Aphrodisia Authors :: Blog

I’m moving to California (my home state) this week. In fact, I’m posting this in advance, so likely as you read it, I’m on the road between here and there.

It’s probably not a surprise that I’ve spent the last month or so packing. The fun part of this experience (as if there’s anything really fun about packing your life and relocating) was finding all the odd bits and pieces of writing stuff I’d forgotten about.

For example, I found the first handwritten version of Every Witch Way, one of my upcoming Kensington releases. It was bad. Very bad. I’m scrapping everything and starting over on that book, which I knew, but this confirms it. Eek!

I also found some of the research I did for ON THE PROWL about San Francisco (which is where much of the book takes place) and then a whole bunch of stuff I looked up for the futuristic shape-shifters I have coming out, UNTAMED (Nov. ’09) and KITH AND KIN (which my editor will be renaming something sexier soon). Most of the notes were transferred into my computer files, but it’s interesting to see exactly what made it and what didn’t and where my research went. I tend to completely forget what my original concepts were as I get lost in the reality of the world I’m creating.

And as a final, side note: my new book, ON THE PROWL, released this week while I was transitioning states. Details below!

Meet the Cruz brothers. They look human—except for the golden sheen their eyes take when they’re aroused beyond control…and the way their claws come out when it’s time to play rough. They’re Panthers, ancient shapeshifters, and their survival depends on mating to bring out their wild sides…

Undeniable

When Antonio, the strong, sexy new leader of the Panther pride, meets luscious Solana in a dark alleyway, their passion lights up the night. But she’s an outcast, an impossible mate—and her touch makes him lose all control…

Irresistible

Ex-model and businesswoman Andrea doesn’t need anyone—until she meets Miguel, who tempts her mind with daring games and teases her body with dark, forbidden pleasure she can’t resist…

Indescribable

Wild twins Ricardo and Diego do everything together—and their women appreciate the teamwork. Until shy Isabel takes refuge in their pride, and both want to claim her. Of course, sometimes two mates are better than one…

Places to get it on the web:

Barnes & Noble
Powell’s
Amazon
Chapters.ca

Dominic, The Lords of Satyr

My friends and family are shaking their heads over my newest obsession…Millionaire Matchmaker. Why do I watch?

Because Patti Stanger cracks me up, she doesn’t take any BS from the millionaires who come to her to find true love, and because I’m hoping to see some happy endings.

I get a sense of recognition when I watch these men who come into Patti’s office looking for help finding a long-term relationship. There’s often at least one all-too-familiar quality about each of them that reminds me of someone I’ve dated. Some are too unmannerly, too non-alpha, too cocky. And then there are the men in their forties who come in asking her to match them with a 21-year-old “hottie”. I’m not saying true love can’t happen between a 45-year-old and a 21-year-old, but they’ll have less in common to build on.

The most intriguing are the dates that seem to go so well. The dates when there’s plenty of laughter and apparent mutual attraction. I’m left feeling as hopeful as the woman who went on the date–they often say afterward, “It was the best date ever!” And then, the guy never calls again! Go figure. Patti give the guys a hard time about this and once demanded that a guy call the woman and explain that he wouldn’t be seeing her again in a romantic sense. He agreed to do this, but never did.

I keep watching though. After all, I’m a romance novelist, so I’m always hoping couples will find their happy ending!

How about you? Have you ever had a great date, then the guy never called again? If he did call only to say his version of, “I’m just not that into you,” would you have preferred that hadn’t called at all? What are some traits of past dates that have driven you crazy?

Leave a comment for a chance to win my newest release, Dominic, The Lords of Satyr. Winner will be chosen and posted here this Sunday, so be sure to check back. Thanks for visiting the Aphrodisia author blog!

Elizabeth Amber
Nicholas | Raine | Lyon | Dominic : The Lords of Satyr series
Coming soon: Dane
erotic historical paranormal romance
Kensington Aphrodisia
www.elizabethamber.com

Okay, this isn’t strictly for the gals, but the images are (I apologize to any men stopping by!)

So when we meet someone of the opposite sex and we’re attracted to them, generally something tends to catch our attention. Some feature on this person. Eyes. Butt. Smile. Something….

I mean, guys have these fun little labels for themselves like… I’m an ‘Ass guy’ or ‘Breast man’. Well, I have no shame in declaring myself a shoulder/arm gal. I love it. I mean, I’ve crushed on guys who weren’t broad shouldered and such (because bottom line personality is the winner! I don’t mean to sound like a total cheese ball saying that, but it’s true). But for the pure physical, immediate eye candy moment, that’s what I look at. The shoulders.

So yeah, I’m totally digging the guy on the cover of my upcoming Aphrodisia book Take Me.

That being said, a guy with great eyes does catch my interest too. But it’s all about how he’s using those eyes. The intensity in them.

So what rings your bell? If you were to walk into a room of say…oh, male underwear models such as the pic below, what would you be checking out? And men feel free to share your opinion on the gals!

Shelli

http://www.shellistevens.com

It’s just one week and one day until my Kensington Aphrodisia debut, Behind the Red Door, hits bookstores, and I’m so excited and apprehensive, I can barely stand it. I’m excited because I really adore the three stories in this anthology and can’t wait to share them with readers. But I’m also apprehensive because…well, I bet you can imagine why!

That said, the book has already gotten a couple of very complimentary reviews, and that has made me just a tad less worried.

From the June issue of Romantic Times:

RT Rating: 4 Stars

Barbosa heats up the Regency in novellas that are as yummy and steamy as a Sally Lunn bun. Readers may want more erotic encounters between the well-drawn characters.

-M.H. Morrison

(Me: Always happy when a reviewer expresses a desire for more, so I’m taking that last as a compliment! Also, click the link if you want to know what Sally Lunn bun is.)

From Coffee Time Romance (entire review will be posted in May, I believe):

Rating: 4 cups

Wickedly Ever After…is a playfully passionate and tantalizing read. Eleanor and Nathaniel are simply lovable characters.

Scandalously Ever After…is a healing for two scarred souls. They come together in a most beautiful and intimate way.

Gerard and Jane [in Sinfully Ever After] are great fun as they go about discovering each other’s hidden secrets. It is so true that some of the most interesting things come in the plainest of packages.

Behind the Red Door is chock full of passion and pleasure. All of the characters are witty, intelligent, and sweetly sinful. It is a fantastic read, and will warm you up quite nicely.

-Lototy

In honor of these two very nice reviews and my receipt of my author copies, I’m posting an excerpt from the last novella in the anthology Sinfully Ever After below. I’ll also be giving away a copy to one lucky reader, But you’ll have to get to the bottom of the post to find out what you have to do to be eligible to win! 

Three startled pairs of eyes set in three guilty countenances fixed upon Gerard as he strolled into his betrothed’s private sitting room on the third floor of the Duke of Hardwyck’s vast and elaborate town house. The ladies sat around a small table laid with tea and cakes. Though their plates were empty and the tray in the center was still piled high with sweets, steam no longer rose from their cups, indicating they had been doing a great deal more talking—and, to judge by their expressions, plotting—than eating or drinking.

And his masculine intuition said whatever they were up to, he was the target. But then, when it came to scheming members of the fairer sex, he usually was.

To his admiration, Jane was the first of the three to gather her wits and find her voice. “Ger—Lord Ch—Chester,” she stammered, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “Wh-what b—brings you here this morn?”

She looked, he thought with some surprise, downright pretty when she was caught off guard. It was a pleasant, if somewhat alarming, discovery. On the other hand, the mild tug of attraction that pulled at his groin would make his task of appearing the besotted bridegroom and thereby appeasing her brother that much easier.

He grinned and pressed his hand dramatically over his heart. “You wound me, my darling. Surely a man requires no motive to visit his future bride other than that he desires the pleasure of her company.”

Ambling round to her side of the table, he knelt next to her and took her white-gloved hand in his. He raised it to his lips, the delicate scent of her lilac perfume teasing his nostrils and causing another unsettling twinge low in his belly. He did his best to ignore the sensation, which he had never before associated with Jane, and forged ahead with his performance. Even though he was no longer entirely sure it was a performance.

“Or have you forgotten that you agreed only yesterday to be my bride? Must I propose again this morning before an audience so there may be witnesses to remind you?”

Jane snatched her hand back and swatted playfully at his. “Oh, do stop putting on, my lord. You know very well I haven’t forgotten. It is only . . . I was not expecting you, and it is customary to have oneself introduced by a footman.”

“You know I never learnt to stand on ceremony, what with being raised a poor relation. I suppose I shall have to rely on you to keep me in line now that you are to be my countess.” He gave a careless shrug and leaned in a bit closer, unexpectedly entranced by this vantage on the rise and fall of her generous bosom. “Tell me, what other transgressions must I account for this day?” Aside from the almost overwhelming urge to bury his face in the hollow between her breasts and breathe in her tantalizing scent.

His cock gave an impatient twitch, and the fall of his breeches grew decidedly tight. Gerard realized that, should he come to his feet, his semiaroused state would be evident to all assembled.

“You mean aside from interrupting my private tea, failing to properly acknowledge my companions, and remaining on one knee for so long you are like to be stuck there?” Jane teased, her intelligent eyes sparkling with merriment. To his relief, she seemed blissfully unaware of his predicament, but he feared her ignorance was destined to be short-lived. “Do stand up, my lord, lest we require the assistance of a crane to restore you to your feet.”

Think fast, Everett. And for the love of God, stop staring at her tits as if you’d never seen a pair before.

The self-admonition served to ease his budding erection just enough to allow him to stand without humiliating himself. If the ladies noticed at all, they’d likely think him a well-hung young stallion rather than a randy old stoat. With an exaggerated groan, he rose to his feet, then executed a deep bow toward Lady Jane’s guests.

“Lady Grenville, Lady Innesford,” he said, using the moment he was bent at the waist to make what he hoped would be an imperceptible adjustment to his nether parts to further disguise his dilemma. “I apologize for my earlier discourtesy, but I am afraid I was quite overwhelmed by my eagerness to see my betrothed.”

Not to mention by the startling discovery that the emotion he’d thought to feign had somehow become real.

Okay, curious. Want more? Before May 26, perhaps? All right, here’s what you need to do. Click here to send me an email signing up for my newsletter by Monday. That’s it. No public commenting on the blog, no hoops to jump through. Easy-peasy, right? C’mon, you know you want to!

I can’t believe it’s almost time for Simply Shameless to hit the shelves! This book is about Madame Helene Delornay who owns and operates the pleasure house and Mr. Philip Ross a lover from her past who unexpectedly reenters her life and turns it upside down. It feels like I wrote it ages ago. This is the third in the ‘Simply’ series and I’ve already completed the fourth ‘Simply Wicked’ and I’m two-thirds of the way through the fifth, ‘Simply Insatiable’. I’m starting to forget which book I should be talking about. Just to remind me and you, here’s an excerpt:
copyright@Kate Pearce 2009

“My wife would never stoop to such salacious behavior.”
“Perhaps you should bring her here and see if that is true? You might be surprised.”
Philip swung around to face her more fully. “My wife is dead. But I can assure you, that such erotic displays would have shocked her immeasurably.”
How terrible for you. It took all Helene’s resolve not to speak the words out loud. If Philip’s wife had indeed been such a lady, it was no wonder he looked so repressed and unhappy. She took a deep breath.
“I apologize again, sir. I should not have mentioned your wife.”
“Why not? I’m sure you’ve been wondering about her all these years,”
“I beg your pardon?”
Philip shrugged. “You know who I am. Don’t try and lie to me.”
“Indeed I do, monsieur.” Helene paused to gather her defenses. “I thought you must have forgotten me and I hesitated to remind you of my existence.”
His smile was almost a sneer. “How could I forget you? You haven’t changed at all.”
Helene touched her face. “That is hardly true. I am no longer eighteen.”
His laugh was harsh. “Thank God for that.”
“I’m not quite sure what you mean. I’m certainly glad I’m not eighteen any more. I make far wiser choices than I did then.” She swallowed hard. “I sincerely regret my comments about your wife. I did not intend to cause you pain.”
“You did not intend to cause me pain.”
His loaded words hung in the air between them, throwing her back to the nights they’d shared, the feel of his skin against hers, his laughter and the delights of their lovemaking. Had she hurt him? Helene focused her attention on his plain white cravat to avoid looking into his face.
“Why are you here, sir?”
“Because Lord Gideon Harcourt brought me and because I’ve often wondered if the infamous Madame Helene could possibly be you.”
“I am infamous?”
He bowed. “You are renowned as the women who can have five men a night and still be looking for another for breakfast. A woman who only has to look at a man to drive him to his knees and make him forget anything but having you.”
“If that were true, I would indeed be an amazing woman. But I have learned never to listen to gossip.” She tried to laugh. “And now that you have seen me, what will you do now?”
He raised her chin with his finger. “Surely that depends on you?”
“I do not understand.”
He bent his head until his mouth met hers and outlined her lips with his tongue. Before she could protest, he kissed her, backing her up against the wall while he ravaged her mouth. She responded from somewhere deep inside as his remembered texture and taste flooded her, taking her off guard and into a world of pure sensation.
She flattened her hands against the grooved wooden paneling to stop herself from touching him. She couldn’t stop her reaction to his kiss which was as immediate and heated as his own. His body pinned her to the wall from knee to neck, his cock was hard against her stomach.
When he drew back she would’ve stumbled if he hadn’t caught her arm and pushed her back against the wall. She watched as he retrieved his handkerchief and deliberately wiped the red stain of her lip color from his mouth.
“You did say that no one gets paid for engaging in sexual activity in your establishment?”
Unable to speak, Helene simply nodded. He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.
“Then perhaps you’ll fit me into your, no doubt, already full roster for tonight.”
A roaring sensation destroyed Helene’s common sense. She stepped forward and slapped him hard on the cheek.
“I also said that everyone here has a choice to participate in sexual acts or not.” She curtsied. “Good night, Mr. Ross.”
He shrugged. “Let me know when you change your mind. I’m sure you’ll run out of men soon.”
“I wouldn’t bed you if you were the last man on earth.”
His eyebrows rose. “Is that a challenge? You should know better than to throw down the gauntlet like that.”
“Good night, Mr. Ross.”
Helene gathered her skirts and turned away from him, heading for the private areas of the house. She wanted to run from the cynicism and dislike on his face but refused to give him the satisfaction. How dare he appear and insinuate that she was in some way responsible for how he had turned out? If anyone had a complaint to make about the results of their night together, surely it was her?”

Let me know if you enjoy it or see it on the shelves!
Kate Pearce x

Wow! I get to blog on Earth Day. In my ‘other’ life, I spend a great deal of time focused on sustainability and what we can do to reduce our environmental footprint. I know, it doesn’t sound like something someone who writes hot stories about vampires and shape-shifters would be into, but we humans are such complex creatures…multifaceted. (It’s what I do for a living.)

Which leads me to wonder if I enjoy writing and reading paranormal erotica and romance because it is such a great escape from our daily worries. I know, not exactly a head-slapper, is it? We all know that romance sales have continued to climb during this economic downturn. That fact has been all over the major media the past week or two. But it isn’t always that simple. One of the reasons I love writing vampires is that they tend to blur the lines between good and evil. At least, mine usually do. To me, they more accurately mirror real life. How many of us don’t believe we have a good and a bad side? I know, I know — it depends on how you define “bad” and “good.” But don’t we all sometimes do something we know we shouldn’t? It’s part of what makes us human (and interesting).

One of the things I’ve enjoyed as an author has been participating in the change in reading technology. My first book was published by a major publishing house during its first dabble in the electronic world, back in 2001. Three days after my book came out, the publisher shut down the experiment, but I still had a book! Since then, I’ve authored a number of e-books and e-novellas, as well as paperbacks. (Some of them were published under other names. ) I’m glad most of my titles are now available as e-books. A few short years ago, we were arguing over whether or not e-books were here to stay. Today, I don’t think there’s much doubt. Man, things are changing quickly!

Okay, so it’s Earth Day. Most people know about the 3 R’s. For those of you/us who are Boomers, I’m not talking about Reading, ‘Riting, and ‘Rithmetic. Nowadays, it’s Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. I’d like to help someone Reduce their environmental footprint by Reusing one of my books, so I’ll return tomorrow evening and pick someone from the comments to receive a signed copy of Sexy Beast VI. All you have to do is tell me what you think about e-books. Do you read them? If so, how? (With an E-book reader? On your PC? Printed?) What do you see for the future of e-books? What do you like or dislike about them? (Hey, if you’d rather have an e-copy of Sexy Beast VI, tell me. If you’re chosen, I’ll send the cost to your PayPal account. You don’t have to post your PayPal account info — I’ll contact you first.)

And have a great Earth Day!

Hopefully no one is taking note, but I’m fairly late with this blog. My excuse? I couldn’t get online. The problem started on Mon but because I fancy myself a bit of a handi-person and this isn’t the first time it has happened, I spent too much time trying to remedy the problem myself. However, after unplugging and replugging the modum and router dozens of times, I finally surrendered and called my modum’s tech support this morning. After doing whatever they do remotely, the man informed me that my modum wasn’t capable of going online. Hmm. The lights were on. But were they blinking? No. Oh. They could send me a new modum but shipping it would take several days. Fortunately, there’s a local outlet for the company so I boogied over there today with the caput modum. Only when I got to the store, it was determined that the power cord was the culprit. End of story, hopefully.

Finally, onto the reason for the title. Two weeks ago yesterday I had my second hip replaced. The first one got changed out in early Feb and before that, I walked like a duck for a couple of years–a crippled duck. I’ve mentioned this before, and I’m sorry to be beating the same drum, but physical health has been too darn much on my mind for those two years. During that ‘down’ time, I’ve happily been writing for Aphrodisia and a couple of online erotica publishers and was delighted to have a place to plunk my mind and imagination. That said, I have to admit that writing was easier back when I was healthy. I’ve been writing since dirt was new so I know what I’m talking about. The muse has always been with me, always handing me more ideas than I can keep up with–at least that was the case until my hips went bad on me.

I’m still using a crutch and will probably have to have some physical therapy, but the end of the road is here! My body will stop demanding so darned much attention and my mind can open up and welcome the muse back in, yeah!

At the moment, I’m finishing an Aphrodisia novella for a Big Cats anthology, just received the edited manuscript for Taming the Cougar due out in Oct, and am waiting for my agent to send me the contract for a new three book contract.

Vonna
www.VonnaHarper.com

One of the fun things about a writer’s job is the foreign sales. For one thing, they’re free money! You already wrote and sold the book, and now you’re getting paid for it again. But, more than that, it’s wonderful to know that readers in different countries who don’t speak English are reading your work.

And then there’s the fun of receiving your author copies and seeing how the foreign publisher dealt with your book. And man, does it vary!

In the past couple weeks, I received the French and Spanish editions of Hot in Here. The Brazilian one (in Portuguese) was already on my shelf. So I stacked the books up next to each other, and pretty much shook my head in amazement.

My Aphrodisia story, published in trade paper format, was 332 pages long. The Brazilian publisher changed the title to Brincando com Fogo, which translates as Playing With Fire, which I think is great. They published the book in trade paper too, with a gorgeous chocolate cover, inside cover flaps, lovely white paper, and slightly larger type – and it came out to be 207 pages. What did they cut??? I’m so curious, but I don’t read Portuguese.

Next to come was the French edition, titled Convenances et Inconvenances. I’m not absolutely sure of the translation (if someone can help, please post!), but I think it’s something like Proprieties and Improprieties. This book looks rather like a Harlequin/Silhouette category/series book. I love that they put a Chinese heroine on the cover (in the book, Jenny Yuen is torn between respecting her traditional Chinese parents, who don’t want her dating a white guy, and following her heart with her firefighter lover). This book came out to 281 pages.

Last and largest is the Spanish version, Las Reglas de la Fantasia. I’m so excited about that title, which translates as Fantasy Rules, because it’s my original one. The book is the second in my Awesome Foursome series, and I’d envisioned the series as “rules to have sex by” with the first being Champagne Rules, the second Fantasy Rules, and so on. Well, only my first title survived, so it was really a thrill to see Fantasy Rules on the French edition. This book is huge! It’s paperback, but even bigger than our standard trade papers, and it’s 411 pages. I think they actually translated my book literally, rather than editing it, which is very flattering. It’s interesting that the cover has not only a kiss but a calendar. I guess they chose that because the hero is the winner of a firefighter calendar competition.

So, that’s my “show and tell” for today. Thanks for letting me share!

Sorry, I’m late blogging today. The kids have been off school for four days with Easter—and my daughter ended up in the hospital emergency room twice, as we suspected she had a concussion from a playground accident. I’m working on revisions, so things have been hectic. Luckily, my hubby took care of making Easter dinner—a lifesaver for me.

I hope everyone had a good holiday weekend—and didn’t have to see any hospital waiting rooms 

My next Aphrodisia is Blood Deep—a vampire menage story. I have a few author’s copies left of Blood Rose, the second book in the series. I’ll give away a copy to a commentors who can answer this question: How is the heroine (Miranda Bond) carried to her carriage? I’ll check in tomorrow to chose the winner.

Hint: The answer is in the excerpt below from Blood Deep:

“And what do you intend to do, angel?” the other vampire asked.

She wouldn’t answer that.

“Ah, you plan to walk to the village.” Zayan tilted his head and the wind threw his hair behind him. Long, wavy, it looked like the style of the rakish and handsome Charles II. “I would not advise it. There are wolves out, and they are excited by the scent of magic in the air.”

The scent of magic? But she shivered—he was correct. She smelled something in the air—an exotic richness, a breathtaking scent that was alluring and indescribable.

The other vampire, the one with the streak of silver in his hair, strode forward. “You are to come with us, sweeting.”

“I won’t.”

“I can force you to come with me. I can control your mind, and you will obediently place one foot before the other and follow me.”

“Then do that,” she snapped, “because I won’t go willingly.”

“I am glad, fair lady, that yours is the first carriage we’ve encountered. But I have not the time to do battles with words.”

This vampire also wore a cape, one of black velvet, trimmed in a thick, luxurious fur of gray and white. Wolf fur. A jeweled clasp held it.

He tossed her over his shoulder, his hand clamped on her bottom to hold her in place. He squeezed her rump through her skirts.

“Put me down!”

“Let us take a look at your carriage first.”

They strode over, and though she kicked and struggled, she could not break free. She could not even see the wreck of the carriage, though she felt a perverse sense of satisfaction when the vampires paused, and the one holding her groaned.

Excerpt from Blood Deep © Sharon Page. Coming from Kensington Aphrodisia May 26, 2009

For those of you who follow my myspace blog, you’ll be familiar with my mostly unsuccessful quest to catch the feral cats. A few weeks ago, I left you hanging. I told you how my poodles were driving me crazy by slamming the door on their way out to both bark at and maul the cats. And while I could lure the cats into the traps, I was having a hard time keeping them there. And the garbage truck ran one trap over (without a cat, thankfully).

So the saga continues…

Last Saturday, my SO gets out of bed, his hair all tousled, the muscles in his chest reflecting nicely in the morning sun. After his coffee he pulls on his ripped jeans and torn t-shirt with a huge cockroach on it. The warning bells go off in my mind.

“So,” I say, aiming for nonchalance. “You going to work on something?” I’m trying not to remember the time he went to fix the siding around the picture window and we ended up with a shards of glass all over my roses and a boarded up hole in the wall as we waited for Home Depot to deliver our new window.

“Yeah.” He scratches his head and sips his coffee. He still looks tired. “I’m going to change the oil in your car.”

I cheer up immediately. How much damage can a man do changing oil? Besides, my car is overdue. “Great,” I say. “Can I help?” Yeah right.

“Just keep the kids outta my hair.”

Hair that adorably tousled deserves to be child free. “Okay.”

He ambles out of the house, and I watch him (through the new picture window) as he grabs his stuff and climbs under the car. You know how sexy a man looks when he puts on ripped up jeans and climbs under a car? Very.

The kids do their thing and I do mine and I sort of forget about my end of the job–you know, the part about keeping the kids out of his hair.

The sudden yowl of a dying child fills the sunny morning. It’s followed closely by the sound of poodles slamming the door and howling like aliens have landed.

“Son of a bitch!” I hear. My SO.

I’m down the stairs almost as fast as the poodles can slam the door. What the hell happened? I’m imagining the car falling on the kids. I’m imagining the windshield falling out. I’m imagining the car pinning my husband underneath it, requiring my superhuman strength to save him. (Hey, it could happen.)

I find none of these things.

Instead, I find that my white car is covered in black oil. The drain pan is on the hood–upside down.

“Umm,” I say. I’m trying not to laugh. My car is ugly anyway. “What happened?”

The yowling fills the morning again. The death cry of a child.

I spin on my heals to follow the noise, but the poodles are on it, and I can’t hear a thing.

“Jesus Christ,” I say. (I know the whole thing about the Lord’s name, but death is in the air.)

But it isn’t the death of a child. It’s a cat. Actually, it’s two cats well on their way to making kittens.

“That wasn’t the kids, was it?” my SO asked. He’s standing next to me now, smelling deliciously of sun-soaked skin and old motor oil.

“Not our kids. It was the cats.”

“I thought they died,” he said. “Not the cats–the kids.”

“So you threw down the oil pan?”

He runs his hand through his hair, smearing oil on his forehead. The cats are done screwing now, and they’re looking at us from the other side of the picket fence. The poodles are off chasing a squirrel . “I did,” he said. “It was a reflex.”

“On the hood of the car?”

“I thought they were dying!”

“You were dyeing–my car!”

He looks at me and starts to laugh. He shakes his head. “Can’t you do anything about those cats?”

“I’m trying!” I said. I drag him toward the trap. “Look, it’s baited as we speak, just waiting for a hungry kitty.” We walk toward the front of the house. “I can’t help it if they hate Nine Lives.”

Before we turn the corner, we hear a metallic snapping sound, then, “Reoow!”

I think I know what the sound is, but it’s too much to hope for. The poodles are on it, roiling toward the noise with their joyous barking.

“You caught one!” my SO says. I’m too speechless to speak–I’ve been trying for weeks to catch the cats–and when he leans over to kiss me, speaking isn’t what I want to do.

“I caught something,” I said, grabbing the front of his jeans.

“Reoow!” the cat says. I know what it means,

“I think it worked up a hunger,” my SO says.

“I think you did, too,” I said, pointing at the car as I grab the cat trap and move it into the garage–away from the poodles and the neighborhood girls intent on freeing them.

Still he gives me that wicked grin. “I have to get as hungry as the cats before you can catch me.”

But I know as I look at the car and the poodles–and the kids relentlessly mesmerized by the Saturday morning cartoons–that I caught him years ago. And that I’m very lucky.

“You going to get that oil off my car?” I ask.

“It can wait.” This time, he grabs my jeans.

******************
On a serious note, the feral cat problem on Long Island–and across the country– is a bad one. People dump unneutered and unspayed cats into the neighborhood, and they have babies. There is nothing to do with the cats after I catch them. The animal shelters won’t take them because they can’t place them in homes. Thankfully, NY has a no-kill policy. (I wish my poodles knew that.) I can’t pawn them off on any of my friends, because these cats act like wild animals.

According to the animal welfare people, the responsible thing to do is this: Catch the cat. Bring it to a vet who’ll spay or neuter it for cost (the capturer’s cost). They mark its ear, and the capturer is supposed to release it where they’ve caught it. I’ve done this twice so far, and I have five more cats in my sights. (Which is expensive, but I can’t stand the thought of homeless kittens.)

While I suppose releasing the cats where you caught them might be better than euthanasia, it upset mes. I began this crusade on the day I traveled the 1.2 miles from my home to the school and saw three dead cats in the road. Releasing the cats where I catch them didn’t seem like a good idea–except to the poodles.

Luckily, Suffolk County is fairly forward thinking. It was the first (and maybe only) country to ban BPEs in kids bottles, for instance. A local group has set up a non profit dedicated to raising enough money to buy a piece of property that will ultimately be a cat house. (And not in the erotic romance sense.) The house will come with a staff vet to spay, neuter and doctor the feline residents. Any local person can bring the feral cat they catch to the cat house, and it can live out its life in safety. Without poodles and cars.

To raise some funds, they’re having a book sale. If you have any new or gently used books you’d like to donate, you can mail them to:

Volunteers for Animal Welfare
15 Mastic Road
Sound Beach NY 11789

They’d like the books by May 3rd. You will receive a receipt so you can write it off your taxes.

And maybe next spring, when my SO does the 2,000 mile oil change, my white car won’t get dyed.

Not that I’m really complaining… (grins)

Leave a catty comment and I’ll pick a random winner next weekend. The winner will receive a signed copy of PURE SEX.

EDITED TO ADD:

Amazon is censoring any book with so-called adult content. This includes racy romances, like mine. Follow the link to read more about it.

Amazon Rank