Tiger in the Night by L. Dawn Jackson
L. Dawn Jackson began writing stories as soon as they put a pencil in her chubby baby hand. She was a 2021 and 2022 finalist in the San Francisco Writers Contest. She was also selected as a mentee in the inaugural 2021 Romance Authors Mentorship Program through Romance Writers of America. She lives at the top of the American Rocky Mountains with two miracle children, her amazing husband, a lupus diagnosis, and an ever-increasing knitting stash.
A little bit about Author L. Dawn Jackson…
I started writing as soon as I could write. My parents kept old church bulletins that I had written stories on when I was so small I couldn’t spell ‘monster’, and drew a picture instead. I majored in English literature with a minor in Creative Writing, but my greatest background for writing has been reading, and a propensity to get bored easily and start daydreaming.
This is Author L. Dawn Jackson’s writing and publication journey in her own words…
Inspiration to start writing…
Stories have always been a part of my life. I was raised on oral storytelling traditions from multiple cultures. Every possible corner of my childhood home was crammed with books. I can’t remember a time where I didn’t feel like adding to this tradition was the most natural thing in the world.
I mainly write paranormal romance, with the occasional foray into contemporary fantasy. I adore romance. There’s an implicit understanding that everything will be okay by the end, and there aren’t many areas of life where we have that promise. And I love the fantastical, as well. The world is full of magic, if we let it be.
Some of L. Dawn Jackson’s works…
My paranormal romance is Tiger in the Night, available through The Wild Rose Press, as well as major retailers like Amazon and Barnes & Noble, in both physical and digital formats. The sequel is in the works!
You can buy Tiger in the Night here.
Tiger in the Night Blurb
Like every member of his race, Third Prince Malachi longs to meet a potential mate, one of the rare individuals who is perfectly compatible with him. As a hunter for the race of tiger shifters known as Tseng Tse, it is his duty to hunt down supernatural threats. While hunting a fugitive of his own kind, Malachi meets Pepper, and immediately knows this incredible woman is his potential mate. Pepper is determined to live a quiet life, and that doesn’t include a supernatural lawkeeper or the world he brings with him. The chemistry is off-the-charts, but it’s the warmth and care that lies beneath Malachi’s dangerous, mysterious exterior that wears away at her resolve to walk away. But when the very fugitive that Malachi is hunting fixates on Pepper as his next victim, Malachi must convince Pepper to accept him before it’s too late.
One of L. Dawn Jackson’s favourite scenes from Tiger in the Night…
A small bell chimed over the door as Malachi stepped into the coffee shop. The evening rush had left a mess of muddled scents, all crossing and re-crossing each other until it took all of his focus to sort through them. He was sorely tempted to simply let the tiger’s mind sort them for him, but the beast within was currently a little unpredictable. The sheer amount of human scents was overwhelming, but it wasn’t human scent he was searching for. It was Tseng Tse. The criminal he’d been hunting for weeks had attacked a woman just outside; it was possible—though unlikely—that the rogue was still hiding out, even hours later. There was another scent that drew him, too, one he could neither explain nor ignore. It had been elusive, nearly drowned in crossing scents. But it had definitely been present. It called to him on a primal level, teasing at the wild mind within his own.
He searched the room carefully, but there was almost no one in the dining room of the brick-walled coffee shop. A young man who had recently been snacking on raisins stood to one side of the door, half attempting to hide the key ring in his hand. A slightly older woman—maybe in her late twenties—sat at one of the tables, cradling her head in her hands as if holding it together. She turned at the chime of the bell, her dark eyes showing her weariness for a moment before she covered it with a bright smile. Standing, she stepped toward him.
“Welcome to Turtle Creek Coffee! What can I make for you?”
Her scent hit him hard. The beast’s mind unfolded, leaping to life with such ferocity that he had to cough over the growl in his chest. He clenched his fists to keep his claws safely in his fingers. The shop popped into painful focus as his eyes shifted. He shut out the world, but not before her face was burned into his mind. He took a deep breath. Instead of calming him, it only filled him with her scent, imprinting it deeply in his lungs. His head swam.
“Sir?” she prompted. Even her voice was beautiful, slightly deeper than most women’s and with an expressiveness that made every word into music.
“Malachi.” His voice cracked like a youngling in puberty, and he cleared his throat to try again. He made certain his eyes were in their duller, human shape before he risked opening them again.
She was gorgeous. Her dark hair was pulled back into a practical ponytail, but a few strands escaped to frame her face, curling invitingly against her cheeks. Her skin was slightly bronzed by the California sun, a striking background to her full red lips. High cheekbones blended upward into a broad forehead, and down into a narrow chin that looked as if it could be stubborn, on occasion. But it was her eyes that trapped him. Dark eyes. Deep eyes. Intelligence and compassion stared back at him, as well as curiosity.
“My name is Malachi. What shall I call you, please?”
“Pepper.” Her smile was polite and distant, and it irritated him. “What can I get for you?”
Weariness and pain wove through her scent. He should leave, allow the shop to close, and let her go home to rest and heal while he got on with his hunt. It was clear his quarry wasn’t in the coffee shop, but the thought of letting Pepper out of his sight sent a wave of desperation through the tiger’s mind. He forced the primal mind under his control.
“What would you recommend?” Malachi pitched his voice low, trying not to aggravate her pain. She held his gaze, a question in her dark eyes.
“Well, that depends a lot on your tastes. What sorts of things do you usually like?”
Part of him was amused that she would ask that question. He usually preferred his women with more striking coloring, but there was no part of him trying to deny that she was beautiful. For a moment, he considered making a comment about her phrasing, teasing her, telling her about his sudden change in tastes, but he contented himself with continuing the allusion only in his own mind.
“I’m in the mood to try something new. What sort of thing do you like?”
She smiled—really smiled—for the first time since he’d entered the coffee shop, and Malachi felt it clear through his chest.
“One cinnamon shortbread latte, coming up!”
Pepper turned on her heel, making her ponytail fan out behind her, so close that it seemed it would hit him in the face. A vision jumped into his mind of his fingers buried in the black strands, her hair loose around her shoulders, or falling over his leg as her head rested on his lap…
Malachi focused his mind back to the present as he followed her to the counter. He was hunting. Jensen had left a trail of battered, abused women—both Tseng Tse and human—across two continents. Malachi was mere hours behind him, and he needed to get back out and hunt before the threatening rain broke and obliterated all scent. But the tiger’s mind fought him. It wanted to stay here, with this female. She was weary. She was worried. He watched the way she stretched her neck and shifted her weight, and wondered if her head or feet were the cause of the pain-scent coming from her. He reached toward her just as she turned, and he dropped his hand on the counter to cover his lapse in control. Pepper slid the sleeve onto the heavy paper cup and offered it to him.
“I’m sorry, Malachi, but we only serve to-go this late.”
“Perfectly all right,” he murmured absently. He reached for the cup and indulged himself by brushing his fingers over hers. Electricity shot up his hand, all the way to the base of his spine. Pepper drew her hand back with a small gasp and wide eyes as her scent changed slightly. Malachi’s hand tightened.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” Pepper asked, her words slightly rushed. Malachi allowed himself a small smile.
“Your phone number, perhaps?”
Pepper laughed and his heart sped up at the sound. Even the primal mind pricked up its ears with interest.
“I have to give you points for sheer boldness, but I make it a policy never to give out my number to customers.”
“I should have asked for your phone number, first,” Malachi said ruefully, and sipped at the drink. The sweetness of it took him off-guard and he coughed.
“Is it too hot?” she asked, genuine worry in her tone. He shook his head.
“Sweet. Very…sweet.” Malachi took another sip, better prepared for the taste, his eyes still on the woman in front of him. He inhaled again, just to feel that rush through his veins. Pepper shifted, glancing at the clock, and the thread of discomfort in her scent grew stronger. Because of him.
Her discomfort was entirely unacceptable. It was the duty and pleasure, the right and responsibility, of every Tseng Tse to put the needs of their mate first, even a potential mate. He straightened and took a step back, then another. The beast inside complained, trying to drag him back toward the female it found so interesting, but Malachi continued across the dining room.
“Please take care of yourself.” The words stuck between his teeth. He refused to allow her to look away. “See to your pain.”
Surprise flashed across her face. He’d said too much. Malachi backed another step, then turned away. He stalked across the dining room floor and yanked open the door with such violence that the handle groaned in protest, then allowed the night to swallow him.
Connect with Author L. Dawn Jackson
Author website: www.theldawnjackson.com
