Legacy Found: Legacy, Book 3

by N. J. Walters

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the house. The door slammed shut behind her. She didn’t worry about anything but the feel of his arms around her and his lips on hers. She trusted him to take care of all the rest.

  The mattress creaked as he sat and rolled, taking them both flat onto the bed. She really loved his king-sized bed.

  He hadn’t released her mouth, his kiss almost desperate. She longed to ease his pain.

  She broke away. “I love you.”

  James smiled down at her. “I love you too. Now and always.”

  She’d been lost and he’d found her. Or maybe they’d found each other. She liked the sound of that.

  Then he started kissing her again and she forgot everything but the feel of his hard body against hers.

  About the Author

  N.J. Walters has always been a voracious reader of romance novels and decided one day that she could write one as well. The contemporary story, Discovering Dani, was the very first novel she wrote while living in a little town much like the one Dani O’Rourke lives in, though all other similarities to Dani’s life pretty much end there. Then she wrote another one that followed up on Dani’s friends and neighbors. But she didn’t consider herself a “real” writer yet.

  Just a few years later N. J. had a mid-life crisis at a fairly young age, gave notice after ten years at her job on a Friday and received a tentative acceptance for her first published novel (an erotic romance) from a publisher on the following Sunday.

  Happily married for over eighteen years to the love of her life, with his encouragement and support she gave up the job of selling books for the more pleasurable job of writing them. She now spends her days writing, reading and reviewing books. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to do it. And some days she actually feels like a “real” writer.

  N.J. enjoys hearing from readers, and she can be reached at njwalters22@yahoo.ca. You can check out her web site at www.njwalters.com.

  Look for these titles by N.J. Walters

  Now Available:

  Discovering Dani

  The Way Home

  The Return of Patrick O’Rourke

  The Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke

  A Legal Affair

  By the Book

  Past Promises

  Alexandra’s Legacy

  A Touch of Magic

  Coming Soon:

  Dreams of Seduction

  Love in Flames

  Love comes howling when—and where—you least expect it.

  Isaiah’s Haven

  © 2010 N.J. Walters

  Legacy, Book 2

  Isaiah Striker puts family first, the pack a distant second. Which is precisely the reason he’s in noisy, crowded Chicago instead of alone in his beloved woods. One look at the owner of Haven nightclub, however, and a simple favor for his brother turns into something else entirely.

  Meredith Cross holds her small pack together with sheer determination. After years on the run, they hide in the glare of the city’s nightlife. Isaiah may heat her blood, but she can’t afford to risk the lives of the outcast half-breeds in her care. Once exposed, every bounty hunter and werewolf purist in smelling distance will hunt them down.

  But when their sexual attraction spirals out of control, a moment’s distraction is all it takes to lead danger right to Meredith’s door. For Meredith there’s only one choice: her pack.

  But Isaiah knows his mate when he sees her. And he’s not giving up without a fight.

  Warning: This book contains hot sex, a jazzy nightclub, sexy werewolves, rogue werewolves, nasty bounty hunters, a mysterious vampire, and did I mention hot sex?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Isaiah’s Haven:

  “Is there a problem?” Hank strode up to stand just to the side of the stranger.

  “No problem. This gentleman was just leaving.” She pleaded with Isaiah with her eyes. If he insisted on repeating his claim of her being a werewolf, he wouldn’t get out of here alive. There was only one of him and three male werewolves. Was he a hunter or just a human who believed in such things?

  She took a deep breath. She needed to be calm. What she got was a blast of pheromones and a jolt of arousal. A spicy scent filled her nose and made her sex clench with need. She almost moaned aloud as a shiver of need wracked her body and her nipples tightened. How had she missed this? He was a werewolf.

  Impossible. She blinked in astonishment. In all the years they’d been here this had never happened. Male werewolves tended to stay away from the city, not liking the crowds or the closed-in space. It was one of the main reasons why she lived here with her sons and her adopted family.

  Oh God! Hank. He was only a half-breed and many full-blooded werewolves were as bad as the bounty hunters wanting them dead. Teague, Neema and Kevin were all half-breeds as well. Their safety depended on her keeping control of this situation at all costs. She straightened her shoulders. If he thought to threaten her family, he was mistaken.

  “You need to leave,” she repeated. “Now.”

  He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. It made him look sexier, if that was even possible.

  Hank reached out to grab Isaiah’s arm.

  “You don’t want to do that, pup,” Isaiah warned.

  Hank froze with his hand in the air. Benjamin growled low in his chest. Kevin came out from the back office, adding to the growing tension. “What’s going on?”

  Isaiah was still trying to process the fact that the woman he lusted after was a female werewolf, and a beautiful one at that. She was also coming into heat. There was no mistaking that enticing spicy perfume. No wonder he was attracted to her.

  What was even more surprising was that she wasn’t the only werewolf here. They all were. The odor from all the human patrons, the liquor and the food had masked their scent. Now that they were the only ones left, there was no disguising it.

  It was crazy to see a group of werewolves living in a city surrounded by the myriad sights and sounds which assailed their senses daily. Bounty hunters frequented the cities for supplies and new recruits. Not to mention that vampires, witches and demons preferred to live in the city. And while the different species weren’t exactly at war, they weren’t sending each other Christmas cards either.

  Around him several of the males began to growl. As if drawn by the tension, a lean red-haired male pushed through the kitchen door, wiping his hand on a white towel as he came. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing displayed an array of tattoos running up and down his muscular arms. With the trio of gold hoops in both ears and his eyebrow piercing, he looked like trouble. He was followed by the slender, curly-haired female Isaiah had seen waiting tables earlier in the evening.

  Meredith held up her hand. “Enough.”

  Several of the males shot her a glare, but subsided. Isaiah was surprised at how all the males deferred to her. She was obviously the alpha female of this little pack. But where was the alpha male?

  The thought of another male having the right to put his hands on her made Isaiah see red. A low, menacing growl came from deep in his chest. The younger woman took a step toward the red-haired male. He wrapped his arm around her protectively.

  The tension in the room grew until it was so thick it was almost impossible to breathe. He didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t leaving. Not until he talked to Meredith.

  The woman in question stepped forward and placed her hands on her hips. She exuded confidence, which was sexy as hell and turned him on even more. “Don’t think you can come in here and threaten my family, wolf.” She spat the last as though it were a bad word.

  Having her so near, he could see the smoothness of her skin and smell her delicious scent. Unable to resist, he lowered his head and sniffed the curve of her neck. She smelled like something rare and exotic, a combination of musk, cinnamon and heat that was intoxicating. She shivered and started to lean toward him. He wanted to howl with pleasure. But it ended far too soon for his liking when
someone pulled her away.

  Isaiah jerked his head up to see who had ruined the moment between him and Meredith. It was one of the younger men. He started toward him, the promise of retaliation stamped on his face, only to have Meredith step in front of him again. “He’s my son.”

  That brought Isaiah up cold. If there was one thing he could understand, it was wanting to protect family. He addressed the younger man directly, looking over Meredith’s head. “I mean her no harm.”

  “What about the rest of them? Why are you here? Who sent you?”

  Meredith was still in front of him demanding answers.

  He sighed and rolled his head to work out some of the kinks in his neck. “No one sent me. I didn’t come here to find any of you. I was just wandering the streets, heard a woman singing and came in.”

  “I don’t believe you,” said the man Meredith had called her son.

  “Michael,” she warned, and he subsided, but not without first giving Isaiah a look that promised death if he made a move toward his mother. Isaiah could respect that.

  “There’s nothing for you here. You need to leave.” Isaiah understood her wanting to protect the pack, but he was curious why Meredith was in such a hurry to get rid of him when he obviously meant no harm.

  “I’m not sure we should let him leave.” The bouncer from the door spoke up. “What if he’s working with the hunters?”

  The menacing growl that came from Isaiah was impossible to suppress. “I kill hunters, pup, and anyone who works with them.”

  “So you say,” the other male who’d worked behind the bar countered.

  “Are you questioning my word?” He’d never had anyone do such a thing. He was a Striker. Their loyalty and honesty was above reproach.

  “Enough.” Meredith tapped the toe of her high-heeled shoe on the wooden floor. It drew his gaze down over her long, shapely legs and back up again. “No one is going to hurt anyone. And you’re leaving.”

  It was time to regroup. Things were too volatile with so many males in the mix. They were on a short leash at the moment, but Isaiah had no doubt all the males would swing into action in the blink of an eye if they thought it was necessary. He didn’t want to be put in a position of having to hurt them. That certainly wouldn’t go over well with Meredith. The last thing he wanted was to antagonize her any more than he already had.

  “I want to talk to you. Two minutes,” he added before she could protest. “Alone.”

  Predictably enough, the males protested, but in the end Meredith was alpha and the rest of them headed toward to the kitchen.

  “I’ll only be on the other side of the door,” Michael warned.

  Isaiah inclined his head in understanding.

  Meredith waited until they were all gone before turning back to him. “We’re alone. What do you want?”

  He shifted until they were so close they were almost touching. He could feel the heat from her skin, see the way her pupils dilated and the pulse in her neck beat faster. There was a slight hitch in her breathing as he invaded her space.

  They weren’t touching, not quite. He raised his hand and lightly brushed the curve of her cheek with the back of his knuckles. She sucked in a breath and the movement had her breasts touching his chest. Even through the layers of their clothing, he could feel the hard tips of her nipples.

  Need roared through him. Raw desire pumped through his veins. He wanted Meredith more than he’d wanted anything in his life, as though she was somehow necessary to him.

  He leaned down, his lips practically caressing hers as he answered her question. “You, Meredith. I want you.”

  She thought she had a life—until being hunted shows her she’s never really lived.

  Savage Transformation

  © 2010 Lexxie Couper

  Savage Australia, Book 2

  Jacqueline Huddart has spent her entire adult life on the run. Not from the law, or even a jealous lover. From herself—and what she is. That strategy works for her until a funeral demands she return to home ground, and her best friend disappears. Finding Delainie means Jackie must confront the truth…and accept the help of a mysterious, sexy-as-sin Texan.

  Marshall Rourke isn’t the only one flying under the radar. He’s on an off-the-grid quest to track down a rogue ex-partner who hunts paranormal beings for the joy of the kill. Convincing the unexpectedly feisty Jackie to trust him isn’t easy, but there’s no better way to lure the hunter into the open than to dangle as unique a target as Jackie—the last Tasmanian Tiger shifter in existence.

  Trouble is, Marshall hadn’t counted on Jackie’s brutal right cross. Or the fact that her simmering sexuality calls to his inner wolf on every imaginable level. And that the killer is about to use their desire to add them both to his trophy case…

  Warning: This title contains the following: explicit sex out in the bush, wild shifter sex in an abandoned shack, passionate sex in a hotel shower. Plus a Texan hero with a very big secret, an Australian heroine with an even bigger one, a significant amount of violence and as always, Australian sarcasm.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Savage Transformation:

  Her thylacine growled, surging though her being with rapid ease. Snatching back control had been hard. She’d shoved the need to transform down into the pit of her existence and half-walked, half-ran down the hotel’s stairs into the car park, scanning the area for any sign of Delanie.

  And now here she was, walking around her best friend’s car, breathing shallow for fear of losing herself to her inner animal when she knew she should be breathing deep to detect any hint of Delanie’s location.

  Then stop being a chicken shit and do it.

  Coming to a standstill, wishing—again—she had her gun, Jackie closed her eyes and pulled in a long, slow breath.

  There! Delanie.

  Faint, almost dispersed to nothing, but there. To her right. Delanie’s scent tinged with…

  She turned, lifting her head slightly and pulling in another breath.

  Her heart clenched. Fear. Delanie’s scent was tinged with fear. The acrid kind of a sudden fright.

  God, what is going on?

  Following the scent, the thylacine inside her itching for release, she moved through the car park. Clapped-out combi-vans stood beside shiny hybrids. Dented station wagons shared the asphalt with lovingly looked-after sedans. Each waited for their owners to return, the setting sun casting their paintwork in a fiery orange glow.

  Jackie pulled in another breath, tasting the air. Del had been here.

  She narrowed her eyes, approaching a low red convertible. Heat rolled from it in unpleasant waves, the stench of burning motor oil almost choking her. Reaching out, she placed her right palm on the car’s hood. Hot. Hot enough to tell her the engine had only recently been running.

  She took another breath, separating the car’s fumes from the delicate scent of her best friend. Delanie’s scent grew stronger here. More concentrated.

  Jackie’s chest squeezed tight. It wasn’t just Del’s scent that was more potent here. Her fear tainted the air like a thick mist.

  Damnit, Del. What’s going on?

  She took another breath. There was more on the air than Delanie’s fear-laced scent. There was something else, something she couldn’t put her finger on. A scent that wasn’t a scent.

  That doesn’t make sense, Huddart.

  No, it didn’t, but she didn’t know how else to explain it. There was a void to the air, as if something had erased the particles of which it was comprised. Removed them from existence.

  Her pulse quickened. Removing something from a crime scene—and worryingly, this is exactly what this seemed to be—meant Delanie wasn’t just missing. She was…

  “Taken,” she whispered.

  Her stomach rolled and she ran her stare over the red convertible. She could do one of two things. She could call the local police force and report Delanie as missing, and aid them in finding her by following standard police procedure. Or she could tra
ck Del herself. Alone.

  She straightened, removing her hand from the car and turning into the gentle breeze at her back.

  It blew against her face, barely strong enough to move the strands of her hair. Closing her eyes, she drew in another breath, through her mouth as well this time, tasting Delanie on the air. No, it wasn’t just on the air. It was on the ground as well. Whoever had taken Del had left a scent trail on the road.

  On purpose?

  The question slipped through Jackie’s mind, making her already fast pulse thump faster. Who would do that? Who would take her best friend and leave a scent trail?

  She ground her teeth. No one. She was being dramatic. Ridiculous. She had to stop standing here wasting time with stupid notions of malevolent intentions and find Delanie. Find her and then teach the bastard who took her what happens to those who mess with a cop’s best friend.

  Heart racing, she began running, nose into the breeze, Del’s scent flowing into her body.

  Four blocks passed. Five. Six. The houses flanking her became light industrial buildings and warehouses. And still, Delanie’s scent pulled her forward. Faster. Her inner animal ached for release. Hungered to track, to run…

  She ran, her blood roaring in her ears, and skidded to a halt, heels digging into the now gravel road when a man stepped toward her from behind a big black van. A tall man with impossibly broad shoulders and narrow lean hips.

  The very man she’d caught looking at her inside the airport terminal yesterday. The same man who’d driven away from the airport car park in a black Audi an hour later.

  The same man she’d seen standing under a snow gum at Pyengana’s cemetery.

  Cold fury ripped through her. “You’ve been following me.” She bunched her fists by her side and took a step closer to him, fixing him with an unwavering glare. “What the hell have you done with Delanie?”

  A tiny dimple creased his left cheek beside lips curled into a small grin, giving Jackie the impression he knew a secret he found entirely humourous. Dark honey-blonde hair fell over his forehead in a tousled mess, brushing straight eyebrows a shade darker. “I have, Detective Huddart. But I’m afraid I haven’t taken your friend.”