Black Hills Wolves #12
by Celia Breslin
Genre: Paranormal Romance
hybrid Darci Diamond spends every full moon locked in auntie’s
basement in Southern Oregon. Her excruciating shifts terrify her, the
last one causing her heart to stop beating. Seeking a cure, she
journeys to Los Lobos.
Ross Luparell returns to the struggling Tao pack, using his millions made in the tech industry to build homes for pack families in need. He never imagined he would also find his one true mate. But when a hybrid with the biggest green eyes he’s ever seen lands on his doorstep in the middle of a wicked summer storm, there’s no denying it. She’s the one.
She wants a normal human life, free from pain-filled shifts. He won’t give up on her Wolf, and will do whatever it takes to help her accept her true nature. But can he convince her to trust him with her heart?
He reached out with his Wolf senses. The feedback froze his fingers on the doorknob. Female. Damn, she smelled good. Human. Wolf. Wait…both? The copper tang of blood hit his nose. And injured.
He flung open the door. His abrupt move caught his visitor off guard, one small, white fist raised to knock. The woman startled and fell forward. Catching her, he pulled her inside, kicking the door shut with his foot.
She sagged against him, a shivering bundle of wet woman. Underneath the dampness, her scent drop-kicked his gut. Apples and cinnamon. Roses and honey. His body perked up, taking extreme notice. He fought the growl of possession threatening to tear out of his throat. Holy hell, had his potential mate just walked into his home in the middle of a storm?
The scent of her blood jump-started his brain into action. He lowered her gently to the floor. “Jesus. You okay?”
His instincts urged him to check her for wounds, but he was a stranger and didn’t want to spook her. But goddamn, he wanted to touch her. Peel off her wet clothes. See all of her. With a jacket covering her torso, tight jeans hiding her legs, and her ball cap pulled low on her face, all he’d seen so far was her quivering pale chin, full red lips, and those delicate, trembling hands.
“S-s-sorry, d-dripping all ov-v-ver your f-f-floor,” she said, teeth chattering. Her snow-white fingers curled on the hardwood, arms trembling with her effort to keep herself upright. Blood streaked the wood. A line of liquid crimson slid down her jaw and dripped from her chin onto her jacket.
To hell with propriety. “You’re injured. Let me help you.” He pulled off her cap and damn near swallowed his tongue.
Big green eyes blinked up at him from a face so pale it made him think of moonlight. Drenched, short black hair lay plastered to her head, the ends framing features reminiscent of the fairies his sister loved to draw for the hidden-object games she designed. Ethereal beauty. My beauty. […] “I’m Ross. You’re safe here. Promise.”
Under a Mating Moon
Black Hills Wolves #27
Alpha wolf Jake Marsden spends his days among humans, pursuing a
lucrative music career and avoiding his pack's politics. When his
current DJ tour takes him to the US, he stops in Los Lobos to visit
family, and runs into the one Wolf he never wants to see again--the
mate who rejected his claim.
While visiting her brother in Los Lobos, free-spirited Lexi Luparell is shocked to encounter the Wolf she'd denied when they were teens. Now she must face her guilt for the cruel way she spurned him all those years ago, make amends, and admit the truth. Jake was right all along--they're meant to mate.
Lexi would love to explore the mate concept and her overwhelming attraction to virile, Alpha Wolf Jake, but he wants nothing to do with her. How can she break down his defenses when she's the reason he built them in the first place?
Jake dates only human women now. Lexi had her shot at being his mate, and she threw it away. But when her life is threatened, he may have to rethink his position and do whatever it takes to claim his one true mate.
A billion butterflies battered Lexi's stomach. She shifted her attention from Ross to the piano. Sure enough, the music had stopped, and Jake faced her from his seat on the bench. Man oh man, the heavy stare from those sky blue eyes sent shivers skittering down her spine. His gaze held the same intensity she remembered from him as a kid, as if he saw into the heart of people, exposing their deepest secrets. It had driven her crazy back then, and she'd spent much time teasing him, pulling his hair, trying to distract him from being so serious all of the damn time. They were teenagers—partying was supposed to be their sole focus.
With his ice-blue stare locked on her, Jake rose to his feet, all taut muscle and predatory power. His energy swept over her like a tsunami, forcing all of the moisture to abandon her mouth while parts much lower wept with want. Her inner Wolf howled, answering the call of this Alpha, the first Dominant male ever to make her sit up and take notice. Holy crap. Her muscles shook with the need to bound over to him, jump in his arms, wrap her legs around his torso and writhe against his hard, hot, tattooed body.
Jake said something to his uncle then stalked straight at her, cutting a path right through the middle of the tables and the many, too-curious patrons.
A whimper escaped her throat.
Surprise sparked in her brother’s brown eyes. "You're kidding me. Him?" He burst out laughing. "Wow, sis, that's some major, big-time irony right there."
Darci’s expression conveyed her bewilderment. "Now what are you two talking about?"
Her annoying brother grinned. "See that angry Alpha headed our way? My sister here rejected him when they were teens and he's apparently her—"
Lexi socked her brother in the ribs. "Shut it, Ross."
"Ouch." Ross rubbed his side and chuckled at her plight. The jerk. "Come on, Lexi, you have to admit the hilarity of the situation."
No, she did not. Nor did she have to admit that J-Bird was right all those years ago. He was her mate. O to the M to the G…. They were mates.
Even so, he didn't look happy to see her at all. In fact, he looked positively enraged. Shit, shit and triple shit. What a mess she'd made eight years ago. Well, she was woman enough to pull on her big-girl panties and fix it. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin in challenge, meeting Jake's stormy stare. He halted before her.
I can do this. "Hey J-Bird. Nice to see you." Lovely. Her voice sounded like she'd eaten the gravel from the lot in front of Gee's bar. Embarrassment heated her cheeks.
One breath, two breaths, three…. J-Bird glared. Tension coiled between them in the silence. Lexi bit the inside of her cheek to avoid babbling at him. She'd said hello. It was his turn. Damn it, J-Bird, say something. He wasn't making this easy.
"Alexina." His arctic tone dismissed her…
Black Hills Wolves #49
mogul and workaholic wolf Evan Luparell has little time for
distractions but takes a break for his brother’s wedding in South
Dakota. When asked to escort another wedding attendee from the
airport to Los Lobos, he agrees. Then he meets the curvy spitfire,
and she ignores him.
Designer and wolf Mina Carver didn’t mean to be rude to the handsome, glowering man claiming to be her ride, but she was busy working. Now she must endure a ride to the Black Hills with the cranky but sexy dominant wolf. Unexpected mating energy sparks between them, but still—should she dismiss, or kiss him?
Kisses win and they agree upon a no-strings fling. But with each wedding activity throwing them together, and their powerful chemistry and mate compatibility complicating matters, can two workaholics truly have their fun then walk away?
Evan tipped his head and eyed the ceiling. Prompt replies, punctual people. Striking deals and hitting deadlines. These items made his world tick. Not loitering around a miniscule airport pulling a Waiting for Godot moment on infinite repeat for a no-show, flakey designer from California.
God grant him patience and balls of steel when he showed up without the designer and the all-important wedding dress, because his future sister-in-law Darci would certainly be unhappy. […] He took a deep fortifying breath and froze. Airport smells assailed his senses—the sharp tang of bleach and lemon-scented cleaners, the floral perfume from Rental Car Girl who eyed him like a piece of candy. Black coffee, donuts, fried fast food, and under it all, the distinct musk of wolf.
She smelled damn good. His wolf perked up, and his legs propelled him toward the empty baggage claim, where one bright-pink suitcase covered in Hello Kitty stickers sat, unclaimed, on the unmoving L-shaped conveyor belt. Her scent, stronger here, socked his gut, and his gaze shot to the corner.
The chaos around the woman stunned him silent. Large, paper coffee cup, half-eaten banana, and a quarter of a powdered doughnut perched on a brown paper bag next to her. Crumbs splattered the linoleum and the woman’s long-sleeved blue blouse in a thick layer of white, sugary dust. On her other side, two pink garment bags lay like corpses, along with a bubblegum-pink unzipped duffel as long as her outstretched, denim-clad legs. Some of the bag’s contents—pads of drawing paper and large swaths of fabric—protruded over the opening, the fabric splaying over her legs in a rainbow-colored blanket. Her feet peeked out of the mess, encased in sparkling pink UGGs. Good grief, sequins? She smacked her shiny boots together in a poor imitation of Dorothy and bobbed her head from side to side in time to some music only she seemed to hear. Her shoulder-length red hair, the color of ripe dark cherries—his favorite fruit—gleamed under the harsh airport lighting and curtained most her face from his view, save a pert nose and small chin, both speckled with a generous amount of freckles.
He’d always liked freckles.
Clearing his throat, he stepped closer, but she didn’t flinch in surprise or look up. Her attention remained on the tablet on her lap, the stylus between her pale, freckled fingers swiping without hesitation over her screen. […] Did she have those cute little spots on the rest of her? Speckled fur when in her wolf form? His wolf huffed his interest in finding out, but Jasmine the Oblivious Designer didn’t acknowledge his presence. […]
He positioned himself right in front of her wiggly, booted feet. “Excuse me, J—”
“Sh.” She raised her arm and flicked her hand in the universal get lost gesture.
He gaped at her. “Excuse me?”
Another wave of her hand while her stylus streaked across her tablet screen with the other. “Not interested.”
Nice voice. Low and husky. Her attitude, on the other hand…. “But—”
“Go away.” Her velvet voice carried a stubborn edge.
In other circumstances, he would’ve admired her strength. […] “Fine. Get your own damn ride to Los Lobos. Jasmine.”
Celia lives in California with her husband, daughter, and one friendly cat. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, and the Fae. When not writing, Celia enjoys exercising, reading a good book or graphic novel, hanging with her family, or indulging her addiction to fantasy TV shows, movies, and video games.