I'm A Baker Too!

Thanks to the awesome Three Wicked Writers plus Two for allowing me to blog here today! And a special wave to Regina, who's a sweetheart and an amazing writer, and Natalie, who's a design goddess beyond compare and a wonderful author too! :)

Okay, the title of this blog post is a lie. I don't bake. Well, unless it's one of those premade cookie kits. But I think writing is a lot like baking a cake. You throw in a bunch of ingredients - characters, plot, theme - and you mix them up. Then you check to make sure your ingredients are fully combined (aka revisions.) Finally you try to sell your cake.


Some cakes are perfect. Nicely frosted, perfectly designed. Taste yummy too. Those cakes fly off the shelves, assuming the right buyer wanders past your window. Other cakes are a bit lumpier. The glaze might have clumped in some spots and maybe your batter wasn't mixed as well as it could have been. Maybe someone buys that cake too, but you always have that little wonder when they'll write you a note and tell you it was the worst cake they ever ate.


And then...there are the stinkbomb cakes. You made this cake like all the other cakes but for some reason this one wasn't as good. You suspect something may be wrong, but you put it in the window with all the others. And no one wants it.


Does this mean you can't bake? That this is it and you're done? Hang up your apron and forget about it? No. It means this particular cake didn't work. You might've been emotionally upset that day, week, month. Your personal life has a ton to do with your creative output, and if you think otherwise, test it and see. Bakers - and writers - don't just slot widgets into holes. We create. That doesn't mean every creation will rock. It just doesn't. But we need to have faith in ourselves that we can self-correct and get back on track.


I see writers doubting themselves all the time when they get rejected. I've done it too. But I try to keep it in perspective. If I keep trying and keep believing in myself and what I'm capable of producing, soon enough that failed cake will be a distant memory.


And no, getting a rejection does not mean you suck as a writer. One project didn't work for one editor at one house. It may work for a whole bunch of other editors. Don't give up!


Writers, how do you deal with rejections? Do they lay you low or do you have a strategy for handling them? And for readers, is there something in your life that you love to do and you've had to search out ways to move beyond fear of possible rejection? (Even dating counts...heck, those waters can be the most shark-infested of all!)


Before I go, I wanted to mention my latest Ellora's Cave release, Reveal Me. It's the first in my brand new Unveiled series about Kink, a voyeurism club, and the people who frequent it. Provoke Me, book 2, was recently contracted. Since there was no neat segue between my topic and voyeurism, I'll just add a link and let you check it out for yourself if you're so inclined! http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9027-reveal-me.aspx

Visit Cari at www.cariquinn.com

Groovy Day!

I’m having a brilliant day today. How about you? I woke a bit groggy, but told myself to get going and get some serious work accomplished. I gave myself a target of three book covers. It’s 11:40 a.m., and I’ve made two, so if I continue at that rate, I’ll exceed what I set out to do. Some days just work, don’t they? Everything falls into place. Marvellous!

The latest news for me is that I finally finished the Victorian, subbed it, got a revise and resub where I needed to add a couple more chapters—gotta love editors who can see more than me—then resubbed. It got accepted (whoo hoo!) and I was lucky enough to be allowed to use my own cover. Whatcha think?

Today I have a release by Sarah Masters, Mane Attraction. How groovy! I made the cover for this too. I had a LOT of fun writing this because it’s laid back, funny (I hope!), and just a book where I took a chill pill and relaxed. Here’s hoping my humour makes you laugh too!

Here is the blurbage:

Dominic Hurley is an average guy, working in a book packing company and getting through his boring life the best way he knows how. One Friday night, after sinking one too many beers, he finds an animal on his apartment balcony window—an animal that changes his life.

Levian Brooke is that animal, although he’s also one sexy-as-hell man. He has arrived in London to make Dominic his mate—and to get Dominic’s help in a quest to free one of Levian’s family members from London Zoo.

Dominic is drawn into the seedier parts of his beloved London in his search for someone to create fake passports so Levian can return to where he came from. A sinister element find out his involvement in Levian’s quest and come after him.

It’s a race against time and a fight for his life as Dominic finds inner strength to do things he’d never even dreamed about.

You can buy it here if you're so inclined: BUY!

Well, folks, it’s short and sweet from me today, because I’m on a mission and I don’t want to fail. What are you up to?

My daughter's boyfriend singing "Lean On Me" in acapella

Ack, I totally forgot it was Thursday! I've been thinking it was Wednesday. Duh.

Okay, for a late late post, I'm sharing the video of my daughter's boyfriend singing.




I'm amazed at his awesome voice and proud he got up on stage! It takes guts to go in front of your entire school, especially considering he had no instruments to back him up. I think he did great!

Show him some luv if you have a second! :) I know he'd appreciate it!

Happy reading,
Anne Rainey
http://annerainey.com/

Dream Vacations

I haven't been blessed with many vacations in my life. Something always seems to come up. Part of that *might* be because when I think of vacations, I dream big. There is a list of places I want to go and they're all... WELL, you'll see what they are all. With Spring break coming up, and me staying home *sigh* I figured I'd share some of the places I would LOVE to vacation some day.



All you have to do is look at this picture to understand why Ireland is on my list. In fact, Ireland and my choice below are first and second on my list of dream vacations. I have a friend who has a house in Ireland. I'm really trying to make her see when need to go there some time soon.



Number two is Scotland. I am obsessed with castles. It's my dream to spend days on end exploring different castles. Scotland is one of the places I'm dying to do that.




Um, who doesn't want to go to Paris? I read a book recently that takes place there and it made me even more anxious to go.




I've always wanted to go to Italy. My husband is half Italian. His grandparents are from NY and Jersey, but his great grandparents came over from Italy. We've always wanted to plan a family vacation there.

Where are your dream vacation spots?

He ate my SPRING

Spring is in full force here. Trees are budding, the sun is shining and the wind is roaring like a lion. I love this time of year especially after the long, cold winter. But my all time favorite thing about spring is the appearance of Cadbury Creme Eggs in the grocery stores. I'm an egg-a-holic with no 12-step program in sight. So the other day, I greedily picked up three of them thinking I'd save them, savor them and indulge when I needed a nice little choco/creme-filled pick me up. Didn't really worry too much about squirreling them away because Mr. Regina often makes it clear that he's not much of a 'candy eater'. Um. Yeah right.

So the weekend was tough. I didn't get to write as planned because I had a small computer issue and was advised by my computer guys to not turn it on and bring it in on Monday. Yesterday I loaded it up and drove over to the computer store. I'm only about 5'1"...muchkin sized and I could NOT see over the top of the computer I was carrying so as I entered the store with my arms loaded down I tripped on a dumb mat they'd put in the middle of the floor. Damn thing was about 2 inches thick, I didn't see it, and my toe caught the edge. I flailed around and managed to keep my ass from hitting the floor and saving my computer in the process but I seriously messed up my ankle. Dang thing hurts like crazy now. It's a swollen, achy mess. Anyway, I get the computer in despite the mishap, pick it up later and as the evening wore on, I kept thinking about my Cadbury Eggs. I wanted one. I needed one. I deserved one. Hell, I'd had a bad day. So I go into the cabinet where I keep our chocolate goodies and they're GONE. Gone with the WIND. I think I actually gasped out loud. I'm telling you, I was just mortified and I knew damn good and well what had happened. Sucking in a deep breath, trying to remain calm, I limped into Mr. Regina's office.
I said (in my calmest, most reasonable voice). "Hey, I had some Cadbury Creme Eggs in the kitchen. Do you know what happened to them?"
His eyes went wide and then he narrowed them and puffed out his chest in a manly way that made me want to smack him. "I ate em."
"All three?"
"Yeah. I tried one and I liked it so I ate the rest."
"Did you think for one minute that I might've wanted one?"
He grins at me in a nasty way and looks pointedly toward my ass. "I was helping you. I was thinking of your butt."
GRRRRRRR.
So I left. I went to my own office but I was so mad I couldn't THINK. He ate my candy and was completely unapologetic. After a bit I couldn't stand it anymore. I limped back into his office and stared him down. It was an emotional High Noon. I swear.
"You ate my SPRING!" I hollered.
"Huh?"
"Those damn eggs are my favorite thing about spring! And YOU ate THEM."
He laughed and shook his head like I was a silly child obviously not comprehending the complexities of getting between a woman and her chocolate. "What? That's your favorite thing? Are you trying to tell me you don't like flowers?"
You can only imagine what I said to THAT!

Moral of this story: Hide the damn Cadbury Eggs.

In Search of Passion

I’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch here at home, but things are beginning to settle down. As a result, I’m in a reflective mood. I seem to have lost my will to write or even promote. Lost my will to even be online.

However, there is something inside me that doesn’t want to give up on writing, and so I’ve begun taking stock of everything around me—including real life. There is baggage I need to dump in order to lift myself from this sad state. That process has begun. But it’s not so simple where writing is concerned.

What, if anything, do I need to dump with my writing? I can’t think of a single thing. But I do keep thinking of things I need to do more of and get better at. So as I’m worrying over getting my writing mojo back, I’m constantly adding to that worry by berating myself over things I haven’t done well enough.

I’ve got to stop doing that or I’ll go NUTZ!

In thinking on all of this, I went back to the very beginning. The day I sat down at the computer and made the conscious decision to write a book. I was excited. On fire. Sweating bullets in order to get those words inside of me out so they could see the light of day.

I was menopausal. LOL

Yep, that’s what did it for me. Seriously. Years of putting the meat and potatoes on the table for three kids and myself all by myself had gotten to me. PTA, Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, gymnastics, ballet, jazz, karate, cheerleading, etc. None of that belonged to me. It belonged to THEM. And as much as I love my three kids, I wanted—no—needed something that belonged just to me. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with the kids or my extended family.

So with all my raging hormones, I went ROGUE!

I knew absolutely nothing about what I was doing. In three month’s time I had tapped out 250,000 words. One book. LOL My family thought I was nuts. Still do. They see my frustration, hear me calling the computer every four-letter word I can get my mouth around and DON’T see me on the NYTBSL and wonder just what it is that drives me.

So do I.

But…as menopausal as I was/am, if I hadn’t been writing for the past five years, I may very well have ended up in prison. Anne Rainey posted a blog this past Thursday about menopause. I commented to her about it by telling her I was doing it commando style—no meds. Why? I dislike medicine. Dislike doctors. And it’s not your ordinary kind of dislike either. It’s one of those things I’ve just dug in my heels over and no amount of preaching is going to change it. So writing has kept me “even”. All my frustrations tend to go into writing and haven’t ever spilled over onto the family. Unless, of course, you call my occasional tirade over just who the hell had the gall to move my fan from my desk spilling over. Don’t touch my fans. I have one in each room of my house strategically placed for optimum cooling.

Back to writing.

My friend Destiny Blaine http://destinyblaine.com and I have talked about doing a workshop for writers in which we basically apprise them of all the pitfalls they will encounter in the publishing industry. But time is just not on our side. Hopefully, someday we’ll get around to it. In the meantime, it’s those pitfalls I’ve encountered and others yet unknown to me that I will inevitably encounter on my writing journey that have me tied up in knots for some odd reason. I keep thinking, “Hell, if it’s just one big screw up after another, why keep doing it?”

Good question. And the answer?

Passion.

Either you’re passionate about writing or you’re not. 

And I’ve got to find my passion again. I’ve got to get back to the place I was on that very first day I sat down and started tapping away at the keys. To do this, I’ve got to get my “real life” on track again. Okay, working on that. But more than anything else, I’ve got to quit dwelling on all the things that have gone wrong with my writing career.

Instead, I need to focus on the positives. So what ARE the positives? I am a talented writer. Some of you may think that is conceited of me to say. But if I don’t believe in my own talent, how can I possibly succeed? And I do believe in my ability. I honestly do. That is the ONE thing that remains constant with me that I have never doubted, even as a newbie.

The problem with that is something I’ve learned about having talent and how far it gets you. The cold hard fact is this: You can be loaded with talent and still not succeed. Oh sure, there can be reasons for that like not promoting your author name and books. Not networking with authors and readers. Not dealing well with editors and publishers—just generally screwing up the opportunity. But no, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about picking up a book by an author and reading it and choking on your cornbread because it’s so damn bad. Yet you KNOW this author is a best seller, making butt loads of money, and has nowhere near the talent YOU do.

When it gets right down to it, all the hard work in the world isn’t going to get you where you want to be without some luck involved. Hitting at just the right time with just the right story. Running into just the right editor or agent. Striking a chord of some sort with readers. How the hell do you do all that? It’s a tall order.

So what DO you do? Keep plugging away, making mistakes here and there. Cussing the computer to the high heavens, causing your kids look at you sideways, and just generally dealing with it. Because passion doesn’t ever really go away, does it? It hides, smolders, lays in wait. And then it erupts. Just like in all those sexy romances we write. And that’s why we write romance, isn’t it. To see that glorious passion finally erupt. To tap out that one line that makes us think: WOW! I wrote that.

I know my passion for writing isn’t gone. It’s still there. Hiding. I know this because I’m so worried about it. If I wasn’t, that would mean I didn’t give a flip, wouldn’t it? With time, I’ll find it again. In the meantime, I wait. And so do those six stories I have started. sighhhhhhh

Characters and Co-Authoring

What kind of couple do you prefer reading about? Do you want them both to be strong, to possibly clash a little with their ideas—which makes for some good sexual tension—or do you like the male strong and the woman less so?

When Tess MacKall and I began writing Black Cougar Curse, we knew Sam, our hero, had to be strong. Of course he did. After all, he’d been cursed and had carried the burden of that curse for too many years to count. He’d endured more years on this earth than anyone, roaming the mountains, waiting for his one true love to come along and break the curse. He longed for love, to be released, yet I have to wonder…wouldn’t that be scary? You’ve lived for a long time, mainly alone, and the prospect of your life changing drastically upon the appearance of your soul mate must be a daunting thing.

Sam copes with it beautifully, embracing the changes Lucia brings. He’s an adorable man who helps Lucia with her grief and also in telling her something about herself—something of which she had no clue before she arrived at his mountains.

So then we come to Lucia. Did we want a woman equally as strong as Sam, or did we want her to defer to him for the most part? No, we wanted a strong woman, someone to match Sam in every way—the perfect combination that was right for those characters.

I suppose each book demands different personalities. What works in one book with one h/h may not work in another when you take into account their lives, what they’re doing, and where they are headed. Toss in their personalities, and you’re left with deciding which one should be the stronger character, or whether they should be of equal strength.

That’s the beauty of writing, though, isn’t it? You get to choose, and sometimes your characters choose for you. For me, that’s always the best way. When characters appear already formed, their personalities and idiosyncrasies built in before I’ve even typed the first word…ah, the exquisite life of a writer!

We wrote the book last summer. I remember us flying through it, bouncing off one another, and feeling really lucky that we’d gelled so well as a pairing. I knew we would, but you always wonder if it will sour your friendship a little if you write with a pal. It didn’t. We told one another that falling out over words wasn’t an option, that if we found we didn’t get along inside a manuscript, we’d rather abandon it and return to just being buddies. Thankfully, it just worked, and I feel that together we created a really cool book, one with double the imagination and input.

Co-authoring is great. You only have to give half the word count LOL. You have nice breaks when your partner’s writing her chapter, and the discussions via email about where we were going next sometimes produced hilarity.

“So, what’s got to happen next?”

“Hell if I know!”

“Oh, I thought you might have something in mind.”

“Nope, I thought you did!”

And so it went on. Yes, we had a clear, pencilled-in outline of what the basic plot was about, but colouring in that picture was one of the most fun times I’ve had while writing. Together we made a setting, together we made two people fall in love, and together we combined our ideals, shaped them, and placed them on the page. I love the fact that I have shared this experience with Tess. It’s amazing that something we produced together is out there. I probably sound whacko, but it’s a privilege for another author to agree to let you into their writing space, into their mind and heart, and I will always feel blessed that Tess let me walk through that door.

That Dreaded Word...Menopause

So, before I start on the subject of Menopause I should tell you a little pet peeve of mine. I hate labels. I hate being diagnosed. And most of all I hate going to the doctors. Why does all that bother me? I don't know. Maybe it started when I was a kid and had to have multiple skin graphing surgeries. When you grow up  scarred or deformed in some way, no matter how minor, you get tired of having to explain to people what happened and why. You get tired of giving them the technical term and seeing the pity/horror on their faces. I'm just me. My scars don't make me who I am. They're just another part of me. They're no different than my eyes or my fingernails.

So, lately, I've been contemplating going to my doctor because I suspect I've started going through menopause. The hot flashes, fatigue, mood swings, fluctuations in weight, it's all there and then some. I dread going to the doctor though. I dread hearing her tell me that I'm going through menopause. And not just because doctors make me break out in a cold sweat, but because once she labels me I'm going to feel every bit my age. I'm going to feel labeled. That bothers me.

Let me clear something up though. I'm not concerned about being 43 necessarily. I'm happy with where I'm at in my life. I'm happy with the things I've accomplished. You couldn't pay me to be in my twenties again, lol! I was a mess in my twenties. :P

So, yes, I'm truly excited about where my life is headed. I don't wish to be younger than what I am. But, again, slapping that menopause label on me makes me want to just sit and cry. It's mind over matter and I know that. I guess it just upsets me because it feels like I'm no longer on the uphill climb, but more the downhill slide. Does that make sense? I think I'm rambling. LOL I don't know, it's like my youth is now a thing of the past.

Still, burying my head in the sand will not take care of these hot flashes and mood swings. Only researching and exploring my different options can do that. I'm trying to look at this like any other project. The more I know about it, the more I can help my daughters when they hit this age. The easier it'll be on the both of us.

So, I turn to you ladies. Have you been where I'm at? Did you dread it? Got any good tips on getting through it? I'm all eyes! :)

Taking care of ME

I'm going to slightly play off of Regina's post from yesterday. She mentioned women sometimes forgetting to take care of ourselves, which I totally agree with. We always make sure we're Mom's first, which we should. Then we become wives second, housekeepers third, so on and so forth, but when are we just women?

For years now I've wanted to lose weight. Every year I swore this would be the year I would do it, but it never was.



I would do well for a few weeks. Maybe exercises a little bit and then get too busy to eat right. Too busy to go to the gym. Too TIRED from doing everything else that I didn't have the energy to do something I really wanted for myself.

This year I decided enough is enough. I WANT to lose weight. I've always wanted to and not JUST because I'm not happy with the way I look, but because I'm getting older. I want to be healthier. I want to take care of myself for my health, but I also will admit I DO want to be happy with the way I look too. I'm not, but you know what? I deserve to be. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that I have to look a certain way to be happy. I'm a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. I'm not high maintenance, but I also want to look in the mirror and be happy with what I see. I'll never be tiny and I am PERFECTLY okay with that, but I do want to be able to say, "you know what? I look alright!" I deserve to be able to buy myself an outfit without cringing at the size. I deserve to turn a head while I'm walking in the grocery store. LOL!

This is something I wanted to do to take care of myself! FOR myself. I'm pretty damn proud of my progress too! So far in 2011 I'm down 14 pounds. It's not a ton, but its a start and I already feel better!

So this is what I'm doing to take care of myself. What are YOU doing for yourself?

The Company of Women

The older I get the more I enjoy the company of women. When we're kids it's a whole different thing. There are competitions, petty jealousies, and a basic lack of maturity getting in the way of long lasting friendships. But I find these days that I enjoy my gal pals more than just about anything. I mean, seriously, isn't it nice to just kick back, no stress, no meals to fix or kids to yell at? Those 'girl times' become more rare the busier our lives become and it seems to me that hanging with the girls is so energizing, so freeing, that maybe we should try to carve out time to do this.

During last years Romanticon convention, several of us decided that waiting a whole year to see each other was out of the question so we traveled to the Texas Hill Country last week and invaded Desiree Holt's house. Everyone brought something to stick in the fridge to munch on and we hung around talking about everything under the sun. Did we sleep? Not all that much, let me tell you! We laughed until tears rolled, drank mass quantities of alcoholic beverages and basically let our hair down. As I headed home, I realized I was suddenly relaxed and ready to tackle challenges at home after having a little break from things. We're already planning the next get-together for this summer at my place and then we'll hook up again at Romanticon.

I think, as women, we often neglect ourselves and little things we need. Getting a mani/pedi treatment, shopping, or a trip to the hairdresser just isn't enough. We need the company of other women to tell us we are not alone in the world. I highly recommend it.

In other news: Panther Moon, book one in my Savage Sanctuary series, releases on Friday at Ellora's Cave. Hope everyone likes what I've done with this one.


Set in the same world as Feral Moon.

Running for her life, Chantrea Morgan, unmated and approaching her time of change, stumbles through the night only to be rescued by a gorgeous yet dangerous male. Blinded by instant recognition of her mate, she clings to him, her only means of salvation. Her body burns for him. Her heart aches with the need to be claimed by this wild Texas panther.

Hudson Cates, warrior of the Turquoise Moon tribe of shifters, saves his grieving mate and brings her home to claim her in the only way he can…with orgasmic pleasure, savage possession and a raw sensuality that is inbred into their species. In a ritual as old as time, only he, aided by another male from their tribe, can help Trea embrace her panther beast.

An Excerpt From: PANTHER MOON

Copyright © REGINA CARLYSLE, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



Chantrea carried an armload of supper dishes to the sink, the muted sounds of the television playing in the living room, making her smile. Sounded like a baseball game to her. Being an addict to the game was her dad’s one true vice. Her mother, Celia, laughed at something Brant said. Typical evening in the Morgan household. Outside the modest Texas home, crickets chirped as the wind rustled the leaves of ancient oaks and cottonwoods. An owl hooted from a faraway branch. “Hey, Mom, dinner was great,” she called as she loaded the dishwasher, turned it on and headed into the living room.

Celia smiled from her position curled up against her husband of several centuries. “Love it when a new recipe turns out.”

Brant kissed the top of his wife’s blonde head and winked at Trea as she wandered into the room. “You did good, hon.”

As an unmated female panther, she had grown up knowing she wanted what her parents had. Love. Affection. The deepest kind of understanding between mates. It was so heartwarming to witness their love firsthand. She was constantly in awe.

Wandering to the wide mantel over the fireplace, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her worn jersey shorts and looked at the pictures lovingly displayed there. “I miss Maxwell.” Her sigh was soft but even over the sounds of the game she knew her folks heard it.

“Your brother had to leave, honey. It was his time,” her mother said with calm conviction. Trea turned at the slight hitch evident her mother’s voice in her voice and knew Mom missed him too. “He likes his job in Houston though he still hasn’t found any females of our species. There are just so few of us left but maybe, just maybe he’ll be one of the lucky males to find the perfect mate. You would think it easy in a city of over five million people. I know it hurts that he had to go but it’s natural, honey. He’s a man and gods know there is no future out here in the boonies. We’ve lived like hermits for so long.” Celia lifted a brow and glanced at Brant. “It hasn’t been fair to either of our children.”

Trea picked up the framed photo of her brother and herself taken during one of their rare family vacations. Tracing the handsome male face, she blinked back moisture from her eyes as a blast of love caught her off guard. Like her, Max was blond and green eyed but there the similarities stopped. Where she was slender, small, and to her way of thinking, rather ordinary, her brother Maxwell was a bonafide heartstopper. The gorgeous rascal was built like a tree trunk, broad-shouldered and handsome as sin. He was the kind of guy who’d made the local girls melt but he had carefully avoided all but the most necessary entanglements with humans. Smart dude. Trea was so proud of him and couldn’t help but wish him well in finding a mate of his own. The lady would be a very lucky feline. No doubt about it.

Behind her, Trea heard her parents shift position and she turned, surprised, when her dad pushed a button on the remote to turn off the television. Silence, sharp and somewhat ominous, fell into the depths of the small cabin. “We need to talk, princess.”

Frowning, she replaced the photo and gingerly sat on the edge of an overstuffed chair to look at her parents. Something about her father’s tone sent worry to dance over her spine. “What’s up, Dad?”

Brant Morgan focused his gaze on her. “Your mother and I have been talking.” He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Chantrea, you are nearing your time. Maybe this is a good moment to—”

Trea’s face burned. “Dad!”

Celia patted Brant’s arm. “Love of mine, you are so clueless. Let me.”

He shook his head and sighed heavily, seeming downright relieved to let someone else tackle the delicate subject of a female were panther having her first heat. “Good. Go for it.”

Celia wasn’t deterred, focusing an intelligent gaze on her. “For all these years, we’ve tried to keep you safe out here in the country. You know panthers are solitary creatures and it’s uncomfortable for us to live among crowds. It’s stifling. Invasive. It was a huge risk for us to even let you attend the public school in town but, honey, we have worried so much about you. You’ve been so isolated out here in the woods of east Texas. No friends. Nothing that normal human girls come to enjoy. You don’t have a real life out here.”

“But I’m not human, Mom. It’s okay.” Chantrea knew darn good and well her life wasn’t normal. Sometimes it made her sad but this wasn’t the fault of her parents. They had to protect her. It was their duty and she would never fault them for the lonely state of her life. She shook her head and smiled not wanting them to stress about the choices they’d made. “Really. Don’t worry about me.”

“We have to, Trea,” her dad said, leaning forward to prop his forearms over his sturdy thighs. “It wasn’t possible for you to date the local boys, honey. You know we don’t mix but you are a woman now. Things are, um—”

Once again, Celia put her hand out to stop him. “Happening to your body.”

Trea swallowed hard, knowing the utter truth of Mom’s words. Already she felt flashes of heat zip through her with astounding effect. Soon she would be helpless to the oncoming change and facing the shift from woman to panther would be the most horrible thing imaginable when dealing with it alone. She knew she couldn’t do it. The time to mate was upon her. Discomfort climbed over her flesh and buried itself deep in her belly. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

“We’ve decided to move to Sanctuary,” her dad baldly stated. “It’s time.”