Enjoy this excerpt from Heather’s brand new book, Untamed Wolf! ~DD
Wolves of Willow Bend Untamed Wolf
Book #6 in the Wolves of Willow Bend Series Releasing April 24, 2015 — TODAY!
Dylan Royce, Willow Bend Hunter, is a natural flirt and courted his fair share of she-wolves, but he’s never found the woman who makes his pulse race. With the new pack’s borders verging on Willow Bend territory, he’s tasked with keeping an eye on them. His job grows more challenging daily, especially since one seductive female keeps crossing the line.
Chrystal Landros knows she’s supposed to keep to her side of the Three Rivers-Willow Bend line. But she loves to explore, and Willow Bend is home to some spectacular sites. As a former Lone Wolf, she hasn’t always been certain of her welcome, but her new home in Three Rivers opens a wonderful world of unfamiliar opportunities. Too bad the wolf who makes her blood heat is tasked with keeping her away from the places she wants to visit.
While Dylan and Chrystal clash repeatedly over her border incursions, the game between them threatens to turn deadly. Tensions between Willow Bend and Three Rivers continue to rise. Could their forbidden dalliance be the spark to ignite a war?
Series Reading Order: Wolf at Law (Prequel) Book 1: Wolf Bite Book 2: Caged Wolf Book 3: Wolf Claim Wolf Next Door, featured in Under a Wolf Moon Book 4: Rogue Wolf Book 5: Bayou Wolf
Heather Long
National bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime. From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family. She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.
Racing the wind, Dylan Royce danced over a thin shell of snow without sinking into the powder. A recent blizzard dumped three feet of fresh accumulation in twelve hours, all of it atop the ice-hardened pack beneath. Cold, crisp air flooded his lungs with his every footfall. Invigorated by the chill, he kept his mouth open to sample the breeze. The natural wonder from the weather made running his circuit a pleasure rather than a chore as he spun through the remote pack campgrounds.
Human families escaped to these campgrounds during the warmer summer months. The remote location, coupled with the bordering state park, also made it ideal for young wolves to learn to hunt, stalk and play away from day-to-day life. Winter often proved the second favorite season for families with older youths to escape and romp in the snow. With Three Rivers’ border so close, however, Mason slapped a moratorium on any vacation plans to the area for the pack.
The usually populated area remained virtually abandoned during Dylan’s tenure as Hunter guarding the border, a downside to Mason’s order. Such a critical position would typically have fallen on Owen Chase, but their Senior Hunter left for Hudson River eight weeks prior with his mate to train the pack’s young healer and to provide assistance to the Alpha.
So, while Dylan landed the miserable position, at least he got to enjoy the snow. And, in a few hours, he would get to enjoy Tawny, the sleek, svelte law student interning with Ryan Huston. Dylan pursued her for months before she finally consented to a drink.
Where he spent his weekend off hinged on the date. His wolf thrilled at the challenge. They would definitely enjoy taking a bite out of her taut ass. Still, better to burn off some of his frustrations…plus, he had all the gorgeous unbroken snow to himself. After climbing to the highest vantage, he growled his approval. Pristine powder lay in smooth waves down the hill.
Testing the ice crust, he found only soft powder. It clung to his fur and bunched between his claws. The swirling breeze carried the promise of more snow. Panting, he arched his head back and loosed a single call. Infusing power into the call to demand a response, he cut it off abruptly and listened.
Any wolves within his range would respond. Flicking his ears, he heard only the wind brushing the trees, the faint groan of branches heavily laden with winter’s kiss and the whuffs of his breathing. No scents teased his nostrils, no sounds alerted him to intruders, and all the magnificent snow lay waiting for him to play.
Tail wagging, he danced away from the edge and trotted several paces. Judging the distance to be perfect, he dashed forward, rushing on adrenaline-fueled muscles until he reached the edge and flung himself onto the slope, legs sprawling out. His trajectory and angle gave him additional speed. He flew to the base of the hill and crashed into a snowdrift.
Bounding out, he shook to free his coat of the snow and sneezed. Damn, that’s fun. He turned to make another climb and repeat the wild ride when a tangle of lemon and orchid teased his nose.
Whirling, he raised his head to catch the direction of the scent, because beneath the citrus was the musk of wolf—a wolf he’d already tossed three times in as many weeks.
Dammit, Chrystal. All at once, his plans for the evening began to disintegrate. If the Three Rivers bitch hightailed it over the line again, he’d have to track her, catch her, punish her, and drop kick her ass back to Luciana “I Have No Idea What the Hell I’m Doing” Barrows.
Tawny wouldn’t wait for him, either. Five minutes late, she’d warned, and he would be out of luck.
Snarling to himself, he trotted west slowly and caught the trace of Chrystal’s scent again. The swirling wind kept yanking it away from him like a tease, but he was a Hunter.
He would find her.
An hour of stalking and two false trails later, he’d finally narrowed her scent to a tract of land below the campgrounds near the old falls. The snow continued, fat heavy flakes crusting on his coat. His phone—like his clothes—were in his truck, parked more than a few miles away. He tried to bury his sour mood, knowing his date with Tawny slipped further and further out of reach.
Pausing in the shadow of a tree, he scanned the rocky slope where the water spilled from any icy crevice and flowed down into a sluggish moving pool. Ice shimmered around the shores, slicking the hard surfaces. Despite the wind, Chrystal’s scent grew stronger with each blast of wind skimming the pseudo valley.
With so much white on every surface, he expected to find her swiftly, but it took him some time to pick her out. She climbed the icy rock face along the edge of the waterfall.
His irritation switched to concern. What the hell is she doing?
Dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a too-thin jacket, she climbed with determination, fighting for every hand and foothold as the slippery ice gave way beneath her grip. Straightening, he followed her progress and eyed the landscape in search of his best route to the top. A skittering of skin and shoe against the slick rock jerked his attention back to the curvy little pain in his ass. She’d dropped a foot from her upward progress and clung to the rock through will alone.
The little minx needed a damn keeper. Inch-by-inch, she continued her creeping ascent of the sheer shale. Between the composition of the stone and the ice, she risked serious injury to her bare hands. Even from his position, he could see the dampness soaking her jeans.
What the hell could be worth courting frostbite? With a leap, he bounded into the dip and sank into the wetter snow around the waterfall’s pool. Fording through the dense drifts, he found the path he’d been seeking and began to climb along the outer rim. Worn by the passage of many feet over the years, faint stone steps existed deep beneath the snow. In midsummer, the waterfall served as the perfect diving point. The pool below was a good twelve to fifteen feet deep, which meant high divers didn’t usually crack their skulls. Of course, the water wasn’t half-frozen or frigid in the middle of summer either.
Chrystal continued easing her way to the precipice. Ahead of her finally, Dylan scrambled onto the ledge and leaned over to judge the distance between them. He’d need to shift to grab her. She was beyond his neck range, even if he were able to snag her damp jacket. If she ascended another foot or two…only she didn’t. She stopped.
Dylan stared, disbelief sinking into his bones. Instead of climbing—or even holding on with her flimsy grips—she slid her free hand into her jacket and pulled out a cell phone. She stretched the phone away from her, angling toward the plunging water…why?
Forgetting the idiocy of her actions, he rushed his shift. Fur slid away, muscle twisted and bones snapped. Part of Hunter apprenticeship required shifting under high-stress situations. His mentor’s lesson had been brutal on the point. They needed to be able to change on the fly and, since they were at their most vulnerable mid-shift, hurrying the process was the only alternative.
Bliss and agony intertwined until he suddenly knelt in the icy snow with his palms flat against the chilly surface. The cold assaulted his overheated and sensitized skin like so many needling daggers plunging into his flesh. Fuck me. Blowing out a frosty breath, he did his best to ignore the wind shivering his balls and threatening to geld him.
The trembling in his muscles had more to do with the temperature than his shifting. Pushing to the edge, he found the idiot wolf with her phone angled at the spraying water, her thumb hovering over a button.
What. The. Hell?
He opened his mouth to snarl at her, but she hadn’t glanced toward him once and her scent hadn’t changed. Focused on whatever the hell her goal was, she failed to notice his position or the precariousness of her own. If he snapped at her…he clamped his teeth together, molars grinding, and waited.
Hating himself—and her more—he flattened to the snow. Working to ignore the way his dick threatened to fall off, he stretched out an arm. He could reach her. The snow blew sideways and a faint flicker of sunlight broke through the cloud cover. The light hit the water as his fingers brushed the back of her jacket.
“Yes!” she whooped. Her thumb slapped against the shutter control, snapping several shots in a row. The thin tendril of sunlight lit the water, dancing off the frost and ice around it, to shatter into prisms. Dylan might have even enjoyed the sight, save for Chrystal’s enthusiasm as she leaned further away. One moment, she dangled precariously. The next, she slid.
Even a wolf would take a beating on the rocks below.
Fisting her jacket, he ignored the scream in his bicep from lifting her falling deadweight and hauled her upward. Yes. I have her. Her howl of surprise gave him a measure of satisfaction. So did jerking her over the edge then tossing her sweet ass into the snow. She came up spluttering as Dylan rose above her and scowled.
I’ve been writing paranormal erotic romance for several years. My heroes and heroines have been werewolves, vampires, dragons, angels and demons. This year, I’ve added a mountain cat to my list of shifter characters.
Mountain lion, cougar, puma and catamounts are common names for the big cats native to North America. The large cats are fierce predators. They hiss, growl and scream. They are tawny in color, resembling a lion. My heroine is a Catamount, the name shortened from cat of the mountain.
I like cats and creating a cat shifter heroine is exciting. Big cats are sleek and powerful, agile and quick, quiet and elusive. I like those attributes in a heroine.
Shifter characters have features, abilities and attributes beyond a human. A cat shifter has fur, fangs, whiskers, tail, paws and claws. A shifter characters has two forms, the human and the paranormal. The essence of the character lives in both forms. While in human form I want my shifters to exhibit the abilities of his or her animal form. My werewolf shifter has an extraordinary sense of smell, my dragon shifter blow smokes and my cat shifter purrs.
In my new series, Thunder Wolves, my shifter characters live in a world shared by humans. My hero is a werewolf. Werewolves and mountain cats are natural enemies and usually avoid one another. The intense mutual attraction between my hero and heroine defies the accepted rules of their shifter worlds.
I like breaking the rules.
The first book in my Thunder Wolves series is Thorne, a story about my werewolf hero falling for Madison, a human empath. The second book, Clay, introduces Kissa, my mountain cat heroine.
Thunder Wolves: CLAY
Kissa Troy mistakenly believes she’s safe in her identity as Beth Smith. No one knows she’s a mountain cat shifter and hiding from the Catamounts, a dangerous shifter cult. One day, a sexy alpha wolf walks into her life. Shaking off a determined wolf isn’t easy. When she’s tracked down by the Catamounts, Kissa turns to the wolf for protection.
Wolves and mountain cats are natural enemies, but all it takes is one breath and Clay Thunder is hooked. The sex is hot. The attraction is undeniable. She may be a cat with trouble on her tail, but she’s the one.
Still. A wolf and a mountain cat?
Excerpt from Clay
Beth. Her life was a lie. Another reason not to get involved with Clay.
He held out his arms. “I promise not to bite.”
She wanted to be held, to lose herself in his arms, to experience passion, to feel alive. Would a couple of hours in his bed prove more heartbreaking than satisfying? He waited until she stepped toward him. He was warm and she found comfort in his strong arms. Kissa inhaled, slowly, deeply. Her blood sang.
Clay cupped her face in his hand and ran his thumb over her lower lip. She knew he wanted to kiss her. A smart cat would move away, but she was caught in the spell of his scent. She lifted her chin, offering her mouth. The moment his lips touched hers, she was on fire.
He didn’t grope her or pull at her clothing. He simply kissed her, slowly, thoroughly and that was her undoing. Her blood burned. Her heart pounded. Her pussy throbbed. She was lost. Her doubts slid away and her fears were overpowered by desire.
Clay lifted his head and took a deep breath. “You feel it. You smell it. It’s more than arousal.”
“It just pheromones. Physical chemistry.”
“It’s stronger than that, but you didn’t want to go out with me. Yet, you called. What made you change your mind?”
“Wolf. Cat. Had to think about it.”
“But that’s not the reason you called.”
“I like your scent.”
“I like yours, but it wasn’t arousal I smelled when you climbed on my bike. I know the scent of fear.”
She stepped out of his arms. “You know how to ruin the moment.”
“I want the moment. I want it bad. What are you afraid of?”
Kissa hated to lie, but her life was series of false identities and phony backgrounds. Using the wolf for a few hours was bad enough. Dragging him into her troubles was unforgivable. The Catamounts would kill him for giving her shelter.
“There have been break-ins in my area. I thought someone was in my apartment, so I got out of there.”
“Why didn’t you go back to Murphy’s?”
“I thought about it, but I was curious about you. So I called.”
Clay pushed his fingers through her hair and cupped her head in his hand. “You’re safe with me, Beth.”
Safe. She had begun to believe that true safety was an illusion.
“If you don’t want to talk, fine, but don’t lie to me.”
The wolf was too perceptive. He wanted the truth. “I’ve never been with a wolf. It should feel wrong, but it doesn’t.”
A smile teased his lips. “I’ve never been with a cat.”
“What should we do?”
He slipped his hands around her waist and drew her close. “Satisfy your curiosity.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
B.J. McCall is published by Changeling Press, eRedSage, Cobblestone Press and Ellora’s Cave. Her books are available at Amazon, Kobo, B&N and Are.
Wolves seem to be everyone’s favorite form of shifter, so I was excited to be part of the Black Hills Wolves series. Part of it is probably because wolves look and behave so majestic and wild. But they’re also part of packs. Whereas men like to read about the achievements of male superheroes, women love to read about relationships, families, communities, and small towns. They have “pack mentality.”
In my latest release, Alpha in Disguise, the Black Hills Wolves pack is unique because it lives isolated in such a rugged location. Ogden and Lara’s loyalties to their respective packs make it hard for them to accept each other as mates, but where there is love, there is a way!
When her mother is shot by a rancher, Lara Wolfe becomes the last Dominant of Yellowstone’s Lamar Canyon pack. Her mother’s dying wish sends her to South Dakota’s Black Hills to find her mate, but Lara would rather continue her mission—saving her pack.
When Ogden Woods, lumber supplier for the Tao pack, offers the newcomer a place to stay, an explosive attraction reveals they’re mates. Afraid of unleashing his inner Dominant and a secret that could get him exiled, he’ll do anything to avoid mating.
Although he begs Lara to stay in Los Lobos where she’ll be safe, she can’t turn her back on her pack. As her mate, Ogden is bound to protect her, but following her means risking his home and his very life. Are they willing to pay the price?
“Damn.” His tanned face turned pale. “Let’s go inside and discuss it.”
Realizing he was fighting to keep his mate, her heart fluttered in her chest. They stepped into his office and closed the door. The room had his stamp all over it.
Bits of wood, tools, dusty papers, and rags littered the worktable, and the air smelled woody and masculine.
But he didn’t seem to have conversation on his mind. Instead, his strong arms slipped around her.
“Don’t go,” he whispered in her hair.
His woodsy scent, mixed with his lust, made her dizzy. Her fingers dug into the back of his coarse cotton shirt. Against her will, her nails clawed the fabric, pulling it out of his jeans. They eyed each other, two predators circling a kill.
“Convince me,” she whispered.
In reply, his mouth surged against hers, the force knocking her back against his file cabinets. His tongue breached her mouth, claiming her so fast her breath faltered. While she tangled her fingers in his tousled chestnut hair, broad hands squeezed her breasts, bringing her nipples to rock-hard points. With her heart thundering in her ears, she unbuttoned her shirt before he could rip the buttons off this one, too.
Panting hard, he paused to ask, “When can you conceive?”
“D-during the full moon,” she replied, struggling for her own breath. “It’s safe now.”
He jerked down the zipper of her jeans and spun her around. “Then hang on!”
As she bent over and grabbed the two nearest metal handles, her swollen breasts tumbled out of her bra. Hot moisture flooded her core. No matter how many penises she allowed inside her, for whatever reasons, she vowed she would only remember his.
“Just this once,” she gasped as he tugged down her jeans. “I can’t stay.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” he ground out as he grabbed her hips, keeping her immobile. “You’re my mate, and you’re going to stay here where you belong.”
The slippery head of his cock brushed her buttocks, scorching her sensitive skin before he plunged it home. He filled her cunt with the force of a sledgehammer, making her cry out. Any doubts she had about the man being a Dominant evaporated.
“You’re no Omega, Ogden Woods.” Her voice cracked as he pulled out and plunged back in. “You’re a Dominant in an Omega’s clothing. Why?”
Coming Soon Deeper Than Perfect – Musa Publishing – 1970s time-travel – August 2015
I know f/f isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. But I’ll tell you, sometimes the sexual orientation of a story doesn’t really matter. It’s the story. Straight up. Even if it’s short. Catnip is a lesbian paranormal that I wrote originally for the anthology, She Shifters. I like to joke that it’s one part Practical Magic and one part Josie and the Pussycats. The story’s just plain fun and naughty. And isn’t that what you want from one of my stories?
I’m nearing the end of my Friday spree of short stories. Just three more to go. I’m thinking I might want to continue with a monthly release after that, but I’ll need to write new stories. And I’m thinking, I should write some naughty taboo stories. You know the kind… The young heroine has been dying to do her stepfather, and now that her mom and daddy are divorced, well… Or he’s my cousin, and if it ain’t illegal it ought to be because it’s so damn hot we’re gonna burn the barn down…
Okay, so I’m just thinkin’ about tawdry ideas. And they’d be all about the sex, which is something I love to write. Man, I could write the hell out of those! But in the meantime, I hope you’re enjoying my series of shorts. It’s been fun revising/revisiting the stories. I wanted them all to be at least 5000 words so no one would feel cheated by the word count. Next Friday, it’s a sexy prison short, Pitch Black.
Catnip
A cat-woman doll found at a garage sale reveals a lonely woman’s magical destiny…
Note: This 5000-word short story was previously published as part of the SHE SHIFTERS anthology. It may be short in length, but it’s not short in passion!
*~*~*~*~*
Excerpt:
Mallory set “Miss Kitty” on the bookshelf beside her computer. She’d brushed away as much dust as she could before sponging away the grime. She’d reattached the tail with tiny stitches.
While she’d worked, she’d admired the craftsmanship of the strange little doll. The fur suit was seamless and molded to the figure. The small face wasn’t hard plastic, but something softer, with the texture of real skin. The lips, with their cat’s cleft at the center, were parted with a row of individually attached teeth beneath them. She’d stroked her thumbnail over the soft lashes surrounding those shining eyes–each lash appeared to be embedded in the lids.Perhaps there was more to the doll than what she’d originally believed. Promising herself to do a little Internet search in the morning, she turned off the bedroom light and climbed into bed.Her head no sooner hit the pillow than she heard something drop to the floor. The sound was soft, but solid.
She sighed and reached to turn on the bedside lamp. Glancing in the direction of the sound, she scanned the floor, but found nothing out of place. Only mildly perturbed, Mallory reached for the light then paused. Her gaze flicked to the bookcase. Her new doll wasn’t on the shelf where she’d placed it.
Dammit. She’d never sleep until it was back where it belonged. She crawled from the bed and searched the floor beneath the shelf. Nothing. She pulled out her desk chair to see if it had somehow tumbled beneath her desk. “Weird,” she said under her breath as she pushed the chair back into place.
A skittering sounded in the closet beside the shelf, and her heart rate accelerated. “What the hell?” The sound was too small to be a hidden intruder. Wary, she approached the closet. The door was open only a crack. Did she have a mouse? The mystery over the doll was forgotten as she worried how she’d trap it. Inching the door open, she reached inside for the string attached to the lamp on the ceiling.
A loud thump came from the back of the closet, and Mallory jumped back. Too freaking big to be a mouse. Fuck! She backed up two steps, and then ran for the bedroom door.
Before she’d gone three steps, something pounced on her back, taking her to the carpet. Hands wrapped around her wrists, pinning them to the floor. Mallory bucked, panic making her breaths come in short, shallow sobs.
“Don’t be afraid,” purred a feminine voice from right beside her ear.
The raspy quality of the voice caressed nerves Mallory chose to ignore. “Get off me,” she ground out.
“I think I’ll stay here for a moment. I don’t want you bolting again, because I wouldn’t like to hurt you. You smell good.”
“What the fuck were you doing in my closet? What do you want?”
The body covering her back resettled, curves molding to Mallory’s. “I’m not sure why I’m here. Are you a witch?” The woman’s hips undulated, grinding against Mallory’s ass.
Which made it very hard to think. “Am I a wha–”
A snarl sounded. “Just shut up a second. I can’t think.” A rumbling purr vibrated against her, growing louder as the woman on her back nuzzled her neck.
“What are you doing?” Mallory asked in a very small voice, wondering if she was going to be raped by the woman and why that thought didn’t terrify her more.
“Mmm… I’m doing what I couldn’t when you groomed me.”
*~*~*~*~*
The Contest
Hope you enjoyed! Leave an answer to the following question in the comments and you’ll be entered to win a copy of any of the shorties in the Amazon carousel below EXCEPT Catnip. That one, I hope you’ll purchase on your own!
So if I decide to write some really naughty, taboo stories, what themes would you love to read? I’m taking orders! 🙂
I’m not one to offer advice unless it’s solicited but I find in the writing world, one of the most common questions I get asked in interviews is what advice I can give aspiring writers on their journey to and through publication. I thought I’d compile a list of top five pieces of advice I’ve collected over the years of my journey and share them with you.
If you’re going to give up, give up –make room for the rest of us.
Harsh advice, I know, but it was given to me early on in my writing career when I was whining to an author about the difficulty of rejection. I was maybe expecting a pat on the back and a little tlc, but what I got was a reality check. There are thousands of writers out there who would gladly trade places with you. If you leave the game, someone else will step up. So you have to make the decision, how badly do you want this?
Everyone’s path is different.
Vastly different. So you should try to avoid comparing yourself to other writers (even those super successful after one book writers) and you should also go with your gut in a lot of cases. Lots of people “know” what you need to do but only you “know” what you want to do. If your goal is to get an agent, go for it, stick at it, no matter what others say. If your goal is to go indi, same thing, commit to it and do it. But don’t look at someone else and think that things are going to go the same way for you. They rarely do.
Treat this like a job or a business even when it’s not.
Give yourself deadlines and word count quotas and don’t let yourself make excuses to put something off. Always have something in play whether it be working on a new project, editing, submitting, whatever it is, keep the ball rolling and hold yourself accountable. If you’re serious about pursuing publication then you must be disciplined in your approach.
Always ask, even if you think the answer will be no.
A lot of trading happens in the writing world as well as a lot of paying it forward. In the writing community, there are many people who are more than willing to help you. Whenever an opportunity presents itself you should always ask…for help, for a favor, whatever it is. Of course no one owes you anything and you shouldn’t approach a request as a demand but if you don’t ask (even those things that seem too far out of your reach) then the answer is always a big no.
Don’t throw stones.
I see this happening a lot. We as writers are not infallible. Our manuscripts are not flawless (even after they’ve been professionally edited). We are always learning…or we should be. If you get the urge to publically call out another author about their writing, editing, or anything related to their work in a negative way…DON’T. Be humble, be gratuitous, and don’t give anyone a reason to return a negative favor.
My newest release from Samhain is Wolf Slayer, book 2 in The Order of the Wolf series.
I have a contest running for you to win an e-copy prize pack of Cursed (book 1) and Wolf Slayer! All you have to do is enter the rafflecopter: a Rafflecopter giveaway
Every day is Halloween for author Angela Addams. Enthralled by the paranormal at an early age, Angela spends most of her time thinking up new story ideas that involve supernatural creatures in everyday situations. She believes that the written word is an amazing tool for crafting the most erotic of scenarios.
She is an avid tattoo collector, a total book hoarder and loves anything covered in chocolate…except for bugs.
She lives in Ontario, Canada in an old, creaky house, with her husband and children.
She would have made his next breath his last, if he hadn’t stolen hers.
Order of the Wolf, Book 2
Aubrey Devlin thought she had a destiny—to become a Huntress, be mated to a Hunter, and spend her life in everlasting, werewolf ass-kicking bliss. But after years of honing her wolf-slaying skills, it’s her twin sister who’s chosen for the coveted honor.
Swallowing her disappointment, she takes a job as head of security for the band Riot. Staying professional is tough when it comes to the band’s sex-god bassist, an alpha bad-boy to the extreme. She will keep her mind on her work—as soon as she figures out how to stop drooling over the man.
Jaylon isn’t good with women—especially those with the ability to kill him—yet he knows without a doubt Aubrey is his mate. Now if only he can get the stubborn woman to fall for him.
One argument too many, and instead of clawing each other’s eyes out, they wind up clawing each other’s clothes off. It’s then that Jaylon realizes the truth: Aubrey is a true Huntress. He’d better find a way to claim his mate before a Hunter claims her first…
Product Warnings
Sexually explicit (like ripping-clothes-off, sex-in-public-places explicit) language. Rock-star bad-ass with long hair and a wicked bite. A take-no-crap huntress who bites back. You are encouraged to lick, suck, and devour your way through this tasty treat in one sitting—just be aware you might be hungry for more.
I like cats and creating a cat shifter heroine is exciting. Big cats are sleek and powerful, agile and quick, quiet and elusive. I like those attributes in a heroine.
