Mate Claimed

Thirty and single? Well, getcha ass to the Gathering!

As if hitting thirty wasn’t enough, unmated Scarlet Wickham is summoned to this year’s Gathering. As a woman Marked to be the mate of an Alpha pair, she’s not going to find happiness anywhere other than in the arms of two Alpha werewolves. So, off she goes with her sisters in tow. ‘Cause yeah, she’s one of the plump Wickham triplets, and they’re all being carted off to werewolf speed dating.

Keller and Madden, Ruling Alpha pair, can’t believe their luck. They’ve found their mate, and she’s more than they could have ever hoped for. She’s feisty with spirit to spare, and lush curves that they want to trace with their tongues. They can’t wait to solidify their bond and get to know the beautiful woman who is to rule at their side. But first, there’s the minor inconvenience of a challenge to the death…

Read an Excerpt

The damned thing wouldn’t burn. Scarlet had tried. Twice.

The invitation had appeared bright and early, popping onto her counter the moment the clock had struck 8:01 A.M. and she’d officially hit thirty.

Unmated and thirty.


She glared at the pristine page, at the cream linen that boasted the handwritten words requesting her attendance at the coming Gathering.

Request. Right.

She glanced at her scorched sink, frowned and wondered if steel polish would remove the marks. That thought brought her back to the idea of burning the invite and she wondered if the local witch could help her out. Maybe…

The shrill ring of her phone busted in on her illegal wonderings. If she were honest, which she didn’t want to be, she had already broken the law by attempting to burn the stupid paper. Having a Mark meant she had to adhere to the same rules that governed the furballs. So, no circumventing a wolfy summons. Even if she wasn’t a wolf.

With a sigh, she abandoned her spot at the counter and snatched up the phone. Holding the handset between her cheek and shoulder she greeted her caller. “Heya.”

The caller screamed. Scarlet took a peek at the microwave clock. 8:14 A.M.

“So, you got your invite.” She smirked, kind of glad she wouldn’t be the only one forcefully attending the upcoming annual Gathering.

Scarlet was one of three, the first-born of the Wickham fraternal triplets. Each of them as different from the other as the stars in the sky. Thankfully, it’d only be her and Gabriella attending. The third, Whitney, had been born sans the necessary birthmark, so she wouldn’t be receiving the mandatory summons. Lucky bitch.

“They can’t do this!”

Scarlet eased her ear from the handset. “Apparently, they can.”

She wanted to say “duh”, but refrained. They should have been prepared for this, should have had some sort of plan. Like, Operation: What the Fuck to do When Forced to Parade Ourselves in Front of Mate Hunting Wolves When We Hit Thirty. Instead, Scarlet had pushed the eventuality from her mind, conveniently forgetting that particular law. Apparently, Gabby had done the same.

She fingered the unmarred invitation. “I’m pretty sure Mom covered all this during the whole ‘What to Expect When You’re Marked’ lessons.”

“Quit being rational and logical,” her sister snapped. “I’m too busy for this, Scarlet. You need to do something. Go…do what you do.” She imagined Gabby waving her hands around, fingers fluttering, and she smiled. Her sister in a tizzy was something to watch.

Her mongrel cat Burger came sneaking over and twined around her ankles. While listening to her sister rant and rave at the injustice of their summoning, she fed her sweet boy. Scraping out the rest of his organic, homemade cat food, she stood and placed the empty container in the sink. She’d have to make him more food for the pet sitter before she flew out to the Gathering. Mentally, she ticked through the contents of her freezer. He tended to like the shrimp and salmon more than—

“Are you even listening to me?” Gabby’s screech nearly blew her eardrum.

“Not really.” She stared down at Burger. “Do you think I’ll have to get rid of my cat?”

The thought poked at her heart and deflated it. She’d rescued him when she first graduated from college. It’d been her and Burger against the world.

“Scarlet!” She heard her sister panting and gasping with rage.

“What? I mean, Burger’s a cat, they’re wolves. I don’t want them eating him.” Silence met her. “Just sayin’.”

Scarlet understood Gabby’s feelings, sensed her sister near the edge of sanity, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about the situation. She was as freaked-the-fuck-out over the slip of paper as her sister, but she dealt with things with humor. Humor few people appreciated.

They’d both been born with a Mark, a symbol of their inevitable mating to Alpha wolves.

And it’d be Alphas. Plural. Not because they’d meet more than one wolf. No, because they’d be mating more than one wolf. Alphas ruled in pairs, the men sometimes related, generally not. But there were always two.

Women in the Wickham line had been partnering with the furballs for as long as they could remember, though not necessarily every generation. Their mother hadn’t been Marked and had happily settled with a lovely human man. But two out of the three triplets had been born with the three-pointed, spiraling symbol. Looking more like a scar than anything else, the Mark was slightly raised and a hint darker than her natural skin tone.

So she and Gabby would be mating a pair of wolves. Subconsciously, she’d been waiting for the invite. Once a Marked woman hit thirty and was still unmated, the Ruling Alphas summoned the ladies to the annual Gathering to meet Alphas from outside the female’s hometown.

Basically, werewolf speed dating.

Sniff-sniff. Am I your mate? No? Next!

The Alpha pairing could form at any time. Once one wolf recognized a power that matched his own in another wolf, they bonded. From there they either formed a new pack or took over another. She was sure there was more secret furball mumbo jumbo involved, but that was the extent of her non-mated knowledge. Oh, she’d asked, and her mother had said: “You’ll find out when you’re mated, dear.”


The problems with Alpha pairs arose from the fact that both were controlling and dominant as hell. Which is where the Marked came in. The ladies acted as the balance, the one who kept the two calm. Sure, the guys could rule without one; the world was just better if they had a mate at their side. Less bloody, too.

She took a deep breath. She’d have to travel and meet some wolves. If she found her Alphas, group sex would occur, one male in her pussy and the other in her ass, some scar-inducing biting, and voila, mates.


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Mate Seduced

Thirty and single? Getcha ass to the Gathering!

Ugh. Gabriella Wickham thought turning thirty was bad enough, but now she’s been invited (ordered) to attend this year’s Gathering (werewolf speed dating). Having a Mark on her arm means that she’s one of the few human women destined to mate with not one, but two Alpha werewolves. Thank goodness werewolves don’t come in “ugly.” After her sister Scarlet mates the Ruling Alphas, things really start to get interesting. Gabby runs into not one, but two hotter than hot werewolves who make her tingle in all the right places. Yum. Of course, “yum” comes with baggage of both the mental and female kind. Lovely. Luckily it’s nothing a few punches and a good talking to can’t cure. Maybe…-ish.

Berke Davis and Jack Wright know that lush, curvaceous Gabriella is their mate. Who cares that they’re currently not part of an Alpha pair? Details, details. Burke has been half bound to his best friend Jack since they were four, but the past keeps them from solidifying their pairing and taking up the mantle of Alpha. Berke understands his friend’s feelings, but Jack is about to get a lesson on living and loving. Berke just hopes the lessons are learned before they both lose Gabriella. Especially when she is Challenged by a rival to first blood…a Challenge that could end in very permanent, and deadly, consequences…for Gabriella.

Read an Excerpt

Talk about an awesome souvenir. The organizer for the annual werewolf Gathering had purchased the best pens ever. Gabriella found them sitting in a pile on the registration desk, and she’d snared one before the morning’s round of speed sniffing began.


Clickity click.

It had the perfect balance for her to spin it around her fingers.

Flip. Flip. Click. Click.

There was a brief pause and then she reversed the pen’s path.

Clickity click. Flip. Click.

Okay, officially? She was engaging in various Tests of Proximity, not speed sniffing. Her sister Scarlet had called it werewolf speed dating.

So now she had to sit at a table opposite two chairs while Alpha Pairs made their way around the room. Then they’d sit, sniff, and go.

See? It boiled down to werewolf speed dating.

Well, they weren’t only sniffing. There was this whole Mark thing going on, too.

Gabby sighed, hand automatically going to her left bicep. Stupid Mark. She’d been born with the thing. In a swirling triangular shape, the Mark was slightly darker than her overall hue and rose from her skin as if it were a scar. Present since birth, it signified her eventual mating to two—count ’em two—werewolves.

Which left her lounging around enduring the Test of Proximity with pair after pair while the one wolf who’d caught her eye lurked outside the ballroom. A glance toward the doors revealed that the man still skulked, moving like the predatory animal that prowled just beneath his skin.

Too bad she couldn’t mate a single wolf. Nope, individual wolves, those that weren’t Alphas and part of an Alpha Pair, mated other wolves and never humans. Only pairs ended up with a human Marked as their mate.

Except…except her Mark had reacted to the Captain’s presence. It’d heated and throbbed and screamed at her to rush into the wolf’s arms. Supposedly that only happened when a Marked was around the ones meant for her.

Funny how the guy she reacted to wasn’t part of a pair. He seemed dominant enough. But he was the Captain of her newly mated sister’s guards, which meant he was definitively not paired up and ruling a Pack.

Geez, her sister now had guards. Gah. Scarlet had not only mated the previous night—their first night at the Gathering—but she’d snared the North American Ruling Alphas: Keller Aaron and Madden Harris. Which left Scarlet out of the morning’s activities and Gabriella all alone.

Lucky (maybe) bitch.

Low chimes filled the air and then the shift of bodies relocating replaced the gentle sounds. Oh, look, time for the Alpha Pairs to move on to the next “lucky” (she almost snorted) lady.

Gabby sighed as she saw her next two potential mates approach.

They weren’t bad looking, like, at all. It seemed shifters didn’t come in ugly. Nope, they were all tall, muscular and gorgeous. While she, Gabriella Wickham, was short, plump and rather ordinary. Good thing a big part of mating was based on her Mark’s reaction and not the men’s attraction to her.

She sighed and was thankful her sisters couldn’t read her thoughts. They’d spent her entire life bitching at her about her Debbie Downer attitude when it came to men. They kept trying to convince her that men could love her just the way she was, big butt and all.

The two newcomers slid into the seats across from her, all predatory smiles and leers. God, were wolves this hard up that they were looking at her with sex on the brain?


Pasting on a purely fake smile, she held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Gabriella Wickham. My friends call me Gabby.”

Knowing what was coming, she kept her expression frozen in place. The first guy didn’t even bother to introduce himself. Nope, he gently gripped her hand and brought it to his lips. Actually, his nose. The first time it’d happened she’d nearly swooned at the seductive gesture. She’d thought the wolf was going to brush a kiss across her knuckles like some gallant man of old. As if. The guys were really taking a good whiff to see if she belonged to them.

He turned her hand over and slid his nose along her inner-wrist, sending chilly air rushing over her skin. The seductive light in his eyes instantly dimmed.

Yeah, she could have told him she didn’t belong to them. The Mark on her bicep wasn’t doing jack shit. No pulse-y ache, no heat, no throbbing of her pussy that said “Ooh, take me now!” None of it.

But the guy didn’t seem eager to brush her aside. Still silent, he handed her off to his other half, and that man cradled her hand within his, bringing it to his nose to give her the same treatment. The hint of desire in this other man’s gaze immediately lowered to casual appreciation.

He released her slowly, and she pulled her arm back to her side.

Wow. Silent.

“So, you are…” She let her question go unsaid, but still the Alpha Pair remained quiet, their lips pressed together until they formed thin, white lines. Now their bodies vibrated with barely suppressed agitation. So, they wanted to get on their way now that they knew she wasn’t their mate. “Okay then.”

Gabby slumped back into her chair and resumed her pen spinning.

Flip. Flip. Click. Click. Clickety. Click.

The stupid ding hadn’t sounded yet. Damn it. Movement to her right showed a smiling trio rising from their seats, hands clasped and moving away from their table. The two men enfolded the woman in a hug, hands roaming as they embraced her. A glance around the room revealed that all eyes were on the trio, looks of fierce longing on every male’s features.

Gabby huffed out a breath, suddenly reminded of the wolves’ nature. The Alpha Pairs could lead happily without their Marked, but couldn’t rule indefinitely unless they had a woman to offset their violent tendencies.

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Mate Discovered

Thirty and single? Well, getcha ass to the Gathering!

Whitney Wickham is at the darned annual werewolf Gathering all right.  Only there’s one problem: she doesn’t belong there.  Her sisters carry the Mark indicating they’ll mate an Alpha Pair of wolves, while Whitney does not have that lovely, swirling scar.  She’s been hauled half way around the world to be stared at, and not-so-covertly sniffed, for no reason.  Unfortunately the gorgeous, drool worthy, magic-mojo-wielding Wardens don’t know why she’s been summoned to the Gathering any more than she does.  Which sucks. But at least they’re hot.

Emmett Greene and Levy Walters are Wardens—keepers of the law and embodiment of the magic of the werewolves.  They can never mate, never marry, and never form a lasting romantic relationship. It’s a hard and fast law that keeps their powers pure of outside influence.

Rules are going to be broken.

One look at Whitney, one hint of her scent, and they realize their immovable laws might have to jiggle. She’s got luscious curves, a wicked smile, and a mouth that would make a thousand men weep.  No matter the rules, their inner wolves will claim her. The only things standing in their way are the Elder Wardens who will do anything… anything… to keep Emmett and Levy from discovering the truth: the laws are wrong. And being with Whitney Wickham is so very, very right.

Read an Excerpt

Whitney reminded herself that she was not a violent person. She had to recall she was sweetness and light and everything bright. Hell, she helped old ladies cross the road, went to church on Sundays, and donated to charity every Christmas and Easter. She was a good person, damn it.

She definitely wasn’t the type of woman who dreamt of stabbing the Gathering organizer in the eye with a pen. Pens he, of course, ordered for the attendees to use as desired. Then again, maybe she did dream of that since she couldn’t wait to see one protruding from the werewolf’s eye socket. That’s what she desired. She snatched one from the table and gripped the thin piece of plastic. Nothing like being prepared.

The Ruling Wardens, the werewolves who also wielded the magic of the wolves and upheld the laws for all of North America, were avoiding her and she was about done. She’d been at the Gathering since Friday afternoon and it was now late Sunday morning. The men weren’t anywhere in sight. She wasn’t normally this bitchy, but enough was enough. A gal could only enjoy the spa at the werewolf run hotel so much before she was ready to pull her perfectly styled hair out.

“So, tell me again when I’ll get to see the Wardens?” Whitney managed to shove the words past her gritted teeth. It was the wolves’ fault. Ever since she’d arrived at the Gathering, her timid, sweet exterior had transformed into raging “kill people” mode.

The man trembled and she didn’t kid herself it was due to her. Nope, the Ruling Wardens were scary guys. Well, as far as the wolves were concerned. The Ruling Alphas held their position through dominance and brute force, things other wolves understood. Even their beasts recognized the situation with ease. It was instinctual, animalistic, feral. That said, the Ruling Wardens kept their position through magic alone. The two of them had so much power there wasn’t another in the world who’d would ever think of challenging them. For the Ruling Wardens, death could come with a thought.

“W-W-Well, the Ruling Wardens are meeting with the wolves with legitimate concerns and they said—”

“Legitimate…” She took a deep, calming breath and stared at the far wall.

The hallway echoed with people—wolves and humans alike—heading to meetings. Hotel staff darted between bodies on two feet and stumbled past the few who wandered around on four. Apparently, being in wolf form made the whole sniffy speed dating thing easier. Soon they’d be going into the second round of Tests of Proximity of the day. There, Alpha Pairs got to sit around and see if any of the Marked females belong to them. Sniff! Mark tingles! Mate!

Voices bounced off the pale marble tile, and the sun shining through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated luxurious decorations. Hotel Garou was the premier place for wolf-y vacation as well as the location of the annual Gathering. Apparently mate-finding needed to happen in the lap of luxury.

She needed to see the Ruling Wardens. Now. Today. They were responsible for creating the magic that delivered the Gathering summons to her home. Now they needed to get their mojo working on why she’d been ordered to attend. Hopefully before the Gathering wrapped up shop for the year.

The Gathering was meant to be a big ol’ party where those who carried a Mark could mingle with Alpha Pairs and hopefully find their mates. Of course, if a Marked wasn’t mated by age thirty, their attendance was required. The Wickham triplets had hit thirty and here they were. Not showing up resulted in… something. She still wasn’t clear on what would have happened if the Wickham gals had stayed home.

The problem Whitney faced was that while the first two of the Wickham triplets, Scarlet and Gabriella, carried a Mark, she did not. She’d checked. Hell, her sisters had even looked in those hard to reach places. There was no flesh-colored, scar-like symbol on her body indicating she’d someday mate two werewolves and live happily ever after.

There would be no “woo hoo, cue the rice tossing and tie a few cans to the bumper of their car” for Whitney Wickham. She wasn’t bitter. Not much, anyway.

She wanted that happy ending, damn it, but she couldn’t have it until the Wardens figured out where their mojo went wrong. Hell, for all she knew there were wires crossed inside her and that’s why she’d been summoned. That was probably the reason she hadn’t ever been happy with any of her exes. It was like bits and pieces of her were Marked while the rest wasn’t. The “want to” was there but the “screw you, it’ll never happen” was a little too strong. Could that be her problem?

She didn’t know the answer to that question because the freaking Ruling Wardens were dealing with legitimate concerns.

“Look, furball. I’m the Ruling Alpha Mate’s sister and—”

“You aren’t a wolf nor a Marked. The Ruling Wardens are resolving wolf matters.” The organizer growled, his eyes flashing yellow and he curled his lip.

Oh heck no, she wasn’t about to be intimidated. Gripping the pen even tighter, she raised her hand, ready to stab the wolf. She been hauled halfway around the world and had spent the last two days simply waiting for the Wardens to arrive. They’d dragged their asses and now she didn’t have a legitimate concern. She’d show him legitimate.

Whitney growled, ready to poke tiny holes into the man, only to have her fun snatched from her. Literally.

“No stabbing ma peeps, Whit. If I hafta be nice to ’em, so do you.” Her sister Scarlet plucked the pen from her hand and then gave the organizer her attention, popping him on the nose with it as if he were a wayward puppy. “Callum, she pulled the ‘Kickass Sister Card.’ Learn it, live it, love it and call it yours because God and everyone takes it. The KSC isn’t like Diner’s Club, bucko. Think of it as an American Express Centurion card.”

The wolf narrowed his eyes, but what could he say? Two days ago, Scarlet mated the Ruling Alpha Pair of North America. Basically, she was now the Queen Beyotch. And having way too much fun with her new position.

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Mate Hunted

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Published: September 29, 2014
Length: Novella
Alpha Marked #4
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Thirty and single? Well, getcha ass to the Gathering! Wait… what?

Rebecca Twynham hates nature, loves a juicy steak, is not Marked, and thinks wolves come in one form: on four feet and with fur. So when she’s hauled to the annual werewolf Gathering by this scary as hell magical vortex, she’s pretty surprised to find out werewolves are real. With that new knowledge, she finds she still hates nature, she’d love a juicy steak, and maybe—she might be—Marked. Well, she doesn’t see a Mark, but she also has heavy scarring from a childhood accident—or was it intentional? Plus, she really wants to climb the gorgeous Alpha Pair, Aidan and Carson, like a tree. Luckily the two hot werewolves wanna sink their roots into her flower and… The nature analogies have gone too far.

Aidan and Carson have been a strong Alpha Pair for fourteen years. They’re tied together by their bond, and ache to claim a woman as their own. But while Carson has always been the GQ ladies’ man, Aidan has been the afterthought—the heavily scarred and frightening werewolf who’s caused more than one woman to faint.

When they find Rebecca hiding in the Bad Doggie ballroom, they rejoice that they’ve finally found the one for them. Except with curvaceous, delicious Rebecca, their roles are reversed. Instead of rushing into the arms of sleek and sexy Carson, Rebecca clings to Aidan. Carson should rejoice in her acceptance of Aidan, but jealousy rears its ugly head, destroying their triad before it has a moment to form.

Then things go from jealousy-driven bad to worse when the five families decide there won’t be any more Wickhams joining the wolfy family trees.

Oh, right, she forgot that part. Apparently her Wickham cousins are kind of a big deal in werewolf land. Big.

Read an Excerpt

Dirt was the most horrible thing ever created. It smelled and got everywhere and itched when it dried—which meant Rebecca had been wet at some point—and was all around gross. She wanted a shower and a bed. Now. She glanced at the man stomping along the trail beside her, at his wide smile and the way he hadn’t tripped over every tree root known to man.

The bed would be empty. Very empty. The vast emptiness of the empty couldn’t even be put into words it’d be so empty.

The guy grinned at her, his brown hair flopping over his eyes. Had she thought that was adorable?

“Isn’t this awesome?” Tony? Timmy? Joseph! Hah! It didn’t sound anything like those “T” names, but she finally got it right. So, Joseph spoke.

“Oh, awesome.” She plastered a totally fake, painstakingly practiced smile on her lips. It wasn’t a happy one. No, it was the one that said “are you fucking kidding me?” It was kinda toothy and big and her eyes were open wide.

Joseph, the lovely Joseph, who apparently could only read books and not people, seemed to perk up. “I know, right? And around the bend we’ll see…”

He was talking nature again. Which, to be fair, they were surrounded by the wondrous world of Faunsdale Nature Preserve, so it made sense.

Why, oh why, had she agreed a hike through the preserve was a good idea? When she’d said yes, she’d managed to sound excited over the phone. And maybe she had been. A little anyway. After all, it’d been a while since she’d jumped into the dating pool. It was as if she played the hokey pokey with her love life. She’d put her left foot in, get it bitten by a blood-sucking evil snake, then pull it out and shake it the fuck about.

Snakes. She bet there were snakes in the woods. Evil blood-sucking ones who walked on two legs.

Joseph pulled ahead of her—his longer legs meant bigger strides—and she stared at his back. Was he one of those kinds of men?

It didn’t matter one way or the other. After all this back to nature stuff, she was all about not having a second date with him. If this was first-date material, she’d crumble into a fluffy heap of “kill me now” on the next one.

“Coming?” he yelled back to her.

Not likely.

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Yeah, right behind you!”

Like fifteen feet. Okay, thirty.

Then that expanded further and… Was he getting taller?

A large brown and green sign announced they were climbing Fwansis Hill.

All right, she’d reached planet Kill Me Now.

“Joseph?” He did not turn around. “Joseph?” She raised her voice and he turned toward her, massive smile in place.

“What’s up?”

Rebecca waved at the sign. “I thought this trail was a three on the difficulty scale?” She tried to keep the accusation out of her voice. She didn’t want to piss him off, he was her ride home, after all. “This sign says the hill and beyond is six plus.”

“Oh,” he shrugged. “You were doing so awesome. I thought we’d go a little farther. There’s this great clearing on the other side. We can eat our lunch there.”

Now he bounced on his toes like a kid waiting to open Christmas presents. Exhausted as all get out, she moved to follow him.

Doing awesome? Hardly. When he’d told her of his plans, she figured she’d be fine. Hiking was probably harder than walking on a treadmill, but she also did Water Zumba when she wasn’t working on her slowly ambling cardio. The hike should have been cake.

Mmm… cake.

She so deserved cake after this.

Hefting her backpack higher on her shoulder, she trudged after the man. She forced one foot in front of the other, ignoring the dampness of her socks. Stupid rain with its stupid wetness.

Joseph reached the peak before her and disappeared over the other side. No matter, it wasn’t like she’d get lost. The trail was so worn it made her path clear. Plus, some parts were paved and benches were placed sporadically along the route.

For people like her.

She passed one such bench and eyed it longingly. What she wouldn’t give…

“Rebecca?” Joseph’s voice reached her, and she sighed.

“Coming. Gimme—” A million years. “—a minute!”

“I’ll get our lunch set out!”

Or he could come back down the damned hill, pick up her fluffy ass, and carry her to their picnic spot.


Instead of pouring out her frustrated, borderline rage-y heart, she imbued her tone with sugary sweetness. She’d already established he didn’t get the finer nuances of the Rebecca language. “Sounds awesome!”

No other shouts came over the hill and Rebecca sighed. This was definitely the first date and last. If a hike through the forest was this guy’s idea of a good time, it so wasn’t going to work.

Rebecca slogged over the rise, tempted to let her backpack fall from her shoulders and drag on the ground, but she kept it in place. She imagined she already looked a ragged mess, no sense in adding to the disgusting picture she painted.

She spied Joseph off to her right, standing near the tree line, and it was the first time she realized the forest didn’t surround her any longer. No, the dense trees were on her right, but the left was open and cleared, giving her a perfect view of the preserve. Not all of it, but at least they got a good look at the valley below. The area was filled with flowers and a brook cut a path along the edge. It was a gorgeous sight.

Especially the water. Could she rinse off? Or rather, dump her whole hot and sweaty ass in?

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Mate Chased

Thirty and single? Well, getcha ass to the Gathering! Wait… what?

Lorelei is a hint over thirty—nobody better ask how much of a hint—and isn’t sure why the hell she’s been magically hauled to the land of werewolves. But she has. Which sucks. At least they stole her while she was at the gun range. Go Pink Pistol of Doom! So, they stole her, she stole a cell phone in return, and all is crazy in her new werewolf-laced world. It gets even crazier when, 1—she discovers her sisters have been kidnapped, too, and 2—werewolves are sexy as all get out. Lorelei is determined to come to her sisters’ rescue and well, see what Dylan and Zeke have to offer.

Dylan and Zeke can’t believe they’ve found their mate. Even though word was passed around that Wardens can have mates, they never thought they’d find theirs. And yet, here she is. Lorelei—gorgeous, lush, and curved in all the right places—calls to their magic and heats up their wolves. They want to lick her from head to toe… together. And they will, once they get that little gun out of her hands. Hell, maybe she could keep it. She is sexy even when she threatens their lives.

They found her and now they’re gonna mate her… as soon as they take care of the powerful five families threatening to take Lorelei from them. Blood may be involved. Sucks to be those guys.

Read an Excerpt

Anyone who said sleeping behind a potted palm tree was uncomfortable was… right.


Lorelei twisted and wiggled as much as she could, trying to find a comfortable position. Then she squirmed the other way and sighed when her back cracked. There, that made things a little better. She leaned back, resting against the wall, and once again silently thanked the hotel’s interior decorator for giving her the perfect hiding place.

Twenty-four hours into this psychedelic run from hell and she was ready to call it a day already. Except, the more she watched two-legged people turn into four-legged wolves, the more she realized this whole episode might not be a psychotic break. It could, in fact, be a little bit real. A teeny tiny bit and she’d only admit that to people who were not holding white coats that had all of those scary straps and buckles.

But she wasn’t ready to fully accept the fact that werewolves were real.


Holy fuck real.

And hot. But she wasn’t addressing that, or thinking it, or even pondering how every man she’d spied was all hot and sexy from head to toe. Hot bared repeating.

Right. Not addressing because she had other things to think about. Such as how long could she remain undetected? Or, how could she get off the grounds, figure out where the hell she was, and get home?

She’d also really, really love a cup of coffee. Undetected-ly.

Lorelei’s stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten in a while. Nice. Add low blood sugar to her ball of fucked-upped-ness.

She also figured since she was having a little pity party, she’d take a sec to whine about her whining.

Lorelei took a deep breath and fought for calm. She had allowed herself to panic for the first hour—or several—yesterday and it was time to get her poop in a group and focus.

Since she was awake at the butt crack of whatever o’clock, she figured she could figure out what was on the agenda for the day by turning on the cell phone she’d stolen. She’d feel bad about being a thief later. Or never.

She shifted and shimmied until she no longer slouched. She sat cross legged behind the tree, the massive pot keeping her hidden. A quick glance showed no one had stirred, and she was still alone in the hallway. It spanned a good thirty feet wide, the floor covered with large marble tiles. They shined in the dim light, creating an ethereal glow. She knew it’d sparkle as the sun rose, but this shine was calming.

Well, calming-ish.

She was still on the run.

From werewolves.

The good news was the tiles would announce anyone coming. There was no way to not be heard walking over the hard surface.

Lorelei raised her head higher, taking another quick look before she settled in. The gun she’d been holding when she was snatched rested on the floor beside her, the glaring pink contrasting with the beige marble. Her only saving grace was the weird black hole thing that transported here had appeared while she was at the gun range. Of course, she’d also been instructing a class on safety procedures, and she had no idea what they’d seen. She wondered if they’d rallied a search team or if what’d happened was somehow masked.

FYI, Lorelei, you’re not gonna think about the black hole thing or what created it or even how it was created.

She was losing it. She was now talking to herself. Nice.

One second she was pointing out her little .22’s safety and the next she was standing on a roof, wind whipping her hair and the rush of air cutting off any other sounds.


Not long after that she discovered werewolves were real. And they didn’t seem too concerned with a woman emerging from the rooftop stairwell.

They obviously weren’t big on security.

Lorelei felt her panic rising and rushing forward, reminding her she’d been magically dragged to a hotel in God knew where and she was alone with a bright pink gun and a stolen cell phone.

The pink had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now that she had to be circumspect, she realized black would have been a better choice. Or even purple. The eggplant would have blended in better than neon pink.

She was letting her mind wander again. Dammit.

She shook her head and focused on the smartphone. She held down the button at the top and waited for the manufacturer’s logo to appear. It wasn’t long before the device was asking her for a password, and it took even less time to gain access.

The phone’s owner had practically asked for the thing to be stolen when he left it on the windowsill. And then he made the password 1234? Seriously?

He should have just offered it to her on a silver platter.

The cell phone was still on silent, not making a sound as it displayed the home screen. Small numbers appeared by each icon, signaling that the previous owner had several emails and texts.

Lorelei only felt a tiny bit guilty reading them. Tiny bit. Considering the hot guy was probably a werewolf, her guilt took a mini-vacay.

When the numbers quit increasing, she began with texts.

Someone named HBIC kept texting the guy…

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Mate Saved

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Published: February 2, 2015
Length: Short Novel
Alpha Marked #6
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Thirty and single? Well, getcha butt to the Gathering! Wait… what?

Paisley Twynham is over the whole werewolf thing. It’d been a shock to be magically kidnapped and plopped in the middle of a werewolf gathering. Then she got kidnapped a second time, had the crap beat out of her, escaped, and then met two men who are supposed to be her mates. Yup, all kinds of “over” the Gathering. Her only salvations are her sisters and… the two men she can’t help but drool over. Tall, muscular, sexy as hell, and for some reason, they want her fluffy ass. Maybe she doesn’t hate werewolves as much as she thought…

Chance and Hawkins don’t quite have a solid Warden bond. Hawkins is holding back while Chance is slowly reaching the end of his patience after ten years of partnership. The only woman who might save them is Paisley. Seductive, curvaceous, vivacious Paisley Twynham. She’s their Warden Born mate and Chance refuses to let Hawkins’ past stand in the way of their future.

But something else hides in their path that threatens to end their mating before it begins. Or rather, someone.

Read an Excerpt

Paisley was kinda wishing she’d taken self-defense lessons with Lorelei rather than yoga. Downward dog wasn’t gonna save her. Neither was upward dog. There was no bendy doggy pose that would get her battered, bloody, and stinky body free of these cuff-ish things.

Heh. Cuff-ish was right.

Kidnapped by a black hurricane, deposited in a fabu hotel, kidnapped again by some sexy looking wolf, and now she was shoved in the corner of a run down, disease-infested hotel room.

Run down was a given, but the disease-infested was more of a guess. She’d seen more than one cockroach—okay, a dozen—and she coulda swore she saw a pair of rats getting busy on the other side of the room.

The AC kicked on, rumbling and rattling to life before sending more of the putrid aroma of the room toward her. It smelled so bad she was sure more than one person had died in the place. What’d they do, clean with Windex and call it good?

That had her remembering this movie where the old guy sprayed Windex on everything and then…

Paisley almost snorted at the memory, recalling she’d watched the film with her two sisters Rebecca and Lorelei. They’d laughed and laughed and laughed.

Now wasn’t a time for laughing. No, she shouldn’t make a single sound. Which was why she suppressed the desire to chuckle. She’d already learned what happened when she brought attention to herself.

She gently stroked her face, fingers carefully prodding the swelling around her eye. Mouthing off to her kidnappers wasn’t a good idea. She’d been snatched, and the first time she called one of them a fuckhole, she’d been cold cocked and didn’t wake up until they tossed her on the hotel room’s dingy floor.

Gah, she’d need a million antibiotic shots when she finally got away. After three days, she wasn’t optimistic anyone would find her. Hell, were they even looking?

She swallowed her sigh.

The big guy, the main guy, was pacing across the small room, his booted feet pounding against the grime-caked carpet. It was near black but she imagined it’d once been a generic brown. He stomped toward the bathroom, cell phone plastered against his ear, and then spun and came toward her. The glare on his features was unmistakable. As was the gray hair—no, fur—that coated his cheeks.

Wolf fur. The unhinged giggle that threatened nearly burst into the air, but she slammed the lid on the urge just in time.


Kidnap. Nice hotel. Kidnap. Unconscious. And… werewolves.

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