Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
For some, going into foster care was a nightmare. For Gwen, it had been a blessing. “The shifter council won’t care how respectable those families are. Ezra can’t buy Brandt’s way out of this.” But she was sure he’d give it a shot.
Gwen looked to her left at the rumbling of a car engine. Moments later, an SUV parked in front of the B&B. This had to be Zander Devlin. He’d booked two rooms earlier that week, and she could still remember his voice; it was deep and throaty and sent a ghostly finger of need trailing down her spine.
Gwen lowered her legs. “Although nothing quite brightens my day like your presence, Sheriff, I have stuff to do, so . . .”
Tipping his hat slightly, he cursed. “Gwen, the Moores aren’t going to let this go.”
She gave him a hard look. “I hope you’re not about to advise me to give them what they want, because I’d feel compelled to mention that to the council in the interest of full disclosure.”
His eyes flared. “At least call me if Brandt comes back. I’d rather not have to arrest either you or Donnie for shooting him. Too much paperwork.” At that, he turned and jogged down the steps to his car.
As Colt drove away, a male slid out of the passenger seat of the SUV. He was tall, dark, and incredibly masculine. Certainly pretty to look at. And a very nice distraction from Colt’s bullshit.
Always the opportunist, Gwen took a moment to admire the stranger as he prowled to the trunk, grabbed two duffels, and then moved to the driver’s side of the vehicle. That was when a second male slid out; he took a duffel from his friend as he scanned his surroundings.
Hard winter-gray eyes landed on her. No, they locked on her. She swallowed. The other male was hot, but this guy was a whole other level of hot. Like scorching, blistering hot.
He had a lean, toned build that screamed raw power and did plenty of interesting things to her insides. And, damn, that face . . . He had a perfectly sculpted mouth that she would bet curved into a wicked smile. The edge of stubble on his square jaw was a few shades darker than his short, choppy hair the color of a wheat field. A neat scar sliced through the lower part of his eyebrow, and it somehow suited him.
She didn’t usually go for blonds. She’d always preferred males who were more like his friend—dark, broody, and clean shaven. But the blond definitely had her attention right then. His attention, on the other hand, quickly slid away from her. Not that that was a surprise or anything. She wasn’t the kind of girl who would catch the eye of a guy like him.
Oozing dominance and a quiet, supreme confidence, he fluidly stalked toward the house with his friend close behind. Every step they took was predatory and self-assured. Shifters, she sensed.
Her heart began to beat a little faster. She’d always been intrigued by them and the dynamics of packs, prides, flocks, et cetera. She loved their animal grace, the way they seemed to glide rather than walk. And, hello, shifting into an animal had to be cool, right?
The trailer park where she’d lived as a kid had been close to a wolf-pack territory. So many times she’d heard them howling, caught glimpses of them running, and found herself wishing she was one of them—wishing she was surrounded by people who would care for and protect her.
Gwen was also fascinated by the whole true-mate thing. To have someone made specifically for you—someone who would never betray you, never hurt you, and would always cherish you—would be something special. She envied them that.
As they climbed the steps and reached the wraparound porch, she stood with a polite smile. “I’m guessing one of you is Mr. Devlin.” Yeah, she played it cool. The blond might be all her fantasies rolled into one package, but he really didn’t need to know that. Honestly, she wasn’t brought to her knees by looks anyway. She’d grown up around perfection, so she was pretty much used to it. Her foster mother and foster siblings all had that “it” factor. Gwen didn’t.
“That would be me,” the blond rumbled, eyes once again locked on her.
A lesser female might have found that direct, penetrating stare unnerving. Okay, it did unnerve her just a little. Nonetheless, she walked toward the shifters, unable to help admiring the way Zander held himself. He stood tall and still, his solid shoulders back, his head held high and ever so slightly tilted in a gesture that seemed both cool and self-assured.
“I’m Gwen. I work here,” she said, using that distantly polite voice she reserved for guests.
The dark wolf tipped his chin, eyes smiling. “Bracken.”