Blood-Hound Book 3: Roasted

Giant snakes, hell-hounds, intergalactic police -- when can sexy shifters find time for love?

The brothers have their hands full trying to keep their boss at Bailey Bonds safe from the alien who wants to replace him on Earth. To make things worse, the same alien appears to have something to do with the infiltration of the Intergalactic Police and the deaths of many of Falen's friends and fellow officers. As things unfold, the Blood brothers and their lovers quickly find themselves muzzle deep in lethal aliens, and it will take every skill they have to keep Bailey alive and dig out the truth of what's going on.

4 stars and a sizzling rating from "Lots of action and a nice touch of humor make Blood Hound 3: Roasted by Declan Sands a fun story to read."

4 Nymphs from Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymph "I enjoyed the action thriller... and look forward to the next installment. "

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A long, forked tongue slithered out of the sewer pipe and retreated back between a squared-off, light brown snout. “I got ssssscared.”

Detective Ralph Littlejohn put hands on hips and glanced toward his partner, the eminently biteable Detective Petra Kline. She pinched her lips together, shaking her head to send her silky brown bob swinging around her pretty face. Detective Kline hated snakes.

Hated. Them.

No way was she going to help him get the big shifter out of the drainpipe.

The pipe creaked, groaned, and the tongue slipped out again on a mighty sigh. Brent Bailey was well and truly stuck.

“What do you want me to do?” Littlejohn asked him. “I can’t exactly requisition the jaws of life for you.”

A suspicious snorting sound emanated from the area -- far, far away -- where Petra stood, half behind a large oak tree. “We could buy a case of spray oil and try to grease him up.”

Littlejohn glared at her. “That’s not helpful.”

“No. It’sssss not. Besssssidesssss, I’m allergic to olive oil.”

More snorting came from behind the tree. “I could try calling Blood.”

“I tried them earlier… before. They aren’t anssssswering their phonesssss.”

“Not as dumb as they look,” Littlejohn muttered.

“I heard that,” Bailey hissed.

Littlejohn shook his head. He stared at the stuck snake for a minute longer and then looked at the gravel road covering the pipe. Short of digging the whole thing up, Littlejohn didn’t have the faintest idea how to get Bailey free. “Can’t you shift back?”

“I tried. I’m too ssssstresssssed.”

“Not half as stressed as I am,” Littlejohn murmured.

“I heard that too.”

“Hmph.” He glanced at Petra again. “You’ve really got nothing for me here? Not a single idea?”

“Call Matt and Cliff. Maybe the three of you could shift, lift your legs, and pee on him to lubricate him.”

“Ssssso not helpful,” Bailey hissed.

“Why did you go into the damn pipe in the first place?”

“Sssssomone’sssss after me.”

Littlejohn frowned. “Who?”

“I can’t sssssay.”

“What the hell does that mean? Why can’t you say? How in the hell am I supposed to help you if you can’t say? Why did you even call me?”

“Which one of thossssse quessssstionsssss would you like me to anssssswer firssssst?”

“All of them.”

The forked tongue slithered out of the pipe again, and another mighty sigh made the pipe creak. “I called you because yoursssss was the name my nose managed to hit when I presssssed.”

Littlejohn looked at the tiny rectangle sitting at the front of the pipe, just under Bailey’s big snout. “You’re lucky you didn’t dial somebody who doesn’t know shifters exist.”

“Ssssso true.”

Littlejohn waited, arms crossed over his chest. “And…”

“And I can’t explain about the other sssssstuff. You’ll jussssst have to trussssst me.”

“This is about you not going back to Elitper when you were supposed to, isn’t it?”


Petra’s cell rang and Littlejohn looked at her as she answered.

“Hello. Hey, Blood, I’m glad you called back. Have we got a surprise for you.” Her pretty green eyes met Littlejohn’s and they shared a wide smile. Good news for them, bad news for the Blood brothers. The two cops were about to do the dump and run.


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