Hot Paranormal Romance in the Garden
Curse of the Marhime [Roma Wolf Tales 1]
A routine visit to the grocery store and a chance encounter with a psychic plunges Pita Sedgwick into a dark world of shape-shifting, magic, and Gypsy lore. Pita finds herself on a plane to Romania, seeking the answers to her mysterious birth and in search of her biological family. Fate intervenes in the form of handsome seatmate, Niko Ionesciu. Pita is sure she’s found love and her history. But as her innocent fact-finding mission spirals into a dangerous game of revenge and deceit with the Gypsy Matriarch, the psychic’s words come back to haunt her. Can she trust the people around her with her terrifying secret or will the search for her family end in the ultimate betrayal?
They came to a clearing. The gray and Pita kept to the heavy undergrowth. Pita got down on all fours and followed the wolf, keeping her head down to shield her face from the backlash of the dense foliage. Branches pulled at her hair and scraped her arms as they neared the edge of a wide clearing. The scent of wet leaves and moss wafted up and dampness seeped into her clothing. She sat back on her legs as quietly as possible and peered through the bushes into the clearing. She gasped but covered her mouth before any sound escaped.
Before her was a caravan of Gypsies. A circle of vehicles surrounded them: old pickup trucks with homemade camper-like additions built into the back beds, station wagons, and even old horse-drawn carts right out of an old Gypsy movie. About thirty people milled about. Some sat by a large fire talking loudly and laughing, while others worked at some project or other and children ran about playing amongst themselves and a couple of mangy dogs.
“The dogs...” Pita didn't finish her thought. She couldn't speak. At that moment time stopped. Her eyes locked with those frightening dark ones of the Matriarch, the woman from the plane. The cold black orbs seemed to focus on her.
“She knows we're here.” Pita whispered.
“Yes...” That single word burned in her head like a hot branding iron. The wolf leaned against Pita as if to comfort her, to let her know it was there beside her. But she felt no comfort just cold fear like icy water running through her veins.
Malevolent eyes bore into hers, dark fathomless hatred reflected within. Then the woman's voice sliced into Pita's head.
“Go back from whence you came. You will not win, Pita Sedgwick…”
Karen Michelle Nutt
The Mac Tíre forbade all moon shifters from changing a human in order to save them from death. Grayson Quinn, the alpha of the pack ignores the ancient rule when Sydney Carlisle, his fiancée is ravaged by one of his own kind.
Sydney believes she is a monster, a werewolf. She flees before Grayson can help her adjust, but Grayson must find her. Sydney’s body is still changing and the were lust will drive her crazy if not sated. He has until the full moon to help her tame the wolf inside and convince her she’s his soul mate. If he fails, he loses her forever.
Sydney still craves Grayson's touch, but can her heart forgive him for making her one of the Mac Tíre?
76 Pages, Spicy
Grayson was near. Intuition told her to run, hide, but she stood paralyzed by a new sensation furrowing down her spine—the beat of desire, strong and unrelenting as she allowed herself to remember when she was human and how Grayson’s strong competent hands caressed her body. How could she hate him and desire him, all in one beat of her heart?
Like a vision, he strode into view, tall, lean and sexy with a bit of male animal lurking beneath the surface. She could sense the wolf in him now. So obvious. How had she ever missed it?
His thick-lashed, silver eyes had not seen her yet, but he must know she was near since he moved with caution. His black hair, overly long and sinfully thick framed his handsome-as-the-devil face. He aroused her like no other man had, but now she knew why. He wasn’t a man, but a werewolf.
Sinking to a crouched position, she hoped to make herself invisible, but her movement pricked his ears and his gaze riveted to hers. God, he looked good in his black slacks and jacket. She remembered what lay beneath—muscles, firm thighs, tight buttocks, all so male. He was what every woman dreamed of touching…and she had. It didn’t matter she was in wolf form. Fire licked through her body as every hormone inside of her came alive. She didn’t know if she wanted to tear him from limb to limb or force him to make love to her in whatever form he chose. Maybe she’d do both. She now stood stiff-legged and tall with her ears erect. Her hackles bristled, warning him.
Grayson’s eyebrows rose and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
He wouldn’t be amused if she tore his heart out. She bared her teeth and growled letting the fury roll over her.
The Witch and the Wolf
Lord Jeremy North's curse is to become a werewolf during every full moon, turning into a bloodthirsty monster that kills with no remorse. When he finds a woman nearly frozen upon his doorstep, his sense of honor compels him to help her, even at the risk he might kill her himself.
Lillian Merriweather hadn't planned to get caught in a blizzard while traveling the English countryside. Nor had she planned on finding refuge in a house full of secrets. But Lillian has secrets of her own. And what she's running from is not far behind...
There were several moments Jeremy North suspected he suffered hallucinations. Most of those times had been when he had first begun to change into the beast during the full moon. And now, as he answered the knocking he had at first imagined to be the pounding in his skull, he wondered if the brandy he had been drinking this evening was perhaps tainted. He could not quite believe his eyes.
A woman stood on his doorstep, covered in a layer of snow, her bright blue eyes silently pleading to him just before her eyelids fluttered closed, and she crumpled at his feet. He managed to set the candle down safely on a table in time to catch her before she cracked her head on the stone beneath her. He lifted her effortlessly into his arms, brought her into the house, slamming the door closed with his foot. He hurried into the library with his unexpected guest. North had returned earlier seeking the warm oblivion of yet another glass of brandy. He grimaced at the memory of countless other sleep-deprived nights spent in much the same way. Sans an unconscious woman, however.
He placed the bundled woman onto the sofa, ignoring the fact that the snow was bound to create a water stain on the fabric once it melted. He leaned over her, pushing the curly brown strands of wet hair off her face and checked to see if she still breathed. Satisfied when he felt her breath on his hand, he went back to the corridor.
“Amery!” He roared.
Turning back to the woman on his sofa, he again felt the necessity to blink his eyes, wondering if they played a trick with his senses. He lit more candles to brighten the room and added more wood to the fire. Then he walked back to the woman and knelt at her side. He found her hand dangling over the edge of the sofa and took it gently in his, the digits frozen stiff. He inhaled a gasp. He cupped both of his hands instinctively around hers, hoping to lend her his warmth.
He heard the shuffle from the hallway and Amery’s muttering, then a noisy yawn.
“Bloody hell! What is this?” Amery bellowed from the doorway.
North ignored the query. “We need blankets,” he said, instead. “She’s frozen through.”
Amery nodded and left.
A muffled groan from behind drew his attention, and he turned to see the woman’s eyelids flutter open. He inhaled sharply as her bright blue gaze fell upon him.
She studied him for a moment.
And then, she smiled.
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