Xara X. Xanakas Snakeskin Boots ebook and Swag Giveaway!

Xara is one of my favorite authors! Each time I pick up one of XXX's stories, a smile is permanently placed on my face from the first word until the last. Snakeskin Boots was no expectations! The first book in the Were-Menagerie introduces us to Jeff Cordata, a were-boa constrictor and Brad Cannidy, a werewolf enforcer. The chemistry from this unlikely duo will light up your e-readers. 

Jeff and Brad's romance starts off hot and steamy, but is interrupted when Jeff's ex boyfriend literally walks in the door, only not alive. The pair set out to unravel the mystery of disappearing shifters being sold as accessories. This is not your run of the mill shifter story! You will be introduced to new breeds and crazy characters that will leave you begging for more of Xara's stories.

In honor of her greatness, I have goodies to giveaway! All you have to do is answer the following question: Which animal would you like to see have their own shifter story? Please leave your name and email address so you can be contacted! The overall winner will be receive Snakeskin Boots in ebook format plus a swag bag. Three other swag bags will be given away as well. Since I'm impatient, the winners will be selected on 10/7 at 3pm eastern standard time. Good luck everyone!

A little tease to get you excited…

“ISN’T Edward dreamy?” 

I’m starting to get a migraine from rolling my eyes so much. Maybe I should work on that. I know she’s just yanking my chain. She’s tired of the hype too. 

“Or Jacob? Werewolves are so sexy!” 

Really? Think so? Know any? ’Cause all the ones I know are assholes. Everybody wants the werewolf. “Ooh, they’re so protective and nurturing.” No—that’s called “possessive” and “controlling.” They’re jealous and territorial, and they think they’re the gods’ gift to shifters. They look down their snouts at the rest of us. Granted, I may be a bit bitter, but the wolves just make me want to shed a skin. No one ever says, “Wereboas are so sexy.” I’m not even poisonous, but they’d still rather cuddle with a wolf, with his big eyes and teeth. 

“Come on, Jeff. You’re gay. You should love this.” 

I stare at her. Did she really just say that? “Kim, do you have any idea how heteroist that sounds?” 

“I’m sorry. I just thought—” 

“No, you didn’t think at all. That’s the problem.” 

At least she has the good sense to blush and look apologetic. She’s usually not like that. And I’m not just making excuses for her. Really. I know she’s just kidding around—she thinks she’s funny. 

“I’m really sorry, Jeff. I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“I know you didn’t, but the next guy might not. Try to curb that, will you?” 

“Yeah, I know. My mouth has a mind of its own sometimes. I’m going to do returns. Besides, eggplant’s here.” She starts off, giving me a wink and sly grin. 

“I know. I saw him.” 

I watch her walk off with a stack of books. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him again. He’s facing the cookbooks, but his eyes are cut toward me. It looks like his eyebrows are knit together, like he’s confused. 

How could she think I didn’t notice him? I’m tall—six-two—but he’s even taller. He’s got to be six-six at least. And he’s everything I’m not. Wavy, black hair, pale-blue eyes, built like a brick wall. I bet he’s got muscles in places I don’t even have places. Dark hair peeks out of the V-neck of his tight, lightweight, navy-blue sweater. Not in a ’70s swinger way, though. On him, it looks rugged and masculine. And, damn. There’s the eggplant he’s got to be smuggling in those jeans. I would love to coil around that. 

Guys like that never go for guys like me. Hell, they hardly ever go for guys to begin with, let alone tall, rail-thin, monochromatic freaks like me. I’m copper. Head to toe. Straight, copper hair, copper skin, copper eyes that sit a little too far apart from my flat, copper nose. I look very much like the boa I become when I shift. 

I’m sure he’s heard our conversation. He was smirking earlier. I can sense the warmth of his body from here. Yes, it’s a snake thing. I can tell when someone’s hot; they’re just never hot for me. 

I watch him as he selects one of the Bobby Flay cookbooks to look at. Hey, if he’s into redheads, maybe I do stand a chance. A customer rips me from my musing. 

“Excuse me. Can you tell me where Twilight is?” 

Fucking really? You just passed a life-size cutout of Edward brooding and Bella sulking, to ask me where Twilight is? 

“Just behind you, to the right,” I reply through my pasted-on smile. 

“Thanks! Isn’t Edward dreamy?” 

Eggplant laughs out loud at that one. 

“Well, he’s certainly a fan favorite.” Some days I really hate working in a bookstore, especially the customer-service counter.