Black Out with Guest Blogger: Sandra Cox

Win a copy of Vampire Island or Moon Watchers today at the Book Boost! Sandra Cox is here today and here's what she had to say...


What is it About Black Leather?

What is it about black leather? Jolene Sayer, werewolf hunter, and her cousin Zoe Tempest, vampire hunter, love their black leather coats. It’s no surprise about Zoe. She’s the best dressed hunter in the universe.

But Jolene? Jolene has no time or inclination to mess with makeup and fashion. She says she likes it because the full-length coat hides her weapons. Me? I think she knows how great it looks on her tall, toned body.

Tell us about your favorite type of clothing? What "does it" for you?


Excerpt:

I have two weaknesses. Even if I’m not fashion conscious I love boots. I’ve got nineteen pair.

My other weakness…mochas. Hot in the winter, iced in the summer. But where I’ll get a decent one in Moon Watchers, the little town nearby, is the million dollar question.

I trotted into the bedroom, rummaged in the closet and pulled out my suede boots. The bed dipped as I sat on the edge and pulled them on. The shoe itself is lined with lamb’s wool. The leg portion molds to my jeans, to keep the snow out, and stops just short of my knees.

I put a small ladies derringer, a switch blade, and my credit card into a black leather shoulder bag and reached for my leather coat. Then sighed and put it back in favor of my hooded, down-filled parka.

Okay, I have three weaknesses. I love my long black leather coat. Makes me look like a real bad-ass Were fighter, not to mention it hides my weapons.

I reached for my keys on the nightstand, pulled out my gloves that fit like a second skin then headed for the door. Wolfie watched me quivering.

As soon as he realized I was heading outside, he nearly knocked me over in his haste to get through the door. He took a leap off the stoop and landed in snow up to his chest. I stared in misgiving. Wolfie is the size of a small horse. The snow must be deep.

I took a deep breath. “All I’ve got to do is make it to the H1.” Housed inside the detached garage was one bad boy Hummer. A rich grateful client had given it to Dad. My father’s timely intervention kept the man upright and vertical instead of howling when the moon turned full.

Thank the gods for credit cards or the Beast, as I called the Hummer, would be sitting unused in the garage. To keep this baby’s double-tank filled with diesel isn’t for the faint hearted.

I planted one foot in front of the other and twisted from side to side as I plowed my way through the thigh-high snow. By the time I reached the garage, I was panting and sweaty. Woofie waited for me at the garage door. His wagging tail made a miniature snow angel.

“Crap.” I stared at the garage’s entry pad and tried to remember the code. It came to me.

“Duh.” I punched in h-u-n-t-e-r. “The cold has frozen my brain.”

“Woof.”

“You don’t have to be so quick to agree.”

The garage door rolled open. I all but fell inside. Wolfie bound in then shook himself. Snow flew everywhere. I stomped my feet and brushed at my legs. Puddles formed around my boots.

I opened the car door and Wolfie leaped in. I hoisted myself onto the seat and turned the key. The Hummer roared to life. My breath fogged up the bullet proof windows. No Were would get in this baby. I felt safer than a newborn in its mother’s arms.

I put the Beast in reverse and backed out. It plowed through the drifts like a tank. I hit the road and put it in first. We were on our way.

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