The Hairy-Legged Girls Club

By Linda Mooney and Carolyn Gregg

Fresh out of the military, the last thing Brint Cirrus needs is trouble. Besides, he has a secret to protect. But when he parks his motorcycle at a Texas roadside bar and meets sexy Heleema, the lead singer of the country band, The Hairy-Legged Girls Club, it's clear trouble looks mighty good. The feeling is definitely mutual.

Intent on consummating their mutual attraction, Brint and Heleema leave the bar, and a group of drunken men who had been harassing Heleema earlier follow them. The men ram their pick-up into the motorcycle, sending the bike and both riders into a bar ditch along the side of the road. When Brint comes to, he finds Heleema on the verge of being raped. Secret or no secret, he has to rescue her. But as he shape shifts into his dog persona, he sees Heleema shift into a coyote. Together they dispatch the attackers, killing one of them, then escape. But their enemies aren't so easily deterred and they want revenge.

From the very beginning Brint and Heleema are drawn together in lust. Now they are drawn together in danger as shape shifters and as humans.  In Heleema, Brint has found a woman he can trust and love. In Brint, Heleema has found a man to satisfy her passion and her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Mooney
• Release date: Jan 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781941321140

Linda Mooney

Linda loves to write sensuously erotic romance with a fantasy, paranormal, or science fiction flair. Her technique is often described as being as visual as a motion picture or graphic novel. A wife, mother, grandmother, and retired Kindergarten and music teacher, she lives in a small south Texas town near the Gulf coast where she delves into other worlds filled with daring exploits, adventure, and intense love. She has numerous best sellers, including 10 consecutive #1s. In 2009, she was named Whiskey Creek Press Torrid's Author of the Year, and her book My Strength, My Power, My Love was named the 2009 WCPT Book of the Year. In 2011, her book Lord of Thunder was named the Epic Ebook "Eppie" Award Winner for Best Erotic Sci-Fi Romance. In addition, she write naughty erotic romances under the name of Carolyn Gregg, and horror under the pseudonym of Gail Smith. For more information about Linda Mooney books and titles, and to sign up for her newsletter, please visit her website. http://www.LindaMooney.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lengthening shadows of the big pine trees crossing the road acted like a natural sundial. The air was definitely taking a header south, into cooler territory, with evening right on top of him.

At some point, Brint Cirrus knew he'd have to start looking for a place to spend the night. Although he wasn't familiar with east Texas, he knew it was never smart to tempt the wild animals that lived out in the piney woods, as the locals referred to the undeveloped land bordering Texas and Louisiana. Even hitting something as small as a squirrel darting in front of him after dark could cause a major catastrophe.

A quick glance at his fuel gauge also confirmed the fact that his stomach wasn't the only thing needing refilling. The last thing he'd eaten had been a taquito around ten that morning, not counting the soda he'd picked up at the Gas-n-Get just outside of Jasper early that afternoon.

The low growl of his motorbike was the only sound he'd heard for the past forty or so miles. The narrow two-lane blacktop appeared deserted, giving him the impression he was the last soul on earth. Not even a trailer parked amid a grove of birch, or a weather-beaten country store, had broken the monotony of going up and down and around S-curves for the past hour. Sooner or later, he knew he'd have to come upon either a small town, or an intersection. Either would work for him.

At first, he thought his nose was deceiving him when he caught the faint scent of wood smoke. Initially, he dismissed it as coming from a home hidden within the woods, until he detected the unmistakable aroma of meat. Another hundred or so yards down the road, he thought he heard music. Bits and pieces floating in the wind. He was about to convince himself he was imagining things when the building appeared almost by magic around the next bend. Stranger still, there had to be at least a dozen trucks and cars, plus a handful of motorcycles, sitting in the dirt parking lot.

A big sign on wheels pointed to the large L-shaped structure named The Lost Resort. He briefly wondered if the name was deliberate, or if someone had accidentally misspelled last. No matter. It was the oasis he'd hoped for.

He parked the bike in line with the others, but took his helmet with him after double-checking to make sure his saddle bags were locked. The music coming from inside was booming through the shingled walls, enough to where he could make out some of the words being sung. A country song. Upbeat. Steel guitar. Female singer. The music stopped abruptly before he reached the front door.

The overwhelming smell of barbeque hit him the moment he stepped inside. To the left, a small restaurant with what appeared to be a dozen tables filled with customers. To his right, he noticed the longer, larger room was also near capacity. The bar sat like a dividing line between both areas. Fortunately, there was an empty seat at the far end, which he quickly grabbed.

How can I help you? The bartender who reminded Brint of a bulked-up Tom Hanks, ran a rag over the counter.

Whatever you got on tap.

Sorry, bud. We only serve long necks here.

Not a problem. Surprise me.

The guy grinned and grabbed a bottle from an ice chest under the counter. Using an opener nailed to a nearby post, he slid the drink over. Brint noticed bits of ice sliding down the side of the amber glass before taking a swig. Stuff was so cold, he nearly choked.

Good?

Brint nodded. Yeah. Tapping the label, he added, I'm not familiar with the brand.

There's a microbrewery over in the next county. They don't have a wide distribution, but their clientele is loyal.

Brint could see why. The second swallow went down as smooth and frosty as the first. Same for the third.

Can I get you something else?

Yeah. How about a menu?

We serve only barbeque here. You got yourself a choice of chicken, brisket, or sausage. You can have fries or potato salad with it. Meat, bread, onions, pickles, and a side of sauce come with everything. What's your decision?

Brint ordered a plate. Once the bartender walked away, he turned around on his stool in time to see several young women enter the long room from the rear. They were dressed in jeans and boots, and matching long-sleeved white shirts. They took a short set of stairs up onto a stage partitioned off from the crowd with chicken wire, and took their places.

Brint glanced around. Initially, he had thought the music had come from a jukebox. Now he realized the place had a live band. One woman plucked a couple of notes from her acoustic guitar. The one with the fiddle ran a bow over the strings. A redhead sat down with a bass next to a steel guitar. He caught the name of the group stenciled on the bass drum: The Hairy-Legged Girls Club.

The name made him chuckle. It was then the back door opened again, and another young woman hurried to join the others. Unlike the rest of the group, she wore low-riding jeans that gripped her hips, and bright red boots. Her denim vest covered what looked like one of those running bras. Her bright blonde hair gleamed beneath the multi-colored Christmas lights framing the stage. He watched as she picked up a guitar and took her place behind the center microphone. Without introduction or fanfare, she immediately launched into her first song.

You said you wouldn't go cheatin'.

The piece was one he hadn't heard before. He assumed the band had written it. The girl had an alto voice, a bit gritty in texture, but definitely sexy. The tempo was lively, the notes well-played. Definitely worthy of radio play, if a talent agent happened to be in the audience. He glanced around at the appreciative crowd. Other than four men getting noticeably drunk at a table against the far wall, the place was loud but not raucous. Not yet, anyway.

A platter was slid next to his elbow. Brint grabbed a slice of white bread, wrapped it around a sausage link, and turned back around to watch the band as he ate.

There was a smattering of applause from the crowd when the girls finished. Several men hooted. A few yelled out insinuating suggestions. To their credit, the band ignored the catcalls and launched into another song.

Finished with the first makeshift sandwich, Brint washed it down with his beer and rolled another piece of sausage. This time when he swiveled around in his seat, he could swear the golden-haired singer was eyeballing him.

I haven't seen your face before.

Brint started. It was almost as if she was singing directly to him. For a moment, his sausage wrapped hovered in front of his mouth as he stared at the woman in front of the microphone.

'Nother beer? a deep voice behind him inquired.

He turned and nodded at the barkeep. Sure thing. Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, he asked, Are they local?

The barkeep glanced up at the stage and smiled. You could say that. Two of them are sisters. The other three are friends. They all grew up together around these parts, although a couple of the girls drive in from Leesville.

Leesville. How far is that?

About twenty-five miles up 1443, but Burkis is closer.

Brint filed away that bit of information. Do they sing here every night?

Nope. Just on Thursdays and Fridays. You arrived at the right place, at the right time.

The man got Brint another beer, then left to fill a waitress' order. Belching softly, Brint grabbed the bottle and turned back around as the band was winding down their song. When they had finished their seventh in a row, the girls set their instruments down and departed from the stage. But instead of heading for the back room with the rest of her group, the blonde appeared to head for the bar, when the group of rowdies sitting at the side table stopped her progress.

Even though he couldn't hear what they were saying, from the look of disgust on her face, it was evident it wasn't nice. Brint started to get to his feet to intervene when the woman slapped away a hand that was reaching up to grope her. The men laughed louder at her refusal, and when she tried to continue on her way, someone managed drag his hand either across her ass or between her legs. He couldn't tell from the angle where he was sitting, but it was enough to infuriate her to the point where she whirled around and shoved her face into the guy's. Brint had no idea what she said to the man, but the dude's eyes widened and his face turned white. Turning around, the woman flipped her hair over her shoulder and continued forward without any further hassle. Casually, she sauntered up to the bar next to Brint and leaned over the counter.

How's about a Coke, Cam?

Kept one cold just for you, the barkeep replied, setting a can on the counter.

The young woman blew him a kiss, opened her drink, and took several long swallows before eliciting a loud belch. She glanced over at Brint and grinned. Excuse me.

Don't mind me, Brint smiled back, then indicated the table of miscreants with a slight nod of his head. Bet you have to put up with a lot of that kind of crap.

She shrugged slightly. They come and they go. They don't know me, and I don't know them, so they think it's okay to act like jerks when the old lady isn't around.

Shame.

A dimpled smile spread across her face. Aww, it comes with the territory. It's just worse this time of year.

Really? Why's that? He tossed a pickle slice into his mouth. To his surprise, the woman reached over, took a slice for herself, and popped it into her mouth. He laughed