White Wolf Preview

A year ago my first book, Manacled in Monaco, was released. Next week, my fifth book, White Wolf, a paranormal romantic suspense, will be released by Loose-Id.

I can hardly beleieve my good fortune. Here is a preview of White Wolf.

“I’m counting to ten, and if you’re not out of that lake with your hands above your head by the time I reach ten, I’ll start shooting.” Sheriff Gray White balanced a rifle on one shoulder and held a flashlight at eye level, effectively blinding the perp.

What the…? His eyes locked onto the most perfect pair of breasts he’d ever seen -- rounded, uptilted, nipples pouting.

Gray’s head whipped up. His jaw dropped; then he clamped it shut and swallowed.

Damn.

Since when did a siren inhabit Lake Wickia? Wet hair plastered to skin the sun had never warmed, caressing each mound. His hold on the weapon slackened as drops of water, little love kisses, meandered down flesh so succulent and tempting, his fingers tingled.

The disciplined cop in him retreated as she advanced, slender legs spraying water with each step.

His eyes traced one translucent pearl as it dipped into a navel and wound around a silver belly ring dangling a delicate chain with a little heart on the end. It raced over a taut belly to its final destination, an Irish setter red triangle of curls. Oxygen didn’t make it to his brain; blood crashed to his nether regions.

“My name’s Sorcha McFadden, Officer, and as you can see, I’ve been skinny-dipping.” She stood tall and proud, chin jutting, a fiery defiance blazing from eyes the word “blue” couldn’t begin to describe. “I’m going inside to find a towel.”

She turned around then and started up the stairs.

Gray’s lungs had long stopped functioning; his reactions went on overdrive. Her scent intoxicated him. His mouth watered.

The white wolf in him roared and bellowed and seized control.

He sniffed and a whiff of her perfume, an intriguing blend of musk and cut lawn, went straight to his organ. Without a blink’s hesitation he stalked after her, ogling her heart-shaped rear, his eyes darting from one cheek to the other as she mounted the three steps to the porch. High, pert, mesmerizing glutes with a hint of softness, the dimple in one winking as the other cheek tautened, hypnotized him.

Closing the distance between them, he stifled a growl when she twisted her hair to one side, exposing supple flesh pleading for his teeth, his tongue. The temptation to suckle the honeyed spot and mark her with his scent dizzied him. He tucked the flashlight under the curve of his rifle arm and grabbed the banister with his left hand.

Steady, steady.

No way he’d get control over his raging desire during the interview made compulsory because he’d called in the trespasser. Gray planted his feet before the open sliding glass doors, gulping huge breaths of the chill April air, knowing the pine aroma should replace hers, but it didn’t. Her fragrance sank into his pores; he inhaled her spicy aroma.

He had found his mate.

He was insane.

This wasn’t possible.

This wasn’t the way to find a mate.

Was it possible to erase a thought?

Willing his body under control, he stared as she pulled a throw off the edge of a sofa, her movements lithe, graceful. She stood no more than five feet three and yet had Vegas chorus-girl legs. His eyes found the source of her womanhood, locked onto one lone bead hanging over the cliff to the hood veiling paradise.

Hands shaking, he set the rifle and the spotlight down on a mahogany dining table. He couldn’t choke back a groan as she hid all that delicious ivory flesh from his greedy gaze with a blue blanket, which she twisted in place above her breasts.

She spun around.

Her complexion paled. Her pupils dilated. She took a step back. “You.”

What had he missed?

She knew him?