Troll in the Shadows
Shelby Morgen
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2006 Shelby Morgen
An Authorized Excerpt

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Welcome to Troll's Blog.

Meet the cast:

Mattie. That's me. The Troll. Tall (six foot four), generous curves, light powder blue skin, bright burgundy hair, sculpted in a very artistic Mohawk. Short little tusks, charming, really. Likes to play Troll Under The Bridge. Works for the Department of Highways. Toll Collector. Go figure.

Sam. The Cop. Big, strong, beefy Cop-type. Likes boobs. And legs. Well endowed. Short "Cop" hair. Plays with handcuffs. Has a thing for Trolls. Handy, really. Willing to rise to any occasion.

Kara. Human. Female. Ready and willing to kick some ass. But what do you expect? She's my partner. Hey. Toll Collection's a dangerous business these days.


"I'm straight, you know."

"Yeah. Me too."

OK then. So, we got that settled. "I mean, I'm married. Happily."

"I know."

She wasn't. Yet. Married that is. She was single… for another… oh, eighteen hours. Engaged to the most handsome hunk of prime black beefcake I've ever drooled over. They were the perfect couple, actually. Both so incredibly fuckable it was only a matter of time, and fate, finally throwing them in each other's paths.

So what were we doing here? Me, Troll, and my partner, Kara? Together, alone, with her, incredibly, succulently, naked. What was I doing here? Shouldn't there be strippers? Flowers? Cake? Too much booze, and a half-a-dozen women laughing their asses off as those little wind-up penises jerked and jumped their way down an imaginary race track?

Her soft, breathy voice brought me back to the present -- a present where her lips hovered near mine. "I adore Mica. But haven't you ever wondered…"

Wondered? You mean fantasized? God, yes! I'd wondered every time I looked at her for the last six months. Damn, but she was gorgeous. A little heavier than was fashionable in a human. A size 16, on a good day, not a 6. But those extra pounds were all in the right places. Wide shoulders, full boobs, upper arms with enough meat on them to give you some place to put your hands, a nicely trimmed in waist, and full, deliciously curving hips.

I'm not gay. Or a lesbian. Whatever the PC term is these days. I'm really not into women. But I looked up at her the day she walked into our district office, our eyes met, and my mouth went dry. I lost the ability to speak, to even breathe.

When I could think again, which took a while, I realized the shift supervisor was introducing her -- as my new partner. And I knew, right then, my ass was fried. How the hell would I ever look at her and not think of her naked, spread eagle in front of me, all that ebony skin bared for my investigation? Dear Lord, I was in trouble.

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