Retro Flash - Coyote Moon

I’m still riding the holiday don’t-wanna-work wave, so instead of a blog to kick off the new year, here’s a blast from the past—the opening to my first published paranormal romance, Coyote Moon. It’s about a boy in love with a girl who’s the target of a pack of horny werewolves. Happens all the time.

# # #

Cody Gray hiked into Coopersburg just shy of sunset, and right off the bat he smelled she-wolf.

Cody’s mouth stretched in a great big fox-in-the-henhouse grin. If he’d had his tail right then, he’d’ve wagged it. All the way up from Texas he’d been on the lookout for some nice wild country to set up a pack in, and a mate to help him get started. Just when he figured northern California might fill the bill for one, Fate dropped the other in his lap. Chaos, patron of the coyote-folk, must be smiling on him.

He set his nose to the wind. He’d already spotted a bar up ahead, and a couple of houses and a gas station, before the two-laner he’d hitchhiked in on widened out and entered Coopersburg proper. The she-wolf was at the gas station, and plenty riled by the scent of her. He drank in a noseful of her and sighed. Nice and pungent. Alpha, maybe? He liked his girls feisty. Cody quickened his pace.

Closer to the gas station, he spotted a nasty tableau: three big apes closing in on a pair of ladies. The lady in back, getting herded into the dubious safety of the garage bay, was slender, blonde and cursing like a dock hand. The herder had auburn hair and three-four inches on the blonde. She looked fit to chew brass and spit tacks. Cody’s pulse ramped up to a gallop. There was his wolf, and she was about to get herself trounced. Her bared teeth kept the apes at bay, but they wouldn’t hold much longer.

He slowed and came up on them careful and unnoticed, close enough to smell the alcohol on the apes and hear the menace coloring their taunts. The wolf-gal said something. The snarl in her tone announced the apes were in for a whuppin’, but she made no move to attack. Cody crouched behind a parked car. Chaos, only three of them. Why didn’t she just shift and end it?

Then, in a heartbeat, the situation changed. The blonde screamed. Cody’s hackles lifted. The apes had a buddy, and he’d snuck in through the office into the bay and caught the blonde gal from behind. She writhed in his grip while the other apes hooted. The wolf-gal darted in to help the blonde, but the ape in the lead grabbed her arm. Cody didn’t catch his words, but the leer on his face said it all.

So she let him have it. No girly slaps for this she-wolf. She socked him a solid one, right in the nose. The smell of blood joined the odors of liquor and adrenaline that already charged the air. The words she barked at the lead ape weren’t the kind ladies should know, much less repeat in public, but given the situation Cody allowed she was entitled.

The big ape’s face got uglier, no mean feat. If the wolf-gal hadn’t switched by now, Cody realized, she either wasn’t going to, or couldn’t.

That clinched it. This was his future mate getting threatened by those drunk knuckle-draggers. He bared his teeth, revealing canines just a tad longer and heavier than a human’s. Time to get involved. In true coyote fashion, of course.

This being a garage, naturally it had a peck of cars sitting around, and naturally some trusting soul had left their keys in the ignition. Cody slid in behind the wheel of a sporty little Mustang that started up real nice. He took aim and floored it.

The rev of the Mustang’s engine must’ve cut through the boozy haze on their brains because they looked around and finally noticed the car rocketing right at them. They abandoned the wolf-gal and scattered. Cody plowed through the midst of them, then swung a tight U-ey and shot after their leader, the biggest, ugliest ape in this bunch of bananas. The man scrabbled desperately over the tarmac. Cody brought the Mustang right up on his heels before he slewed it aside. He reached out and slapped the ape’s John Deere cap clean off his head. The ape stumbled away, and the car shot on by.

Cody let loose a Texas howl and wheeled around for another go. Chaos, this car handled sweet. “Gotta get me one of these,” he murmured.

And one of those, he added mentally, as his squealing turn faced him toward the garage again. The goon in the bay had let go of the blonde, and now the wolf-gal was all over him like, well, like ugly on an ape. Poor guy couldn’t even land a slap. Too quick and strong for him. Cody’s butt hitched on the seat, wagging a phantom tail.

Since the wolf-gal didn’t need his help, he went back after the apes. They’d made fast tracks across the street and piled into a pickup parked by the bar. They took off down the road without so much as a cussword flung at him. Cody offered up a mental shrug. Didn’t want to dent their truck, most like. Apes had oddball priorities. He trundled the Mustang up to the garage. The wolf-gal had the fourth ape flat on the greasy floor. The ape contracted into a ball. “C’mon, Willy. I said I was sorry.”

“You’re sorry, all right,” she growled down at him. “I expect cheap thuggery from Les, but you—”

She cut herself off and sniffed the air. She turned just as Cody hopped out of the Mustang. He watched her eyes get big and her body tighten up to full attention. She knew what he was, all right, but only on some basic, primitive level, not in her head or her nose. She didn’t recognize him. Any she-wolf worth her pack standing would be showing her fangs by now, with a growl at him to git, rescue or no rescue. That’s how your average wolf saw coyotes, pests to be run off. Because your average wolf had no sense of humor.

He stared hard into her eyes. A fine honey-brown shade. Wolf eyes ran to yellow, like his own. This one had a whiff of ape on her. Half-breed? That might explain why she hadn’t switched.

Her stance had shifted into a pose of wary friendliness. She let him get pretty close up before she stopped him with a little twitch of her mouth, not quite the flash of a fang. “Thanks,” she said.

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

“I could have handled it. Those jerks are losers even when they’re sober. But I do appreciate the help.” She smiled just enough to get Cody’s invisible tail wagging again. “Nice moves with my car, by the way.”

Her car? Chaos love it, this just got better and better. Cody flashed a smile wide enough to eat the moon. She didn’t even have her hand halfway out before he seized it. “Glad I could help. I’m Cody Gray, up from Texas. You’re going to marry me.”

Stop by for another excerpt, and a look at my other books, at
www.bookstrand.com/pat-cunningham

STUPID THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

Pic from ~ http://mordantorange.com/images/comics/misc/werewolf.gif ~

STUPID THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

By Pat Cunningham

In writing paranormals – or SF, or fantasy, or any combination thereof – world-building is essential. What are the rules of your universe, and how do they affect everyday life? There are the usual questions to be answered, like how does the population cope in a world where vampires and werewolves and demons walk the streets, and what to do when you find yourself in love with one, as so often happens in our genre.

Then there’s the really silly stuff, the hey-wait-a-minute questions that tend to hit when you’re bored or it’s late at night or you’re right in the middle of a tense action scene. Yes, I do lie awake at night thinking of these things. Such as:

The police have captured a vampire. The vampire’s not carrying weapons, but he still has his fangs. Would he be considered “armed and dangerous”? Do long, pointy teeth count as a concealed weapon? If he’s caught attacking someone, is that simple assault or assault with a deadly weapon? Plus he’s got that rare but specific medical condition (acute and fatal allergy to sunlight). Is he covered by the Americans with Disabilities Act? If you insist on a daytime trial, or lock him in a cell with a window, are you violating his civil rights? Does he even have rights? Technically he’s dead. The person he used to be is legally deceased. Does he still have to pay taxes? (I wish I could remember the author and the title, but I know someone wrote a sequel to Stephen King’s “’Salem’s Lot,” in which the IRS investigated why an entire town stopped filing their tax returns. Even being undead isn’t enough to get you off the government’s hook.)

Now imagine you’re the poor court-appointed defense attorney assigned to Mr. Fangs, trying to get charges reduced. Let me know how the story turns out.

Do werewolves wear wedding rings? Or watches, or any kind of jewelry? If so, what happens to it when they change form? If a female werewolf wears makeup and shifts, does the makeup stay in her fur? If these are traditional werewolves and only change with the moon, then you’re okay because they can plan ahead. However, I’m seeing a lot more of the shift-at-will variety (I write that kind myself) and these questions aren’t always addressed. Either the wolves need some magic so their clothing appears and disappears depending on their form, or they’ll end up looking pretty silly no matter what shape they’re in.

How do you insult a werewolf? “Bitch” and “son of a bitch” won’t cut it. Those are descriptions, not insults. “Dog” works better because of the servile connotations. Call a were a dog and you’re questioning his wolfhood. Humans are apes, or primates, simians, or anything in the monkey family. A Jane (as in “Tarzan and”) is a female werewolf who runs with human males. It’s the werewolf equivalent of “slut.”
How do vampires, ahem, get it up? Doesn’t that require a heartbeat and a functioning circulatory system? Or maybe they (ahem again) engorge by drinking others’ blood. So there’s your vampire with a massive hard-on and a victim in no shape to help him out. Surely some enterprising madam would catch on and provide facilities for freshly-fed vampires. After all, there’s no chance of the girls getting pregnant or diseased (undead, remember) or even bitten because the john just ate. Just a brief but intense bout of incredible sex, no strings attached. You folks who write erotica, feel free.

While we’re on the subject of the world’s oldest profession, I was watching the History Channel the other night. They had a show about sex in ancient Pompeii, which was rife with brothels, sex shops and prostitution. The top brothel was called the Lupanare, or “House (Den) of the She-Wolves.” I know what I instantly thought of. Anyone else?

There ought to be enough story fodder in there to keep me busy for months. How about you folks? What little everyday bits of trivia exist in your created worlds that could lead to a unique plot? All it takes a little imagination, carefully-applied logic, a bit of boredom and a really twisted mind. And they wonder where writers get their ideas.
~~~~~~

Coyote Moon

Blurb ~

It's that time of the month -- the full moon -- when Willy Alvarez's moods go wonky and her dreams fill up with wolves. A time for hungers she doesn't dare fulfill because they lead to violence. She's resigned herself to a manless life, then Cody Gray arrives.

Cody is cute, funny, charming, and a werecoyote. His nose knows what Willy doesn't: she's half werewolf. He's convinced this repressed half-human she-wolf is his perfect mate. Now he just has to convince her. And quick, because her long-lost pack has learned about her existence, and they've come to town to claim her...

COYOTE MOON by Pat Cunningham at ~ http://bookstrand.com/product-coyotemoon-14959-330.html ~ NOW full-moon rising on Siren-BookStrand’s bestseller list.

Running with the Pack by Pat Cunningham

Running with the Pack

By Pat Cunningham

Pic from ~ http://naturescrusaders.wordpress.com/2009/03/07/ ~

I’ve always been an animal lover. As a dog person, I picked werewolves as my supernatural being of choice when I moved into paranormal romances. Fortunately I live in an area with a unique research opportunity – the Speedwell Forge Wolf Sanctuary of PA, right up the road from me, so to speak, in Brickerville, Pennsylvania. The Sanctuary consists of 25 acres and is home to 40-odd wolves, divided into packs/family groups, each with its own roomy run. I stopped in recently for one of their weekend tours and picked up some info and anecdotes to give my howling heroes and their world some verisimilitude. As I discovered, even with wolves truth can be weirder than fiction.
First off, the biggest wolf in the pack doesn’t necessarily become alpha. The sanctuary has a family of four eastern timber wolves, all zoo born. Because the pup was bottle fed and received better nourishment growing up than his parents, he’s the largest of the group. That doesn’t mean Pop can’t make Junior submit when he’s of a mind to. Attitude more than size is what makes an alpha wolf. The smaller wolf dominates the larger because he’s got the drive and the mindset. The Dog Whisperer is right – it’s all psychological. The muscular six-foot werewolf might find himself taking orders, and having to like it, from his 5’2” mate. That could make for some funny scenes.
We’ve all got this picture of alpha wolves clawing their way to the top of the pack and ruling with an iron paw. That ain’t necessarily so. The sanctuary’s pack of thirteen gray wolves is led by Murphy, possibly the laziest wolf on the planet, according to his keepers. Murphy does nothing and makes no effort to maintain his leadership. The pack follows him because they like him and they want to. His brother Winston could probably kick his butt and take over the pack, but he just isn’t interested. As beta, Winston does the heavy lifting in pack administration. He keeps the others at bay while the alphas feed, then determines who eats next and in what order. If your alpha hero’s smart, he’ll have a loyal beta to watch his back so he can focus on running the show.
Another myth blown out of the water is wolf monogamy and the idea of the alpha male in charge at mating time. When a gal’s in season, the keeper said, the boys take notice, regardless of her rank or theirs. “She gets up, they get up. She walks off, they follow. She stops, they stop. It’s hysterical to watch.” She, not the males, decides who’s going to father her litter. She picks the wolf she deems most likely to sire the strongest pups. If that turns out to be the alpha male, and it probably will, so be it.
As long as there’s no alpha female on hand, the pups might even make it. Alpha females tend to kill other females’ litters, both to secure their own pups’ survival and to demoralize possible rivals, to keep them too depressed to challenge her authority. If your story needs an antagonist, you need look no further than the literal queen bitch determined to hang onto her position. And hide your kids.
At the other end of the hierarchy exist the omegas. You can’t really call it living for them because they have to take everyone’s crap. The omega in the gray wolf group was easy to spot: the tips of her ears had been chewed off and the end of her tail was missing. The keepers had to move her into a separate pen or the pack might eventually have killed her. She shared her new home with two other wolves and seemed a lot less stressed. Got any werewolf omegas? Might they be harboring resentment and plotting against your alpha hero?
Finally, take this one for what it’s worth. Glacier is a big handsome gray wolf who comes from a showbiz family (his grandfather played Two Socks in “Dances With Wolves”). He’s also something of a diva. Glacier has been known to go off and sulk if he isn’t the center of attention. His last girlfriend had to be removed from the pen; Glacier bit her because he was jealous that the keepers were petting her more than him. Glacier shares his pen with Chipper, a diminutive male who’s suitably submissive enough to satisfy this prima donna alpha. “We think he’s gay,” the keeper said.
And on that note, I’m heading back to the keyboard. Happy writing!
~~~~~~

Coyote Moon

Blurb ~

It's that time of the month -- the full moon -- when Willy Alvarez's moods go wonky and her dreams fill up with wolves. A time for hungers she doesn't dare fulfill because they lead to violence. She's resigned herself to a manless life, then Cody Gray arrives.

Cody is cute, funny, charming, and a werecoyote. His nose knows what Willy doesn't: she's half werewolf. He's convinced this repressed half-human she-wolf is his perfect mate. Now he just has to convince her. And quick, because her long-lost pack has learned about her existence, and they've come to town to claim her...

COYOTE MOON by Pat Cunningham at ~ http://bookstrand.com/product-coyotemoon-14959-330.html ~ NOW full-moon rising on Siren-BookStrand’s bestseller list.

Lunar Eclipse Magic ~ It’s here... COYOTE MOON

July 7, 2009, night of the full moon and a lunar eclipse. Yep, definitely a lucky omen for Pat Cunningham’s COYOTE MOON. Her first romance shapeshifter romance releases today!

Blurb ~

It's that time of the month -- the full moon -- when Willy Alvarez's moods go wonky and her dreams fill up with wolves. A time for hungers she doesn't dare fulfill because they lead to violence. She's resigned herself to a manless life, then Cody Gray arrives.

Cody is cute, funny, charming, and a werecoyote. His nose knows what Willy doesn't: she's half werewolf. He's convinced this repressed half-human she-wolf is his perfect mate. Now he just has to convince her. And quick, because her long-lost pack has learned about her existence, and they've come to town to claim her...

Coyote Moon – Story Excerpt

Cody sighed carefully, in and out. She wasn’t really in a state to hear this, but… “Willy, listen up. We’re out of time, so I gotta be blunt. You’re a werewolf.”
She stiffened in his arms. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Definite wolf. Not all the way, though, just half. From what I’m seeing and smelling, I’d say the wolf’s stronger than the human.”
She lifted her head and stared at him. His eyes were inches from hers, and utterly sincere. “You’re serious.”
“‘Fraid so. You almost shifted tonight, that’s what happened to you. The wolf and the ape are all mixed up and your body can’t make up its mind. I’m betting once you switch all the way, everything’ll sort itself out.”
“Switch? You mean, into a wolf?” Good God, this must be loonie night, and here she was stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a naked one. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Wish I could say yes, but you’re showing all the signs. You’re a wolf, and the sooner you own up to that—Hey, where you going?”
“Home.” Willy marched past him, eyes carefully averted, in the direction she figured Coopersburg must lie. The panic had run its course; her brain operated coolly again, all unwanted thoughts and emotions carefully suppressed. Okay, not all, but distance from Cody would take care of that. And maybe by the time she got there, she’d have figured out a way to deal with Beth that didn’t involve homicide. “Werewolf, my ass.”
In the blink of an eye Cody shot ahead of her and planted himself in her path. “I can see you’ve gotten good at this, but you can’t keep running forever. Face facts, darlin’. You’re a wolf, pure and simple, and you better accept it, or what happened tonight’ll happen again. Next time you might kill somebody.”
Like she hadn’t thought of that. Quick, distract herself. She waved her arm at the sky. “Explain why I’m human while a full moon’s out.”
“It only works like that in the movies. We can change whenever we want.”
“‘We’? So you’re a werewolf, too? Well, I guess that explains the lack of clothing.”
“Not wolf. Coyote.”
“Oh? Well, that’s a big difference.” She started walking again.
He got in her way again. She glared at him, seething over the effort it took to keep her gaze locked on his and not let it dip. Her mood swings threatened to swing her in that totally inappropriate direction again. Think of something else. “Okay, I’ll play along. How am I supposed to…switch?”
“First you take your clothes off.”
“That’s what I thought.” She stalked down the hillside. “That’s the sickest pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
She picked the stretch with the fewest rocks and stomped along it. She kept her glare riveted straight ahead, so she wouldn’t have to look at Cody. She could hear him trotting at her side, just out of reach. “Not a line,” he said, “just common sense. You’ll rip your clothes if you try to change in ‘em. Just thinking ahead, is all.”
“Of course,” she said frostily. “And I suppose in order to achieve this `switch’ I have to sleep with you?”
“Well, no. Never heard of it done that way.” His voice lit up. “Might be fun, though.”
“I’m calling the cops when I get home. I’m having you put away.” And maybe herself, right after.
“If that’s what makes you happy. I’m betting it won’t.” He reached for her arm. “For your own good—”
She snapped at him, a move so quick, so instinctive, she had no time to think. Her teeth clicked together just short of his fingers. She followed it up with a snarl that would have backed up a whole pack of wolves. Cody stood his ground and waited her out. The snarl died away when she realized what she’d done. Her color drained off until she was pale as the moon.
“That’s her,” Cody said softly. “The wolf. You don’t let her out, she’ll kill you. Chew you up from the inside.”
“No. I’m not. You’re not. Those things don’t exist.” She would have bolted, but Cody caught hold of her and wouldn’t let go, no matter how much she thrashed and snapped.
“Atta girl,” he encouraged. “Set her loose. I’d rather we didn’t do it like this, but like my daddy always says, any den in a twister.”
Willy ground out a curse and kicked. Her knee fell short of its target. Their legs tangled and they tumbled to the ground. She tried to scramble up, but couldn’t find her footing. Her hands and feet kept sliding all over the carpet of pine needles, and Cody. Like having four legs that refused to cooperate with a brain programmed to deal with only two.
“That’s the spirit, darlin’. Hey, is that hair on your neck?”
She aimed a punch at him, and missed. How dare he make jokes while she—oh crap. While she rolled around on the ground on top of a naked psycho. She shoved away from him and scrabbled back. “Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me.”
“You sure?” His grin infuriated her. “For our breed, this counts as foreplay.”
“You disgusting son of a—”
Coyote. Cody was gone. She blinked and he blurred. The coyote crouched in front of her, forelegs splayed and hindquarters hiked in the air. He waved his tail and yapped at her, an invitation to play.
Willy gulped, hard. I did not just see that.
The coyote lolled his tongue. Cody’s grin on canine jaws. His yellow eyes held Cody’s twinkle. He rocked back on his hindquarters and became Cody again, kneeling before her. “See that? Nothing to it. Now you try.”
I’m not going to scream. Screaming is for sissies.
She fainted instead.
~~~

Purchase at ~ http://bookstrand.com/product-coyotemoon-14959-330.html ~

Sneak Preview ~ Coyote Moon by Pat Cunningham

Cody Gray hiked into Coopersburg just shy of sunset, and right off the bat he smelled she-wolf.
Cody’s mouth stretched in a great big fox-in-the-henhouse grin. If he’d had his tail right then, he’d’ve wagged it. All the way up from Texas he’d been on the lookout for some nice wild country to set up a pack in, and a mate to help him get started. Just when he figured northern California might fill the bill for one, Fate dropped the other in his lap. Chaos, patron of the coyote-folk, must be smiling on him.
He set his nose to the wind. He’d already spotted a bar up ahead, and a couple of houses and a gas station, before the two-laner he’d hitchhiked in on widened out and entered Coopersburg proper. The she-wolf was at the gas station, and plenty riled by the scent of her. He drank in a noseful of her and sighed. Nice and pungent. Alpha, maybe? He liked his girls feisty. Cody quickened his pace.
Closer to the gas station, he spotted a nasty tableau: three big apes closing in on a pair of ladies. The lady in back, getting herded into the dubious safety of the garage bay, was slender, blonde and cursing like a dock hand. The herder had auburn hair and three-four inches on the blonde. She looked fit to chew brass and spit tacks. Cody’s pulse ramped up to a gallop. There was his wolf, and she was about to get herself trounced. Her bared teeth kept the apes at bay, but they wouldn’t hold much longer.
He slowed and came up on them careful and unnoticed, close enough to smell the alcohol on the apes and hear the menace coloring their taunts. The wolf-gal said something. The snarl in her tone announced the apes were in for a whuppin’, but she made no move to attack. Cody crouched behind a parked car. Chaos, only three of them. Why didn’t she just shift and end it?
Then, in a heartbeat, the situation changed. The blonde screamed. Cody’s hackles lifted. The apes had a buddy, and he’d snuck in through the office into the bay and caught the blonde gal from behind. She writhed in his grip while the other apes hooted. The wolf-gal darted in to help the blonde, but the ape in the lead grabbed her arm. Cody didn’t catch his words, but the leer on his face said it all.
So she let him have it. No girly slaps for this she-wolf. She socked him a solid one, right in the nose. The smell of blood joined the odors of liquor and adrenaline that already charged the air. The words she barked at the lead ape weren’t the kind ladies should know, much less repeat in public, but given the situation Cody allowed she was entitled.
The big ape’s face got uglier, no mean feat. If the wolf-gal hadn’t switched by now, Cody realized, she either wasn’t going to, or couldn’t.
That clinched it. This was his future mate getting threatened by those drunk knuckle-draggers. He bared his teeth, revealing canines just a tad longer and heavier than a human’s. Time to get involved. In true coyote fashion, of course.
This being a garage, naturally it had a peck of cars sitting around, and naturally some trusting soul had left their keys in the ignition. Cody slid in behind the wheel of a sporty little Mustang that started up real nice. He took aim and floored it.
The rev of the Mustang’s engine must’ve cut through the boozy haze on their brains because they looked around and finally noticed the car rocketing right at them. They abandoned the wolf-gal and scattered. Cody plowed through the midst of them, then swung a tight U-ey and shot after their leader, the biggest, ugliest ape in this bunch of bananas. The man scrabbled desperately over the tarmac. Cody brought the Mustang right up on his heels before he slewed it aside. He reached out and slapped the ape’s John Deere cap clean off his head. The ape stumbled away, and the car shot on by.
Cody let loose a Texas howl and wheeled around for another go. Chaos, this car handled sweet. “Gotta get me one of these,” he murmured.
And one of those, he added mentally, as his squealing turn faced him toward the garage again. The goon in the bay had let go of the blonde, and now the wolf-gal was all over him like, well, like ugly on an ape. Poor guy couldn’t even land a slap. Too quick and strong for him. Cody’s butt hitched on the seat, wagging a phantom tail.
Since the wolf-gal didn’t need his help, he went back after the apes. They’d made fast tracks across the street and piled into a pickup parked by the bar. They took off down the road without so much as a cussword flung at him. Cody offered up a mental shrug. Didn’t want to dent their truck, most like. Apes had oddball priorities.
He trundled the Mustang up to the garage. The wolf-gal had the fourth ape flat on the greasy floor. The ape contracted into a ball. “C’mon, Willy. I said I was sorry.”
“You’re sorry, all right,” she growled down at him. “I expect cheap thuggery from Les, but you—”
She cut herself off and sniffed the air. She turned just as Cody hopped out of the Mustang. He watched her eyes get big and her body tighten up to full attention.
She knew what he was, all right, but only on some basic, primitive level, not in her head or her nose. She didn’t recognize him. Any she-wolf worth her pack standing would be showing her fangs by now, with a growl at him to git, rescue or no rescue. That’s how your average wolf saw coyotes, pests to be run off. Because your average wolf had no sense of humor.
He stared hard into her eyes. A fine honey-brown shade. Wolf eyes ran to yellow, like his own. This one had a whiff of ape on her. Half-breed? That might explain why she hadn’t switched.
Her stance had shifted into a pose of wary friendliness. She let him get pretty close up before she stopped him with a little twitch of her mouth, not quite the flash of a fang. “Thanks,” she said.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
“I could have handled it. Those jerks are losers even when they’re sober. But I do appreciate the help.” She smiled just enough to get Cody’s invisible tail wagging again. “Nice moves with my car, by the way.”
Her car? Chaos love it, this just got better and better. Cody flashed a smile wide enough to eat the moon. She didn’t even have her hand halfway out before he seized it. “Glad I could help. I’m Cody Gray, up from Texas. You’re going to marry me.”
~~~~~~

COMING REAL SOON from Siren-BookStrand!!! Git those pinkies ready to click the buy button!

My First Time

My First Time

By Pat Cunningham

No, not that first time. (Made ya look, though, didn’t I? Ha ha!) I’m talking about my first sale of a romance story to a romance publisher. “Coyote Moon” will be available shortly from epublisher Siren/BookStrand. Since my other story sales were all to SF/fantasy markets, this means I’ve successfully crossed over into another genre.

Well, crossed over, at any rate. We’ll find out how successful I was once the reviews start coming in.

To be fair, I cheated. It’s a paranormal (shape-shifters), so there are strong fantasy elements, which kept me well within my comfort zone. It’s a comedy – again, something I’m no stranger to. I had a ball writing the dialogue, but for me dialogue’s the fun part.

Switching focus from a plot-driven adventure to the developing relationship between two people – okay, you got me. That was the tricky part. Still locked in action/adventure mode, I tend to run with the plot and forget the relationship. I need to slow down and give these people a chance to get to know each other. Half the time I have to go back and shoehorn in the sex scene. That’s not how you write a romance, much less keep your characters happy.

So, what have I learned from my foray into a brand-new genre? I love humor and snappy repartee. I should probably focus on romcoms. I need to add more sensory detail. I use variations of “was” far too often. (The editor highlighted every one of them in the manuscript. Yikes! Passive voice was rampant. See what I mean?)

Best of all, I’ve added a new form of writing to my resume. Now I can get rejected in science fiction, fantasy, and romance. Tomorrow, the world.

How long will I swim in my new pool? Depends on how long the paranormal trend stays healthy. I’ve got all sorts of ideas. My current WIP involves a werewolf paired with a witch (she’s a vegetarian – hilarity ensues) to solve a murder mystery. Great, now I’m doing mysteries. Genre number four.

The important thing is to learn the rules, keep them in mind, and treat the material with respect, regardless of the genre(s). With luck and lots of practice, you’re bound to produce a tale that people will read from end to end and find entertaining enough to thank you afterwards. That works no matter what genre you write in.