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Marty
Catnipped
by Dakota Cassidy
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-861-6
Publisher: Changeling Press
Genre: Paranormal
Length: Novella
Cover Artist: Renee George
E-book: $3.99
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Charlie Ledbetter has a big problem. She doesn’t like cats. In fact, she’s allergic to them. And now she is one… sort of.
Caught in the middle of a vicious argument between two men at the pet store where she shops for her dog Pinky, Charlie doesn’t just end up nipped in the fight when it’s over -- she ends up having a horrible allergic reaction and much sneezing, wheezing and gulping Benadryl like it’s tequila ensues.
But that’s not even the half of it…
When one of the two men involved in the scuffle, Quinn Piljor, comes to apologize for his part in the scuffle, he brings his brother Luke with him. Tall, blond, sexy, off the chain hot Luke. A man Charlie’s immediately attracted to. The brothers explain her little allergy problem can be solved with a ritual that takes place upon the full moon -- a sex ritual.
Crazy that, huh?
Charlie finds out what the Piljor brothers say really is true. In order to stop her violent allergic reaction to her new body’s chemistry, her only shot involves having sex with Quinn.
But what does a girl do when the man she really wants to be with isn’t the man she has to be with?
Reviews:
Recommeded Read! "Dakota Cassidy has written a sizzling short story. She packs a lot into the pages, it was fulfilling and exciting.... Catnipped is one of the better novellas out there, and it is definitely one everyone should read."
-- Ashley, Fallen Angel Reviews
Excerpt: (Taken from www.changelingpress.com)
“You fucking redneck! I’ll kick your stupid ass!”
“Bring it, you asshole!”
Charlie Ledbetter beat feet into Fabulous Furries, her local pet store, grabbing a cart and hurrying past the two very large, very angry men who were clearly not happy with each other, judging by their livid scowls and clenched fists. Both were rather impressive in height and girth, but the guy with the jet-black hair was just a bit scarier than his lighter-haired foe.
Charlie shivered when she stepped around them. They gave off this bad ju-ju she wanted nothing to do with.
Being the “avoid trouble” kinda chick she was, she didn’t linger. Besides, Renee would kill her if she was late for her pork tenderloin with orange sauce and dinner was always on time at her best friend Renee’s. Time was of the essence.
Charlie scurried to the chew-toy aisle to pick up a new bone for her dog Pinky. Her Pug-Chihuahua mix needed some kind of entertainment while she was at the bookstore or her furniture would suffer in the way of shredded cushions and scarred wood. Pinky went through bones like J-Lo went through husbands and to not have a healthy supply of them meant her couch would meet a long drawn-out death.
Strolling along the aisle, she fingered the green dental bones, hanging neatly in a row. Pinky’s breath smelled like a Jersey dump and apparently, these bones promoted clean, sweet breath. But the Pinkster loved the clear bones and whatever made Pinky happy…
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the two men she’d seen in the front of the store, stalking one another in the cat food aisle beside hers. The lighter haired of the two stomped behind the guy whose hair was so black it gleamed blue highlights, yelling something.
And it didn’t sound like they were fucking around.
“I told you to stay the hell away from Tasha, you motherfucker!” the taller by an inch or so guy with light brown hair hissed between clenched teeth.
Charlie couldn’t help but overhear their anger over this Tasha. Yet she snapped her eyes back to the bones hanging in plastic wrap and turned her cart the other way, trying to focus on picking the right dog bone for her very picky Pinky.
But they weren’t making it easy. The conversation heated up and the hotter it got, the juicier it got. It was like rubbernecking. Charlie couldn’t turn her listening ears off or keep herself from sneaking peeks at grown men behaving like children.
“She’s not yours anymore, Quinn, and why would she be when she’s got this?” The raven-haired guy answered back and that was when Charlie caught another glance of him over her shoulder, grabbing at his package with a meaty paw.
Hoo boy.
She turned back around and made a face, jamming her chin into her jacket. Jesus, men really did think it was all about the schlong.
And it so wasn’t. Not that it hurt, mind you, but it didn’t amount to everything.
A loud growl went up and it struck her as odd. It was so deep and resonant, it almost didn’t sound human. With that, more words followed.
And they weren’t very nice in Charlie’s estimation, but she couldn’t blame the guy. The really dark-haired guy had thrown the “package” card into the universe. Men were sensitive about their meat and the lighter-haired guy was apparently no exception.
“I’ll -- fucking -- kill -- you!” he spat with succinct timing.
Oh, good. A death at Fabulous Furries. Sooooo not something she wanted to witness. But suddenly she had no choice. The thwack to her back, shoving her into her cart, was sharp, knocking the wind out of her momentarily. Her fingers clenched the cart while she sucked in a lungful of air before she turned to confront the Neanderthals.
God dammit! She bruised easily.
Gripping her side, she massaged her rib area, then narrowed her eyes and focused on her targets. Charlie stepped directly between both panting men, planting her hands on her hips. She faced the darker-haired guy and waved a finger. “Hey, knock it the hell off! You just crashed into me. I don’t know about you, but I hear there’ve been lawsuits over less. Now this is a public place. Can’t you see I’m in deep deliberation over which bone to choose for my precious? Jesus! I can’t think with the two of you yelling. Now take your business elsewhere. There are people here trying to shop in peace.”
Ooooh, but Cro-Magnon man clearly didn’t like to be chastised. He flipped the guy behind her the bird, then narrowed his gaze at Charlie. “Shut up, you bitch, and mind your own business,” he sniped, the set of his mouth forming a sneer.
Charlie gasped.
He. Did. Not.
Charlie, while usually not one to engage, became enraged. The motherfucker. She stood on her tippy toes and stuck her face in his. “I’m sorry. Was ‘bitch’ the word you used? For the love of dick, couldn’t you be more original? You slam into me and I’m the bitch? Ohhh, I so don’t think so. I’m going to find store security.”
But Charlie didn’t have time to finish telling the fucktard off.
The lighter-haired guy did it for her -- with menace. “Don’t call the lady a bitch, you fuck-up. I swear to God you have the mentality of a two year old!”
Okay, so the guy with the black hair didn’t much like being compared to a toddler -- though Charlie didn’t think he was far off the mark -- because the next thing Charlie knew, he was grabbing at the guy behind her and somehow after a scuffle of grabby hands and flailing arms ensued, she ended up in a big old manwich, stuffed like a piece of bologna between two men, the one on top of her weighing at least a good two hundred pounds.
The whoosh they made when they hit the ground was softened for Charlie because she landed right on top of the raven-haired, mouthy guy.
For more information on Ms. Cassidy's books, visit her website - www.dakotacassidy.com
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