Today’s raffle prize is Lights, Camera…Monsters. LCM (that’s my pet name for it) is the first fun, funny, contemperary I wrote. As an avid fantasy and sci-fi fan all my writing before this book was centered around fantasy themes.
Here’s a fun excerpt, but it’s a bit spoilerish (though not really since the blurb tells you this is going to happen.) This scene continues to crack me up.
Lena rolled from her back onto her side. She might have been able to continue her rest of the wicked had the new position not allowed a shaft of late morning sunlight to strike her closed lids. She cursed and threw an arm across her eyes, but it was too late, she was starting to wake up. With one hand cupping her eyes, Lena yawned and stretched her toes down towards the bottom of the bed.
Muscles deep in her belly and down the insides of her legs twitched as she stretched, and Lena smiled. She was sex-sore, delightfully so. She entertained herself for a few moments by recalling her favorite parts from last night. The memory of his fingers, mouth and cock drew her from sleep.
With a good morning smile on her face, she opened her eyes.
A heartbeat later she was off the bed, back against the wall by the door.
The thing on her bed moved, its massive body twitching just a little, and Lena screamed again.
It sat up, the shaggy head turning towards her.
Feeling another scream might be repetitive, Lena scrambled for the doorknob, throwing the door open and then raced down the hall. Pure unadulterated terror thrummed through her bloodstream like a live electrical wire. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
Get away, get out.
Yes, that was it, she needed to get away. With her “flight” response firmly engaged, Lena turned to the front door, just as the thing emerged from the hall. It didn’t matter that the thing was now between Lena and the door, because the sight of it froze her with a renewed rush of terror.
It was a monster. Great black wings, glossy as obsidian, towered from its back. The center points, which came to hard inverse V’s, brushed the ceiling. The bottoms were ragged as torn paper. The greatest human bodybuilders were still not as large and muscle-bound as the monster, whose body looked rock solid and heavy, like a stone gargoyle with burnished maroon skin. His chest and belly were studies of muscle definition, his stomach sporting eight, not six, distinct muscles. Vein-roped arms ended in three fingers and a thumb, each with long curved claws.
His legs were the most confusing, in her terror Lena had trouble making any associations that would help her understand what she was looking at. Finally she realized the reason they looked so odd was that the joints faced backward, hinged like a horse’s rear legs.
The legs ended in great paw-like feet, claw bedecked as the hands were.
She looked him over again, from the feet upwards, this time taking in the face, a great dark head crowned by a long tangle of brown and black hair. It had almost human features—eyes, nose, mouth, but they were molded in a way no human’s was. His nose was broad and flat. Brows, cheekbones and jaw were chiseled and heavy. Beneath those brows his slanted eyes were black, entirely black.
It was definitely male. If his chest muscles hadn’t tipped her off, the monster cock dangling between the legs, would have.
His mouth opened exposing long fangs—one clawed hand reached for her.
Lena screamed. Again.
Since “flight” was no longer an option, she settled for “fight”.
Reaching down she picked up one strappy black shoe and hurled it at the monster. It hit his chest and fell to the floor. The monster looked down at the shoe, so missed seeing her throw the second one, which smacked him square on the forehead.
“Ow!” The monster staggered back a step.
Lena let out a little “Ha!”
She took kickboxing on Thursday nights—she could take this thing. Too much adrenaline had given her false confidence in her physical prowess.
She started forward. The monster, still clutching its head, looked up, fathomless black eyes narrowed on her face. Lena detoured for a weapon. She’d wait before trying to take it on with her bare hands.
She darted to a storage closet tucked into the wall near the patio doors and threw the door open. Her hibachi, a keg tub and three tiki torches went flying. She emerged triumphant with her Louisville slugger in hand.
Turning to the monster, she planted her feet and put the bat into position on her shoulder.
“Alright, freaky monster thing, this is your last warning. Get out.”
“Last warning?” Its voice was a rumble, like a low G from a bass guitar pumped through an amp.
There was something about that voice…
“What was my first warning?”