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  When Quinn started to follow, Griffin roared again. Her nose wrinkled like that of a hissing liger.

  “I think I better take the stairs,” Quinn said. “Which floor are you on?”

  “Fifth.”

  “Then I’ll see you up there.” Quinn reached out to pat Jorie’s shoulder.

  Griffin growled and lunged at Quinn.

  At the last second, the elevator doors closed between them.

  Jorie blew out a breath. She wagged her index finger at Griffin. “No more olives for you, Cat-anova.”

  Purring, Griffin rubbed against Jorie’s finger. Within seconds, she went from aggressive predator to passionate lover. She pressed Jorie against the elevator wall and trailed a string of hot kisses along her neck, using her tongue, lips, and teeth to nibble and tease until Jorie’s legs threatened to give out and she had to clutch Griffin closer to stay upright.

  When Griffin sank onto her knees and pressed her lips to one of Jorie’s bra-clad breasts, Jorie realized that Griffin had somehow managed to tear open her blouse without her noticing. She sucked in a lungful of air, hoping it would help clear her head. “Griffin, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. And we’re in an elevator. We really shouldn’t…”

  Griffin slid her tongue down Jorie’s belly and nipped the skin below her navel. She grasped Jorie’s hips with both hands.

  Jorie gasped.

  The elevator doors pinged open.

  Someone cleared her throat. “Looks like Griffin doesn’t need any help after all,” Quinn said.

  Clasping her open blouse together with one hand, Jorie held on to Griffin with the other, preventing her from pouncing on Quinn.

  Voices approached from the other end of the corridor.

  “Shit. I’ll distract them, but you better continue this inside your room.” Quinn hurried down the corridor and called over her shoulder, “Maybe we can all have breakfast together tomorrow morning.”

  “Sure,” Jorie called back. Using her body as a lure, she managed to get Griffin to follow her to their hotel room. She fumbled with the keycard while Griffin covered her neck and shoulders with nips and kisses. Together, they stumbled into the room, and Jorie kicked the door closed.

  Growling passionately, Griffin directed her toward the bed.

  As soon as Jorie crawled onto the bed, Griffin pounced and landed next to her.

  The bed collapsed under her.

  “Griffin!” Jorie rolled around. “Are you okay?”

  Griffin didn’t answer. Her big body had gone limp.

  “Oh, God, no.” Jorie shook her. “Griffin! Are you hurt?”

  A loud snore erupted from Griffin’s half-open mouth.

  Jorie stopped her frantic shaking. “Great.” She climbed off the collapsed bed, took off Griffin’s shoes to make her more comfortable, and stumbled to the bathroom. She needed a cold shower.

  * * *

  Griffin clutched her hammering head and groaned. She opened her eyes to little slits and blinked against the hurtful sunlight. Except for her shoes, she was wearing yesterday’s clothes—and her shirt was missing all its buttons. Oh, Great Hunter. What happened? She looked around and realized that she was lying on the bed in their hotel room. The hammering in her head was caused by Jorie’s typing from the small desk against one wall. Now fully awake, she swung her legs out of bed. Her feet touched the floor much too soon. She frowned down at the ruins of the bed. What the…?

  She searched her memory for what had happened but came up empty. The last thing she remembered was eating her way through the buffet at Jorie’s reunion.

  The typing stopped. Jorie stood and walked over.

  When she came closer, Griffin realized that Jorie’s neck looked as if it had been mauled by an animal. A large animal. Uh-oh. What did I do? “Um, good morning,” she said and sniffed, trying to find out whether Jorie was angry with her.

  “Morning.” Jorie sat on the edge of the mattress and peered at Griffin. “How are you feeling?”

  Her scent indicated honest concern, not even a hint of anger. Griffin relaxed. “Like a human the morning after prom night. What happened?”

  “You got high,” Jorie said.

  “Whaaat?” Griffin shook her head but stopped when the pounding behind her temples increased. “You know I don’t drink, and I don’t react to catnip. The only thing I react to is—”

  “Olives. And you gobbled down about a pound of them.”

  “Oh, shit.” Griffin covered her eyes with her hands and peeked through her fingers.

  Jorie nodded. “You can say that again. Quinn and I had a hell of a time getting you to our room.”

  Quinn… At the mention of the tiger-shifter’s name, Griffin’s headache increased. She squeezed her eyes shut and sank back onto the bed.

  A cool hand settled on her forehead, soothing away the pain. “You’re not jealous, are you? There’s nothing between Quinn and me.”

  Griffin opened one eye. “Maybe not from your side. But Quinn clearly has a crush on you. Not that I can blame her.”

  Jorie sighed. “It doesn’t matter what Quinn is or isn’t feeling for me. There’s only one cat-shifter that I have feelings for.” She bent over Griffin and peered into her eyes from only inches away. “Even if that cat has a nasty biting habit.” She rubbed her neck, which was covered with love bites.

  “Sorry.” Griffin pulled Jorie closer and tenderly kissed her neck. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  Jorie shook her head.

  “What happened after we came up here?” Griffin asked, peering at the collapsed bed with some trepidation.

  “You were in a bit of a hurry getting into bed,” Jorie said. “And then you fell asleep.”

  Griffin groaned. “How can I make it up to you?”

  “Well, you can be the one to explain this,” Jorie pointed at the collapsed bed, “to the hotel staff. And I seem to remember something about a lasagna and a night of hot, wild—”

  A passionate growl drowned out the rest of Jorie’s sentence. Griffin covered her lips with her own and proceeded to show Jorie how sorry she was.

  * * *

  Griffin let the front door fall closed behind her and carried the grocery bags and their mail into the kitchen.

  Agatha, Emmy, and Will appeared from various places inside the house and weaved around her legs while she put away the groceries.

  “Don’t think you can talk me into giving you little tidbits from the fridge again,” Griffin said. She bent and rubbed Will’s neck, then scratched Agatha and Emmy behind one ear. “Now hush. Go back to whatever you were doing before I came home.”

  Will, always the obedient gentleman, lolloped back to the living room while Agatha and Emmy kept hanging around, glancing up at her.

  Ignoring them, Griffin took the pile of mail she had tossed onto the kitchen counter and sorted through it. Two bills, the newest edition of the writers’ magazine Jorie subscribed to, and a postcard from Jorie’s mother who was on a cruise. The last envelope was addressed to her. She opened it with a flick of her finger, pulled out the letter, and started to read.

  Dear Griffin,

  As you probably know, our fifteenth high school reunion is coming up. You and a guest are invited to join us on…

  Griffin stopped reading. She crumpled up the letter and tossed the paper ball onto the floor. “Here, girls. Have fun.” Grinning, she leaned against the kitchen counter and watched the cats chase their new toy all over the kitchen.

  ###

  About Jae

  Jae grew up amidst the vineyards of southern Germany. She spent her childhood with her nose buried in a book, earning her the nickname “professor.” The writing bug bit her at the age of eleven. For the last six years, she has been writing mostly in English.

  She works as a psychologist and likes to spend her time reading, playing board games with friends, spending time with her nieces and nephew, and watching way too many crime shows.

  Connect with Jae online

>   Jae loves hearing from readers!

  E-mail her at [email protected]

  Visit her blog: jaefiction.wordpress.com

  Visit her website: jae-fiction.com

  Like her on Facebook: facebook.com/JaeAuthor

  Follow her on Twitter @jaefiction

  Excerpt from Second Nature

  by Jae

  Quinn prowled through the dark forest. She stayed in the shadows and slid from tree to tree, from shrub to shrub, avoiding patches of moonlight until she was far away from human campsites. She slipped her shirt over her head while she walked, impatient to get out of her clothes. Under a sprawling oak tree, she tossed the shirt to the ground. Her shoes and pants followed until cool air brushed against her bare skin.

  Dropping to her hands and knees, she connected with the damp earth. Heat rushed through her. She clenched her fists in an effort not to scratch her burning skin and felt lengthening fingernails bite into her palms. Her muscles rippled, and she gasped as pain shot through her.

  Jorie Price’s fingers flitted over the keyboard, keeping pace with her character’s movement through the forest. When Quinn stopped and shape-shifted, Jorie paused with her fingers lingering over the laptop and reread what she had written—or rather rewritten. This was the third time she had changed the scene. She stared at the blinking cursor, then sighed and rubbed her burning eyes. Was the scene finally working?

  Her heart said yes, but her head wasn’t so sure. Why would evolution produce a skill that was painful and made the creature helpless for a few seconds?

  She reached for the delete button.

  No. Deleting the scene felt wrong. She pressed her fingertips against her temples. But how on earth does a 140-pound woman turn into a 280-pound cat? Jorie slid down on the couch until she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, the laptop balanced on her stomach. Her eyelids felt as if they were lined with sandpaper, but she couldn’t allow herself to rest. Not before she had figured this out.

  “I could really use some help from a cat expert,” she said to Agatha, who had curled up at the end of the worn, comfortable couch.

  Agatha eyed the laptop as if that would make the hated machine disappear from the favored spot on Jorie’s lap. When Jorie looked at her, the cat turned and licked her bushy tail.

  “And you, Emmy?” Jorie’s gaze wandered to the calico ambling toward the kitchen. “No words of advice for your favorite can opener?”

  “Meow,” the cat said but didn’t elaborate. She walked on, looking over her shoulder as if to make sure that Jorie would follow her into the kitchen to feed her.

  “Very helpful, thanks. And I just fed you half an hour ago, so that ‘I’m starving’ act is wasted on me.” She forced her tired eyes to focus on the screen, but instead of the scene, images from her nightmares flashed through her mind. Shivering, she shook her head to get rid of the images. “I need a break.” She saved what she had written so far and opened her e-mail program. Despite the gnawing feeling in her belly that told her she should be writing, she clicked on a new e-mail from her beta reader. Maybe Ally could help.

  Hi, J.W.,

  Still having problems with the story? Have you thought about putting it away for a while? I know it works for some authors. Maybe write a short story or get started on a new project. You could even start the research on a sequel to A Vampire’s Heart. I know your readers would love that.

  Let me know what you decide.

  Ally

  Jorie shook her pounding head. Maybe putting the story away for a while worked for other writers. But not for her. Not with this book. For reasons she couldn’t fully explain to herself—and certainly not to Ally, she needed to get this novel written. Now.

  She dashed off a quick answer to Ally and then reopened her manuscript file. “No admitting defeat.”

  Her cell phone rang before she had written a single word, shattering the silence in the living room.

  Jorie groaned. She set the laptop on the coffee table and got up from the couch before Agatha could settle down on her lap. Barefoot, she padded into the bedroom, where her cell phone was charging.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said. Looking at the display wasn’t necessary. Only her mother and her agent had her cell phone number, and since Peter had dropped her when she had refused to give up on her new novel, that left one option.

  “Jorie, how are you, darling?” Her mother’s warm voice came through the receiver.

  I have a headache as if I’m about to give birth to Athena; my nightmares haven’t let me sleep through the night in weeks, and I have a serious case of writer’s block. Aloud she said, “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “Are you getting enough sleep?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, Mom,” Jorie said. “Must be all that fresh air out here.”

  “Good. And have you met someone?”

  Jorie sighed and looked out her bedroom window. Her neighbor was stacking wood in the back of his pickup truck, and the fall wind rustled through the white pines at the edge of her yard, but otherwise, nothing moved. Osgrove wasn’t exactly a popular destination for most people her age, but coming here had felt right. “Please, stop trying to set me up, Mom. I’m not here to meet someone. I’m here to write.”

  “I know, but...”

  “Stop worrying. I’m fine on my own,” Jorie said. “Listen, I have to get back to my writing. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” She wasn’t in the mood to answer more of her mother’s worried questions about the way she lived her life. Guilt scratched at the edge of her consciousness, but she pushed it away and ended the call.

  Back in the living room, the screen saver had come on. A small, red cartoon cat was chasing a ball of wool all over the laptop’s screen. “That’s how I feel.” Jorie lifted the notebook onto her lap. “Chasing the elusive ball of wool, but never quite catching it.” She stroked her fingers over the touch pad and watched as the red kitten was replaced with the text of her story. “Don’t think. Just write.”

  Her fingers found their places on the well-worn keyboard, and she started to write. If she could get this book out of her head and onto the page, maybe the nightmares would finally leave her alone.

  * * *

  Ally stared at the e-mail that might as well be J.W.’s death warrant. She reread it, halfway hoping the text had changed. Of course, it hadn’t.

  Thanks, Ally. I know you mean well, but I can’t give up on this book. I hope you’ll hang in there with me.

  J.W.

  Ally whirled her desk chair around and jumped up. Dammit. You’re not leaving me any choice.

  The walls of her apartment seemed to close in on her. Her skin itched with the urge to shift, to leave the apartment and everything in it behind, and to lose herself in the simpler existence of being a wolf. Things were so much easier when she was running with the pack. If she shifted, she wouldn’t just strip off her human skin but also the guilt and sorrow weighing her down. In animal form, things were clear and simple: her loyalty was to her pack, and she was doing what was necessary to ensure the survival of their species.

  In human form, things were not so black-and-white.

  With a sigh, she sank onto the desk chair. Wishful thinking. Running away wouldn’t solve the problem. At some point, she would have to shift back, and the guilt would still be there, waiting.

  She opened the prologue of J.W.’s work-in-progress. This book is dangerous. She had to warn the council before J.W. could publish it.

  Ally picked up the phone and punched in her alpha’s phone number. Her finger hovered over the last button before she pressed it. I’m sorry, J.W.

  * * *

  The revised edition of Second Nature is now available at many online bookstores as an e-book and paperback.

  Other books from Ylva Publishing

  http://www.ylva-publishing.com

  Second Nature

  (revised edition)

  Jae

  ISBN: 978-3-95533-031-6 (epub), 978-3-95533-032-3 (mobi)

  Length: 143
,000 words (novel)

  Novelist Jorie Price doesn’t believe in the existence of shape-shifting creatures or true love. She leads a solitary life, and the paranormal romances she writes are pure fiction for her.

  Griffin Westmore knows better—at least about one of these two things. She doesn’t believe in love either, but she’s one of the not-so-fictional shape-shifters. She’s also a Saru, an elite soldier with the mission to protect the shape-shifters’ secret existence at any cost.

  When Jorie gets too close to the truth in her latest shape-shifter romance, Griffin is sent to investigate—and if necessary to destroy the manuscript before it’s published and to kill the writer.

  Manhattan Moon

  Jae

  ISBN: 978-3-95533-012-5 (epub), 978-3-95533-013-2 (mobi)

  Length: 28,500 words (novella)

  Nothing in Shelby Carson’s life is ordinary. Not only is she an attending psychiatrist in a hectic ER, but she’s also a Wrasa, a shape-shifter who leads a secret existence.

  To make things even more complicated, she has feelings for Nyla Rozakis, a human nurse.

  Even though the Wrasa forbid relationships with humans, Shelby is determined to pursue Nyla. Things seem pretty hopeless for them, but on Halloween, during a full moon, anything can happen...

  Something in the Wine