by Liza Street
Emma’s phone buzzed, and she took it from her back pocket. Her jaw fell, and she showed the caller ID display to Quentin.
Knightwood Ballet Company. It was the company in Las Vegas where Emma had just auditioned.
“Answer it,” Quentin said.
“I can’t.”
The phone buzzed again.
“I’ll do it,” Hera said. She snatched the phone and swiped to accept the call. “Yes, this is Emma,” she said, in a pretty good impression of Emma’s voice. “Of course. Of course. Yes, thank you. Email is best.” She ended the call and smiled widely at Emma. “You made it! You freaking made it!”
“I…I did?” Emma’s face was a mixture of disbelief and hope.
“Yes! They’re going to email you the practice and tour schedule.”
Emma hugged Hera and then turned to Quentin. “This means we’re going to be on the road a lot.”
“Congratulations.” He pulled her into a fierce embrace. He loved this woman with everything in him, and he’d follow her anywhere. “I can’t wait.”
The two of them would travel as often as Emma’s new company demanded, sampling the sights, tastes, and entertainments of cities all over the United States and Canada.
Wherever they went, though, they’d be together. And whenever they felt like spending time somewhere they could call home, they had a place here with the Sierra Pride, and their cabin on acres of their very own.
free story
An exclusive short story featuring Ava and Jude from Fierce Heartbreaker is now available! Visit Liza’s free book page for details: https://lizastreet.wordpress.com/free-book/
Sneak Preview of Fierce Informer
Book 6 of The Sierra Pride
Coming October 2016
While the breeze blew the scent of Montana springtime in through the lodge windows, Justine tapped out a series of coded notes on her phone. If the Coronas ever got into her files somehow, they wouldn’t be able to make sense of the words.
Nobody would, actually. The only other person who knew this code was Nan, and she was dead.
Justine paused, waiting for a flash of pain, or relief, or happiness at the thought of Nan’s death. Nan had died three years ago, and Justine still didn’t know how to feel about it.
She didn’t know why she even continued taking the notes—she’d learned exactly nothing in her years with the Coronas, nothing except they were well-off, private, and affectionate amongst the family. Still, the routine was there, marking down who visited them, where they traveled, any large purchases or strange behavior.
She snorted. With Rafe, there was always strange behavior to report. Or maybe “obnoxious” was a better word for it.
Footsteps in the hall approached the guest services desk where Justine sat. She closed her note-taking app and shoved her phone deep into the pocket of her dark blue Corona Mountain Resort sweatshirt.
Gloria Corona and her son, Rafe, ambled into the room. “I have to get Barrett’s room ready,” Gloria said, “so I’ll need you to review last week’s expenses.”
Rafe opened his mouth to say something—to protest, most likely—but Gloria held up one hand, and with the other, she pointed Rafe to the resort office, which was directly behind Justine.
“Oh, hello Justine. I didn’t realize we have guests arriving today.” Without waiting for a response, Gloria was already behind the counter and pulling up the reservations file on the computer.
“No, sorry,” Justine said. “I just needed a quiet moment to write down some thoughts.”
It wasn’t a lie, and Justine was always careful to tell the truth. Popular lore stated that shapeshifters could scent a lie on the air at the same moment it moved from a speaker’s lips, but it was more complicated than that. There were telltale quavers in the voice, sweating, and an increase in heart rate—all physiological signs which a shifter’s senses were keen to pick up.
“Well, since nobody’s arriving today, why don’t you finish your clean-up duties early, and take the afternoon off?” Gloria suggested.
A subtle reminder that Justine was supposed to be working, not “writing down thoughts.” That was the beauty of Gloria, though—she worked Justine hard, but in a gentle way. Justine wasn’t sure how much of that was Gloria’s nature versus how much of it was about keeping the mountain lion prides from thinking she worked her Exchanges too hard.
“Thank you,” Justine said. “Oh, the SenchaCorp party is going to be hiking to the south face of the mountain tomorrow.”
Gloria nodded. “I’ll let Julian and Mateo know.”
“Mateo?” Rafe asked, his dark brows pulling together.
“Yes,” Gloria said. “He should be showing up in a few hours. I want him here for when Barrett arrives.”
Her large brown eyes teared up at the mention of Barrett. Justine smiled and patted her hand. Gloria had been trying to get pregnant with another kitten for years. Finally they’d been successful not in conceiving, but in finding a mountain lion shifter child for adoption. Justine’s only regret was that the owner of the adoption company was a skeevy-looking man with slimy hair and a fake smile, and he’d been around twice in the past couple of weeks, finalizing arrangements.
Rafe brushed past Justine on his way to the office, grumbling. Gloria swished up the staircase leading toward the family apartments, and Justine smiled again, this time to herself. If Rafe was using the computer, Justine might be able to see the password.
She’d been through every paper file the Coronas kept, and she’d searched the depths of the reservations and booking computer at the front desk. But the office computer wasn’t on a network and Justine had never been able to get into it. Over time she’d picked up a few of the things Gloria typed into the fourteen-digit password, but many years ago, a former Exchange had stolen financial information from the Coronas. Gloria guarded the password jealously, and Justine hadn’t been able to piece it together yet.
Rafe, however, didn’t seem to share Gloria’s suspicions. He was obedient enough that he would never give the password to Justine, but he also wasn’t going to be sending her out of the room while he typed it in.
Justine grabbed a rag and a bottle of dust cleaner from the narrow supply closet next to the office, and followed him inside. He sat staring at the computer, as if willing the tedious job of reviewing expenses to go away.
“Will it bother you if I clean while you’re in here?” she asked.
“No,” he said, turning to grin at her. “Welcome distraction.”
He wasn’t bad looking at all. Decent smile and teeth, soft brown eyes like his mother’s, a head of dark hair like his father’s. He was muscular, like most shapeshifters who spent so much time in their animal forms, running and hunting and exercising. Beneath his and the family’s notice, she’d slept with lonely male guests to scratch the itch, and Rafe was just as handsome as any of those men.
So why did it feel wrong to flirt with him? Well, nothing for it. She’d at least try to see more of the password.
Justine dusted the bookshelves. The strong scent of the dusting spray clogged her nostrils. On the pretext of grabbing a tissue, she turned to face Rafe and the computer. He looked up, caught—his eyes had been on her ass. He gave her a slow smile.
Then his face clouded. “Things are good the way they are. I don’t see why that shithead has to come back here.”
No talking, idiot. Type in the password. She tried not to let her irritation show on her face. “Well, maybe if you hurry up with your work, and I hurry up with mine, we can go for a run and miss the shithead altogether.”
“Now that is a great idea,” he said, turning back to the computer. Justine watched as he typed, slowly, his fingers hitting each key precisely. He wasn’t a touch typist, like Gloria.
This was freaking perfect.
She memorized the password, matching it up easily to the few letters, numbers, and symbols she’d figured out from quick peeks at Gloria’s turns at the computer.
Now,
of course, she had to clean as slowly as possible so she could avoid shifting and running with Rafe. He was nothing like her brothers—he got too close, sniffed around her too much. It was as if in mountain lion form, he thought he was exempt from common courtesies of personal space. Yes, it was true, Exchanges often came to different prides in the hopes of marrying into one of the pride’s families, and that was the reason Nan given the Coronas for offering Justine as an Exchange. But Justine was really here to find out what had happened to Starla, her sister who’d disappeared eighteen years ago.
“You know, we don’t have to go for a run,” Rafe said. “We could…stay in.”
Oh, barf. “I need my exercise,” Justine said. “My mountain lion gets angsty when I keep her inside too long.”
He reached up toward Justine’s face, but stopped shy of touching her.
“You could let her out in the bedroom,” he whispered.
“Maybe hanging out tonight isn’t such a good idea, after all,” Justine said, just as the air pressure changed. Someone was here.
Preview of Pride of Africa by Tori Knightwood
Pride of Africa
A Novella
Book One of Hotel Safari
reprinted with the permission of Tori Knightwood
Chapter 1
Serena breathed in the diesel pollution of Nairobi and smiled. It sure didn’t smell like home.
Fumes or not, the idea of getting to work with Pippa Blackwell-Kemboi was a dream come true. She was only the foremost expert in lion behavior. A British woman who came to Africa to study lions and fell in love with a safari guide and made a life for herself in the Kenyan bush.
Now it was Serena’s turn to study lions and other savanna wildlife in the Kenyan bush. In exchange for her room and board, she’d help out at Pippa’s safari lodge near Tsavo. And best of all, her new mentor was meeting her at the Nairobi airport and accompanying her to the lodge.
She collected her bags and pushed through Customs. On the other side, a blonde woman of medium height with sun-freckled skin held a sign with Serena’s name.
Serena dragged her bags to the woman. “Are you Ms. Blackwell-Kemboi?”
The woman beamed. “Serena? Call me Pippa.”
Serena nodded, struck silent by the presence of a giant in her field of study. Pippa looked so normal, not nearly as big as she seemed in Serena’s mind.
“You must be quite tired,” Pippa said. “I’m sorry, but we have a long drive ahead of us. My son will fly out later in his plane, so that leaves us the Land Rover, I’m afraid. But it will give you the chance to see this stunning country.”
Serena mutely followed Pippa into the equatorial sun and to a white Land Rover sitting like a hippo in the parking lot.
“Hop into my chariot,” Pippa said, getting behind the wheel on the right side of the car.
Serena had never been in a Land Rover before. She’d never been in a car with the steering wheel in the wrong place. She’d never been to Africa. This would be a semester of many firsts.
The five-hour drive went by in a flash. Anytime her eyes got heavy and she thought she might fall asleep, Pippa would point out a detail in the landscape or tell her a story about observing wildlife.
“And here we are,” Pippa said brightly, as they drove through a gate on a dirt road and pulled up in front of a sprawling one story building of concrete with a thatched roof and grand columns in front.
Serena’s mouth dropped open. It was like Tara from Gone with the Wind meets an African village. The pictures she’d seen online hadn’t prepared her for the picturesque grandeur.
“Welcome to the original Hotel Safari.”
Serena and Pippa got out of the Land Rover and walked between the columns into an entry hall of polished stone. Serena turned around and around, looking at the natural wood paneling which warmed up the stone, and the masks and baskets on the walls and shelves.
“This is amazing,” she said.
“I’m so glad you like it. Your room isn’t as grand, I’m afraid. Come, I’ll show you to the staff lodge.” Pippa went out a door in a side wall and Serena followed.
They crossed a covered walkway to a low building with almost as much charm as the hotel.
Pippa showed Serena into a room about a third of the way down a long hallway. The furniture was sparse—only a low bed with a foam mattress, a bedside table, a desk, and pegs on the walls for clothes—but the view out the open window more than made up.
Serena dropped her bags and stumbled to the window. Elephants drank at a watering hole down an embankment. All kinds of wildlife dotted the savanna from where she stood out to the horizon. She’d never seen so many animals in one place before.
“Sometimes, when the clouds cooperate, we can see Mount Kilimanjaro,” Pippa said.
Serena couldn’t keep a smile from her face. Animals, the savanna, and Kilimanjaro. She couldn’t believe she was here.
Pride of Africa is available on Amazon!
The Sierra Pride Series
Fierce Wanderer
Fierce Heartbreaker
Fierce Protector
Fierce Player
Fierce Dancer
Fierce Informer (due out October 2016)
Fierce Survivor (due out November 2016)
Fierce Lover (due out December 2016)
About Liza
Website
Blog
Twitter
Liza got her start in romance by sneak-reading her grandma’s paperbacks. Years later, she tried her own hand as a ghostwriter of romance. It wasn’t long before she heard the call of the wild—the call of shapeshifters, to be exact—and she couldn’t resist developing her own series. Now she divides her time between freelance editing, ghostwriting, and the mountain lion shifters in the Sierra Pride.
A Note from Liza
Thank you soooo much for reading Fierce Dancer! One thing I’ve learned in this business is that reviews help authors a whole lot. If you loved Fierce Dancer (and even if you didn’t!), an honest review would be an immense favor.
If reviews aren’t your thing, I thank you anyway for doing me the honor of reading my book.
Love,
Liza
Acknowledgments
Fierce Dancer and the Sierra Pride series would not have been possible without the loving guidance and spot-on feedback given by my critique partners: Pat, Kary, Shyla, Alythia, and Rochelle. Thank you! You awesome women have helped my dream come true! Special thanks to my fellow authors: Tori Knightwood, Alexandria Warwick, Liberty Gilmore, and Sibyl Eisley. And finally, many thanks to my friends and family for listening to me obsess about these characters for months. And to J—thank you for your understanding and your encouragement. I couldn’t do this without you.
Copyright page
Fierce Dancer, Book 5 of the Sierra Pride
by Liza Street
Copyright 2016 Liza Street. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or used fictitiously.
Table of Contents
Fierce Dancer
Description
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
epilogue
free story
Sneak Preview of Fierce Informer
Preview of Pride of Africa by Tori Knightwood
The Sierra Pride Series
About Liza
A Note from Liza
Acknowledgments
Copyright page
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