Drake and Kady really did a spectacular job interviewing Mike and Cynthia yesterday. They had me worried there for a minute about being out of a job. I was squirming in my seat then relaxed when I realized the fidgeting was from a bad flea infestation.... I'm not pointing any fingers though. These things happen and any flea would be out of its mind not to want to be all over certain guests this week...I'm just sayin'....
In case you forgot or may have missed some of this week, here is a reminder...
Drake Martin—private investigator, ladies’ man, shape-shifter—Yorkshire terrier, named Precious. Enter six-year-old Kady Hartley and life changes. Years later, they meet again. Still a PI, she's FBI. Follow them on an adventure tracking the Russian mob involving human trafficking through the streets of New Orleans and watch the fur fly.
Following Kady to New Orleans where she is on assignment he knows it will be easier to watch over her if he stays in the shadows, keeping his shifter abilities hidden. He hooks up with the local Sufi, head of the shifter family clan, but eventually engages in a bloody battle with the Russians. But, there is another enemy in their midst, one who won't rest until he destroys their chance at everlasting love...
Drake has fallen in love. Can Kady love him for who he really is, or will she leave him upon discovering the truth?
If that wasn't enough to jog your memory, allow me to tempt you with this little teaser the Arsuaga's want to share...
“He’s a Yorkie, a Yorkshire terrier, according to our vet’s examination, a purebred and in perfect health. Clean him up and he will be beautiful.” Unhitching a leash from the wall, she lifted me from the cage to the floor. “Yorkies are a popular breed and live a long time. Your daughter will be able to grow up with him.” Winking at me, because I had her eating out of my paws since Monday, the volunteer added, “See how he prances around. Yorkies are so full of spirit. I just love this one to pieces. I’d take him home myself, but we already have two cats and two dogs. My husband would leave me if I brought home another pet.”
Four feet tall, sandy hair, blue eyes, and a breath smelling of lemon drops nodded, making up her mind. “He’s the one I want.”
That’s how my life changed in a split second. I’m Drake Martin, part-time hit man, most of the time private eye, lover, and shape shifter. This is the story of my life as a dog and the little girl named Kady Hartley who changed it forever.
After botching my last gig, I cleared out in a hurry with the sheriff hot on my trail. A local drug king pin had hired me to assist one of his dealers from the burdens of this life and into the next. Another dealer, who knew of the plan, rolled on us to lighten a pretty big distribution charge hanging over his head. The king pin split to Colombia without telling me about the trap set by the local minions of the law. To get away, I morphed to animal form. In that kind of situation, nobody pays attention to a scruffy little dog skulking along a shadowy wall. While a passel of confused cops addressed their two-volt, one cylinder deductive powers to the problem of how I slipped their trap, I put as much distance between us as my five inch legs could cover. A couple of blocks later, I felt good about my chances, only to turn a corner and damn if I didn’t run into the town’s dog catcher who immediately spotted the lack of collar and tags around my neck. In recent years my once lightning getaway had lost a step and no amount of terrier squirming or snarl could break his expert grip. Cooling my heels in the cage on the way to the shelter, I realized, with rising terror, that I was in my worst fix in over a century of life and regretted not morphing to human form to send this hyper-conscientious nimrod to his eternal reward.
While other shape shifters turn into formidable critters like wolves or bears, I become an eight pound Yorkie. It is a mixed blessing. I’m not worth shit against another shifter, but except for diligent public servants of the animal control department and women, I attract only casual attention. No one perceives me as dangerous or threatening, and the girls love me to pieces. At least it’s better than my friend Paco in Long Island who becomes a chipmunk.
The little girl named Kady and her family represented my best chance to escape. I knew the shelter’s rules. After a week as a guest of the city’s taxpayers, a sad little man euthanized the unfortunate creatures not adopted. As a last resort, I could return to human form, but not while in the suitcase-sized cage. The collar they fitted around my neck also presented a problem. The expansion of my neck as I turned to human couldn’t break it, and it’d nip off my head before I could slip out of it. When out of the cage, I was never alone, even in the dog run. If they removed the collar, imagine the staff’s shock at discovering a six foot naked male in the dog run. After recovering their senses, they’d cart me off to a psych ward, with little chance of escape. The drugs administered there mess up morphs. Once I teamed with other shifters to spring one of our own who came out unable to morph for months, as well as not knowing what year it was. That’s how I met Paco.
Clearly, adoption represented the better way out.
I ratcheted up my charm, best puppy eyes along with a surfeit of face licking. As usual, it worked.
On the drive home, held in the arms of an energetic if not hyperactive six-year-old, I thought about older females and their interestingly different embraces. Adult females, when I’m in human form, entice me to do naughty things to their bodies. Now, I sat on the lap of a considerably younger one. My stubby tail wagged in a blur while an alert face on the other end flirted outrageously with anyone who glanced my way. The gaze of blue eyes, like marbles, washed over me. In that moment, I felt the stirring of a connection with a human unlike any other. After a few minutes she hugged and kissed me with unabashed love the way little girls do with their prized dolls.
“Kady, don’t get so close until we clean him up,” Mom gently admonished from the front seat. “You don’t know where he’s been.”
“What are you going to name him, honey?” Dad asked.
Profiled by the windshield, his head was a tan blob with sandy hair plastered across it. I remember hoping she wouldn’t choose a stupid name like Fido or Charlie. No offense to any dudes with those names, but after all, I was a purebred and all male. I deserved a manly name befitting my proud and feisty, if diminutive stature, maybe Killer or Spike.
Kady held my face in a pair of small chubby hands. Her infectious smile, one I came to know well, melted me to slush. Gaps showed where two baby teeth had been. In another place the crown of a new tooth peeked above a gum. With a loving gaze, she looked deep into my eyes and softly said, “I think I’m calling you Precious.”
And that excerpt and Drake are both just that....precious.
Tomorrow though, we will see a peek at the naughty side of this story and if I'm lucky, maybe Drake will sit in my lap and let me rub his..... belly.
Hmm? What did you think I was gonna say? LOL!
Well, enjoy your day everyone and jump on the link below and download your very own copy of this terrific book... don't just settle for teasin'... get yourself some pleasin' with... My Life as a Dog!!