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Whiskers on Kittens
R.J. Blain

(A Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count), #22)
Publication date: December 19th 2023
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Urban Fantasy

The next time a friend dared her to steal something, Kelsie would say no. Should the friend also be a succubus, not only would she say no, she would run for the nearest border faster than a bat fleeing the dark depths of hell.

Under normal circumstances, she didn’t even mind serving community service. It added spice to an otherwise boring day and gave her something productive to do.

Hoping to contain her prankster ways, the judge teams her up with a grouchy wolf of a cop with an attitude problem. According to her virus, Kelsie needs to get the good officer out of his pants. According to her common sense, the last thing she needs or wants is a goody-goody hampering her style and getting in her way.

When they’re assigned to help rescue six kidnapped kittens, Kelsie knows one thing for certain: to create a Christmas miracle, she’ll do a lot more than bend the law—she’ll break it over her knee and unleash hell on Earth while she’s at it.

Whiskers on Kittens can be read as a standalone.

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When I became bored, trouble happened. The current flavor of trouble stood a little over five feet with light brown hair and dark eyes, putting him a solid inch taller than me. He wore his uniform well and glared at me as though he’d enjoy escorting me to the next life if given a reason.

The glare I understood.

Cats and dogs did not get along, and my nose informed me I dealt with a single male wolf of the lycanthrope variety. I doubted he’d ever met a clouded leopard lycanthrope in his life, resulting in the divine essence of female feline tormenting him. That I happened to reek of divine single female feline might do him in.

What I didn’t understand was why Judge McMurphy, one of the nicer men I’d dealt with in the Chicago court system, had dragged some poor cop out for my sentencing. I especially didn’t understand why the judge had requested I come along with the poor cop for a private discussion in his office along with the attorneys. Community service was community service, and that I’d only been slapped with six months of community service astonished me.

In the judge’s shoes, I would have gone for two years.

The judge made himself comfortable behind his desk, invited us all to take a seat, and promised we wouldn’t have to wait long before he could get on with why we needed to have a private chat after everything had been said and done.

I pitied my attorney, who would need therapy after dealing with me. It wasn’t that I had gone out of my way to give the man a hard time. I just accepted responsibility for my actions, confessed I’d broken into the home of a wealthy businessman to steal a toy mouse on a double-dog dare, and refused to rat out my succubus friend for being the one to dare me to do it.

When I’d broken into the home, I hadn’t known the mouse was the size of a small dog and wore a diamond-studded collar.

The attorney especially hadn’t appreciated when I’d made use of my legal rights to summon an angel to confirm I hadn’t known about the collar, had done the heist as a prank, and would not be snitching on my friend in this life nor the next, not even if the Devil came calling to drag me into some dungeon to put me through hell. I’d amused the angel, who had assured me I wouldn’t be doing any time in the dungeons unless I wanted to.

The innuendo had caught me so off guard I’d burst into laughter at the sheer thought of leaving the pool of divine single female felines.

The wise men ran the instant they realized I was on the prowl, the smart ones ran soon after, and the dumb ones pissed me off and often received a face full of claws if they didn’t get the hint I didn’t want a dumb man in my life.

Wise and smart men were few and far between.

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.