Weekend Surrender

by Lori King

  Reflections of the Wolf

  Legacy of the Wolf

  Dreams of the Wolf

  Apache Crossing Series

  Sidney's Triple Shot

  Sunset Point Series

  Point of Seduction

  I would love to hear from you!

  Website: www.lorikingbooks.wordpress.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/lori.king.author

  Email: lorikingbooks@yahoo.com

  Excerpt from Rush Against Time

  Twisted Fates Series Book One

  by Willow Brooke

  Jessa Meadows shifted her weight between each foot unable to stand still. Today had proven to be even worse than the previous with no end in sight. The past few months had been a hurricane of agonizing disastrous events. With a huff, she slung her silky golden hair over her shoulder and handed the huge cup of coffee across the counter to the disgruntled and obviously caffeine deprived woman. When she turned around to grab the glass blender pitcher, she knocked it off onto the tile floor and it exploded into shards.

  Jessa cursed under her breath at the broken glass that lay scattered around her feet. The past six months she had been slammed straight into her first heat with a vengeance. The more she fought it, the longer it dragged on and the more intense it grew. What was supposed to be a milestone in growing up as a shifter had become a living nightmare. It was similar to human puberty, only jacked up on steroids. A shifter could not scent their mate or be scented by their mate until after losing their virginity, or receiving a kiss from them. It was expected of all shifters to experiment sexually during this time, where in the human world it was socially and morally wrong to scratch every hormonal itch. Like wild animals, they would bang every single wolf who so much as gave them a wink and a smile. It was an animalistic fuck fest, and Jessa wanted no part of it. Her wolf fought for control, lunging at every weak spot in an attempt to take over. She was mentally drained, and physically restless. Obviously clumsy could be added to the growing list now, too. Yippie freakin’ skippy. Frustration pooled in the rims of her eyes and threatened to spill as she cleaned up the shards.

  Every man within sniffing distance was all up in her personal space, eagerly offering his services in every humorous and pathetic way possible. The problem was, she refused to give her virginity to the first mutt that came along. It might be unheard of in shifter society, but Jessa wanted her first time to be meaningful. The idea of falling on her back for the first horn dog that came along at the right time made her stomach turn.

  Lost deep in the recess of her thoughts while robotically preparing the next order at Mocha Express, her wolf growled and pranced in a challenging dance at the scents that wafted in her direction. The sudden yelp from the group of girls at the counter was a reality mental slap. The animalistic noise must have slipped out, because they now looked at her as if she had grown a tail. She had to resist the urge to peek behind her and make sure she hadn’t. Super. Jessa offered up a sweet smile, hoping it would dissipate their sudden shock. Mocha Express was one of the few chains that catered to both humans and otherworldly creatures, offering treats and beverages for shifters, vampires, and many other magical creatures that humans were oblivious to. Plus, it provided cover for the group that occupied the attached mansion.

  Vampires and shifters took up residency at Gates Manor, a huge mansion that dated back into the eighteenth century. The eclectic group of paranormal prodigies worked together to keep the balance of the world in order. To prevent the devil from spreading evil through demon possessions and taking over the magical community, angels banded together with this elite group and gave direct orders for them to follow. Not many knew of the group’s existence, and great measures were taken to keep it that way. They were known as the Guardians by the select few who helped and fought with them on each mission.

  Michael Stone was the head vampire in the agency, who was in charge of all of the vampires on the continent. He had a huge army of vampires at his ready who fought without question and at a moment’s notice. His wife, Christina, was the most powerful witch who originated from the first bloodline. Her aunt Autumn had been until Christina accepted her powers in the moon ritual. Together, the duo was unbeatable. Most witches needed three to harness magic to their full abilities. Autumn and Christina didn’t.

  Next was Alan Black, one of Autumn’s two mates. He was the alpha of the wolf shifters in Northern America and represented them in the Guardians. Her other mate, Braden Wilder, was the alpha of the jaguar shifters in North America and also member of the Guardians. Together, they all made up one big, happy—odd family.

  Working the day shift at Mocha Express meant more humans and the need to contain her wolf better, but it also meant less shifters that her mangy mutt would try to jump on. It was a catch-22.

  Unfortunately, word must have gotten out of her schedule change. The door chimed announcing the arrival of the mob of six shifter men, all sporting huge grins and hungry looks. The intensity shooting from their eyes confirmed the hunger they had wouldn’t be sated with Danish rolls or pastries. Anger immediately boiled through her veins. Tough luck, boys. You aren’t getting your hands on my cookies. Make a move. I dare you.

  Quickly drawing her attention back to the task-at-hand, she hurriedly finished the order and braced herself for the scene that was about to unfold. With her wolf chomping at the bit, she gritted her teeth and shoved the animal back into its restraints. Time for some fun. Let’s see if you boys can keep up! She plastered the biggest smile she could muster, and turned to her overeager customers. “Good afternoon, gentlemen! What can I get for you today?”

  Mated

  by Avery Gale

  Coming October 1st from JK Publishing, Inc.

  Jameson Wolf had been almost ready to head home when he’d taken one last look out of the front windows of his office. Looking down over the sidewalk below, he wondered why the waiting line was so long on a frigid Friday night. He’d started to turn back to the room when his eye caught on a flash of red. Damn it to hell, he’d always had a thing for auburn haired women. Redheads were rare among shifters so he took a closer look. It might have been her long flowing mane of red curls that caught his attention, but there was something about her saucy attitude that drew him in. Watching her, he saw her easy rapport with the tiny blonde beauty she was with and he liked the fact that she seemed oblivious to the fact that she turned the head of every man near her.

  Making his way down the steep circular staircase he was assailed by the overpowering scents of both humans and his peers who had braved the biting cold January night in the wind swept city. He saw the red-haired beauty enter through the heavy doorway a split second before the scent of his mate barreled over him. It was as if every neuron in his brain had been suddenly struck by lightning and was now crackling with electrical energy. His vision tunneled and his sole mission became to find the owner of that scent and mark her as his.

  As he neared the red-haired beauty who had caught his eye earlier, the exotic fragrance he’d been following became more and more potent. Could I actually be that lucky after all these years? Stepping up behind her he took a deep breath letting her scent soak deeply into his soul. Even though he loved the fresh citrus smell of her hair, it was the essence of her that was nearly over-powering in its allure. It pulled him in and made every one of his senses come sharply into a pinpoint focus. He’d heard his friends describe this moment, but he had truly believed that their words had been little more than romantic folly—until now.

  When she turned toward him, he became instantly aware that she’d been planning to escape. There was a look of panic in her eyes—what he didn’t understand was what had spooked her. Awareness and anxiety were coming off her in heavy, crashing waves. He could smell fear in humans and shifters, but that wasn’t what he was picking up. No, she wasn’t afraid of him, but she wasn’t thrilled to have been found either. Interesting. Mating scents are an almost overwhelmingly powerful draw for both male and female shifters s
o there was no doubt she had known her mate was near. So why was she trying to leave?

  Both Jameson and his brother, Trevlon, were the Alphas of their pack and had been since their fathers were killed by rivals seven years ago. They had always known they’d follow pack tradition and share a mate, but they hadn’t had any luck finding her despite having traveled all over the globe searching. How has this beauty flown under our radar? She is exactly the type of woman we are both attracted to. “What is your name, beautiful?” Jameson knew his words had come out as more of a growl than a question, but considering how close he was to claiming her right here in the middle of the club, it was the best he could do. He relaxed a bit when he saw her deer in the headlights look. Good – I’m happy to know she is as slammed by the attraction as I am.

  “Kit.” He heard the wobble of nervousness in her voice and could tell she had barely been able to squeak out the word so he just waited. He saw her draw in a deep breath through her mouth and almost laughed at her ineffective attempt to avoid breathing through her nose. He tried to suppress his smile when she repeated the gesture because it was a futile attempt to escape the scent of her mate.

  Once a shifter found their mate, their bodies were taken over by overwhelming sexual urges that lasted for weeks. He’d seen pack members all but disappear during that time because they could barely leave their bedrooms. He waited patiently as she finally seemed to come back to awareness and answered, “I mean, Kathleen, my name is Kathleen Harris.” She was trying to look around him, which was amusing because she couldn’t be more than five feet three or four inches tall and that was including the ridiculously high-heeled black leather stiletto boots she was wearing.

  He was sure she hadn’t meant to give him her nickname because it was likely something she reserved for those she considered close friends, so when he addressed her again, he used it deliberately. “Well, Kit, follow me, please.”

  He turned on his heel and started back toward the staircase when she reached out and grasped his forearm. “Wait, I can’t go with you. I don’t even know you. And my friend will be looking for me.” The instant she touched him he’d felt a jolt of electricity arc between them and then tiny bolts of lightning streaked up his spine. Damn, her touch did that through the fabric of his shirt, what would it feel like when they were skin to skin?

  The twin bond between him and Trev had always been incredibly strong, so he wasn’t at all surprised when his phone rang. “Where are you? Are you okay?” Typical Trevlon, straight to it—he couldn’t be troubled to utter a polite greeting.

  “Standing in front of a woman I want you to meet. We’re in the bar, but we’ll be on our way upstairs as soon as we locate her friend to let her know where we are heading. Meet us in the office in five.” Jameson disconnected the call and turned to one of his staff that was walking by. He quickly gave the man a detailed description of Kit’s friend and instructions to stay close to her and keep her safe until she was ready to leave the building. At that time, he was to accompany her to the office. Jameson stood six foot seven inches tall in his boots, so he could easily see the tiny blonde on the other side dance floor and directed the young man to her. Jameson was glad it had been Charlie who’d been the first to walk by. He trusted the young shifter to do exactly as he’d been told.

  Turning back to Kit, he realized for the first time that he had taken the hand she’d used to grab his arm and was holding it in his own. He’d been rubbing small circles over the inside of her wrist with his thumb. As his gaze met hers he felt her pulse speed up and watched as her pupils dilated. “Come along, Kit. We need to talk.” This time he did smell fear so he pulled her into his arms and leaned down so his words would be painted over the soft shell of her ear like a warm brush of air, “I won’t hurt you—ever. Be brave, sweet kitten.”

  Rane’s Giant

  by Lynn Ray Lewis

  Coming October 8th from JK Publishing, Inc.

  As soon as Lord Ludwig left she crawled from behind the big chest, and slowly approached the prisoner. He had not moved since they brought him in and shackled him to the wall. Her hands began to warm as she slowly ran them from the top of his head to the tips of his toes so she could assess the damage done to his body.

  This man had taken a beating like none before him. His skull was a web of cracked bone, and three of his ribs were completely broken, with one sticking out from his flesh. His thickly muscled legs were striped by fresh rope marks, and his entire body was bruised with deep painful injuries. The stab wound in his gut worried her a bit, but not as much as the cracked skull.

  This warrior had not gone down easily.

  She had to sit astraddle his thick muscular thighs to reach his head with her hands. Goddess, but the man was huge. Her legs were spread so far apart she could feel the burning stretch in her own thighs. It was good he was unconscious because she could feel the thick bulge of his man’s organ nestled between her own sex.

  Rane placed her hands on his head over the worst of the webbed bones under his hair and skin. She began the tedious task of melding the bone back together, making sure to interlock every small shard of bone so none would be left to float around in his skull after she healed him. Any tiny sliver of bone could cause damage and pain later, so it was better to get the pesky things taken care of the first time and be done with it.

  She leaned over him for hours, concentrating on healing his skull, and pushing the gel that was causing pressure on his brain to seep out of the lesser openings where the skin was broken. Even if she had water to wash away the blood, she would not have done it yet. It would take another day, at least, to heal the rest of his injuries enough to remove him from this place, and place a pile of ashes in his spot.

  Rane was getting quite a collection of big men hiding in the cave near the river. As soon as she heard that the Lord had a new prisoner, she slipped into the dungeon through the secret rock in the wall, and observed the guards and the Lord or Simon come into the room to torture the men for information.

  When they left the men beaten and shackled at death’s door, she slipped through the wall and healed them enough to secrete them out of the room, and into the small tunnel leading into the forest.

  Today’s discovery of a new prisoner was merely happenstance. She had been hiding in the dungeon because this was the one place Simon rarely ventured into without his small gang of hangers-on. She again thanked the Goddess for the small size of her body as she hid behind the trunk of torture implements in the darkest corner. There had been no time to hide in the tunnel without being seen by the guards.

  That she was already here in this room when they brought him in was a blessing for the warrior had he but known it. The bleeding in his brain causing the swelling would have killed him after days of torturous pain. That is, if the stab wounds and the blood seeping from the place his rib stuck through his flesh had not caused him to bleed to death. Or the wound became infected with filth, and he died from the infection.

  Rane took her hands from the warriors head and waited for the wounds to bleed a little more before sealing the seeping wounds on the inside of his flesh. That way, when his captors came back they would see what it appeared to be. The huge man still incapacitated from his mortal wounds, complete with fresh blood still slowly causing him to bleed to death. They liked that. They took bets on how long a prisoner would still bleed, and even how much they would bleed before death. Almost to a man, Lord Ludwig’s men were as depraved as he and his sibling.

  It puzzled her as to why this warrior, and the past three like him, had not been killed outright on the battlefield as so many had been. Nor had they been subjected to the lord’s usual depravities. For some reason he seemed to fear these men, and when a small pile of ashes had been found where the prisoner had been chained, all he did was grunt and nod his head. He ordered his guards to sweep up every ash, and scatter the ashes into the wind over the fields.

  When the lord felt particularly like he needed entertainment, and there were no
prisoners in the dungeon, he would have a villager brought into the hall on a trumped up charge, and allow his men to torture the poor soul. The villagers were raped and beaten for screaming during the process. One man had been strung up over the blackened beams overhead, and roasted over a vat of bubbling fat. His screams were said to still echo in the hall on cold nights.

  Sadly, by the time each villager was tossed out of the hall like a pile of garbage, if still alive, their mind was too broken for Rane to heal them. She might heal their bodies, but the mind was in the hands of the Goddess.

  JK Publishing, Inc.