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Published By: Taliesin Publishing, LLC, PO Box 155, Sanford, MI 48657
www.taliesinpublishing.com
Overcome
Copyright © 2014 by Annmarie McKenna
Digital Release: March 2014
ISBN: 978-1-62916-034-4
Cover Artist: James Caldwell
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Table Of Contents
Dedication
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Overcome by Annmarie McKenna
Is it fate or sabotage? And with a love this hot, does it really matter?
Anna Belky happily walked away from her ex, the lying cheating bastard she caught in her own bed with Miss “Candy Apple.” Anna’s supposed to be getting her revenge by being deliriously happy with a new job and a beautiful house on the lake.
Instead she finds herself without financial resources and homeless when someone sabotages her perfect new life. And even weirder, two strangers invite her to live with them, both of them, and be their love. Two sexy and way-too-hot-for-their-own-good strangers.
Marc Newberry and Colton Montross are half-brothers and the ruling alphas of the local shifter pack. Imagine their surprise when they discover the house they just bought belongs to the one woman in the world fated to be their shared mate. Of course, she has her quirks, like chattering on about nothing when she gets nervous, she won’t follow orders worth a damn, and has even dug a hole in their backyard.
Despite these glitches, the trio’s shared bond is hot enough to melt the polar icecap, and their growing love for each other is undeniable. But their mating could only be a fleeting joy. As the bad luck following Anna begins to grow from annoying to downright dangerous, will they survive to meet Fate’s demands?
Dedication
For my sister and cohort, thanks for pushing. And competing. And forcing me to spew words from my mouth. But mostly, thank you to all the readers for sticking with me all this time!
Author’s Note
Trenton, MO, is a real town in northern Missouri. With a population of 6,037, it’s actually quite large compared to the number of very small towns surrounding it. My parents, though both born elsewhere, ended up in Trenton where they attended school, met, and fell in love. Both sets of my grandparents lived in Trenton, literally around the corner from each other, and we spent our visits walking back and forth between the two grandmas’ houses.
While many of the businesses mentioned in this story no longer exist, they are the places from some of my favorite childhood memories. I loved crossing the wooden bridge spanning the railroad, the Funny Farm was always on our want-to-do list, we walked to Crooks’ General Store all the time for penny candy, and had real sodas and malts at Fair Drugstore. Howard’s is still in business, and my mom still shops there whenever we visit her stepmom, my ninety-four-year-old Grandma Ollie. We never left without eating at Maid Rite—the best loose meat sandwiches in the world, in our opinions. :-) In fact, when my father passed away in 1996, though Maid Rite had been closed for a long time before that, the owners graciously brought a crockpot full of the special recipe concoction for us to eat at the wake.
My dad was born in a teenie-tiny town called Brimson, MO, booming population today of sixty-four, where he attended an honest to goodness one-room school house, Knightstown. He liked to boast he got to skip second grade because he was the only student in that grade. He is buried in Willis Chapel Cemetery, not too far from this abandoned, dilapidated, completely covered by overgrowth, school house. It is a place we try to visit at different times of the year hoping to get a better look at it. The slate chalkboard is still inside!
Between Brimson and Trenton is Crowder State Park, containing a lake—well a glorified pond, really. It is the site of the lake house in Overcome. In reality, there are no houses surrounding the lake, as it isn’t big enough even for motorized boats. I’ve taken poetic license in making this lake the beautiful setting where Anna attempts to plant her tree and meets her gorgeous men. I hope you’ll forgive me.
In conclusion, I want to assure everyone there are no werewolves living in Trenton.
At least, not to my knowledge…
Chapter One
Marc Newberry’s cock went from limp to rock hard in record setting time, and drool literally leaked from the corner of his lip. He’d fucking drooled.
But the scent. God the scent. Peaches and cream and strawberries and woman, and hell if he could describe anything else because one of his little charges took that moment to kick Marc’s shin. Then not only was his mouth watering, but his eyes were too. His knees buckled, almost bringing him to the ground. Somehow he remained upright among the giggling pack of six- and seven-year-old pups and humans he’d been playing a game of soccer with.
Marc jerked his head up, eager not to lose the trail of the fantastic scent now shrouding the gymnasium, and very nearly sprinted for the door when he saw it closing and the object of deliciousness sashaying away, her perfectly shaped ass and long legs taking her away from him instead of straight into his arms. Into his bed. Into his goddamn fucking life forever.
The pull at his T-shirt hem kept him from running to his destiny, as did the tiny muffled giggling voice below him.
“Muster Newburry…”
Marc couldn’t take his eyes off the now closed door. “Whadda ya want, kid?” He refrained from trying to correct Luke’s mispronunciation again. He’d given up a long time ago.
The boy laughed behind his hand, and finally Marc dropped his gaze to the small redhead doing the one dance guaranteed to get any adult to heel.
“I needa go potty, Muster Newburry.” The poor kid was trying to bite his bottom lip, but the effect was lost because he was missing both front teeth.
“Yeah, go on, Luke.” Marc sighed. Don’t want you peeing on the floor again. The kid took off at a dead run, slammed through the door Marc would really like to rip from its hinges so it no longer kept him from the woman he’d only seen from behind, and caused a waft of her essence to tickle his nose again.
And his dick to jump into preparedness once more.
Right up until the soccer ball bounced off the back of his head and the squeals of laughter took off again.
Damn Elliot for calling in sick today, preventing him from chasing her down. If his teaching partner were here, Marc could leave the class to him. As it was, Marc was in sole leadership form. He didn’t think Principal Adams would look too kindly on him abandoning the group so he could back a woman into the wall and have his mating way with her.
“All right, you little hooliga
ns.” He spun around, arms spread wide, and growled, bear-hugging the closest of the first graders he could reach. The peals of hilarity rang in his ears as he let those five go and charged after another huddled cluster of sticky kids.
Unfortunately he had a class to teach. The woman was there for a reason, whether looking for a school for her child—which made his stomach turn over because that meant she probably already had a husband—or looking for a job. Why else would she be at a school, touring it with their principal?
He blew his whistle. Time to drag these kids into some semblance of structure before he lost them completely. The younger classes had the attention span of fleas.
Hell, some of them probably had fleas. At least while in their fur. The joys of growing up half wolf. And each generation of shifters seemed to be able to do the deed earlier and earlier.
He blamed it on the hormones in milk and chicken. With a roll of his eyes, he waited until the proverbial dust settled and the fifteen sets of ratty, untied or Velcroed shoes fell into a somewhat, well, mostly, crooked line. Marc smelled lunch being prepared behind the removable wall separating the gym into two halves. Several bellies growled as well, signaling the hour of devour. Any adult who’d never had the pleasure of watching the hundred or so five- to twelve-year-olds snarf the typical school lunch fare was really missing out. Marc observed the jungle that was feeding time every day. Helped him stay skinny.
He sniffed again and groaned.
Pizza day. He hoped to hell his favorite fifth grader, Steven, had brought his lunch today because the kid couldn’t handle the greasy cheese to save his life. It was inevitably during P.E. that Steven would lose it, and Marc would get a good look at the after effects of the school’s lunch.
He had to wait for Luke to return from his potty break before trudging the twerps back to their class. They were supposed to be in a straight line, staying on the stripe painted on the tiled floor. For the angels dancing and skipping behind him as if they were hopped up on foot long sugar sticks and Mountain Dew, asking them to walk would be akin to telling the shifters of the group not to shift with the full moon. The human munchkins weren’t any different.
Marc just laughed to himself. He wouldn’t do a damn thing different with his life. Working with kids was truly the only thing he could imagine doing. He loved coming to work every day, loved molding their minds and helping shape who they’d become in the future. It gave him a respite from sharing responsibility as pack alpha and dealing with adults who should know better.
The first grade door swung open before he could grab the handle, and Cassandra White stepped out, heavily pregnant and probably wishing she were anywhere but standing in the hallway staring down her sixteen hyper students.
“Cassie, you okay?” She was one of his pack mates and so, part of his responsibility.
“Oh, yeah.” She tilted her head to the side and offered her neck in deference to his status, and then dug a fist into the small of her back. “Just tired and achy. Ready to push this beast out.” A smile tugged at her lips as she lovingly caressed the swollen mound with her free hand.
“How many weeks?”
“Three. But only one more of work. After Friday I am done for good.”
“Not coming back next year?”
Cassie’s nose wrinkled. “Nope. Staying home with itty bitty. I think they’ve already hired my replacement. At least for the rest of this year. Pretty sure she was here this morning.”
Marc swallowed, thinking about the woman who’d been in his gym. Please God, let it be her. Trying not to give himself away, he nodded. “Let Colton or I know if you need anything.”
“I will.” They stood aside to the let the bouncing class into the room. “Go wash your hands, boys and girls.” Cassie turned back to Marc. “Friday can’t come quick enough. These guys have been so hyper lately, you’d think summer break was starting tomorrow instead of in two months.”
“I noticed.” Marc rubbed the back of his head where he’d taken a soccer ball after being distracted. “Luke just took a restroom break, so don’t let him talk you into another one right away.”
She laughed. “He’s a stinker, is he not?”
“Yeah. Good thing he’s so cute.” Marc left her to her class and wandered back to his office to make a call before heading to his lunch duty. He had a feeling Colton would want to take this call because suddenly Marc was envisioning a certain beautiful woman round with their child.
Of course, first he had to convince said human to enter into a permanent relationship with two alpha werewolves.
•●•
Anna Belky smiled as she turned into the drive of the lake house. God, she’d missed being here. One more week and she’d be living here full time. Her boxes were packed, the lease on her apartment ended Friday, and Saturday she’d be in full move mode. Sunday she’d spend the day relaxing on the deck overlooking the lake and watch the sun sink down beneath the horizon before she started her new job on Monday.
The boxes could wait while she decompressed.
She narrowed her eyes as she stared at the one thing left most precious to her besides the teaching job she’d just been offered. Why had Peter suddenly let her have the house? It had seemed way too easy at the time—especially since he’d been so adamant during the proceedings about splitting all their belongings halfway—but she, being so excited, had jumped on the chance to live permanently on the lake. Last Friday, when she’d crossed paths with him at their lawyer’s office back in Kansas City—what he’d been doing there she didn’t know—he’d said she could have it. No questions asked. He’d handed her his keys and walked away. For him to suddenly give it up… Well, she didn’t know what to think.
The jerk’s bimbo probably thought the lake house too country for her tastes. Too far away from the city. Whatever. It was perfect for Anna. Just ten minutes outside of Trenton, where she’d be teaching, and even though Trenton only boasted a population of around sixty-three hundred, it was a nice-sized town. It had all the amenities she needed, at any rate. And it was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else. There was no Walmart and no jumbo shopping malls, but if she needed the kind of things provided by those establishments, well, she only had to drive a half an hour to visit one in Chillicothe, or she could traverse back to Kansas City.
She loved being there. It was why, when she’d left Peter, she’d chosen to move away from Kansas City and into Trenton in the first place. She’d been entranced driving through it on their way to get supplies for the lake house. After the divorce, she’d traded big city life for small town in a heartbeat. She’d decided if she couldn’t have the lake house to herself, she could at least be closer to it. Taking in the charm of Main Street hadn’t been a hardship. From its Fair Drugstore with its still working soda fountain and handmade malts and shakes, to the quaint little Crooks General Store where the owners continued to sell penny candy to children, Trenton was everything Anna dreamed history had been like. With the modern amenities too, of course.
What did she care what Peter’s reasons were? He’d given her full ownership of the house, and she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. There was only one elementary school in the district, and she hoped to be hired full time for next year, instead of part time filling in for a teacher on maternity leave for the rest of this year.
For the first time since she’d caught her ex pumping his dick into another woman, all was right in her world. In the space of a few seconds, her life as she’d known it a year and a half ago had shattered, and their beautiful weekend home had turned into a place filled with horrible memories. Of course, looking back, it really was the house that held the memories, not the times she’d spent there with Peter.
Nevertheless, it pissed her off.
“Weekend home on the lake, my ass.” Anna yanked the keys from the ignition and got out of the SUV. “More like ‘sneak away during the week so he can screw some big fake-boobed too much eyeliner candy apple red lipstick-wearing whore bim
bo’ home. Cheating ass rat-bastard.”
Dammit, he’d lead her to cursing again. She hated cursing and was doing her best to curb her potty mouth lest she slip in front of the impressionable young minds she’d be teaching. That oughtta go over well with everyone from the parents to the school board. So far, fortunately, the only thing that brought out the sailor in her was Peter.
Ugh. Why did this still bother her so much? It’d been six months since her divorce had been finalized and another year since she’d discovered his high dickness rolling around on her satin sheets in her bed with Ms. Candy Apple red.
It still stuck in her craw that she hadn’t had a freakin’ clue.
Never mind. Anna had come here on a mission. The first thing she was going to do was plant a tree in the big open space between the house and the lake, right in the middle where Peter had told her he never wanted a tree to obstruct his view. She had begged for a beautiful tree, and he had shot her down every time. So even though she hadn’t stepped foot in the house in more than six months—she hadn’t been able to face those memories quite yet—putting this tree in the earth right where she wanted it would soothe her nerves. Then she could face the monumental task of redecorating the inside and rid every shred of evidence Ms. Candy Apple had ever been in Anna’s domain.
Getting the tree out of the trunk area proved no small task. Anna found herself drenched in sweat by the time the bulb of burlap-covered roots hit the gravel drive. And then she had to lug the dang thing down to the perfect spot. At one time she had imagined her son or daughter swinging from a tire hung from its branches.
Peter hadn’t delivered in the baby department, either. Hadn’t wanted kids. Ever. Something he hadn’t told her until they’d been married for several months.
Jeez, how could she not have seen the real him? How had she been so stupid?
The trek across the yard leading to the lapping waters at the shoreline left her arms feeling like wet noodles. She should have gone for the smaller version. A five-gallon pot instead of one too big to fit in a pot, weighed a ton, and came wrapped in burlap instead. Most of the top hung out the open tailgate. She hadn’t realized how much work it would be to get it from her SUV to the spot she’d envisioned it growing because one of the workers had stuffed it in the rear of the vehicle for her.
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