Book 1: Shake That Sass - Prologue

The air buzzed with electricity a split second before the loud roar of six—no, make that seven—magnificent, suped-up Harley Davidson motorcycles, speeding down the highway like so many bats out of Hell, reached Lucy’s hypersensitive ears.

The symphony of engines drowned out all other traffic as Lucy sat criss cross applesauce on a patch of dusty weeds just off the shoulder of the parkway, right next to her old, not-so-reliable, Ford Aspire.

Her knowledge of mechanics was seriously lacking. But even Lucy knew the engineers who’d designed this particular vehicle had fallen short of their aspirations.

And then some.

As if to punctuate her point, the car let off another ghastly noise followed by a progression of thick, black smoke from the tailpipe.

The rust bucket was a constant drain on her limited funds, but Lucy had no choice but to keep fixing the clunker. And now she would have to look for a cheap mechanic at whatever town was located off this exit. South Jersey was chock full of small communities, safe for a week or more, but that was it.

There was no place left for a Shifter like her to hide for the long term. She was too submissive. Too small. And too damn tasty, according to the last Pack of Hyenas she’d run into.

“I sure love the taste of pussy cat in the morning. Gonna get a big ol’ chunk of you, kitty freak,” the Alpha fem taunted just before the attack.

Lucy was a fool thinking she could let her guard down at that shithole motel in Newark. It was not the place for a loner. But Lucy was so tired of running.

She’d managed to escape before the Hyena Shifter Alpha could bleed her too badly. It was nothing her healing abilities couldn’t repair. Just a few smooth silver lines across her shoulder and stomach remained. But that incident still haunted Lucy.

The hybrid curse. Unwanted. Unloved. Doomed to walk alone.

Lucy’s mixed blood was the source of all her problems. Her hybrid heritage kept her from forming alliances. None of the Big Cat Prides wanted anything to do with her.

She’d been shunned, targeted, and tossed out of more towns than she cared to remember. Feline Shifters were such shits. Snooty fuckers, all of them. But what she wouldn’t give for a Pride of her own.

Someplace where she belonged. A home. A family. But those were fairy tales for Lucy.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

Her cell phone was dead. She had no food. No money. And it was getting late. Of course, her stomach decided to rumble right then.

Totally cliché for a chubby chick. But society’s opinions on the perfect female body could go right to hell as far as she was concerned.

Lucy had curves. And yeah, she got them from eating. Food was the one source of comfort she could rely on.

Rrrrrr.

She rubbed her stomach. It had been twelve hours since she’d eaten her last granola bar. Much too long for a Shifter to go without feeding her animal.

She stood for a moment, head back, staring at the darkening sky, and watched the line of Harleys until she couldn’t see them anymore. Dust clouds rose in the air behind each one of those mile-eating machines, and Lucy grinned like mad.

Lucky SOBs.

Damn, she’d love to jump on the back of one of those badass bikes, holding on to the rider and whooping in the air like a wild thing. Of course, in her fantasy, someone else had to drive.

Lucy had never ridden a motorcycle before. She would likely end up in a ditch if she tried.

Clumsy should be my middle name.

Despite being a Cat Shifter, graceful, she was not. Lucy could still see dust clouds shooting up into the air. She stood, staring at them a while longer. Her grin widened in its place.

Those little particles seemed like magic to her. Yeah, she knew they were nothing but grit, sand, and dirt. To Lucy, they were fairy dust.

Silly she-Cat.

A wistful sigh escaped her lips and she wrapped her arms around her body. Standing on the side of the road, broke but not broken, Lucy allowed herself a moment to dream.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if one of those big, sexy bikers was all for me? Some untamed, wild, beast of a man. A magician. Casting a spell with that powerful machine between his legs, carrying me off someplace safe and permanent.

She hugged herself tighter, head back as she made her wish. Lucy blinked slowly when she was done. She shook her head at her overactive imagination.

That’s what she got for reading too many romance novels. Her inner beastie stirred, reminding her of her situation. She had an empty stomach, and a broken down vehicle.

Rrrrrr.

Oh well. No use sitting there dreaming stuff and nonsense when she had to keep moving to stay alive. She felt a great sense of loss when she could no longer hear the motors or see the dust clouds in the air.

What was wrong with her? They were just a bunch of strangers, for fuck’s sake. Just some guys on motorcycles, passing through life without a care in the world, and that was all they were.

None of them were for her. No one ever was. Didn’t Lucy have enough drama in her life?

No men.

That was her one, unbreakable, firm, completely non-negotiable rule. She was not going to fall into that trap. Not after witnessing what her mother had gone through time and again.

Pitiful, just pitiful. Don’t waste wishes on men. It ain’t worth it.

Those bikers rocketed down the black asphalt wherever the hell they were going on the backs of their powerful, and apparently dependable wheels, without a care in the world. Unlike her.

Shit.

Night was falling and Lucy had to get a move on. She started walking, taking the exit she should have been driving down on foot. Thank goodness her sneakers still had some sole left to them.

She turned her head, looking down the empty road. There had to be some place she could charge her cell phone and call for a tow.

The sounds of engines and horns caught her attention. Too far away to make out yet. But at least now she had a direction.

The moon was almost full, hanging bright and low in the sky. Horns meant traffic, and traffic meant people. Lucy took a long, deep breath, then exhaled. She’d wasted too much time mooning after those motorcycles.

But sometimes dreaming was all a person had. What could a little fantasizing hurt while she made her way to a phone charger and maybe a little something to eat? As her sneakers ate up the miles, she played a game with herself.

What would I do if one of those big barrel-chested men were mine? Easy. I’d wrap my arms so tight around him and just hold on for dear life. My mystery man would keep me safe.

We would share secret smiles, hand holding, and deep kisses. He’d take me for rides, driving like a wild thing, taking tight corners before stopping in some abandoned meadow.

Then he’d reach around, pull me in front of him, and claim my lips with his in a bruising kiss designed to bring me to my knees.

And that’s exactly where I’d go next. On my knees, unbuckling his belt, biting my lip in excitement to see what he’d hidden behind his thick denim jeans.

He’d be thick, long, and hard just for me.

Oooh yeah. Lucy could sure get behind a dream guy like that.

Meeee—ooww!