by Zoe Chant
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Joining the Jaguar. A BBW doctor with no time for love + a protective alpha jaguar shifter + a kidnapping = one sizzling hot love story.
Hero Bear. A wounded Marine who lost his bear + a BBW physical therapist with a secret + a small town full of gossips = a hot and healing romance!
In the Billionbear’s Den. A stressed-out BBW in need of a break + a sexy billionaire bear shifter in need of a mate to share his home + the remote woodland house he built himself = one steamy romance!
The Bear With No Name. A BBW park ranger + a sexy bear shifter with amnesia + a town that needs their help = one unforgettable romance!
Bearing Your Soul. A shy BBW who’s been burned by love + a sexy veteran bear shifter + a family code of silence = one sizzling hot romance that defies all odds!
Sheriff Bear. A small-town sheriff + a wrongly accused BBW on the run + deadly enemies and dangerous passions = a sizzling forbidden love!
The Billionaire Wolf Needs a Wife. A shy BBW teacher + a sexy billionaire wolf shifter + a mail-order bride company = a white-hot wedding!
Bodyguard Bear. A BBW witness to a murder + the sexy bear shifter bodyguard sworn to protect her with his life + firefights and fiery passion = one hot thrill ride!
Hollywood Bear. A BBW stuntwoman + a movie director bear shifter + Hollywood hijinks = one blockbuster romance!
And many more!
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Handcuffed to the Bear, by Lauren Esker. A bear-shifter ex-mercenary and a curvy lynx shifter searching for her best friend's killer are handcuffed together and hunted in the wilderness. Can they learn to rely on each other before their pasts, and their pursuers, catch up with them?
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Guarding his Honey
by Zoe Chant
Special Sneak Preview
When she peered through the spy hole, there was just one man standing there, tall and broad-shouldered, one hand raised in a little wave. Helen took a deep breath. Her attackers wouldn't be politely ringing the doorbell if they'd found her. This must be the bodyguard Ryan had told her his friend would send.
She opened the door.
"Hello—whoa, hey." The man interrupted himself in the middle of his greeting, taking a quick step back. He raised his hand placatingly. "I'm Tom. Ryan called. He said you needed someone to get you out of here. I'm not going to hurt you."
He was staring fixedly at her hand. Helen followed his gaze down, and realized that she was still clutching the kitchen knife in a white-knuckled grip. Her fingers hurt. She felt it from far away, like something in a dream; nothing felt quite real anymore.
She unclenched her hand with an effort. The knife clattered to the floor.
"All right. That's a start. I'm going to come in, okay?" Tom said.
He closed the door behind him and turned on the hallway light. He had blue eyes, sandy hair, and a warm, concerned smile that dimpled the corners of his mouth. Even through her terror, Helen found herself faintly astonished at how good-looking he was, like a broad-shouldered knight right out of a fairytale. It made the whole unreal feeling even worse. In real life, bodyguards were supposed to be craggy, harsh men, not… not fairytale knights.
Tom wore a bulletproof vest beneath a suit jacket. One of the straps was buckled wrong, Helen noticed absently, as if it had been put on in a great hurry. There was probably something wrong with the way she kept focusing on silly little details like that, she thought. She couldn't seem to snap herself out of it.
"Hey, you're shaking," Tom said, in a low, concerned voice. He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. It was warm from his body. Helen huddled gratefully into the heavy fabric, pulling it tightly around her body.
"You're safe now. Everything's okay," Tom said. He put one arm around her shoulders, lightly, carefully; Helen let out a sob and threw herself into the offered embrace, clinging to him with both hands. She buried her face against Tom's broad chest. The rough fabric of his bulletproof vest scratched at her cheek. She didn't care.
"Hey, hey," Tom said gently. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back with one large, warm hand.
Helen sniffled, and finally managed to pull herself together. "Sorry," she whispered.
"It's all right. Here, sit down on the couch for a second, I'm gonna go find the first aid kit. You're bleeding."
Tom tucked a heavy blanket around her shoulders. Helen pulled it all the way up to her nose, shivering. Embarrassment was starting to cut through everything else, though. She was such a mess.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me," she said when Tom returned, carrying a first aid kit.
"There's nothing wrong with you at all. People tried to kill you. You're having a completely normal reaction," Tom said. "I've seen hardened soldier
s take it worse than that. You managed to keep it together long enough to get to safety, that's all that matters."
He crouched down in front of her. "I'm going to have a look at those cuts, okay? I think it's just a whole bunch of scratches, but I don't want to miss anything more serious."
"Okay," Helen said shakily. Tom knelt down in front of her and started cleaning her cuts and scratches with a disinfectant wipe. She'd expected it to hurt, but Tom was so gentle and careful, she hardly felt more than a faint sting.
Helen leaned her head back against the couch and tried to blink away the tears clouding her vision. "Don't tell Mr. Glenn what a mess I was, okay? God, I can't believe I have to ask a billionaire for help, this is horrible."
"Why?" Tom asked, in a very neutral tone.
He was cleaning out the deepest of the scratches on her shin now, and Helen was distracted enough by the sting that she didn't really think about her answer when she said "I hate rich guys. They're all terrible people."
She winced right after the words came out of her mouth, belatedly realizing that she was badmouthing Tom's employer. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I mean, I'm sure some of them are very nice. Ryan seems nice, and he's a billionaire! I thought Isabella was crazy when she started dating him, though. I’m an accountant, we get a lot of really rich guys at the office, and most of them are horrible. Having that much money must be terrible for your character. I'd never date a billionaire! But I'm sure they're not all terrible. I mean. Um."
She decided to stop talking before she dug herself any deeper into the hole. Tom wasn't looking at her, and his hands were still very gentle on her scraped-up leg, but his shoulders had stiffened.
"So you're Mr. Glenn's bodyguard, or his driver or something?" Helen asked, trying to change the subject in the hope that Tom would forget about her terrible case of foot-in-mouth syndrome.
"I… guess you could say that. Sort of," Tom said, slowly enough that Helen winced again, sure now that she really had managed to offend him. But then Tom looked up and gave her a smile. "All right, I've patched up the worst of the scrapes down here. Okay if I take a look at the rest of you?"
"Um, sure," Helen said, feeling a blush creep up her face as Tom gently unwrapped her from her cocoon of blankets and jacket. She'd been too out of it earlier to really think about the fact that she was wearing nothing but pajama shorts and a cut-up old t-shirt, but now she was becoming painfully aware of how little of her the fabric really covered. Unlike Tom, she wasn't exactly hiding washboard abs beneath her shirt. But if Tom was put off by the extra pounds on her stomach and thighs, he didn't let it show. His touch was sure and careful, as skilled as a doctor's, but far more gentle.
Finally he nodded decisively and set the supplies aside. "You're good to go. I'll have another look later, but I'll feel better once we're away from here. They might still be out there looking for you."
Helen shuddered.
"Don't be afraid," Tom said, and suddenly his gentle voice turned deathly serious. "If they find us, I can handle it. I won't let anything happen to you."
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