Her Purr-fect Lions [Lions of Lonesome, Texas 3] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting)
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Lions of Lonesome, Texas 3
Her Purr-fect Lions
After seeing a lion change into a woman at last year’s Shifter Days Festival, Bree Chambers is ready to prove that shifters are real. Still, she never expects to run straight into three gorgeous shifters. When she can’t get them to admit what they are, she snags an invitation to stay in their bunkhouse.
When werelion brothers Matt and Ridge Dayton and their cousin Burton Bridgeport notice the beautiful brunette, they know they’re lost. They’d love to show her their claws, but they have to hold back until they’re sure she’s the one.
When their not-so-friendly neighbor, Ron, decides to give Bree a touch of The Allure, the mystical werelion breath that draws mates together, the men have to up their game if they plan on capturing their mate.
But are the men too late? Has she already succumbed to Ron’s allure, putting her out of their reach? Or must they take extra, even supernatural measures to get her back?
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter
Length: 34,482 words
HER PURR-FECT LIONS
Lions of Lonesome, Texas 3
Jane Jamison

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
HER PURR-FECT LIONS
Copyright © 2018 by Jane Jamison
ISBN: 978-1-64243-007-3
First Publication: February 2018
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2018 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
DEDICATION
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Lonesome, Texas, where the fur flies and the sex burns. Sit down, grab a cool drink, and enjoy.
Thank you for reading my books.
“Love the person, not the package.”
Jane Jamison
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
From an early age, Jane Jamison was fascinated with stories about werewolves, vampires, aliens, and whatever else might be hiding in her bedroom closet. To this day, she still swears she can hear growls and moans whenever the lights are out.
Born under the sign of Scorpio meant Jane was destined to be very sensual. Some would say she’s downright sexual. Then one day she put her two favorite things together and found her life’s true ambition: to be a romance author.
Jane spends each day locked in her office surrounded by her two furry bundles of joy and the heroes and heroines she loves. Her plans include taking care of her loving husband, traveling, and writing until her fingers fall off.
Jane also writes as Beverly Rae.
For all titles by Jane Jamison, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/jane-jamison
For titles by Jane Jamison writing as
Beverly Rae, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/beverly-rae
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Landmarks
Cover
HER PURR-FECT LIONS
Lions of Lonesome, Texas 3
JANE JAMISON
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
Bree Chambers did her best not to stare, but she was losing the battle. Ever since she and her best friend, Winnie Bunch, had walked into the Whiskers and Whiskey Saloon in Lonesome, Texas, she’d been at a loss to keep from gaping.
Shit, stop staring. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.
That had been then, and this was now. Not that she’d ever get used to seeing anything like the people in Lonesome, Texas.
She’d happened on last year’s Shifter Days Festival by sheer luck. After spending hours behind the wheel on the long stretch of boring highway between her aunt’s home in McAlister, Oklahoma, and her home in Palooka, Texas, population “two-thirds full of old folks and one-third of youngsters like me who are dying to get the hell out,” she was ready to get off the main road and do a little exploring. After all, she’d left her aunt’s house earlier than planned and had a couple of days she could spend doing whatever she wanted to do. She’d never heard of either the Shifter Days Festival or Lonesome, but once she’d seen the homemade signs pointing the way into town, she’d had to see what was going on. Small towns—other than her own—were sometimes full of interesting characters.
Her life had changed from the moment she’d walked into the Whiskers and Whiskey Saloon and had seen the unbelievable come to life.
After having a couple of beers on an empty stomach, she’d stumbled toward the ladies’ room, ready to take care of necessity then find a decent place to grab some food. She’d hang back awhile—after all, she was a woman alone—and get the lay of the land first. Then, if everything seemed safe enough, she’d join in the festivities.
Pushing open the door of the restroom, she’d slammed to a stop. Then she’d blinked. Then she’d rubbed her eyes. Even to this day, she’d sworn she hadn’t had more than those two beers. Yet what other explanation could there have been to see what she’d seen? She’d had to have been under the influence. Either that or she’d suddenly gone crazy. And suddenly losing her sanity didn’t seem very likely. Had she’d been drugged? But she’d seen both beers poured straight out of the tap, so that theory was shot to hell and back.
Which left only one conclusion. What she’d seen had been real.
The lioness’s massive bulk had taken up most of the three-stall restroom. The animal had been three times the size of any lion she’d ever seen at the zoo. Its fur had glowed like golden strands of wheat under the fluorescent light. Amber eyes had locked onto her as the long tail had swished back and forth. Ears had flattened against its head, yet it hadn’t snarled. Instead, the eyes had widened as though the animal had been as surprised as Bree.
A second later, before Bree had formed enough of a rational thought to be afraid, the beast had knocked her out of the way with a whirl of its massive body. Bree had landed on her ass under the one sink, but she’d managed to keep the lioness in her sight.
At least, that was until the image of the animal had blurred. Suddenly, before Bree had been able to get off the tile floor, the lioness had disappeared. In its place, was a beautiful blonde woman, naked as the day the good Lord had brought her into the world.
A smile as radiant as any sunrise broke onto the woman’s face
. “Sorry about that.”
Bree opened her mouth, but her brain failed to process anything to say.
The smile widened. The woman appeared unabashed by her nudity. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
Bree, still frozen, her mind struggling to comprehend, stayed where she was.
“Never mind.” The woman tossed her long, golden tresses over her shoulder. “Again, sorry about scaring you, but I’ve got to get moving. Ta-ta, sweetie.”
And then, moving fast, the woman was out the door and gone.
“This is amazing,” said Winnie, her mug of beer lifted halfway to her mouth.
Bree jerked back to the here and now and nodded, knowing Winnie still doubted what she’d seen. Not that she blamed her friend. She knew she sounded crazy every time she brought up the subject. Had, in fact, returned to the insanity explanation often over the course of the last year. Still, even though Winnie promised she truly believed her, Bree knew she was only saying so out of friendship and loyalty.
But Bree knew the truth whether or not anyone back home believed her. Shifters did exist, and she’d run smack-dab into one. Or, actually, one had run smack-dab into her and knocked her off her feet. “It sure is.”
“Was it this crowded when you were here last year?”
“Yeah.” Bree followed Winnie’s gaze toward two men at the counter. She wasn’t too worried about them seeing her stare. After all, she only caught brief glimpses of them whenever the crowd shifted.
“Why didn’t you come right back? Why wait an entire year?”
The questions hit Bree hard. Yet she should’ve known Winnie would ask. The only surprising thing was that she hadn’t asked before now. She answered truthfully. “Well, for one thing, the festival only happens one time a year.”
“You know what I mean.”
She did. How many times had she started to drive back to Lonesome only to turn around and head straight back home? Back home to safety. Still, her friend was right. She should’ve come back sooner to check things out. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to come alone. And it took a while before you…” She paused again.
Guilt swamped Winnie’s expression. “Before I believed you.”
“Don’t worry. I get it.” She couldn’t blame Winnie for not believing her wild tale. Would she have believed Winnie if she’d come home to the small house they shared and started talking about shifters being real? Even though she was a devout lover of all things shifters, she doubted it. Fiction was fiction, and reality was reality. She was thankful her friend at least professed to believe her. But once Winnie saw a shifter for herself, then all her doubts—and the uneasiness between them—would be gone.
Winnie’s attention shifted back to the gorgeous guys at the bar.
Bree took a drink then, as she’d already done so many times before, apologized. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get reservations at the B&B. I tried, but they were already full. In fact, the lady who runs the place—I think her name is Miss Kitty if you can believe that—said another woman had booked the last room. She said that woman might cancel because she’d cancelled before, but I guess this was the year she finally kept the reservation. Figures.”
“Like I’ve said before, don’t worry about. It’ll be fun camping out.” The highlights in Winnie’s curly blonde hair shone under the lights of the bar. Her big brown eyes didn’t flicker once toward Bree as Winnie kept squirming in her chair to get a better look at the two magnificent dark-haired hunks at the bar.
Too bad the men’s attention was set squarely on a couple of women seated at another table. From the way the four were looking at each other, those men were already spoken for.
Winnie straightened up, her focus leaving the two men to slide appraisingly over the other men at the bar.
Bree smiled, thankful again of Winnie’s easy-going nature. She doubted many of her other girlfriends would’ve stuck around to sleep in a tent. Most of them considered a Holiday Inn without room service to be roughing it. “We’re lucky I found that spot of land just outside of town. And to have the owner, Mr. Harper, out fixing fences just as we drove by. I didn’t like the idea of putting up a tent on anyone’s land without asking first. I’ve heard stories from last year about people getting kicked off someone’s property in some very not-so-friendly ways.”
“Uh-huh. Friendly. As in paying him a bunch of money to be friendly,” added Winnie. “I’m still in shock. We’re paying fifty bucks each night for the privilege to sleep in the middle of a dirt field.”
Bree shrugged. “It’s better than sleeping in the car.”
“I guess. Although the bugs wouldn’t be able to get at us in the car.” Winnie’s dark gaze met Bree’s. “And if what you say is true—” Winnie bit her lower lip, catching her mistake. “I mean, since what you say is true, maybe we’d be safer sleeping in the car.”
“We’re not going to get eaten by a shifter.” At least, she hoped not. “Besides, if we’re lucky, we might be invited home by some friendly locals.”
“Locals. Right.” Winnie leaned toward Bree and lowered her voice. “Locals as in shifter men. Hot shifter men.” Not that it would’ve mattered if she’d shouted. The noise of the large crowd in the saloon made eavesdropping almost impossible.
Outside the street was filled with festival-goers. Lights made the main street bright on a cloudy night as the Shifter Days banner flapped in the wind, waving a welcome to all the visitors. They’d gotten lucky and found a parking spot behind the saloon, yet they’d still walked around to the front to see all the people in costumes. Like the alien festival in Roswell, New Mexico, locals as well as visitors dressed in varying degrees of costumes. People in their lion, tiger, and wolf costumes mingled in the street, buying food from street vendors. Others wore Shifter Days Festival T-shirts sporting a fierce lion on the front as they raised a glass and gave a shout-out to “shifters of all kinds.” Most of the costumes looked like they’d been purchased online or at a costume store, but some were extraordinary. Several times, Bree had taken a second look to convince herself that she was seeing a person in a costume and not a real lion.
“Take a look around you, Win. What do you see?”
Winnie frowned but did as she was asked. “I see a bunch of people in costumes. And a lot of people who are going to have hangovers in the morning.”
“True, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Look at the man-to-woman ratio.”
“The what?”
Winnie was more intelligent than she was letting on. “You know what I mean. See? Each woman has at least two men surrounding her. Sometimes three or four men. So what do you think of that?”
“I think you’re seeing things where there’s nothing to see. And that Lonesome definitely has a lock on sexy men.” Yet Winnie looked again. “Okay. So what if you’re right. What does it mean? That Lonesome is like Alaska? That there are more men here than women?”
“In a way, yeah. Which means that, if we find one hot-looking man, then we might find more than one.”
Winnie took a fresh look around. “Well, that is a plus. But that doesn’t mean it’ll happen to us.”
“We can sure hope it does.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, each taking time to sip their drinks and gaze with renewed interest around the bar. At last, as Bree had known she would, Winnie asked the inevitable question.
“So you’re hoping we’re going to find not one but at least four shifters. Two for you and two for me?”
The skepticism was strong in Winnie’s tone, but Bree ignored it. “Yeah. I am.”
At least two for each of us. Damn, but wouldn’t that be something?
Another uneasy silence came.
Aw, hell. Here it comes.
Winnie took a big drink, then gathered a long breath, and said it. “Look, Bree, I believe you. Really I do.”
“No, you don’t.” The recrimination dripped in her tone.
Winnie sat up straighter, a determin
ed look on her face. “If you say you saw a shifter, then you saw a shifter.”
“Then what? Where’s the but?” She couldn’t help but feel hurt.
“No but. It’s just that, if there are a bunch of shifters in here, why do you want to hook up with one? Not to mention more than one? Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”
They’d had the discussion before far too many times for Bree’s comfort. But if she had to keep having the same conversation, then so be it. “Because I don’t think they’d hurt us. If they did, it would get out. People around the world would find out about Lonesome.” Not that she thought Lonesome was the only shifter town in the world, but why bring that up?
“You know, they might not be like the shifters in the movies. Sure, they’re probably handsome like most of the men in here, but that doesn’t mean they’ll treat you right.”
“And it doesn’t mean they won’t. The same could be said of any human man, too. We both know how it is to have lousy boyfriends.”
Winnie let out a puff of air, a sure sign she was giving up the argument. At least, for the time being. “Okay. So what do we do? Stand on the table and tell them we’re looking for shifters?”
Bree chuckled. “Maybe. I mean, why be subtle?”
Winnie’s body stiffened, even though she laughed. “Oh, hell, I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
“No, you probably shouldn’t have.”
“Well, Miz Chambers, exactly what kind of shifter do you want? How about a couple of hot werewolves?”
Bree had asked herself the same question many times. At first, she’d thought it wouldn’t matter. Now, however, after coming to Lonesome again, she’d decided one kind of shifter stood out from the rest. “Uh-uh. No wolves for me.” Her gaze slipped around the room as though needing to re-affirm her decision. “Nope. I want lions.”