I generally always have pets of some kind in my novels. Usually cats, because I’m a cat person. I’ve rescued cats and do feral feedings on top of having a few of my own. I love writing about them, and they are easy for me to write.
In celebration of #Caturday and the fact One Wrong Move is still at $0.99, I’m sharing a never before seen excerpt of One Wrong Move!
In this excerpt, Camden has already taken Rayma to a safe house (practically kidnapped, but that’s another except for another day). She is furious with him that she had to leave her cat, Beacon, who received his name when she discovered him beaten on her back porch after she’d moved to the Texas Gulf Coast. She considered him her beacon that she was in the right place.
So in this excerpt, Camden has gone to her house to rescue the cat and bring him to the safe-house where Rayma is staying.
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“Beacon?” He explored the apartment, trying not to notice the femininity surrounding him. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he called as he took shorts and shirts from the closet. He found her socks and panties, and stuffed them in a bag. The sooner he got them out of his hands, the better. He found shoes, sandals and her purse and by the time he filled the bag, it wouldn’t close.
He didn’t care. He needed to get out of here, away from the scents, away from her lacy thongs, and away from the tiny dresses hanging in her closet.
When he walked into the kitchen pantry in search of cat food, the cat waltzed up to him and circled his feet. Camden knelt to pet him. Beacon arched his back, purring.
“You hungry? Sorry about that, kiddo. Let’s get you back to your mom.” He found a few cans of food, dropped them into the bag wrapped around his shoulder and grabbed the cat, prepared to leave, when a shadow in the doorway stopped him.
Beacon scrambled from his arms and shot down the hall. Camden dropped the bag. Cans of food banged to the floor. The guy stopped one with his foot as it rolled toward him.
“Who the hell are you?” Camden hooked his thumbs in the loops of his pants, presenting a casual attitude but preparing to pounce if necessary. The guy filled the doorway, and there was nowhere for Camden to go but forward.
“Rayma’s boyfriend.” The guy remained still as a stone in a rippling pond. “Who the hell are you?”
“How did you get in here?” Camden asked. He recognized Dare’s accountant but had to play it cool.
“A key.” The guy held it up for Camden’s inspection, as if that would make the fact more powerful. “How did you?”
“What’s your name?” Camden asked.
“Excuse me. I am the one with the key to Rayma’s house, not you. Why don’t you tell me?”
“She told me she broke up with you weeks ago,” Camden lied.