Yours, Mine and Howls: Werewolves in Love, Book 2

by Kinsey W. Holley

  If she wasn’t with Becca, and she wasn’t working out, maybe she’d gone for a ride.

  As he approached the barns, a groom jogged out to meet him, a big, goofy grin on his face.

  “What is it, Felipe?”

  “Ally’s looking for you, Boss. She’s in B.”

  “Oh, good. Is she saddling up?”

  Felipe shrugged. “I dunno. She kicked me out, told me to find you and to tell everyone else to stay away.”

  Cade mustered his best Pack Alpha scowl-and-growl. “You’re about to bust a gut there, son. You got a joke you need to tell me?”

  Properly abashed, Felipe reddened and dropped his gaze. “No, Alpha. Um, sorry.”

  He wouldn’t laugh. “Fine. Go see if Doyle can use you in A-Barn.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cade strolled into B. “Ally?”

  She sighed loudly. “Took you long enough.” She didn’t sound annoyed, though—she sounded relaxed. Happy.

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Well, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Where are you, baby?” But he knew.

  Something floated down from above, landing on his shoulder. Lavender-scented fabric.

  A bra.

  He looked up to see her peeking over the railing of the hayloft.

  “You coming up or not?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Springing up the wooden ladder three steps at a time, he hauled himself into the loft to find her lying naked in the hay like a centerfold. He forced himself to undress slowly, so he could just stare at her a few minutes. It excited him all the more because he knew that stripping down in an open barn in the middle of the afternoon wasn’t an easy thing for her.

  He wondered how long it would take before the sight of her like this no longer summoned a wave of desire that left his head spinning. How long it would be before he could look at her with something less than amazement, before he could think without wonderment of the way she’d slipped into his life, his child’s life, and made herself necessary without even trying.

  No mate bond could account for that on its own.

  She looked a little cross as she stretched and wiggled. “Since when does it take you so long to get naked?”

  “Sorry. Here. I’m done.”

  He covered her body with his, and she wrapped her arms around him.

  “We need to discuss some very serious subjects,” he murmured into her ear, loving the way she shivered beneath him.

  “Can it wait ’til later?” she whispered.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it can wait. We’ve got time.”

  About the Author

  Kinsey Holley lives in Houston, Texas, where a lot of people know about her Secret Romance Writer Identity. Hopefully those people don’t include her mother or the folks she goes to church with. She’s married to the Hub, mommy to the Diva, and works part time as a law librarian.

  She enjoys reading SF, UF, history and romance and is addicted to pop culture and several television series. She dreams of moving to the mountains of Colorado, which she’d never really do because all her friends and family are in Houston and she loves them and besides, she can’t imagine being more than an hour’s drive from a beach. Besides her Werewolves in Love series, she’s working on a Regency and a big, glitzy contemporary that she hopes will evoke comparisons to the sexy melodramas of the 80s (Models! Rock stars! Monaco! Alexis Morrell Carrington Colby Dexter Dexter Rowan! No, not her…)

  Kinsey takes her mail at kinseywholley@live.com, lives at www.kinseyholley.com and ninenaughtynovelists.blogspot.com, and hangs out way too much at Twitter (@kinseyholley).

  Pop round and say hi.

  Look for these titles by Kinsey Holley

  Now Available:

  Kiss and Kin

  Coming Soon:

  Ready to Run

  She follows her dreams into his arms…and danger is not far behind.

  Anchor

  © 2011 Jorrie Spencer

  Mala never outgrew her night terrors. At twenty-eight, her nights are a battleground as she defends helpless wolves from attack by their own kind. The effort costs her—one dream often leads to a week of missed work.

  When her defense of a young wolf is rewarded by the mention of a real town, she finally has the chance to learn if her dreams are just as real. She never expected to meet an honest-to-God alpha werewolf, much less develop an instant, embarrassing crush on him.

  Angus MacIntyre, de facto alpha of Wolf Town, is determined to see every fugitive wolf employed, educated and well-adjusted to life in the open. The arrival of a young wolf on the run isn’t all that unusual, but the human woman hard on his heels is beyond extraordinary.

  The dark-eyed beauty possesses a dream-wraith ability that challenges everything he thinks he knows about his world—and stirs his mine instinct in a way he’s never felt before. Yet her gift makes her vulnerable to those who would try to use it to their advantage. But this is his town. His pack. His woman. And Angus will do whatever it takes to protect what’s his.

  Warning: Wolf towns, bad guys, dreams and non-alpha alpha wolves, as well as an overabundance of family, and, of course, a healthy dose of romance and sex.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Anchor:

  Mala got off the bus, hiked her pack up on her back and walked out of the small station. They had more snow on the ground here than in Toronto, no surprise. She glanced up and down the main road to see it looked like every other small town in northern Ontario she’d just bussed through on the milk run. There were no wolves in sight. She wondered if she gave off an I’m not a werewolf vibe that would alienate everyone she talked to. But from what she’d read, the town had plenty of non-wolf inhabitants. Wolf Town attracted wolves and those with wolves in the family.

  Two blocks down she identified a friendly looking restaurant and walked in. The waitress and all five customers turned to stare at her, and she had the impression one of them sniffed.

  Courage. She pasted on a smile and marched up to the counter to drop her bag at her feet.

  “Hi.”

  The woman nodded, and Mala had the same feeling she’d had on occasion when she realized she was the only dark-skinned person in a room full of whites and the whites all noticed. That wasn’t the case here, but she felt out of place, an outsider. Well, for goodness’ sake, she was an outsider. Focus, Mala.

  “What would you like?” the waitress asked.

  “Um.” Oh yeah, she’d do well to look at the menu posted on the chalkboard. She seized upon the first appealing item listed. “Tuna melt, please, and a coffee. Thanks very much.”

  “Coming up.” The waitress didn’t soften exactly, but Mala had the impression politeness had gone some way to ease the wariness in the restaurant. Which had Mala wondering if people here got tourists who came in saying rude things and asking stupid questions.

  That said, she had her question to ask. But the waitress made it easy. As she delivered Mala’s plate, she said, “Visiting someone in town?”

  Shaking her head, Mala watched the waitress’s mouth tighten. She was about to withdraw from Mala, and she didn’t want to miss the opportunity. Go for it. Take the plunge. “But I am looking for a Caleb. A teenage boy.”

  She could feel her face burn. She knew what her blush looked like, a deep, unattractive red. It made her look awkward. In her embarrassment, it took Mala a moment to realize that although the waitress’s eyes had narrowed, she hadn’t answered, hadn’t said something to the effect that she didn’t know any such Caleb.

  Good God, could the boy in her dreams somehow be real?

  The waitress glanced sideways, meeting the gaze of a tall, dark woman who had risen from her table.

  Grim-faced, the woman swept past Mala and out the glass door. Mala glanced from the door back to the waitress, unsure what was going on.

  “Want some dessert with that?” the woman asked, her tone frosty. Her pale eyes held a flat expression.

  “Um, no thanks
.” Mala was having trouble interpreting what had just happened. It wasn’t that awful a question, surely? But the atmosphere had turned creepy, with the waitress looking at her like she was something to wipe off the bottom of her shoe and the customers who remained burning holes in her back. Or so she imagined. Mala’s imagination liked to go into overdrive. The source of all her problems, her father used to tell her with some regularity.

  She went with a perky, vacant tone. “I’ll pay up now.” She handed over her credit card.

  “Why thank you,” said the waitress with an excess of sarcasm, and took the card, leaving for the kitchen instead of going to the cash register.

  Mala snuck a glance at the customers who all suddenly found something to talk about. She really wanted to leave, right away. There’d been stories, of course, stories she’d disregarded, where people claimed Wolf Town was a dangerous place to visit with out-of-control wolves ready to attack at any moment.

  She hadn’t been able to believe the government would sanction such a place. Maybe she’d been naïve. She leaned forward on the counter and called out, “Excuse me?”

  Though she could see the waitress’s back, the older woman didn’t respond or turn around. In fact, she picked up her cell and began talking. Mala felt trapped and she didn’t think it was an accident. Perhaps she should take her losses and leave without her credit card. Except money was a bit of an issue for her.

  The door slammed open then, and she spun on her seat to face a large, broad-shouldered man who strode towards her with purpose. She wanted to pull her own fear together, shape it into a weapon and strike him down—except this wasn’t a dream. So she rose to standing and braced herself, though for what, she couldn’t imagine.

  He pulled up short and leaned down to inhale deeply. He held that breath and while he did, his eyes, a vivid blue, changed from angry to…bemused. He blinked once before he exhaled.

  “Can I help you?” she asked as coolly as possible. She didn’t like gazing up at him as he stood above her, too close, and she was not used to strange men sniffing her. She didn’t care if that was the norm in this town—along with stealing credit cards.

  “I hope so.” His mouth curved up on one side, an attractive warm expression at total odds with the determined, flat look he’d worn as he’d first entered the restaurant, and she found herself overwhelmed by his mere presence. “But first, let me welcome you to Wolf Town.”

  She stood at such attention that Angus almost expected a salute. He’d come in here a tad angry, yes. Jancis announcing that someone was after Caleb hadn’t put Angus in the most welcoming frame of mind. But this young woman was a) not a werewolf, b) frightened and c) smelled good.

  Okay, she did smell good to him in an appealing she-attracts-me way. Not that it mattered since she was human. But he meant to focus on the fact his nose told him she was on the side of good. His most famed characteristic in the world of shifters was his nose, which managed to suss out when someone was essentially a decent person. Or not.

  This dark-eyed young lady with hacked-off hair—was it the style these days?—did not deliberately do people harm.

  So perhaps she’d been coerced or manipulated into this. Or perhaps she was being followed unawares. Maybe Caleb knew her. Angus didn’t believe in coincidence.

  He realized he’d been circling her and she was trembling, her heart rate not only increasing but accelerating. Obviously his words of welcome couldn’t be taken quite at face value. And his actions were too wolf-like to be comfortable for a normal.

  He backed off to sit on a stool two over from where she’d been seated. Then he cut to the chase. “I’m Angus MacIntyre. I’d like to know why you’re visiting us here in Wolf Town.”

  Her eyes widened. Recognition of his name, he assumed, given that newspaper articles and such tended to mention him as the one in charge. Some even called him a mayor.

  She glanced behind her where, yes, everyone was staring, all five of them. Could be she expected to be attacked. While he disliked some of the assumptions normals made about wolves, he also didn’t intend to bait this woman. He wanted to know about her connection to Caleb.

  He could see what it was like for her. She wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake, if she’d stumbled into some kind of trouble she didn’t know how to get out of.

  She also didn’t know how to lie, because whatever she was trying to say didn’t come out. Finally the stiff set of her shoulders relaxed in a kind of surrender, though she remained standing.

  To the customers and Eden watching, he called out, “I’m trying to have a private conversation here.” They turned away, not that they wouldn’t hear everything anyway, but a semblance of privacy had its uses. To the strange woman, he said, “No one is going to cause you harm in this town. But you’ve shown an interest in one of my people and that interests me.”

  Her mouth dropped open and the surprise, almost shock, was real. “Caleb is here?”

  “Caleb who?”

  “Yes.” She appeared to forget she’d been frightened moments earlier, her intense interest in Caleb surpassing everything else. And it wasn’t malevolent interest, he was sure of it. Maybe she’d been sent by Caleb’s mother? Though Shanna hadn’t tried very hard to reach out to Caleb since they’d decided to separate to survive Caleb’s father. Angus disapproved of her lack of effort, though he didn’t intend to disparage Caleb’s one non-psychotic parent in front of the boy.

  “Yes,” the strange woman repeated. “There are many Calebs in the world.” A line formed between her eyes and she asked the question like so much was riding on it. “He’s not a young boy, is he? A teenager, I mean. He’s not…” her voice dropped to a whisper, as if she could barely believe she was saying the words aloud, “…a skinny black wolf?”

  He stared at her. Because of course Caleb was a skinny black wolf, and wouldn’t she be sure of that if she was searching for him? Why would she be looking for someone she didn’t know? He let the silence build, waiting to see if she’d say more. But when he didn’t answer, she seemed to come to a conclusion and covered her mouth with her fist. Her next words made even less sense.

  “Oh my God, he’s real?” she said, aghast.

  Think a vampire-hunting bloodhound is dangerous? Try threatening his woman.

  Wilder’s Mate

  © 2011 Moira Rogers

  Bloodhounds, Book 1

  Wilder Harding is a bloodhound, created by the Guild to hunt down and kill vampires on America’s frontier. His enhanced abilities come with a high price: on the full moon, he becomes capable of savagery beyond telling, while the new moon brings a sexual hunger that borders on madness.

  Rescuing a weapons inventor from undead kidnappers is just another assignment, though one with an added complication—keeping his hands off the man’s pretty young apprentice, who insists on tagging along.

  At odds with polite society, Satira’s only constant has been the aging weapons inventor who treats her like a daughter. She isn’t going to trust Wilder with Nathaniel’s life, not when the Guild might decide the old man isn’t worth saving. Besides, if there's one thing she's learned, it's that brains are more important than brawn.

  As the search stretches far longer than Wilder planned, he finds himself fighting against time. If Satira is still at his side when the new moon comes, nothing will stop him from claiming her. Worse, she seems all too willing. If their passion unlocks the beast inside, no one will be safe. Not even the man they’re fighting to save.

  Warning: This book contains a crude, gun-slinging, vampire-hunting hero who howls at the full moon and a smart, stubborn heroine who invents mad-scientist weapons. Also included: wild frontier adventures, brothels, danger, betrayal and a good dose of wicked loving in an alternate Wild West.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Wilder’s Mate:

  He’d almost managed to get to sleep when a timid knock sounded on the door that led to Satira’s adjoining room. “Wilder?”

  He fought the urge to sl
am a pillow over his face. “Yeah?”

  She must have taken his reply as permission to enter, because the door inched open and she slipped through, a slight shadow wrapped in a blanket. The floorboards creaked as she took a step closer to the bed. “Do you mind…?”

  She looked like she thought he’d growl at her until she ran screaming from the room. “Come on in.”

  “I can’t sleep.” Her voice held more than a little shame at the confession. “If people are expecting you to bed me, it can’t hurt our disguise if we sleep in the same room, can it?”

  Now he wanted to slam a pillow over his lap. “Can’t hurt our disguise.” It could only hurt him if he had to control himself around her. She grasped her blanket tight around her shoulders, but the gauzy fabric brushing the floor as she walked was sheer, flesh-colored silk.

  She stopped next to the bed. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. I’ll understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “I think so.” She stared at the floor. “Men have needs, but you’re not interested in complicating our already difficult situation by giving in to them.”

  If he was a snake… “Did you come over here for sex, or because you’d sleep better if you weren’t alone?”

  “The latter.” She shivered and clutched at the blanket as it began to slip. “I know you could get to my room quickly enough if anything happened, but the way some of those men were watching me…”

  She was scared, and he felt even worse about his lust as he patted the blanket beside him. “Climb up. You don’t have to be alone, and you don’t have to worry about me.”

  “Thank you.” The blanket gaped open as she scrambled onto the bed, revealing that the damn flimsy nightgown Juliet had packed for her was transparent all over. She shivered and pulled the blanket up to her chin.