White Doe is my spicy romantic paranormal. Last week the novella began with Shane learning of his great-grandfather’s death and a hope of seeing his lost love Cheyenne again. He drives his Harley to a deserted beach arriving at dusk on a warm October evening to dispel his pent energy by shifting into his alternate form.
He slipped out of his worn jeans and shrugged off his T-shirt. Flexing his muscles, he started his run along the beach. Seconds later, he lunged forward. Wind prickled through newfound feathers, his arms now enormous wings and his feet powerful talons. Lighter and lighter, he ascended skyward; with perfect vision, he soared over a wild and remote beach toward an orange moon shimmering over the Atlantic.
Shane loved and hated his form. It freed him, but left him utterly alone. This was his life—his curse. Now without his great-grandfather, he was unique in it.