Tuesday, 20 June 2017

Hey hey hey, It's Cat's release day... Cat with the Blue Eyes is out today. Let's sneak a peek

Take one red-haired blue-eyed Cat.
That's Catlin.
She can't shift.
Add Dylan—who can.
Stir in melodrama, malice, and mischief and watch the fur fly.

Am I all over happy? You bet I am.

and here's a sneak peek from the beginning...

Chapter One
Catlin Creamer looked with a certain degree of sympathy as the group of young, Scottish wildcat shifters slunk—there was no other word for it—out of the room. One or two of them snuck glaring resentful glances at the tall, tawny-haired cat, who stood next to her, every sinew in him taut, and every sense alert.
Talk about an alpha male. Catlin mentally shook her head. Nope, don’t go there. Much too much testosterone for comfort.
“They can’t help it you know,” she murmured as the last cat left the room and she shut the door behind them, leaned back on the wood and considered him thoughtfully. “They look at you, who shifts like it’s as easy as drinking a cup of coffee, think they can do it and then get pissed off when it’s not as simple as they imagined. Smile complacently and roll their eyes when you try to tell them about the dangers of straying from our lands when they’ve shifted, because of course they know it all and we’re the oldies.” She sniggered. “Over the hill at twenty-eight, I ask you, it’s enough to make me beg for a pension and retire to Skye and learn to weave.”
She pushed off from the door. “Except I have no inclination to weave.” Or move away from him, but he didn’t need to know that. Restless, out of sorts, and no idea why, except it had to involve the cat in front of her, who contemplated every move she made though watchful eyes. It was bloody irritating. Her long multi-colored skirts swished round her legs and she kicked out at them impatiently. Maybe it was time to change the habits of a lifetime. She caught the
speculative expression on her companion’s face—even shifted it was as apt as that stupid phrase went—like the cat that had got the cream. If he said one word, just one word about names, or designated partners, she’d throw something. It was a pity there wasn’t much throwable around. To teach young shifters everything they might need to know, the room was of necessity large and free of obstacles. Even then, after each session some interesting scuff-marks would show in the most unlikely of places.
“You bawl them out for being arsy or cocky and they mutter and moan about you,” she went on. “Unfortunately after that, I’m the poor sod who has to calm it all down. How to Deal With Your Elders and Betters 101. What I wouldn’t give for a quiet life.”
The cat next to her smiled—if that’s what you called the baring of canines—shook and morphed into a hot as hades male. One she’d sworn off ages ago.
He was bad enough as a cat. As a human, a naked human, he was ten times worse.
Dylan MacSween stretched and her mouth went dry.
God, he was magnificent. Long tawny tresses with those gold and dark streaks in them, just like his fur when he’d shifted. A torso sprinkled with short strands of gold and black, which arrowed downward to where dark, wiry, hair made a nest for his, she had to admit, rather magnificent cock. To say she drooled was an understatement.
Her mouth went dry as she thought of what he could do with that appendage...if she agreed to mate with him.
Unfortunately for her, he was her designated mate and she was having none of it. No way would she be told to mate, or subjugate herself to anyone. Even if it did mean she stayed single forever.
“You’d hate it.” Dylan shook his head and let his hair spin around and settle on his shoulders. “Being single for ever.”
“Dammit, keep out of my thoughts. It’s rude to listen in,” she said indignantly. “Mine all mine.”
“You forget as my life partner to be, I can read you without consciously trying. Hear you automatically,” Dylan said as he finger combed his hair and plaited it loosely. “Sod it, this needs cutting. Have you got an elastic handy? Nowhere to hide one like this.” He regarded his naked body unselfconsciously.
Catlin rummaged in her pocket and brought out a pink
scrunchy. “Only this.” She waited to see what he’d say as she dangled it from one finger and whirled it around in a circle.
“Thanks, that’s fine.” Dylan took it from her mid-swing, and secured the end of his plait. “Right, any clues where my jeans are?”
“Where you left them maybe?” Catlin said sweetly. Something in his tone annoyed her. “I’m not your servant. I have no idea where you dump stuff, because I have no need to.”
Dylan gave her a black look. His eyes glowed yellow and dangerous before he blinked and sheathed his inner cat. She shivered. Why, oh why did she insist on challenging him?
Because he’s too big for his paws that’s why. But was he? Or was he merely fulfilling his role in the Dowt—their group of Scottish Wild Cats that lived and worked as humans part of the time and shifted into their wild forms at others.
“Never said you were my servant, sweet Cat. I don’t want a servant. I want a partner.” He walked across the room to a tall cupboard and pulled out a black t-shirt and a pair of well-worn, white at the seams, denims. “Now how did these get in here?” he mused as he zipped up the fly. “Never mind, don’t answer. I don’t much care as long as I can get dressed. Naked in Scotland in the winter is not a good idea. Bits might freeze and drop off.” He slanted her a glance and smiled. “Pity not to let you have the chance to experience what I can do with one of them eh?”
“In your dreams.” And mine darn it, oh and in mine. Hot, wet, erotic, skin tingling, clit clenching, need my bullet dreams.
Dylan nodded. “Yep, all too frequently, my love. So, all joking apart, when are you going to see sense and agree to our life ceremony? Belong to me.”
She harrumphed all her ideas about meeting him halfway dissipated by that insensitive statement. “That’s not me. My life is mine. I’m never going to be someone else’s. Belong to you? Sheesh. Not gonna happen. I’m my own person, not yours, the Dowt’s or the man in the moon’s. Watch my lips. Mine.” Why couldn’t he say something different? Use sweeter, softer words? Accept her for what she was, not what he wanted her to be?
He growled, shook his head and his pink bobbled plait jumped around his neck and shoulders before it settled again, as he flicked Catlin’s cheek. As ever his touch seared her skin. One day she was sure she’d see a tattoo or something where he’d touched her.

“What am I going to do with you?” he mused as he stroked her face and sent goose bumps skittering over her skin. “You know it’s going to happen. How else will the Dowt survive and grow.” It wasn’t a question. “Why don’t you believe me?”
She shrugged and did her best to ignore that frisson of something indefinable that slithered and darted over her skin. “I can’t shift.” To her mind, that said it all. How could she partner the head of the Dowt when she could only ever be human? “I can’t shift,” she repeated vehemently. “No good for you.”
Dylan raised one imperious brow. “I heard you the first time. That’s not a problem. I can. I’m head of the Dowt. You, my love, are mine, you just need to accept it.” He made it sound so simple. 

And if that's made you wonder, what next, click here to buy it from Evernight Publishing

Happy Reading,

love Raven x

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