One cold, wet, miserable day, tragedy turns Zoe’s world upside down. Chase never expected her to simply fall into his arms, but a man can dream. Except his dream doesn’t include the fact that this time, she’s the one hitting the road…and he’s the one left behind.
Warning: This story contains heartbreak, heartache and one last chance for two lovers to find each other.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Forever Kind of Love:
Staring at the bag of books, Chase tried to tell himself to just leave it on the porch and get back in his car.
Instead of doing that, which was probably the smarter thing, he knocked on the door. Hell, he knew Roger needed a distraction and he’d just gotten some new political thrillers in that were just up the guy’s alley—and two of them were audio books.
Zoe’s favorite urban fantasy author had a new book out.
Books were a nice distraction at any time, right?
It wasn’t like he didn’t have a good reason for swinging by.
Ever since he’d found out about Roger’s diagnosis, the petty anger he’d harbored against his friend… Well, Chase had realized just how fucking petty it was, and he’d shoved it straight where it needed to go, out of his heart, out of his mind.
They might never have the friendship they’d had in high school, but they were friends and right now, both Zoe and Roger needed all the friends they could get.
And Chase needed to be there for both of them as much as he could.
Besides, his dad was worrying about him too. Ever since Roger had turned in his resignation, the old man had come by as often as he could, but it was now re-election time and instead of visiting every couple of days, he could only get by once a week or so and Chase had promised he’d come by today.
All valid reasons.
Nobody needed to know it was a perfectly legit cover for him to be able to look at Zoe and soothe the ragged pain inside his heart, one that gotten worse ever since the time he’d laid eyes on her again in the city square a few months back.
He couldn’t help her.
She was going through something he couldn’t even imagine and he couldn’t do shit to help.
Except bring some books for Roger and offer to help out at her store as much as he could, and that didn’t count for much of anything. He couldn’t take this pain from her, he couldn’t fix Roger—as fucking jealous as he was, he’d fix the man in a heartbeat if it was in his power, but he couldn’t.
All he could do was stand by and watch as two people he loved suffered.
The door swung open and the smile and speech he’d rehearsed faded away into nothing as he found himself staring at Zoe’s face.
“Chase, hi.”
Forcing himself to smile, he held out the bag. “Hey. Wanted to bring this by. And I promised my dad I’d come by and check on things.”
She might have barred him from coming in but he edged past her, forcing her to back up unless she wanted him brushing up against her. Which she didn’t—Chase was fully aware of the extreme care she took not to let him touch her. The door closed behind them and he turned to study Zoe’s face.
She looked tired.
Still so fucking beautiful it made his heart ache just to look at her, but tired. Like she could sleep for a week.
Tired and frazzled and frustrated.
He felt like a major prick because he wanted to offer to hold her for the entire week.
Her husband’s dying, man. Remember him? Guy used to be your best friend? Still is your friend?
“How are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She gave him a practiced, completely false smile.
“Bullshit.” He dropped the bag on the table centered under a mirror and folded his arms over his chest, studying her face. “Don’t hand me the line you hand people in your store, people at church, whoever. I know you too well. How are you, really?”
She lifted a golden brow at him. “Chase, you don’t really me that well. Not anymore.”
“Don’t I?” He reached out and tucked her hair behind one ear. “When was the last time you watched Old Yeller?”
She scowled at him.
“Still reading the Valdemar books? How many copies you gone through now?”
She tucked her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “Things like that aren’t exactly knowing me.”
“Hmm. How about this? You’re pissed off. You’ve been riding on nerves and caffeine for a while, but today, you’re pissed off and you just want to hit something.”
Something flashed in her eyes, but she remained silent.
“What set you off?”
“Nothing.” Her voice was low and flat.
“Nothing? You sure about that, princess?”
There it was again…a flash of fire, hot and angry.
“Come on, surely there’s something. Your panties are in a twist over something.” He slanted a look toward the bedroom she shared with Roger. Jealousy twisted his gut, but he kept his voice easy and light as he said, “It’s got to be rough, where you’re at right now. No way to burn off that anger, that stress, that…”
He saw it coming, but he didn’t bother to move.
His head snapped back from the force of her blow and even as the pain bloomed, he grinned at her. She stared at him, shock written all over her face. “Feel better?”
Zoe gaped at him. “You…what…”
Edging past her, he went to the mirror and peered at his mouth. He tasted blood. “Damn, you’ve got a good right hook there, Zoe.”
The man who vows to protect her may be her biggest threat.
Savage Hunger
©2012 Shelli Stevens
Savage, Book 1
Being the daughter of a world-renowned scientist, Sienna Peters has struggled to carve out her own career in the field. But her world is sent spinning when she discovers a secret species being held in the lab where she works, and the horrible things being done to them. Compelled to do more than hand off an information-packed jump drive to her father, she sets out to free the creatures.
The minute his team enters the compound, federal agent Warrick Donovan knows their mission will have more trouble than they bargained on. Unfortunately, trouble comes in the form of Sienna Peters, the younger sister of his close friend. Now not only does he need to save her pretty ass, he needs to discover just how involved she is with the imprisonment of the shifters.
Sienna knows she should trust no one—not even the man she might still love. But as the danger escalates and past passion ignites, her heart has other ideas. Even when the shroud of mystery is ripped off more than one stunning truth…
Warning: Must love alpha males, be intrigued by federal agents who may or may not shift into wolves, and most importantly be prepared for intense action of the dangerous and sexual kind.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Savage Hunger:
“How much trouble are you in?” she asked quietly.
His jaw flexed, before he gave a short shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll face it when the time comes.”
No. Oh, God, no. He was in trouble. None of this would’ve happened if she were a better scientist. Or if she’d gone straight to her father. Or if she hadn’t tried to escape… The last thought sent a wave of guilt and horror through her that sucked away her ability to breathe.
“Stop it,” Warrick muttered fiercely. “I know what you’re thinking, Sienna, and you need to stop.”
“But I promised you I wouldn’t leave the house.” She shook her head, angry tears filling her eyes. A shifter was dead because she was an impulsive, stupid—
Strong hands pulled her across the bed and her mind immediately abandoned its dark path as she found herself dragged up against Warrick’s hard chest. His arms curled around her to keep her cocooned against his warmth and his lips grazed her forehead.
“Dammit, Sienna, I couldn’t watch you die,” the words seemed ripped from him almost as if he hated himself for saying them. “I w
as willing to risk whatever punishment the elders would pass down on me.”
Whatever punishment the elders would pass down? His words tightened her throat and sent stabs of fear through her. Oh, please no. How had she not considered that Warrick could be in far more trouble than just a slap on the wrist?
“You shouldn’t have to,” she whispered. “This is my fault. It’s always my fault. I shouldn’t have run. I should never have—”
Warrick’s lips covered hers, smothering her frantic words. Her eyes widened before slipping shut, and a sigh of dismay parted her lips.
His tongue plunged inside, claiming her mouth and calming her. Fracturing her guilt and fear into a million tiny pieces, sending her instead to a place of molten heat and need.
Sienna slid her hands up his back, clinging to him and kissing him fervently. Her heart jackhammered in her chest and her muscles turned to jelly with each delicious stroke of his tongue against hers. Her head spun with only the thought of them and this kiss. This connection that she never wanted to end.
Warrick’s hands, so large and rough from life, moved to cup her face. She felt his possessive groan rumble from his chest against her breasts. Arousal sifted through her blood, stirring all the soft and hidden parts of her into awareness.
She slid fully onto his lap so that she faced him and could wrap her naked legs around his waist. Her T-shirt bunched up around her middle and the thin fabric of her panties was little shield from his erection that strained against her through his jeans. A throbbing ache blossomed between her legs. Scalding lava seemed to have replaced the blood in her veins, bubbling and spreading a fire through her body as her arousal grew.
Sienna rocked against him and his hips jerked upward, grinding into her so she felt the thick curl of his need. She moaned low in her throat, wanting so much more as her nipples tightened and panties dampened.
Warrick’s kiss gentled and her heart clenched, because she knew he was going to lift his head in a moment. But he didn’t right away. Seemed just as reluctant to break the kiss as she was. His lips trailed to the corner of her mouth, his tongue flicking and his teeth nibbling while his hips ground against hers. He groaned again, before his head lifted and his lips feathered across her forehead. And then, then he was gone.
The coolness of the air brushed against her skin and Sienna bit her swollen lip, not wanting to open her eyes and face the reality that he’d just ended another sensual moment. That it would go no farther than a heated, passionate kiss.
“Sienna,” he said gently. “Look at me.”
Part of her wanted to deny him like a stubborn child. Keep her eyes closed and stay locked in a moment that had taken her to an alternate reality.
The strong fingers that lifted her chin took the choice from her and her lashes fluttered open unwillingly. His eyes, more gray now than blue, swirled with need and yet a control that clearly spoke he had no intention of acting on his desire.
“If you say that shouldn’t have happened again, I swear I’ll drive my elbow in to your ribs,” she threatened unsteadily.
His lips twitched into what was almost a sad smile. “I’m not going to say that shouldn’t have happened, Sienna. I wanted to kiss you. Had to kiss you and feel you alive and clinging to me. Dammit, when I thought I almost lost you—”
“You can have me, Warrick,” she cut in, her voice husky with desire. She reached for him again, sliding a hand up his jaw and feeling the prickle of stubble there scrape her palm. “All of me. I want you so much right now it’s a physical ache. How can you not see that? Feel that?”
Something close to pain flickered across Warrick’s face as he caught her wrist and pushed it gently away.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he said raggedly. “But I can’t have you, Sienna—”
“Why?” Her stomach clenched. “Is this some self-imposed torturous rule?”
“No, it’s not my rule. It’s shifter law. We can only mate with other shifters. If we take a human mate we’re banished from the community.”
Attempted Murder. Passion. Betrayal. It’s a dog-eat-dog world.
Natural Evil
© 2012 Thea Harrison
Claudia Hunter is on a road trip through the Nevada desert when she sees the body of a dog on the side of the highway. Pulling over to investigate, she quickly determines that the enormous animal is clinging to life. While working to save him with the help of the local vet, Claudia realizes there’s something about the creature that seems more. Other. Wyr. Which makes this case of animal cruelty attempted murder.
Too injured to shape shift, Luis Alvaraz is reluctant to tell Claudia what he knows about his attack, afraid it will only make her a target. But the sheriff is corrupt, and his attackers know Luis is alive and vulnerable. To make matters worse, a sandstorm is sweeping into town, and if they're going to survive the night, Luis will have to place all his trust in Claudia.
Warning: Take a gorgeous man temporarily stuck in the dog house, add a strong, take-no-prisoners woman, mix in encroaching enemies and a raging sandstorm and stir to combine. Enjoy with a freshly opened can of whoop-ass.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Natural Evil:
Claudia couldn’t tell that the sizable lump on the highway shoulder was a body. Not at first.
She was traveling 110 mph on I-80W through a solitary stretch of Nevada. Sage, silvery tan, gold and light brown, splashed across the expanse of desert ringed by snow-covered dark mountains. The pale sky mirrored the land with great swathes of silver-lined gray clouds. The windswept silence was immense as ferocious heat boiled off the pavement and radiated from the afternoon’s piercing yellow-white sun. She had heard it said that the desert spaces of the world were where the Djinn came to dance.
Afterwards, she never could say why she’d stopped to investigate. She’d simply obeyed an impulse, slammed on the brakes and reversed. No other vehicles were visible on either side of the highway, and she was the only thing alive. Or so she’d thought.
Her 1984 BMW came even with the lump. Her heart sank as she stared at it. It was some sort of canine, an unusually large one. Not that she was any judge of breed, but it had to be a domestic animal. It certainly wasn’t a wolf or a coyote. The body was muscular, with a large, powerful chest and a long, heavy bone structure that was still graceful, and a wide, well-proportioned head. The dog had taken some horrific damage. Its neck was thick and swollen, and its dark brown and black coat scored with large raw patches.
She wondered what it was doing in the middle of the desert, if it had been hit or if it had been traveling unsecured in the back of a truck and fallen out. Possibly both. She hoped it had died fast.
One of its huge front paws twitched.
She slammed the BMW into park and grabbed her water bottle before her brain caught up with her actions. As she lunged out of the car, she shed the insulation she had worked so hard to acquire, shifting through an invisible barrier to fully enter into and connect with her surroundings.
She fell to her knees beside the dog. Hell, forget unusually large—it was freakishly massive. She might not know much about dogs, but she knew few breeds reached that size. Bigger than a German shepherd, too heavy for a Great Dane, it had to be some kind of mastiff. Damn, it was not only alive, but it looked like it might be conscious. It was panting fast and shallow, muzzle open and tongue lolling. Its eyes were closed, the surrounding muscles around the eye sockets tense with suffering.
“Good Christ,” she said. The wind roared through miles of solitude and snapped away the words.
She eased a hand under the dog’s head, lifted it and tried to trickle a small amount of water into its mouth. It had a set of wicked chompers, white, strong teeth as long as her fingers. Hard to tell if it noticed or reacted to the water. She thought not.
Claudia was a bit taller than the average woman, with a weight that fluctuated between 140 and 145 pounds. The dog was easily half again her size, perhaps 200 or even 220. No normal human woman could hope to l
ift that kind of dead weight into the back seat of her car, but Claudia was not quite a normal human woman.
She had a Power that manifested as telekinetic ability, but it was just a spark, so she had to be touching whatever she chose to use it on. She could manage a bit of telepathy if someone was standing close enough to her, and her spark might be enough for her to travel to an Other land, one of those magic-filled places that had formed when time and space had buckled at the Earth’s formation. Might or might not. She didn’t know. She’d never tried.
As far as Power or magical ability went, her telekinesis wasn’t much, but it did allow her to do a few interesting things. For one thing, she might be able to boost her lifting capacity enough so that she could get the dog into the back seat. Unfortunately, its injuries were so severe, she would probably kill it when she tried to move it.
She thought of her .40 caliber Glock. The gun was stored in the trunk of her car along with her suitcases and camping gear. She never underestimated the impact of a single, well-aimed bullet, for good or ill. One shot, one kill, as the sniper in her unit used to say. In this case, it would be a mercy to put the dog out of his misery. Death had to be better than this slow, solitary expiration in the desert.
Putting him down might be a mercy but everything inside her rebelled at the thought. She set her jaw. If the dog didn’t die, she would get it—she glanced down the dog’s body and discovered that not only was he male, but he hadn’t been neutered—she would get him some help.
Once she made the decision, she moved fast. She dug through the canvas bags of camping supplies in her trunk until she located the ground tarp. Refolding the plastic into a smaller size that the dog could still fit on, she left enough room to grasp the edges. Then she laid the tarp on the ground beside the animal.
The next ten minutes felt like enduring a two-year tour of duty. The dog’s suffering was a gravity well that held her anchored to its wretchedness. The wind blasted the bare skin of her arms and face with tiny stinging grains of the scorching pale sand. The sand had crusted the raw edges of the dog’s wounds, until she moved him and the wounds reopened. They bled brilliant, glistening crimson that trickled through the pale ivory-gold of the crusted sand. Normally the two colors looked lovely together.
Grimm Tidings: Grimm's Circle, Book 6 Page 13