“‘I inherited the relic from my cousin who had married into the Waaka family. This caused an outrage, and the ripples reverberated within the tribe for years since I was ten when the relic chose me as the guardian. As I grew toward a marriageable age, my father signed an alliance with the Waaka family and betrothed me to the tribal heir. His name was Ngahoe, Nelson’s brother, and I loathed him on sight.
“‘My favorite thing to do was to go fishing or swimming. I loved the water and swam or fished at every opportunity. That’s how I met your father, and my taniwha wanted him. Later, I learned it was love at first sight for him too. I went to my father, but he refused to entertain my marriage with a pakeha. Your father and I didn’t care. We spent every moment together, and one weekend, we went to Auckland, obtained the correct license and married since by that time I was of age. I fell pregnant with you almost straight away, much to my father’s shame. Ngahoe, Nelson, and their family were furious but there was little they could do.
“‘We were outcasts, but we lived happily enough until the relic showed favoritism toward you. You were scarcely six months old, and I feared the Waaka family would learn of this and kidnap you, gaining control of the relic. Your father and I talked and planned. James made a special box that made the relic invisible. He disposed of the pendant, the location secret from me.
“‘Between us, we staged my death and everyone believed the relic had disappeared into the sea. But James and I were mates, and my taniwha was inconsolable without my husband. Each full moon was hell, so we met every few weeks. We were both happier and rejoiced in our togetherness. Eventually, we had two more children.
“‘The one bump in our marriage was the huge secret we kept from you. James said it would come back and bite us on the bum. He was right, and I’m sorry at the way I handled our meeting. I panicked because selfishly, I didn’t want your brother and sister pulled into taniwha politics.
“‘I doubt we’ll ever return to New Zealand. The children love the lifestyle over here, and I’ll admit, I enjoy the warmer weather of Queensland. Of course, I miss your father dreadfully as I am sure you do too.
“‘Judging by the gossip on the taniwha dark web, you have pulled the tribes together and you’re doing a stellar job. I’m proud of you and know your father always saw these leadership qualities in you.
“‘Congratulations on your upcoming marriage. Manu Taniwha is a strong and worthy partner for you.
“‘Karen Baker.’”
There was a moment of silence while Jessalyn considered the contents of the letter. She sipped her champagne and frowned. “So she and Dad staged her death because the relic favored me.”
“They saw trouble,” Manu said. “Think of Nelson Waaka. He wanted the relic. Hell, he probably watched you during your younger years, waiting to learn if you could shift. He would’ve grabbed you if the chance presented itself and forced you to follow his orders. A child is malleable.”
“We’re never having children,” Jessalyn blurted.
“I hope you’ll change your mind. You’d make a perfect mother. Besides, events might not necessarily repeat. You’re an able and fair guardian. The leaders respect you.” Manu took her empty glass and set it aside. “We can talk later. It’s time to celebrate our marriage.”
Jessalyn shifted until she sat on his lap. She released a surprised eep when he stood. She clutched his neck and laughed as he carried her to the bedroom.
“I’m ready for the honeymoon stage,” he whispered. He made quick work of her zipper and helped her remove her dress. Soon they were naked and lying on the bed. Their mouths met in a powerful kiss and passion claimed them. They shuddered in each other’s arms, declaring their love and commitment in a bodily way.
“I love you, Manu.” She kissed his jaw and aimed a second one at his mouth.
“Sweetheart,” Manu murmured, his kiss indicating another round lay in their near future
“He-haw!” her taniwha shouted. “Again, my sexy black beast. Do it again!”
Manu’s big body shook as he contained his laughter while Jessalyn grinned. She couldn’t have expressed it better herself. She gave a happy sigh as Manu pleasured her and they both embraced their newly married state.
Thank you for reading Black Moon Dragon. How did you enjoy Jessalyn’s and Manu’s adventures in dragon politics? I’d love to learn what you thought so please consider leaving a review at your favorite online bookstore, Goodreads, or Bookbub. A review would make my day!
I write several other paranormal romance series. Please turn the page for an excerpt from My Estranged Lover, part of the Middlemarch Shifters series plus an excerpt from Kendall’s Mates, the second book in the Churchill Polar Bear series. Both books stand alone within their series.
If you’d like to keep up with my releases and receive a FREE copy of My Scottish Lass, the prequel for Middlemarch Shifters, check out my newsletter or follow me on Bookbub.
Shelley
Excerpt – My Estranged Lover
Middlemarch Shifters, book 5
Note: This is another New Zealand-set romance and it stands alone within the series.
Caroline Rutherford reclined in her double bed and stared at the pages of her romance novel, despite the lateness of the hour. Instead of following the raven-haired Scottish lass as she led her hunky Highlander on an adventurous dance, her mind kept sliding to her own life.
Where was Marsh?
Out again.
With another woman if her mother-in-law’s barbed hints held truth.
She hadn’t summoned the courage to ask Marsh.
Yet.
Sighing, she shut the book and set it aside. Caroline rearranged her pillows and flicked off the light, plunging the bedroom into darkness.
With sight obscured, her other senses worked harder. The tick of the alarm clock sprang into focus, beating off the seconds, the minutes, the hours her husband stayed away from the house. The nights he slept in the spare bed. She sucked in a breath and caught a whiff of laundry powder, a trace of cinnamon from the candle she’d burned earlier, the spicy hint of her green tea perfume.
With a trace of embarrassment at her weakness, she reached beneath the pillow on the other side of the bed and pulled out a T-shirt—one of Marsh’s. She’d behaved like a stalker to get this, stealing her husband’s favorite T-shirt from the laundry hamper. Her throat tightened even as his comforting scent wrapped around her senses.
Tears stung her eyes as the truth loomed in her mind.
It was time.
Their marriage couldn’t continue in this fashion, not if she wanted to retain her sanity.
A vehicle pulled up outside the house—one of the farmhouses reserved for workers. At least she’d won that argument and insisted they have their own home instead of moving into the large Rutherford homestead. Caroline’s stomach rolled, the knots twisting, turning, tightening until she wanted to scream in frustration.
But she remained silent.
She froze, tension in every muscle, in every slow, even breath.
The back door squealed open, squealed shut.
Her hands curled to fists.
The old wooden floorboards creaked under the weight of footsteps.
Her fingernails dug into her palms.
Another door squeaked, softer with less of a protest.
The grip around her heart softened, emotion spilling a tear free.
Marsh was checking on Ricky. No matter how wide the gap yawned between them, she knew he loved their two boys, which made this situation even more difficult.
The door squeaked again. Footsteps neared their bedroom, stilled outside the ajar door.
Caroline’s breath caught, held. Sharp teeth bit into her bottom lip.
The pause lengthened.
Her heart hammered.
Then the measured footsteps resumed, the creaks retreating as Marsh walked to the bedroom at the far end of the passage.
Maybe he was checking on James. Maybe he’d return.
Marsh didn’t make a return trip, choosing to sleep in the spare bed in James’s room instead of sleeping with her. A long-standing habit.
Tears slid down her cheeks, one after the other.
She couldn’t go on this way.
She’d talk to Marsh.
Tomorrow.
* * * * *
The early morning light struck his face, and Marsh groaned. Every muscle ached and his cheek—grazed by an exuberant tackle during the madcap rugby game the previous night and still tender—stuck to his pillow. Despite his feline genes and ability to heal fast, he felt like a flat tire. He peeled the cotton from his face and rolled over to see his oldest son staring at him from the twin single bed.
“Hey, sport,” Marsh whispered. “You’re awake early.”
James crinkled his nose, his action reminding Marsh of Caroline. “You were making noises.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Like this.” James wrinkled his button nose again and let out several loud snorts.
“I made those noises?” Snoring. He shouldn’t have stayed for two beers after the run with his friends. He’d known it, but he’d enjoyed being himself, embracing his feline form without worrying Caroline might discover his secret.
Marsh slid from the bed and stood, stretching with caution as he tested his limbs. Not too bad. He turned to his son and smiled. “Go back to sleep, huh?” Marsh stooped to tuck the covers around his son’s slight form. Although James took after him in appearance, Marsh saw so much of Caroline in his five-year-old son. Another topic of conflict with his parents.
Marsh drew back with a sigh and left the bedroom, pulling the door closed before heading to the kitchen. Coffee. Caffeine to clear his head and give him divine inspiration. He needed it.
His marriage was dying.
Oh, he could blame his parents for the way they belittled Caroline behind her back. He could blame them for giving him advice that had placed his marriage in danger. He could blame them for rejecting the human he’d introduced to the Rutherford family.
Marsh swiped a hand through his hair and admitted the truth. The mess his marriage had become was all on him. He’d been the one who had listened to his horrified parents in the early days of his marriage. He’d been the one who agreed to conceal their feline shapeshifter heritage. He’d been the one who kept feline secrets and business from his wife.
Damn it. He’d kept himself from marking Caroline and making her his mate and wife in truth.
Marsh made the coffee, doing the mundane actions by rote. A noise from behind had him whirling to face the doorway. Caroline stood there, looking as exhausted as he felt.
Strawberry-blonde hair lay in waves, long enough to reach her shoulders. Tall and always big-boned, two pregnancies had added to her curves and size. She was beautiful, and still did it for him, even though his mother derided Caroline for her lack of willpower with food. Her light blue eyes appeared wary and he forced a smile, forced himself not to drag her into his arms. Sex obscured the problem, made it worse.
“Coffee?”
“Please,” she said, her gaze scurrying over his bare chest, flitting to his boxer-briefs then darting to his face and settling on his grazed cheek.
Marsh willed his body not to react to her presence. Thought of cold showers and decided to flee and regroup. “Coffee won’t be long. I’ll grab clothes.” He strode from the kitchen and turned toward their bedroom—Caroline’s bedroom now. Somehow, they’d fallen into the routine of him sleeping elsewhere. Either on the couch or the spare bed in James’s bedroom.
Hell, this couldn’t continue.
He needed to grow a pair and fix this.
Marsh grabbed a pair of worn jeans from the wardrobe and pulled on a black T-shirt before returning to the kitchen. Caroline sat at the scarred kitchen table, a mug of coffee cupped in her hands. James’s green lunch box sat on the counter. Several colorful pots filled with herbs jostled for space on the window ledge.
Everything in the kitchen screamed old and well-worn. No dishwasher. No slick cabinets. No gadgets. Yet despite this, Caroline had made the kitchen, the entire house scream welcome. It was the haven and home he’d never had while growing up. His parents’ house, ten minutes down the road, seemed stiff and formal in comparison.
No, Caroline didn’t deserve this crap.
It was up to him to fix this wreck of a marriage because Caroline had tried. She’d tried so hard.
Will Marsh manage to repair the damage in his relationship? Learn more here.
Excerpt – Kendall’s Mates
Churchill Polar Bears, book 2
Note: This romance stands alone within the series.
“Folks, we’ll have you on the ground in Churchill in five minutes. Please keep your seatbelts fastened until the captain switches off the overhead signs. Make sure your seats are upright and your tray tables secure. Thank you for flying Eagle Express Air and have a great day.”
Kendall Essex closed her book—an autobiography of her favorite chef—pushed the button to maneuver her seat to the correct position and yawned. Her brain told her she’d spent days on the plane since leaving Heathrow. Fatigue clung to her mind, griminess to her skin. And for not the first time, she wondered if fleeing England was a mistake.
Her thoughts flashed back to the last scene with her brother, her mother, her grandmother and her hands curled into tight balls. The one acceptable alternative for her—to leave.
Running away…
The plane thumped against the runway. Once. Twice. Three times. Somewhere behind her, a woman shrieked. Other passengers murmured uneasily. The man seated to her left muttered a curse as the jet wavered in a gust of wind. The aircraft smacked off the tarmac one more time before landing again and remaining on the ground. Gradually, the velocity of the plane slowed, and the pilot taxied closer to the terminal. Once the plane came to a halt, men and women leaped out of their seats and collected their carry-on from the overhead lockers.
Kendall stood, ready to stretch her legs after the one-hour forty-five-minute flight from Winnipeg. Fiona McDonald had promised to meet her at the airport, and despite the mess her life had become, Kendall was looking forward to meeting the woman she’d encountered online during her search for a graphic designer. Fiona had invited her to stay for a few days until she found a job. An easy task, according to Fiona, since the polar bear season kicked off soon.
The woman standing in front of Kendall in the aisle dragged out the suitcase she’d crammed in the overhead locker. The heavy bag hurtled down and hit Kendall’s shoulder before a tall dark-haired man caught it.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The woman’s pink, puckered lips formed a moue, and she shrugged.
Kendall rubbed her ouchie, irked by the woman’s casual manner. “It’s fine.” She offered a smile to the man who’d grabbed the case before it did more damage.
Black hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. Taller than her by six inches, he wore a tailored charcoal-gray suit. No return smile on his sexy mouth. Okay.
“Thank you,” Kendall said.
“No problem.” Brusque, he added nothing further.
Kendall stared at him for a fraction longer but he remained dour. Maybe he had a wife or a girlfriend. She offered a second more stilted smile and a curt nod and reached up for her own leather satchel and heavy jacket.
“Let me get that,” he offered.
He might not smile much, but he was a gentleman. Kendall didn’t meet many in the course of her work. No, it was everyone for themselves in the food industry.
“It’s fine. Thank you, but I can get my bag.”
The line of people in the aisle started deplaning, and Kendall seized her satchel and shoved her book away.
“Good book?” a deep voice asked.
Kendall cocked her head. Two men, both blue-eyed blonds stood behind Tall, Dark and Somber. They wore jeans, button-down shirts—pale blue and gray, respectively. She gawked from one to the ot
her, taking in their similarities.
“We’re twins,” the second man added, his lips curving into a charming smile. “Although I have a sexy scar on my chin, so you can tell us apart.”
The dark-haired man snorted.
“You didn’t answer my question,” the man interested in her book said.
Kendall stared, meeting his twinkly blue gaze. The silence lengthened, and she felt as if she were drowning in heat. She shook herself from her daze. “Um…a bio for Nigella Lawson.”
“Hmm, a pity. I was hoping it was a romance.”
She blinked. Of all the things she’d guessed he might say, this wasn’t one of them.
He lifted his e-reader, his easy grin still in place. “I’m reading a romance.” He leaned closer to whisper. “A hot, spicy one. My favorite kind.”
Was he taking the Mickey?
“Ran reads romances,” the second twin—the one with the scar—informed her. “He’s not giving you a line. He used to read to Marie.” His broad smile dimmed a fraction as if the memory held pain. “Ran reads to relax.”
Unsure of how to answer, Kendall stepped forward when the line moved. Her back prickled, and she had to work hard to keep herself from glancing over her shoulder at the brothers. She shuffled down the aisle, smiled at the cabin staff and navigated the metal stairs to reach the tarmac. Wind buffeted her, tugged at the strands of her hair until blonde locks obscured her vision. With her free hand, she swiped away the errant curls and trudged toward the terminal.
“Smell that air,” a masculine voice said from behind her.
“It’s great to be home,” another man replied.
The twins. Kendall recognized their husky tones from their earlier discussion.
“I’ve rented a vehicle. We’ll drive to the property before anyone knows we’ve arrived,” a third voice said.
The gentleman. Kendall slowed her steps a fraction, acting on an instinct that had her sliding into nosiness.
“Aw, can’t we—”
“No, Sax is right. We can visit once we sort out Marie’s place. We discussed this earlier. Something isn’t right, and we need to help Sax fix it.”
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