by Zoe Chant
“I am never taking clean sheets for granted again,” Mary purred, as she stretched and opened her eyes.
Neal couldn’t find words to answer her, just taking in the beautiful curves of her body under the silky sheet, and the splay of her hair on the pillow. She smiled up at him, and Neal could read the warmth and affection in her expression.
She felt like home. Like safety and wholeness and happiness. Like forever and happy endings and things that Neal had never guessed he could claim for himself.
He was still staring at her, he realized, as her expression became quizzical.
“I’m glad you could get your plane tickets changed,” he said. It was the truth, if not the whole truth.
“I feel so terrible for the substitute. A whole week of those students, all wound up from spring break.” Mary chuckled. “But not terrible enough to regret it.”
“I should have my visa sorted in time to go back with you,” Neal said, and he was glad of it. He wasn’t sure he could stand watching Mary get on a plane without him.
“What do you want to do this week?” Mary asked.
“I… guess I figured I’d keep working,” Neal said, blinking. He hadn’t really considered himself a guest at the resort, though he supposed that Scarlet’s invitation to stay on as a guest had included him. “And you’d enjoy the pool.”
“I was thinking we might go parasailing,” Mary suggested shyly. “And maybe snorkeling? It seems like a shame to come all the way to Costa Rica just to sit by a pool.”
Neal grinned at her. “We could go hiking.”
Mary hit him with a pillow, and Neal caught it easily, reaching to wrestle her down and tickle her.
“I have a better idea,” they said in one breath to each other.
His mouth on hers was the perfect ending.
A note from Zoe Chant
Thank you for buying my book! I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to be emailed when I release my next book, please click here to be added to my mailing list. You can also visit my webpage, or follow me on Facebook or Twitter.
Please consider reviewing Tropical Wounded Wolf, even if you only write a line or two. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.
Page down to read a special sneak preview of Tropical Tiger Spy, book 1 of Shifting Sands Resort.
The cover of Tropical Wounded Wolf was designed by Ellen Million.
More Paranormal Romance by Zoe Chant
Tropical Tiger Spy. (Shifting Sands Resort # 1). A unique shifter in search of her past + a tiger shifter spy on an undercover mission + a shifters-only resort with secrets to hide = a dangerous and thrilling romantic adventure!
Dancing Bearfoot. A single dad from the city + his daughter's BBW teacher + a surprise snow storm = a steamy story that will melt your heart.
Bodyguard Bear. (Protection, Inc. # 1). 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!
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Firefighter Dragon. (Fire & Rescue Shifters # 1). A curvy archaeologist with the find of a lifetime + a firefighter dragon shifter battling his instincts + a priceless artifact coveted by a ruthless rival = one blazing hot adventure!
Lion’s Hunt. A curvy woman who longs for adventure + a daring lion shifter on a dangerous mission + evil experiments in a secret lab = one action-packed romance!
Bear Cop. (Enforcer Bears # 1). A BBW baker with a troubled past + a protective bear shifter cop with a secret of his own + an accident that leaves them stranded in the wilderness = one untamed romance!
Rescued by the Jaguar. A curvy Mexican billionaire whose money can't buy her love + a powerfully masculine American jaguar shifter firefighter + a world trying to tear these fated mates apart = one fiery romance!
Healing Her Wolf. A curious vet + a wounded werewolf + some tender loving care = one sexy, sizzling story!
Bear Down. BBW biologist + bear shifter pilot + huddling for warmth in the wilderness = one blazing-hot story!
And many more!
Zoe on Audio
Kodiak Moment – Audiobook - Workaholic wildlife photographer + loner bear shifter + Alaskan wilderness = one warming and sensual story.
Hero Bear - Audiobook - 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!
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Tropical Tiger Spy
by Zoe Chant
Special Sneak Preview
Chapter One
Amber Allen leaned out the open window of the shuttle and drew in a breath of the fragrant jungle air. She could identify most of the plants by sight, but their scents couldn't be conveyed in textbooks.
"Mr. Big owns the whole island," Jimmy, the scruffy man who had met her at the airport, shouted over the sound of the engine and crashing waves. "About a quarter of it was developed for the resort in the eighties, and his estate takes up another quarter of it. If you're lucky, you might get a tour."
He gave Amber a sleazy smile over his shoulder, suggesting that he personally could get her such a treat. "The rest is left natural jungle, except the airstrip you came in on."
Amber wanted to ask if the island owner's name was really Mr. Big, but loathed the idea of encouraging Jimmy to keep talking. She had already made the mistake of me
ntioning her love of plants in a conversational way, and Jimmy had taken it as if she had batted her eyelashes and asked him to tell her everything.
He made another hairpin turn, around a switchback with a steep cliff on one side, barely shrouded in trailing greenery, and a rocky plunge to the ocean on the other. The road was scarcely wide enough for the rusty van, and had potholes large enough to swallow a bus.
"Scarlet took over the resort about three years back," Jimmy continued, as if Amber weren't studiously ignoring him to concentrate on staying in her seat. "She cleaned up the old cottages right nice, and made it a shifters-only haven. We get animal folk from all over now, got a British boar couple, and a chinchilla from Singapore. There's a Siberian tiger, but I'd guess he's from the East Coast by his accent, not Siberia. Russian name, though."
Amber flinched despite herself, and looked up in alarm. She wasn't sure she could get used to the idea of a place where she could speak freely about being a shifter.
"You didn't say what kind of shifter you were," Jimmy said invitingly, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
"A cat," Amber said vaguely, glad when he had to break their eye contact to navigate the narrow, bumpy road.
"Here kitty, kitty," Jimmy laughed, and Amber forced a smile, though she found it nothing but creepy. "How'd you hear about us?"
"I found out about it from my roommate," Amber said reluctantly, clinging to her armrest and her bag as the shuttle whipped around another blind corner. None of the seatbelts worked, and she was beginning to wish that she had resisted her roommate Alice's suggestion that a tropical vacation was just what she needed a little more strenuously. At least she should have insisted on something more traditional when her friend had encouraged this rather peculiar destination.
"That's usually how it is," Jimmy said sagely. "Can't exactly take an ad out in an airline magazine, you know, but sometimes a guest will suggest someone else to contact." Amber found the idea unsettling, but didn't comment further.
Miraculously, the road straightened, widened, and then opened out into a gorgeous verdant lawn, with lush landscaping peppered with low walls of dark volcanic rock and brilliantly flowering bushes. A tasteful sign announced, "Shifting Sands Island Resort." Below, it emphasized, "Private Property. Residents Only. No trespassing. No hunting."
"Here we go!" Jimmy pulled up to a wall that Amber realized after a moment was actually a building, with a green tile roof masked in thick greenery.
There was no actual door into the building, just an open arch that went down a few steps into a little covered porch, which in turn opened into a charming little courtyard with a fountain and pots of plants everywhere. Amber couldn't stop herself from carefully touching spiky blossoms and stroking the green pitchers. There were orchids and hydrangeas and passion flowers. She paused at a brilliant red flower and frowned at its colorful leaves.
"The courtyard is the only place we will grow this kind of ginger," a voice behind her said. "It's a very popular ornamental on the mainland, but is very invasive, and has choked out the native ginger strain. Even in pots, it can seed out wild if you leave it freely in the wind."
"I've read about the problems they're having with it in Hawaii," Amber said, turning to face the voice.
“You'd have to talk to our gardener Graham about that,” the woman said dismissively. "I'm Scarlet."
She had hair as vivid as the ginger back in a neat bun, a shade that was more likely to be dyed than natural, but it matched her coloring perfectly. Her skin was unexpectedly pale for the latitude, and her eyes were flinty emerald green. Amber couldn't decide if she was very old, or very young–she could have been either. She wore tailored khaki pants and a spotless white blouse. Everything about her said 'no nonsense,' right down to her perfectly shaped nails, showing just a hint of clear coat. Even her posture was perfect.
"Do you have more bags, Ms. Allen?" Scarlet asked.
"Ah, no," Amber said, keenly aware of her travel-wrinkled clothes and the chips in the bright nail polish she had impulsively applied before leaving home. "I decided to travel just with carry-ons."
That earned her a brief smile of approval. "A wise decision," Scarlet said mildly, turning to lead Amber through another archway. "Shifting Sands supplies the finest in all the consumables you should need, we have complete laundry facilities, and the clothing-optional setting means you need very little. Please don't hesitate to let the staff know if you find that there is anything you need."
The room Amber was led into was clearly an office, with an actual door, and a desk and a tidy bookcase. Windows beyond the desk looked down over the jungle, and Amber caught a glimpse of ocean before sitting in the chair she was gestured to.
"There are a few ground rules I need to clarify with you," Scarlet said, and Amber felt as if she had just been called into the principal's office. "Our first rule is no predation."
Amber blinked. "Excuse me?"
"There is no hunting permitted anywhere on the grounds. We have shifters of all types, and the island is home to several native endangered species. This restriction includes rodents, lizards, and birds, as well as larger mammals. Do you agree to these terms?" Scarlet's green eyes drilled into Amber.
"I, ah, yes, of course."
"If you would like to go fishing, we have equipment that can be checked out at the boathouse, and expeditions can be arranged if there is enough interest. You are also welcome to fish in animal form." Scarlet opened a folder. Amber recognized the paperwork she had nervously filled out online. "We can skip the grazing restrictions, of course."
"As long as there are no catnip beds I need to stay out of," Amber giggled then stilled at Scarlet's withering stare. "Of course," she said contritely.
"You didn't specify what kind of cat you are," Scarlet said, pen poised over the paper. "Domestic, or ...?"
Amber swallowed. "Andean mountain cat."
Scarlet raised one eyebrow. "I've never met one of those before," she said thoughtfully.
The tiny hope that Amber had been trying not to nurse turned to ash in her chest.
Apparently not noticing, Scarlet wrote neatly on the form, then turned it to Amber. "Please initial."
Amber did, numbly.
Scarlet took the form back. “There is no food storage in your cottage. We are in the tropics, and insects and other pests are quickly attracted to any unattended food and trash. You are welcome to eat at the dining hall any time of day, and there is a limited menu available at the bar and the beach lounge as well, during their open hours.”
Scarlet passed a contract over the desk. "Please sign here to indicate your agreement with our rules."
Amber obediently signed two copies of that, and four more similar forms regarding medical care, liability, a draconian privacy policy that was more like a promise of secrecy on both parts, and a contract for payment.
Then Scarlet was all smiles, rising and giving Amber a firm handshake. "Your application suggested that you would prefer privacy over beach immediacy, so I've assigned you cottage twenty-seven in the upper ring." She handed Amber a glossy pamphlet that unfolded to a map, and circled the cottage in question, well away from any neighbors.
“That looks great,” Amber said with a nod.
"This is the dining hall." Scarlet pointed to the long building just below the office. "There are fresh snacks and drinks available at all times, but meal times are well worth making the effort to attend; our chef is incomparable. Massages and grooming services can be scheduled at the recreation hall. There are yoga, dance, and meditation sessions daily."
Scarlet showed Amber where the schedules were printed in the pamphlet, pointed out a few of the other features, and gave her copies of the paperwork with a clear air of dismissal. “Pura vida,” she said off-handedly.
Pure life was the motto of Costa Rica, and seemed to be used as hello and goodbye, as well.
Amber stood for a long moment outside of Scarlet's door, clutching her carry-ons. She oriented her map and found her way
out of the courtyard and out into the gleaming resort.
Chapter Two
Tony Lukin was not good at pretending to relax.
He scowled across the beach to the ocean, waiting for it to do anything but splash on the shore in regular intervals.
The most exciting thing it had done in the hour he'd been out here was attract a few birds, which had circled him hoping for food and then left. The miniature crabs that dug little holes and scuttled around moving sand piles had entertained him for about a minute on the first day. Beach-combing had turned up a lot of broken shells and lackluster pebbles.
He'd tried three different books of varying fluff, he'd tried closing his eyes for a nap, he'd even gone for a swim, in both human and tiger form.
And the sum of it was, vacation bored him.
Vacation that was just a sham bored him even more.
He wanted to be doing something, and it grated on his nerves that he wasn't. He'd been at Shifting Sands for a full week by now, and he was no closer to finding out what he'd come to find than he had been when he stepped off the plane.
Tony growled, and rolled out of the beach chair, wrapping the towel around his waist. He'd become used to walking around without any covering, and it certainly simplified shifting, but he was still a little concerned about sunburning his more delicate parts.
There was an easy set of stairs up to the pool, where tables with umbrellas and lounge chairs were about a quarter full of guests in various stages of allowing sun on their skin.
He dropped himself easily beside a woman sunbathing alone in a generous spotted bikini that left acres of skin exposed. She spilled out over her lounge chair, and it groaned beneath her weight as she shifted to look at Tony. The gaze she gave him over her sunglasses suggested breezy confidence and amusement.
