Click here to view the embedded video.

(Did you want to go climb on the sofa and do your own three point landing on the floor after watching that? Or was it only me?)

Ralf and Rover – A Love Story

Can’t someone write a song about something else apart from love?

Jennifer Wilson rolled her eyes, bit back a groan and, with a sharp flick of her wrist, switched off the radio in her small vet clinic. Her assistant-cum-receptionist had left half an hour ago and now Jenny was shutting up shop for the day.

“Love! Who needs it!” She scooped up Rover, her blue-tongue lizard and perching him on his favourite spot: her shoulder. “In fact,” she continued as she made her way through the clinic, “I’m giving up on men completely. If I wasn’t already a vet, I’d become a nun.” Rover wrapped his tail around her shoulder, tongue gently flicking. Jennifer smiled at the lizard, feeling better for her spat. “Men,” she mumbled. Rover cocked his head up at her and emptied his bladder.

“Ooohh Rover!” Jenny moaned, quickly forgetting everything except the spreading stain on her shoulder and the insolent lizard now scuttling down her back to the floor.

“Excuse me.” A deep voice broke through her embarrassment and Jennifer looked up, knowing her face was red. Worried grey eyes meet her embarrassed green ones.

A man stood at the counter, tall with light brown hair and a strong nose. A young German Shepherd—wrapped in a blanket and whimpering softly—was cradled in his arms.

“My dog’s been hit by a car.” The man’s voice was worried and Jennifer could see he was shaking himself. “He seems only shaken but I’d like the vet to look at him. I’ve only just moved to town and haven’t needed a vet until now… I don’t have a file. It’s not too late for the vet to see us is it?”

“No, not at all. Please, follow me.” The spread of lizard pee staining the back of her white T-shirt forgotten, Jennifer quickly led the man into the examining room, indicating to a stainless steel table.

“His name’s Ralf.” Ralf’s tail thumped weakly at his name, his brown eyes moving between Jennifer and his master as she began to check over his trembling body. “Thanks Miss…err, Mrs…”

Jenny looked up quickly from the young shepherd, trying to hide the smile twitching on her lips.

“It’s Miss—but I prefer Doctor.”

“Are you the vet?” The man looked around quickly, a hint of amazement in his tone, his cheeks turning a faint pink. Jennifer nodded, wondering if he had assumed she was just the assistant—most people did, something she found a little annoying. But this time she didn’t feel the tightening resentment that normally accompanied such an assumption. In fact, all she could detect in her stomach was the stirring of nervous butterflies, a reaction that left her puzzled. Turning her attention back to her patient, she quickly but thoroughly ran her hands over the young dog, her voice low and soothing as she spoke to the skittish animal. There was a small abrasion on his left shoulder and Ralf was less than happy about her touching the area, trying to lick and nip at her fingers as they gently moved over the wound. Probably the point of contact with the car, she thought, carefully feeling the muscles and bone structure around the area. After running her hands over the rest of the dog’s body, she was convinced there wasn’t too much damage.

“Ralf’s fine,” she said as she made one last check of his eyes. “There’s a small wound on his shoulder that’s going to be a little tender for a while but it won’t require stitches. I’d like to keep a watch on him though, so he should stay here tonight.” She looked up from her patient and caught the man studying her, a frown creasing his forehead.

“All right Ralf.” He quickly turned his attention to the young dog who was wagging his tail again. “You’re going to be okay, mate.” Grey eyes glanced up at her. “Thanks Dr…?”

“Wilson. But please, I insist all my patient’s pets call me Jennifer.” He smiled at her, putting out his right hand, his expression friendly.

“Tom Peters.” She took his hand in hers, noticing how his skin was warm and dry. It was nice.

“I’ll fix up that scratch and get Ralf settled and then I’ll be out.” She turned to the counter behind her, letting Tom Peters say goodbye to his pet without her watching. People, especially men, sometimes felt foolish talking to their animals in front of her.

“Be good Ralf,” she heard him murmur as she turned back. Tom smiled at her, his eyes warm and something in her stomach did a little flip-flop, completely taking her by surprise. Bending down to the shepherd, scratching him gently behind the ear, Jennifer studied the man as he left the room, trying to hide her sudden nervousness.

“Don’t worry Ralf,” she whispered to the young dog, “Your dad will be back tomorrow.”

At that wholly wonderful thought the butterflies that had softly been fluttering away in her stomach exploded.

* * * * *

Moving through the clinic Jennifer checked on her patients, Rover again perched contentedly across her shoulder. Most of the animals were asleep; her more serious cases snuggled up in heated cubicles and blankets. Only one small kitten required constant attention tonight, but it was enough for Jennifer to set up the camp bed in the clinic. Besides, it was better than spending the night in her small unit alone, even with Rover for company. Stopping by Ralf’s cage, she looked in on her patient, his tail thumping in the blanket when he saw her.

“Hello, boy.” She squatted down lightly, unlatching the door. He stretched his head, his warm tongue licking her hand as she scratched his muzzle. “How’s that shoulder?”

Jennifer found herself thinking about the young dog’s owner, Tom Peters again.

Be honest, those grey eyes hadn’t left you all afternoon.

That was true. After she had tended to Ralf and placed him in his cubicle, she had gone out to the front counter to find Tom Peters looking at her framed university degrees hanging on the wall behind. It hadn’t taken her long to create a new patient file, but as she entered the data into the computer, the man had stood quietly, his grey gaze on her. It had made the butterflies stir again and she’d begun a nervous conversation about God-knows-what, sounding—now she thought about it—like a giggling schoolgirl.

“Great impression you made there, Jenny,” she mumbled. “He probably thinks you’re a complete idiot. And he’s bound to go to another vet!” She sighed, picturing the natural ease of his smile. She looked at Ralf again, his coat a healthy sheen, his eyes bright.

“You’re no help.” She scratched Tom’s dog behind his ears. “How can I not like someone who loves his dog so much?”  Ralf’s tail wagged again, his tongue lolling from his mouth in a doggy smile. Rover moved on her shoulder, seemingly aware of the attention she was paying the German Shepherd and deciding to take a look. With uncanny grace, the lizard moved down her arm, his nose coming close to Ralf’s. The dog cocked his head slightly to one side, ears cocked as he watched the approaching blue-tongue. Preparing to move her pet from within mouth range of the Shepherd, Jenny was surprised when Ralf gently sniffed at the reptile. Even more surprising was Rover’s reaction. The lizard flicked out its bright blue tongue, unconcerned with the snuffling investigation.

“Wow.” She raised her eyebrows as she moved Rover back to her shoulder. “What’s got into you?”

As she was re-latching the cubicle door, the front buzzer rang. The clinic was closed after seven pm, but most of her clients knew she stayed back late at night, some calling by on their way homes to visit their pets. Walking to the front of the clinic, she scratched the soft underside of Rover’s scaly neck.

“Who’s come to visit tonight?” she asked the lizard as she unlocked the door. Opening it Jennifer stared. Tom Peters stood on the other side.

“The light was on…I was hoping you…” He held a bulging plastic bag and Jennifer caught a whiff of something spicy. “The Indian restaurant down the road was having a special… Do you like Indian?” He stopped, the frown returning quickly. “You’ve probably eaten…I’m sorry, dumb idea. Is it okay if I say hi to Ralf?”

Jenny felt her lips stretch into a wide smile. “I love Indian. I haven’t eaten. And you may say hi to Ralf.” The butterflies in her stomach burst into riotous flight but for some reason, now they didn’t make her feel nervous or clumsy. Just happy. Tom hesitated at the door for a moment.

“What’s the chances of Ralf and that lizard of yours getting along?” His grey eyes seemed to shine. Jennifer knew she was grinning like a fool, but those butterflies were having a wild party.

“I think the chances are pretty high.” She laughed. “Tell me, do you like love songs?”

Chapter One

Ryan Conley left Australia to save his big brother from getting a punch to the jaw. From Ryan.

Every since Tyson—the country’s most revered dragon-shifter—let himself be seen just about every dragon with a grudge against the unwanted interest in their species decided to take it out on Ryan.

No one was brave enough to confront Tyson himself, especially not while his human Fire Mate was pregnant with their first child. (Seriously, how was that going to work? Egg? Baby? Who knew? Ryan still hadn’t worked it out and if Tyson and Sera had, they weren’t telling anyone.) Confronting Tyson Conley at this very point in time about the new hordes of dragon watchers running around Sydney with telephoto lenses pointed at anything in the sky with wings, not to mention the suddenly influx of Extraho Venator into Sydney since Tyson’s sighting basically meant you were lucky to walk away with your wings still intact. Not smart. Nor productive for a pain-free existence.

Which meant those miffed came after Ryan. Ryan Conley who had never let anyone see him in his dragon form. Ryan Conley who never shifted unless he knew there wasn’t a human in a one-hundred mile radius.

Ryan Conley who was the epitome of innocent dragon-shifter behavior.

Okay, that last one might be a bit of a stretch. He wasn’t exactly an angel and Tyson had, one more than one occasion, needed to step in and drag his scaly arse out of a pub fight or two, but Ryan never ever shifted when he shouldn’t, nor drew attention to his species. Unlike Tyson, who up and exposed them all because of his Fire Mate. So how was it that Ryan ended up bearing the brunt of the disgruntled dragons in Australia? Because Ryan was an easier target than Tyson. Ryan wasn’t the Alpha dragon. Ryan wasn’t the discipliner. And Ryan wasn’t a complainer.

But Ryan had got fed-up with all the grumbles and whining and carry-on from his fellow shifters, had grown tired of telling them all to suck it up. Had started to get down-right angry at their ingratitude for the efforts Tyson had gone to squelch the unwanted attention, and before he knew it, he was directing his anger at his big brother.

Which told Ryan it was time to leave for a while.

He loved Tyson and his wife, Sera, more than humanly possible. The love of a dragon-shifter was beyond powerful, but right now, with all the shit from the other shifters—and with all the hormones and territorial protecting from the expecting parents—Ryan knew it was better he vacate the country.

For two reasons. He needed to stretch his wings. Like, really stretch his wings and doing that in Australia at the moment wasn’t easy. And two, the lovey-doveyness between Tyson and Sera was making Ryan…unsettled.

USA Today has reviewed Nick Blackthorne’s book and called it a “romance that is brimming with humour and emotion”, along with a whole lotta other wonderfulness. Can you see how big my grin is?

***

Ed-My-Vam, Ed-My-Vam!

Oh how I love you, Ed-My-Vam!

I don’t like the way I am,

Please bit me, BITE ME, Ed-My-Vam!

Bella-Sue, Bella-Sue,

I know what is best for you!

Biting you I will not do!

I will not bite you, Bella-Sue!

Ed-My-Vam, Ed-My-Vam.

I wanna be in your clan!

Where you’d do it, I don’t care.

Would you bite me here or there?

I would not bite you here or there!

I would not bite you ANYWHERE!

Biting you I will not do!

I will not bite you, Bella-Sue!

Would you bite me under the moon?

Or we can do it in my room!

I would not bite you under the moon!

Nor do I want to in your room!

I will not bite you here or there,

I will not bite you ANYWHERE!

Biting you I will not do!

Dare I repeat it, Bella-Sue?!!!

Would you, could you, here at prom?

So I can be Vampire Swan?

I would not, could not at the prom!

Where everyone can see? That’s so dumb!

I would not under the moon

Nor will I do it in your room!

I would not bite you here or there!

I would not bite you ANYWHERE!

I will not do it, no can do!

So just LIVE WITH IT, Bella-Sue!

Oh my perfect Ed-My-Vam,

You are the lion, while I’m the lamb!

But this lamb won’t give a … darn

I don’t mind you inflicting harm!

Had I not made it clear to you?

I WILL NOT BITE YOU BELLA-SUE!

You must take my word as truth!

Because I know much more than you!

Ed-My-Vam, Ed-My-Vam,

You don’t see how desperate I am.

If you won’t bite me at the prom,

On the neck or on the arm,

If you will not under the moon,

In the forest or in my room.

If you will not here or there,

If you will not do it anywhere,

Then fine! I get it… I’ll get back.

I’ll just go date Jacob Black.

Bella-Sue, Bella-Sue,

I’m glad I’ve finally got through to you!

…Wait, did you say Jacob Black?

I’ll do it now, oh Bella! COME BACK!

by ~Glowin-theSHARK

(Isn’t it brilliantly wonderful)

I saw The Avengers at the flicks with my husband yesterday. I loved it. LOVED it! Better than Thor and Iron Man, much better than Captain America and Iron Man 2, infinitely better than the last Spiderman movie (emo-Spidey? I don’t think so!) Anyways, The Avengers was brilliant and it got me thinking about this post I wrote for the Down Under Divas when Thor was released. I remember falling instantly in lust with Chris Hemsworth and feeling monumentally proud of the fact he was an Aussie. I must admit, I was never a huge Avengers follower in my comic-reading days (I was a HUGE X-Men fan however, and had a fairly sizeable crush on Spiderman when younger) but after watching Thor, I began to wonder what I’ve been missing. Was Thor really as sexy and charming and cheeky as the movie portrayed? Was Thor really as…well, doable?

Oooohhhh…………..

Which leads me to this blog post. What superheroes push your buttons? Is it the strong, noble superhero or the sarcastic anti-hero superhero?

Let’s take a look at some options, shall we…

The Strong Noble Hero

Superman. You can’t get much more strong and noble. His moral compass would make the Mother Teressa envious. But is he sexy? Is he doable? What does he bring to the table that would make him an option? Is all that goodness a turn-on?

Captain America. Is there any more heroic and patriotic? (There’s yet to be an Australian superhero–unless you count Crocodile Dundee–which I don’t) so I’m holding up Cap’n America as the example of patriot pride and moral fibre. He fights the good fight for his country, but does he do “it” for you? Is all that high moral goodness a turn-on?

Cyclops. So, he’s got a killer gaze? But check out that blue and yellow spandex! Seriously, Scott Summer (aka Cyclops from the X-Men world) is noble of heart and tormented of soul. Caught in a perpetual love-triangle, Cyclops still does his all to be the better man at all times. Sexy? Doble? Or just too damn angsty?

The Nimble Sarcastic Hero

Spiderman. Ignoring the fact Peter Parker’s really only a teenager, Spiderman’s pretty damn sexy. He’s quick-witted, sarcastic and can fling himself around like a contortionist as a limbo party. But does all that red and blue put a dampner on the situation? And is there just a touch too much acne under the mask?

The Green Lantern. Sharp-witted, more than a touch cheeky and often-times rebellious, The Green Lantern is quite a few steps away from the likes of Supes and Cap’n America. He’s not altogether noble, but his actions are always governed by the want and need to do the right thing. Originally a fly-boy, is he the superhero to make you go “oohhh” (especially with Ryan Reynolds playing the part in a soon-to-be released film?)

Hannibal King. Speaking of Ryan Reynolds, you can’t list sarcastic, nimble superheroes without mention of Hannibal King. King is the smart-mouthed vamp killer from the Blade series and was perfectly depicted by Reynolds in the third Blade film. I have to say the original King never really did it for me (and as you know by now, sarcasm and arrogance kinda pushes my buttons–traits Hannibal King has in spades) but Ryan Reynolds’ King…oh, yeah, baby…

The Anti-hero Superhero

Wolverine. The classic anti-hero. He doesn’t give a toss about anything expect looking out for himself (at least, that’s what he wants the world to believe), is ultra-violent, ultra-sarcastic and so far removed from Superman and all that is good and golden and clean in superheroes it’s almost impossible to align the concept. But when the chips are down Wolverine will stop at nothing to wipe out the wrong tainting the world. Even if that means a bloody, brutal, savage body-count. (And yeah, I know I posted a piccie of Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine, but look at it…how could I not!? But just to keep with my own original-source rules, here’s Wolvie in drawn form too…

Ohhh, now THAT’S a sexy image…

Err….anyways…

Spawn. Aka Al Simmons. An assassin killed and sent to Hell who promises to work as a Hellspawn for one last chance to see his wife? How can that not be sexy? But would you want to y’know…with him? He’s dark and tormented and far from a ray of noble light. His name alone – Spawn – conjures up images of dark things born of darker things in dark places…but when needed he’s awesomely powerful. And his tongue is like a razor when it comes to cutting quips. Hmmm…potential, I’d say.

Batman. I wouldn’t hear the end of it from my webmistress if I didn’t include the Caped Crusader on this list, and honestly, he couldn’t fit anywhere else but in this category. He’s not one to bask in the glory of his crime-fighting, in fact, he started fighting crime for purely personal, self-centred reasons. He is tormented by his own demons to the point of being anti-social and his alter-ego Bruce Wayne is an arrogant bastard most of the time. But there is something very very seductive about that much dark mystery, about that much wounded soul, don’t you think?

There are endless superheroes out there I could draw on for this post, but the above give you all an idea to start from. In a fantasy world, where you are the heroine in the world where superheroes are needed, who do you fall for? The noble, pure hero, or the tainted, tormented anti-hero? (By the way, the one thing I noticed as researching this topic was the evolution of the superhero as decades have past. It seems it’s not just me that has a thing for the haunted, arrogant hero with a tenuous grip on his violent nature and a sardonic nature sharp enough to draw blood. The comic-reading world seems to have demanded heroes of this very nature: Priest, Preacher, the Comedian from the Watchmen, most of the X-Men…wow, there’s some seriously f*cked-up heroes out there!)

The thing that I’ve concluded from this blog post? At the moment, despite my normal gravitation towards the messed-up, conceited, tormented superheroes, I’d easily and happily pick this superhero…

…played by this guy…

…with all the cheeky charm, slap-stick goofiness and sexy strength the God of Thunder possesses. Well, at least in the latest movie anyway.

So, which superhero would you do?

****

He saw the empty parking space three houses away before the belligerent thought could finish. Revving the Ducati’s powerful engine, he opened the throttle and propelled his bike forward…just as a beautifully restored black Mini swept past him straight into the empty space.

What the fuck?

He braked beside the classic car, planted his booted feet on the ground and yanked his helmet off, glaring at the driver’s side door. Waiting for the walking corpse about to get a piece of his mind—a rather heated piece of his mind—to climb out of the car.

The door opened. The distant streetlight reflected in the black window like a crazy streaming white line and a woman straightened from the car, a tall willowy woman with short shaggy hair the colour of midnight, full lips the colour of ripe plums and skin a flawless cream. A woman dressed in a bum-hugging black leather miniskirt and a…a thing that seemed to be made entirely from one strip of shiny silver fabric clinging around her body in such a way to barely cover her breasts. Breasts, Lachlan couldn’t help but notice, that were small and pert and the perfect size for cupping and squeezing in one’s hand.

He glared at her, but the overhanging Jacaranda tree shrouded her eyes in shadows. “That’s where I was going to park.”

“Did you indicate for it?” A soft accent laced the velvet-smooth words, the kind of accent a person develops when they’ve spent most of their time travelling around the world. No longer Australian, not really anything else though either. “Pretty certain I didn’t see any flashing yellow lights on that bike of yours before I passed you.”

Lachlan ground his teeth. Awesome. Attitude. Just what he wanted.

She’s right though. You didn’t.

“Doesn’t matter. You overtook me on a residential street to get to it first.”

A low chuckle fell from those plum-coloured lips before she swung the Mini’s door closed. “Would you like to make a citizen’s arrest? Slap me in handcuffs and rough me up a bit?”

The words sent a searing jolt of tension straight into Lachlan’s groin. Unexpected and very, very appealing tension. That his bike’s engine was still thrumming in neutral between his legs only served to highlight his sudden and unwanted arousal. He ground his teeth, killing the Ducati’s motor with a flick of his wrist.

The slowing tick-tick-tick of the bike’s exhaust system filled the night, competing with the laughter, music and raucous noise wafting from his house down the street. The woman laughed again. “Oh, does this mean you are going to arrest me? Do you have handcuffs tucked away in those exceedingly well-cut Calvin Klein jeans? Or is that bulge I spy something else far more interesting?”

Lachlan blinked. And did something he hadn’t done since he was a kid. He blushed.

The woman laughed once more, a throaty sound that sent fresh licks of tension into his balls. His cock stiffened, growing at an alarming rate given his situation. What the hell was he doing?

Straddling your bike while getting turned on by a woman who stole your parking spot. The question is what are you going to do about it?

He bit back a growl. What could he do about it? He had two options—one, go find another parking spot and take out his anger on the people currently enjoying themselves in his home when he finally walked back to it. Or two, climb off his bike, walk over to the woman in the shadows, capture those fuckable lips of hers with his mouth and kiss the smug attitude right out of her.

He climbed off his bike.

She made a hmmm sound, her lips curling into a smile Lachlan could only describe as the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and stepped out of the shadows.

Lachlan froze.

Kole.

A whirlwind of memories lashed through his head. Memories of a seventeen-year-old boy caught jerking off to a poster of the Australian super-model by his hedonistic model-cum-trophy-wife stepmother. Memories of said stepmother sliding her fingers down the flat plane of his stomach to the waistline of his hastily zipped jeans and asking him if he wanted to fuck her while she wore a pitch-black wig?

He focused on the woman now standing before him, her lips curled in a smile he should have recognized. After all, he’d gazed at it every night of his life for two years until that pathetic, embarrassing night. Gazed at it and fantasied about the owner of that smile. The modeling world’s newest sensation, an eighteen-year-old Australian beauty known only as Kole.

The woman before him cocked a dark, finely arched eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re shy?”

Lachlan clenched his jaw. “You’re the model Kole.”

She laughed, a relaxed, humoured chuckle. “No. But it’s a common error.”

Lachlan studied her. The lack of light made the inspection tricky. He had never seen Kole in person and the model herself had dropped out of the public’s eye after only a few years in the modeling world. But not before she graced the cover of every influential fashion magazine, quite a few of them owned by his father’s media company. Magazines Lachlan now owned, accrued when he had overthrown his father’s strangling reign of the company five years ago.

Still, something in his gut itched, and he’d learnt a long time ago to listen to his gut. The woman looked like an older Kole to be sure, but Kole all the same. She was either lying or he was more under the spell of a stupid adolescent crush than he realized. Either way, he wanted nothing to do with her.

When it came to models, he had a strictly no-involvement policy, no matter how stunning they were.

She studied him, a confident calm radiating from her. It unsettled him.

Unsettled? For Christ’s sake, man, it turns you on so much your dick is as hard as a pole. Model or not, she turns you on.

So, hands up if you’ve read Suck and Blow and Truth or Dare?

Meet Aslin Rhodes and Ryan Conley, the heroes of my current WIPs, The Bodyguard, and Crouching Tigress Horny Dragon. Can you guess which one is which?