to get off the ruined hulk of Earth had been rife with surprises, good and bad alike.

    For now, Dani was content to let Reggie sing to her while he plunged in and out, her long, lanky body suspended in the black straps of the swing. 

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Interview With Erotic Author Gregory Allen and Excerpt

I am thrilled to have author Gregory Allen on my blog today.  He is an excellent writer of erotica, and if you ever wanted to know the man's perspective on strong, take-charge women, Gregory is the guy you need to read.  He writes female domination novels for hopeful romantics.  His books include Courting Her and Protégé Mistress.

Thanks for joining me today, Gregory.

Thank you, Tracy, for the great questions and the opportunity to share an excerpt from my new book on your blog!

What genres do you write, and why do you write in this genre?

For a long time I only wrote non-genre fiction, mostly quirky and humorous stories. The idea of writing erotica was intimidating, but Kimberly’s dialogue started to come to me and I found as long as I approached a sex scene or a spanking scene and experienced it through characters I felt a bond with, it felt real. Sort of how the idea of having sex feels intimidating until you experience it with someone with whom you feel a real bond.

What fiction do you read for pleasure?

I enjoy reading a little of everything, but I especially enjoy reading writers who make me laugh and think at the same time: Kurt Vonnegut and Jonathan Franzen among many others. Virginia Woolf is my favorite writer.

What writers inspire you most?

I’m inspired by all the writers I’ve met since my books came out. They’re posting, daily, about how much they’re writing, how much they’re rewriting. And they love it! They love to write, and it’s really nice to know other people are enjoying that thrilling feeling of discovery and fulfillment that comes with writing.

How much of you do you put in your characters?

My philosophy has always been that putting myself into my characters would make my fiction feel more real. The trick is to put different aspects of yourself into each character so they don’t all come across the same. I tend to identify more with my submissive male characters, but my dominant female characters probably carry both books, so where did they come from? I guess every writer of BDSM has to be a switch. ; )

Which of your characters is your favorite?

Well, I’ve written three dominant females in two books, so I’m probably supposed to say I couldn’t possibly choose between them, but I’m not going to lie: Kimberly. If you asked me to choose between my books, I would have trouble, but my favorite character is Kimberly from Courting Her.

What’s your latest release and how did the idea arrive?

Protégé Mistress began as a short story called “Coaster on the Floor.” Kevin owes his manager a foot massage after losing an after work card game. He enters her living room and finds the coaster for his beer on the floor at her feet. But when the story ended with Diane patting his head and saying, “Good boy. See you at work,” I knew it wasn’t over.

Thanks for sharing with us, Gregory!

Courting Her, released summer 2010 by Pink Flamingo Publications, is available both in print and as an ebook at Alex is so smitten with the lovely Kimberly, he barely notices her dominant command of their budding relationship, but on their third date, when he fails to immediately take his feet down from the coffee table when she asks, he gets his wake up call! Ordered to strip and crawl over her lap for a punishment spanking, he may burn with humiliation, but his desire for the daunting female only increases. Courting Mistress Kimberly becomes a lengthy lesson in submission for Alex, as he’s required to focus his entire attention into becoming her worthy servant. If he’s to get any sexual satisfaction from the relationship it will be on her terms, by her rules and only after he’s devotedly served her and she finds him worthy.

Protégé Mistress, released summer 2011 by Pink Flamingo Publications, is also available both in print and as an ebook at Monica spots Kevin’s crush on Diane, and his submissive desires, and she teaches Diane to put these to use for the benefit of both of them. They have Kevin scurrying around the pizza shop making both their jobs easier. Years pass and Diane is stunned to run into the powerful looking Monica who is now a bona fide dominatrix. Monica isn’t too surprised to find Diane married Kevin, but when she discovers their sex life is a little bland, she arranges for a series of visits. A massive change happens to Diane and Kevin’s marriage with the help of the feisty dominatrix. Both ebooks are also available at amazon.

Excerpted from the novel Protégé Mistress.
Copyrighted © 2011 by Gregory Allen, all rights reserved, used with permission.

Kevin loses a card game and wins the honor of giving Diane a foot massage at her apartment.

Kevin ventured across the living room and looked into the kitchen. A bottle of wine gurgled as Diane filled her glass. She passed him on her way by. “Grab a beer from the fridge.”

A few bottles were scattered near the back. Kevin twisted the top off one and sipped. He stepped into the living room and stopped short. “What is this?”

Diane gave a slight shrug and smiled. “I’m a stickler about coasters.”

“Okay, but why…”

“You’re paying up on the bet, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Well then.”

Diane sat with her glass of wine on the wooden armrest of the couch, coaster underneath. The other coaster sat on the carpet just past her feet.

 “So you want me to sit on the floor?”

 “Not sit.” Diane lifted her glass and sipped. With her legs crossed, one socked foot swung above the floor.

Kevin tried to lighten the mood with a sheepish grin, but Diane countered with a confident smile. Kevin wanted to kneel in front of her, to massage her feet, and he knew she knew. He moved forward, leaned his knees into the floor, and sat back on his heels. He took another quick sip of his beer then set it on the coaster as Diane stretched her foot toward him.  Kevin took it in his hands.

“Oh, yes,” Diane said as soon as he began massaging, then giggled lightly. Kevin focused on his task, keeping his eyes down. He squeezed one hand around the top part of her foot and applied circular pressure underneath with his knuckles. He attempted to bring technical proficiency to performing this task to alleviate the straining in the tightening crotch of his jeans. He needed to take his mind off what he was doing before his discomfort got worse, not to mention obvious.

Diane seemed intent on not letting him. “You look so cute down there,” she said. “Fitting, don’t you think? You lost the bet and now have to kneel before your victor.”

“I have to listen to you tease me, too?”

Diane’s other foot slid across the carpet, stopping between his knees. “Oh, yes. You have to, part of being the loser. Can you take it?”

“You are a good 31 player. I admit it.”

“No, that’s not good enough.” She sipped her wine. “You have to say, ‘Diane is a superior 31 player, and I pledge myself as her foot masseuse for the night.’”

Kevin laughed. He ran his thumb along her instep, giving circular massages under each toe.

“You have to say it.”

Keeping her foot held up, Kevin reached for his beer with his other hand and took a swig. He let the liquid swish through his dry mouth before swallowing. “I didn’t know that was part of the bet.”

“Just say it.”

He peeked up at her face, saw her smiling down at him, and quickly lowered his gaze. “Diane is a superior 31 player, and I pledge myself as her foot masseuse for the night.”

“Good. Very good. See? That wasn’t hard, was it? Switch.” She pulled her foot away and lifted the other, raising it almost up near his face. Kevin took her foot in his hands, moved it above his lap, and began with the same slow massage he’d given the other. Diane leaned back, settling on the couch. Her feet encroached on where Kevin knelt. “That feels so, so good.” Her eyes closed.

Kevin shifted on the floor, easing the pinching in his fly by maneuvering room. While he did make himself more comfortable, he also made his present state of excitement pointedly obvious. The minimal friction of his jeans caused a pleasurable flutter. He focused on Diane’s foot, giving the bottom penetrating massages with his knuckles then stroking the top with his other hand from her leg all the way to her toes. He listened to Diane softly moaning to determine what she liked. He lost himself in his task for a long while. When he came out of his trance, and grabbed his beer for a sip, he found Diane’s eyes had opened. She smiled down at him, her manner seemed drastically changed from just moments ago. “Hold it still.” Her eyes flitted to the beer in his hand, still on the coaster.

She withdrew her foot from his grasp and slowly moved it over the bottle. She caught his eye, gave him a smile—the smile was the change in her manner, gone from confident but playful to playful but insistent. Her big toe touched the rim of his beer and circled it. Kevin held the bottle still, didn’t utter a word or give a gesture of complaint. He simply watched her foot in the same trance he’d slipped into during the massage. Her tight socks revealed the shape of her toes. With the dexterity of fingers, they grasped the top of the bottle and twisted back and forth. Her big toe pressed as far inside the bottle’s lip as it could reach. Finally, she pulled her foot back. “Okay, go ahead.”

Kevin paused only slightly. He couldn’t look up, though he knew her smile beamed down on him. He raised the bottle, touched it to his lips, and drank.

“Well? How did it taste…better?”

“Oh, yes, it was wonderful,” he said, though he hadn’t noticed a change. The beer taste overpowered. Really, he would have wanted to simply touch where her foot had been to his lips and not drink at all, but he couldn’t with her watching.

She crossed her legs, her foot bobbed in front of him. “I’d like you to start using my name when you answer me.”

“Okay, Diane.”

“Say yes.”

“Yes, Diane.”

“Good boy.” Diane leaned forward. “Now, I want you to take my socks off, but do it slowly. Very slow and very sexy. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Diane.” Kevin cupped the heel of her foot that hung above the floor and squeezed. He moved his hand up, brushing her sock until his fingertips met smooth skin. He curled a finger under the elastic of her white athletic sock. Twisting in a zig-zag, he slowly tugged the sock down to her heel. Slipped it over and massaged her bare heel with his hand. He brought the sock down the length of her foot the same way, massaging her skin as he peeled the sock off. He removed it completely and gave each of her toes a squeeze and a slight tug, admiring the sight of them.

Diane switched her legs so that her other socked foot hung in the air. Kevin thought he heard a sigh escape her as her thighs swished together. He removed her other sock, slowly massaging as he went. He set the second on top of the first in a pile on the carpet.

Diane leaned back into the couch again. “Let me ask you a question, and I know you’re very shy, but I want you to answer honestly. Earlier tonight, when I invited you over, before I told you about how I couldn’t date you, were you hoping to kiss me?”

Her foot kicked toward where he knelt in front of her. Under the circumstances, he felt silly being scared to admit it, but he could barely meet her gaze as he answered, “Yes, Diane.”

She smiled. “Awww, you’re so cute. Blushing at my feet. Did you fantasize about kissing me on your drive over?”

“Yes, Diane.”

“Well, your fantasy might come true. Though it’s probably not going to happen exactly as you imagined. Do you still want to kiss me?”

“Yes, Diane.”

She frowned slightly. “I know you can be more polite than that.”

“Yes, Diane, please.”

She straightened her leg, her foot rose to just under Kevin’s chin. She pressed her foot down so that her leg from toe to hip stretched its full length. “Go ahead. Kiss me.”

At his eye level, Kevin could glimpse, under her pant leg, her smooth calf. He knew what she wanted, what she offered him, and he desired it as much as the kiss on her lips she had correctly guessed he’d driven over hoping to receive. This alternative was beyond compensation, it was bliss. He bent forward and placed a soft kiss on her foot.

“Good. Very good boy,” she said. “Now, one on the bottom.” She pointed her toes up, and the bottom of her foot hung inches from his face. “And you don’t have to be so quick. You can give me a nice, long kiss. Don’t be shy.”

Kevin moved his face forward and touched his lips to her, holding them pursed against her heel. She slid her foot down and pushed until her heel cupped under his chin, her instep pressed against the bridge of his nose, and the soft arch of her foot covered his mouth. He remained there, not breathing for several seconds, then drew away with a soft kiss.

She stared over her foot at him. A smug expression played on her face but she looked, as well, excited and happy. Kevin felt an emanating heat from the humiliation of what he’d just done, but he smiled up at her, equally excited and happy. Diane swiped her foot across his cheek, and Kevin pecked after it as it passed his lips.

“Open your mouth and show me how you wished you could kiss me on your drive over.” Her feet lifted into the air, and she pressed the bottoms against his face. Kevin moved from one to the other, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses on them. The smell of dank sweat struck his nostrils as he inhaled with his lips sealed over her feet but contained the fragrance of intimacy. His closeness with the object of his devotion made the smell and taste of her immediately pleasant. He lost himself in his passion, and a moan escaped him.

“Oooh, good boy, that’s it. Moan for me.” Her feet pressed harder, and Kevin pressed back. His tongue slipped out and curled around a toe. At the top of his periphery, he caught Diane’s hand slide down her belly and slip under the waistband of her pants. Her moans joined his. Her other hand popped the button on her pants, and soon the two roving hands spread the zipper open. Kevin moaned harder, licked and kissed faster, but peeked up and glimpsed fingers slide under the purple triangle of Diane’s panties. Her eyes closed, and her body rippled against the couch as her hands bulged the purple material from her open pants. Her feet began to flail. Toes filled his mouth. His cheeks were caught with wild slaps.

He tried futilely to match her intensity. The locked pleasure in the tight fly of his jeans pulsed only faintly and uselessly as he witnessed Diane pleasuring herself. Her moans became high-pitched, frantic sighs and she seemed to have forgotten about him. His face might have been her footboard for all the attention she gave him.

Kevin had seen women come before, but he had always been so involved in his performance, so absorbed by his own building climax. Watching from his knees, Diane appeared so powerful and beautiful, able to conjure such a force in her own body with the touch of her hands. Kevin’s experiences with his own hand—desperate as he felt to use it presently—paled in comparison. Her feet suddenly went rigid, pressed against his face with a big toe in his mouth. She shrieked as her hand vibrated up and down inside her panties.   

An orgasm that lasted minutes made Kevin wonder if, in fact, he had ever seen a woman come before. The slits of her eyes opened, and finding him staring wide-eyed back at her, she reached with her feet for the top of his head, pinched his hair with her toes, and pulled down. Her feet went to the back of his head and she kept him pinned, his nose touched to the carpet. “Stay,” she said.

He heard her hands still fidgeting, but her breath slowed and quieted. After a while, her feet slipped off. Kevin raised his head slowly, keeping his eyes down. Asking for permission, by moving slowly, to look up again. She allowed it. She smiled down at him. A light covering of sweat was the only evidence of the powerful outburst, laced with femininity, for which he felt honored to have been present.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

WIP Wednesday - Alien Interludes

Okay, I'm jumping the gun a bit to discuss this one.  After all, Alien Salvation (Kalquor 4) hasn't been scheduled for release yet and Alien Slave (Kalquor 5) is still in first draft status.

But as I've been pounding away at the Kalquor and Netherworld series along with assorted other projects, I've also been quietly working on an anthology.  I'm supposing the readers who have found so much enjoyment among the various clans I've already introduced would like seeing what they've been up to since their stories ended. 

So I'm putting together a bunch of short stories catching up on the latest with Amelia, Jessica, Michaela, etc.  All our ladies are making a return, along with those scrumptuous men who surround them.  You'll meet some new people as well and find new dangers on the horizon for the clans of Kalquor.

This all started when more than one reader expressed a desire for a certain Nobek to realize his fantasy of hunting down his Matara in the forest.  What is it with you gals wanting to be stalked by big, muscular, feral men anyway?

Oh, silly me.  I guess it is obvious why that would appeal.  Nevermind.

At any rate, these requests inspired me to do a little catching up with everyone else.  So if you're dying to know how feisty Jessica is holding up with her emperors or how Israla is tempted away from her boytoys by a gorgeous, heartbroken Earther, stay tuned. 

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday - Drop Dead Sexy

From Netherworld:  Drop Dead Sexy, a WIP and the first book of the erotic paranormal Netherworld series:

But even in dreams, a lady doesn’t jump on a solid piece of walking sexual real estate.  Introductions are a must.  “Who are you?” I asked.

His deep voice was gentle, a muffled bark of sorts.  “I’m here to help you.  You seemed very upset when I got here.”

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

WIP Wednesday - Alien Slave

Men.  Testosterone-driven, chest-thumping men.  Weekend warriors screaming bloodthirstily at a football game, NASCAR, or UFC fights.  And we women roll our eyes, shake our heads, and wonder just how far removed our guys are from Cro-Magnon.

Admit it though.  It's kind of sexy when they go all primitive.  You know it is.

The new Kalquorian clan I've got in first draft falls along those lines.  They love to hunt.  Not Bambi or Thumper though.  Gelan, Wynhod, and Krijero like stalking and killing scary stuff bigger than themselves.  Stuff with big fangs and claws.  No guns either.  These uber-men are armed only with knives and attitude.

Like any self-respecting Earther woman, their companion Dani does just we would.  She looks at them with disgust.  She calls them idiots.  She thinks about smacking them upside their heads.  And she secretly drools over their sweat-drenched muscular bodies, thinking how animalistic, how uncivilized, and how hot they are.

     Krijero reached up to grasp her about the waist.  He carried her to the fire, where the other two were washing blood from their hands and knives.  They jabbered at each other in their own language, no doubt reliving every thrust and parry and congratulating themselves on being such masterful monster killers.
     She couldn’t help admire how sweat gleamed on their muscles, how stunning they were pumped up with the glory of victory.  How handsome they were with their faces alight.  How very masculine they were with their primal power.  Damn it, was she getting aroused again?
     I'm every bit as weird as they are.
     Dani shook her head as much at herself as at them.

Yeah, it's like that.  But we won't tell them, right?

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday 8/14/11

From Alien Salvation, now under contract:

    They had no sooner entered the clan’s sleeping room when the men all tugged on Lindsey’s clothing.  Her clothes disappeared with an alacrity that left her gasping.
    “You sure become assertive when it comes to sexual relations,” she stammered, suddenly naked in the middle of the group.
    Bacoj shucked his knee-high boots and peeled his formsuit off.  “Kalquorians strong men.  Strong needs.”

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Villains - How Bad Do You Want It?

Having done some very (VERY) minor acting, I can tell you nothing beats playing the villain.   When else can you sink your teeth into being as bad as you wanna?  Role around in unmitigated fiendishness?  Sure, you're usually vanquished in the end, but in the meantime, you get to commit full-on chaos.

Writing villains is nearly as much fun.  Getting into that mindset to commit nefarious acts against society ... it makes up for all those times when I act civilized in the face of others' assholery. 

Writing Ash Moday, the villain of Unholy Union, was definitely a lot of fun.  He's not just bad, he's an infernal being, an incubus.  For those of you unfamiliar with the profane, an incubus is a demon of lust.  Hmm ... villain, evil, sex.  Yep, that checklist works for me.

Here's an excerpt from Unholy Union, now available in e-book from New Concepts Publishing.  Enjoy my bad boy.

    He kissed her before speaking again.  "In my hands you can’t fail.  I'll keep you and guard you, guide you and raise you on high.  In return, you'll write beautifully and feed me until your body fails you."
    She moaned as he thrust powerfully into her, taking her on that sweet journey to ecstasy.  It felt so good, so perfect … but looking into Ash's face, something didn't seem right.
    His face looked thinner somehow.  His incisors appeared sharp, like the canines of a dog.  And his blue eyes swam in a reddish mist, almost as if they were glowing.  As he plunged in and out of her helpless body, Ash began to look more like a stranger disguised as Ash.  A dangerous stranger, predatory with greedy hunger, looking to devour her alive.
    Even his voice sounded different, the growling voice of a brutish beast that had learned the trick of speech.  "Together we will fly like angels for a moment, drowning in rapture few will ever experience.  I will give you a taste of heaven even as you descend into the bowels of hell."
    He jackhammered his hips against her, bringing her close to explosive orgasm.  Terror didn't rob her of the coming rapture; indeed it seemed to add to the thrill.  A sense of doom was descending, and Elaine imagined that if she gave into the climax stampeding towards her she would be lost forever.
    "Ash, please, you're scaring me," she sobbed.
    The red-eyed creature riding her mercilessly smiled down on her, driving her ever closer to crescendo.  "Don't be frightened," it said in that growling voice.  "Give yourself to me, Elaine.  Surrender completely and know ecstasy so profound even death cannot frighten you away."

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

WIP Wednesday

As I write this, I am putting the final touches on the first Netherworld book, Drop Dead Sexy.  It took me a long time to concede to writing a paranormal series featuring vampires and werecritters.  Quite honestly, I feel like the genre has been done nearly to death.  The last thing I wanted to do was write another vampire/shifter novel, as much as I love these creatures.

But Netherworld kept pulling at me, kept whispering sweet, deadly nothings in my ear.  I finally had to heed the call to purge myself of this madness, if nothing else. And I'm glad I did, because Drop Dead Sexy is my favorite work to date, and Brandilynn is my favorite heroine.  I look forward to working with her again in the future, and that's good since the future holds at least three more books for the series.  For a dead girl, Brandilynn's plenty active. 

So I'll soon be throwing my vampire/shifter hat in the ring.  We'll see how it does; if it rises above the multitudes of so many paranormal novels already clamoring for readers or if it becomes just another title in the throng.  Meanwhile, here's an excerpt just for fun.  Brandilynn's ghost has borrowed the body of channel Isabella, and she's just met vampire Patricia:

     As we followed Patricia, I snorted, "Long on manners around here, aren't we?"
     The vampire flung a fanged grin over her shoulder at me.  "Only when we're trying to charm someone out of their blood."  Her gray-pink tongue traced her lips, and she tittered when my eyes widened.  She hurried ahead, pulling well ahead of us.
     Okay, now I was grumpy.  "Who is Morticia, exactly?" I whispered to Dan and Lana.
     The corner of Dan's mouth quirked.  "Tristan's sister.  Behave yourself.  She's not one for foolishness."
     Oops.  Properly chastised, I snapped my mouth shut.  At least now I knew where I'd seen her before.  Any time Commissioner Keith held a press conference or gave an interview, his sister Patricia lurked in the background.  She'd also attended a few events I'd been dragged to on clients' arms.  I should have recognized her.
     A werehog with big yellow tusks brushed past me, and I fought not to scream.  Zoo Flu doesn't jump around easily, thank goodness.  It's a blood-borne virus, but most of us normals are still squeamish about skin-to-skin contact.   I barely restrained an urge to check Isabella's arms for open cuts.
     Next to me, Lana seemed more cheerful than ever, something that lowered her a bit in my estimation.  How could anyone be so jolly with all these scary bugaboos surrounding us?  "Patricia is totally dedicated to her brother.  She has the most pull with him, even more than the Judge."
     Patricia climbed the two steps of the bandstand, joining a dark-haired man standing with his back to us.  Despite the very expensive-looking suit covering him, I knew that body on sight and experienced a thrill up my spine. 
     The greeting on my lips died without being uttered as Tristan turned towards his sister and I caught sight of his lily-white face.  Even with several yards still separating us, I could see the more predatory expression he wore.  There was an aloofness in his attitude that hadn't been there before.  He looked as watchful as a hawk looking for tasty bunnies in the meadow.  My skin crawled.
     Dan whispered, "I know I don't have to remind you, but Tristan as a vampire is different from his ghost self."
     "Dan and the girl are here," Patricia said to Tristan, and he swung his dark gaze towards us.  I couldn't control the shiver that raced down my spine at that calculating stare.  He looked at me as if I were a particularly delicious morsel he couldn't wait to take a bite out of. 
     "Is he dangerous to us?" I whispered to Lana and Dan.
     Lana's smile slipped a touch.  I felt better about her again.  "All vampires are dangerous, even the good ones.  You have nothing to fear from Tristan though.  He's never lost control." 
     Her hesitant tone didn’t have to finish her last sentence.  That we know of hung unsaid in the air.
     A massive creature stepped to Tristan and Patricia's side, and I gasped.  Even on all fours, the majestic griffin stood tall, reaching Tristan's shoulder.  The pure white feathers on its eagle's head laid flat … not a plume out of place, I thought.  The eagle part of it extended down to its chest and shoulders.  The black and brown plumage of its folded wings was a monochromatic contrast against the golden lion's pelt that made up the rest of the gorgeous entity.  I couldn't help but stare.  I didn't know Fulton Falls had one of the ancient beings as a resident.
     "Cool pet," I breathed.
     Lana bit her lip.  "I wouldn't call Augustus a pet to his face.  You'll lose poor Isabella's head that way."
     Boy, I just kept putting my foot in my mouth.  "Maybe I should just shut up for the rest of the night," I groused.
     There was no humor in Dan's reply.  "That might be wise."
     I scowled at him.  "You know, you've been kind of a jerk since I borrowed Isabella's body.  I don't like you too much right now, Dan."