That Friday Feline

Say hello to Devin, everyone!
Devin is part of my amazing seven-pawed household (named after Canadian rock musician Devin Townsend, before you ask, and I’m sure he won’t mind me saying he’s a prime piece of catty gorgeousness. When Total-e-bound put out a call for stories about cat shifters, I knew that while other authors might be choosing from the bigger end of the cat spectrum – lions, tigers, jaguars – my feline hotty was going to be a lean, lithe Abyssinian, just like Devin. And so Abyssinian Heat came into existence. It’s the story of writer, Miranda, whose much-loved old cat dies and is replaced by perky Abyssinian kitten, Tadhg. Meanwhile, Miranda’s garden is being stalked  by a scarred old stray, and her boyfriend, Finn, is behaving so badly she has no choice but to split up with him. Which is when things take a turn for the strange, as this extract proves:

I didn’t worry too much about the stray. I was more preoccupied with the recurring dream I’d experienced ever since Tadhg had begun sleeping on my pillow. I’d always kept a notepad by my bed, often waking a protesting Finn by switching on the bedside lamp so I could jot down the details of my dreams before I forgot them. Indeed, a couple of my best story ideas had grown out of something I’d scribbled down in the middle of the night.

Now, however, my dream ran on a single track, with a distinctly sexual undercurrent. It was as though, every night, a handsome man wrapped me in an embrace, murmuring gentle words of love into my ear. I never caught sight of his face, and the dream always melted away in the moments before I woke to see Tadhg, head cocked to one side and regarding me with an expression that told me he was ready for his breakfast.

I continued to believe it was just a dream until the morning I woke earlier than usual, roused by a car alarm blaring in the street outside, and realised I really did have an arm flung over my body. A hand cupped my breast possessively, and a broad chest was pressed against my back. What was happening? Had Finn somehow let himself into the house, despite my efforts to keep him out?

But as I struggled out of the grasp of the sleeping intruder, I quickly realised this wasn’t Finn. This man had red-brown hair, spread out on the pillow around him. The sheets barely covered him, and I had a perfect view of the smooth, lightly tanned expanse of his back, all the way down to the taut cheeks of his ass. Whoever he is, he’s gorgeous, I thought, then I pulled myself up short. He must have broken in. He was more than likely dangerous. I needed to call the police.

I was reaching for my phone when he stopped me. “Hey, Miranda, don’t be afraid.”

I turned to look at him, wondering how he knew my name, and found myself staring into eyes of a strangely familiar shade, somewhere between honey and gold. This man had a proud set to his face, one I would have described as leonine. He answered my question before I could ask it.

“Miranda, it’s me, Tadhg.”

To find out what happens next, you’ll have to get hold of the full story. It’s available from Total-e-bound, and it’s the perfect thing to curl up with on a cold winter’s night. And don’t forget the catnip!

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