Hunny Lapin, Bunny Shifter, is in the HOUSE

1. Good evening. Can you tell our readers a little about yourself?

Hi. I'm Hunny Lapin. (plasters fake smile across my face) I like small animals, men in uniform, and saving the world. Yep, I'm a regular Miss Universe. Seriously though, I'm a bunny shifter so I do like small animals, especially if they are related to me, which odds are if they are bunny shifters, they are. I have a craving for men in uniform, especially bad boy Officer Drake. All tatted up and yummy. I accidentally fell into saving the world, having… ummm… stumbled across a piece of information I shouldn't have. Okay, okay, I hacked into my vamp boss's database and snagged some classified information.

2. I understand you have a boyfriend who has an interesting job

I wouldn't exactly call Officer Drake a boy-friend. He's no boy. Drake is all man, genetically enhanced EVERYWHERE, if you get my drift. He's a supercop, specially designed to protect and serve. He rids the streets of baddies, real baddies like the blood suckers and wolfboys. Yeah, he is a tough guy but he has a weakness for bunny softness. (blushes)

3. And what kind of job is it you do yourself?

I find those files you delete. Please stop doing that. It is annoying.

After you spend your lunch hour surfing the… well… the naughty sites, I rid your computer of those nasty viruses you 'mysteriously' get. News flash: Computer goddesses are all powerful. I can see where you surfed so there's no point spinning some story.

My forte is liberating information from restricted databases. That forte earned me a stint in the clink so my job isn't always all sunshine and roses.

4. I would think it would be hard to be a bunny shifter with all the bigger shifters around. Are they hard to deal with?

(Sighs) I get that question a lot. Maybe back in prehistoric times, natural defenses mattered, but as the Godrabbit, aka my Uncle Flopsy, likes to say, 'A big gun will more than compensate for lack of fangs.' In my case, the big gun is carried by Officer Drake (and no, I'm not referring to the one in his pants though that is nice also, quite nice).

Bunny shifters have other abilities like… our hearing is excellent and… (nose twitches as I think) we can make ourselves very small and we're fast where the expression quick as a bunny comes from and… did I mention we have excellent hearing?

5. What is it like working with your author?

I wouldn't say I worked with her, exactly. Cynthia Sax followed me around, scratching cryptic notes in her stenobook. Yeah, she used pen and paper. How primitive is that? She asked me most of the questions. Between you and me, I think she's a bit intimidated by bad boy Officer Drake. He looks scary with his bald head, tatts, and grim face, but he is a softie.

BTW… I dug into Cynthia Sax's past and… well… she doesn't have any. Either she lived her life off the grid or she's not who she claims to be. Either way, she's not completely on the up and up.

6. How can readers reach you and buy your book?
Badge Bunny is available for purchase here
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1452
Officer Drake is on the cover.
Doesn't he look yummy?

Cynthia's site is here
http://cynthiasax.com/
Check it out. Notice the lack of entries before December 2009. I can assure you the woman is older than that. Yeah, I know. Very suspicious.

7. Anything you’d like to add?

Officer Drake says I talk too much so I better not add anything. Oh, some readers have been asking about Uncle Flopsy's story. That bad, bad bunny's story (The Godrabbit) will be out for Easter 2011 'cause nothing says Easter like vamp slaying mafia bunny shifters.

Blurb:
My name is Officer Drake. I'm genetically enhanced to be the best damn policeman there is. I can snap a werewolf in two. I can outrun a car. That's not boasting. Those are the facts.
I'm designed to protect and serve, and when I spot a plush little bunny shifter by the name of Hunny Lapin, that is exactly what I do. I protect her from a strip club owning vampire and serve up her every desire in bed. 'Course, that lands me in a whole heap of trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle. I'm a supercop, remember?
Excerpt:
"When was the last time you got laid, Drake?" This is my partner's idea of clever conversation. Shoot me now. To clarify, that isn't partner in the sexual sense. Hell no, I don't swing that way and even if I did, I'd never be that desperate. We're cops. Wright's got my back, most times, when he isn't juggling two exotic dancers on his lap.
When was the last time I got laid? When was the last time Wright groped a waist wider than a toothpick? Two dancers are needed to fill up the man's lap. I eye their skinny bodies with disinterest. It would take five of those chicks to satisfy my larger appetite.
I'm a big guy. I prefer to play with women my own size. That means yummy mommies with hand-filling curves, not little girls with pokey elbows and ribs I can count.
"Fuck off, Wright." I sip my scotch. The other undiscerning dickheads come here after hours for the tits and ass. I come here for the drinks. The Fox Hole doesn't water down their alcohol like other strip bars do.
"There's your answer." Sarge laughs like a hyped-up hyena shifter. Before you give him respect he doesn't deserve, his rank isn't sergeant. The asshole just acts like one, barking out orders any sensible cop will ignore if he wants to stay alive. "You know, Drake, you'd get lucky more often if you didn't act like such a scary son-of-a-bitch." Sarge pats down his lap mate. I've seen him handle his gun with more passion than he's touching his nearly nude stripper. "Hell, even the badge bunnies leave you alone, and they'll do anyone in uniform."
I grunt at his piss poor advice. It doesn't warrant a proper response, and for your information, I don't act. I am a scary son-of-a-bitch -- genetically enhanced to be the best damn policeman there is. I can snap a werewolf in two -- those furry buggers are notoriously hard to subdue. I can outrun a car, even one jacked up on rocket fuel. I sniff the recycled air. I can smell strawberries in a room full of sweat, pussy, and cum.
I turn my head slightly. There she is. Golden brown hair frames a round face dominated by a pair of big brown eyes and a twitching nose. That's a woman. Hunny Lapin -- despite her porn star name -- is everything I consider fresh and clean and wholesome. What's she doing here? I have no idea. I've seen her before so I know she isn't lost.
She sure doesn't fit in though. Why? She's fully clothed, for one. Her plush body is clad in a fluffy pink sweater and a knee-length skirt. For another, she starts at every loud noise. This is ridiculous as she's in a strip bar, not a library. The tone-deaf DJ throws on a new hip-hop song and she jumps. Naked bodies smack together as they tend to do in strip bars and she trembles. Krag Fox's men holler at each other, and she flinches.
Meatheads are positioned at all doors tonight. Someone is in deep shit. I'd step in and ensure this someone doesn't die a slow and painful death in one of the vamp's backrooms. But this is the Fox Hole. Anyone here I'll end up either arresting or killing. Fox, bless his non-beating heart, is simply doing my job for me.
The scent of strawberries intensifies and a wave of horniness engulfs me. Hunny is hurrying this way. She doesn't glide like some high-class chicks do. She bounces and all body parts -- I drop my gaze -- I mean all body parts bounce with her. Damn, she has a fine pair of breasts. I lick my lips, hungry for a taste.
Some men claim that more than a handful is a waste. I think they're full of shit. The bigger, the better, and Hunny's pair are at the top of my big breast list. They're even finer because they're real. One blast of cold air and those nipples can be listed as deadly weapons. They also jiggle when she jiggles, which is what she was doing now. I'd sit back and enjoy the show except every so often she fervently glances behind her at Fox's approaching goons. The girl is in trouble. Help me, she mouths. Those brown eyes widen with fear.
This is none of my damn business. I recognize that. I don't know her and if she messed with Fox bad enough to warrant a death sentence, she can't be as sweet and innocent as she appears. But I'm trained to protect, and Hunny needs my protecting. The cop genes kick in. I pull her onto my lap so she straddles me – panty-covered pussy to pant-covered cock. I grow hard 'cause I'm human. Soft angora rubs against my face. The pastel pink sweater, as nice as it feels, unfortunately has to go. Fox's men can spot it a mile away. I yank it upward over her head and drop it on the permanently sticky floor.
"Whoa, Drake." Wright gawks at me, his big mouth open. "It was just a suggestion. I didn't expect you to get laid right here."