Books, Writing

30-50 Feral Hogs Are In Your Kindle!

Sexy shifters, feral hog attacks, rambunctious M/M scenes, and a big twist wait inside!

Ten ruts appeared in the tall grass, the field bowing to the two-hundred-pound animals running straight at him. “No!” he shouted, spinning in place to keep going.

His toe struck a divot sending Michael rolling out of control. When he struck the ground, oxygen erupted from his lungs. A rock pierced into his arm, drawing more blood for the monsters attacking him. He tried to jam his leg under, only to have it fail and yank him back to the mud.

Shivering, he drew his limbs in tight as he scooted back on his ass. Armed with nothing, not even a branch to fend them off, he was at the mercy of the oncoming horde.

Their black, hairy noses prodded through the grass, each nostril pulling in a long breath to make certain their prey was down. Slowly, they circled him, each one shaking down the grass with their bristly bodies so they could burn their soulless gaze upon him. What were they waiting for?

Michael tried to get to his feet, to give it another go, when the biggest boar he’d ever seen walked into the clearing. On all fours, it stared him dead in the eye. A long scar drew across his right eye, the orb milky white, while the other was a maniacal red. It snorted as if laughing, the massive hooves stomping through the grass.

“Please,” he cried, both hands up as if that could protect him. “Please. Let me go. I’m begging you.”

The lead boar snorted while the rest of the pack resumed their barking. Its mouth opened, revealing the rows of fetid teeth prepared to bite through his throat. Michael curled in tighter, his eyes slamming closed.

A blur of tan whipped over his head. The grass shook as four paws landed with nothing but a whisper right before the head boar.

Holy shit! A mountain lion?!

First in the Series

Feral Hog

by Sue London

He saw her across the farmyard. She was different. He wanted her. EVEN THOUGH HE WAS A FERAL HOG AND SHE WAS A FARMER. And she had a yard full of kids.

Jaimie leveled the gun on her shoulder and shouted at the damn wild hogs again. They’d bolted and scurried around after she shot in the air, but didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving. Her kids were pressed up against her legs, worried and bleating after her shouting and the loud noise. Baby goats were adorable, but you didn’t want one to lose its mind with fear and try to climb you like a butte. She shuffled backwards, hoping the kids would stick to her instead trotting back in the yard where the pigs had taken up residence. God damn feral hogs. She’d heard that some ran further up in the county but hadn’t expected them here. One of the big ones was staring at her like he was trying to figure her out. She knew pigs were supposed to be smart, but not that smart. He was probably trying to decide if she was edible. She kept backing up until she bumped into the barn, and opened the door to pen the kids inside.

So here she was, three weeks into “Jaimie buys a farm,” and was already failing her first test. She didn’t really want to shoot the hogs. Or at least enough of them to make the rest go away. And also in the back of her mind she could hear her daddy saying “shootin’ a wild hog is just gonna piss him off.” But they hadn’t had wild hogs on the Eastern Shore, so she didn’t know if daddy knew what he was talking about or not. She would have to call him later to find out the source of his knowledge.

It was cool and quiet in the barn, other than the kids dancing around with their happy little bleats. Apparently the scary moment in the yard had already been shaken from their little goat minds. She smiled at them and set her rifle aside. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about fence-building to keep the hogs out. She sat down in the straw to enjoy some baby goat attention and tried to remember why she was doing this in the first place. Fulfillment. Peace of mind. All the things she’d grown to miss while out in San Francisco.

She was back home in Virginia, just a boat ride away from her parents’ farm in Cape Charles. Close, but not too close. Now that she’d seen a roving pack of wild hogs on her property, though, she wondered if she shouldn’t have just bought on the peninsula. Even if the Bridge always drove her batty.

She petted her goats, her first real farm acquisition, and thought about her planting schedule, the fences she needed to build, and how the weather might go this year. Farmer stuff. She was so happy to only have farmer stuff to worry about now.