His Curvy Mate (Alpha Prime #2)
by Georgette St. Clair
181 pages
Published November 19th 2016
Most shifters give near-feral Alpha Prime Creel a wide berth
– and he likes it that way. At least, that’s what happens until
he wakes up with a crazy woman in his bed who insists that
they’re mated, and seems to know everything about him –
right down to the scar on his inner thigh. Sure, Miranda’s
curves are sexy as sin and her scent makes his wolf howl
with desire, but bitter experience has taught him what
happens when he lets anyone get too close.
Creel’s still reeling from a devastating betrayal, and he’s
vowed to live out his life alone. He should be relieved when
Miranda’s pack drags her away. So why does he find himself
tearing a car apart to rescue her? Why is he offering his
protection, even though he can’t offer his heart? And will he
open himself up to her before secrets from their past threaten
to destroy them and their new territory?
– and he likes it that way. At least, that’s what happens until
he wakes up with a crazy woman in his bed who insists that
they’re mated, and seems to know everything about him –
right down to the scar on his inner thigh. Sure, Miranda’s
curves are sexy as sin and her scent makes his wolf howl
with desire, but bitter experience has taught him what
happens when he lets anyone get too close.
Creel’s still reeling from a devastating betrayal, and he’s
vowed to live out his life alone. He should be relieved when
Miranda’s pack drags her away. So why does he find himself
tearing a car apart to rescue her? Why is he offering his
protection, even though he can’t offer his heart? And will he
open himself up to her before secrets from their past threaten
to destroy them and their new territory?
Well this was one
hell of a book. Man how I love books by
Georgette. This is the second book in
the Alpha Prime
series. These books as so well written and so thoroughly
thought out, that the story just flows as it all falls into place.
I so cannot
wait till the next book is out.
This is Creel and
Miranda’s story. Miranda is not your normal
shifter. Well she is not a full
shifter but a half bread. She is
part witch. And she can see ghosts, wich leads
to some
really funny parts in this story. She has this crazy grandma
who even
though she is dead will not leave he bee. But she
can be such a funny ghost spying
on the kids at lover’s lane,
and helping a friend a fellow ghost out to. But man
is Creel
in for a fun ride with Miranda she is what he has needed and
never
knew it. He is one grumpy Alpha Prime. And has no
plans to change not even
after the morning he wakes up with
a strange woman in his bed. He is determined
to stay away
from her, but is failing miserably. Oh but he is in for a lot of
surprises.
When he learns all he thought he knew is not the
true reality of things.
Now before I ruin
this for you I will leave off here. I hope you
enjoy this book as much as
I did. If you do like this book,
please consider leaving a review. The Authors
really like it
when you do; they value your opinions too.
Chapter One
Creel Jenkins was having a very
weird dream. He was in bed with a woman, but that wasn’t the weird part. The
weird part was that he wasn’t dreaming about having sexwith her; she was just lying there next
to him, her soft breasts and soft tummy pressing into his back, and
she smelled like heaven.
The fact that he could smell her was also
pretty strange. He’d never had a sense of smell in a dream
before.
She was a wolf shifter; he could scent
that too. She felt perfectly right pressed into him, and he felt
completely peaceful with her there, which was one way that he knew he was
dreaming. Creel never felt peaceful. There was a war going on
inside him, threatening to tear him apart. He woke up every day, idly
wondering, is this the day I give in to my wolf? And would Douglas
be able to take the gun that Creel had given him, loaded with silver bullets,
and do what needed to be done?
Creel normally was an early riser, but today
he decided he would sleep in just a little bit more. He lay there breathing in
her sweet perfume and enjoying the rare sensation of calm.
He really must be going crazy, because he’d never
had such a realistic dream before. It felt so real that he realized it must be
a shockingly vivid hallucination rather than a dream. He knew there
was no way there was really a woman in bed with him. He was single. He
hadn’t even gone on a date in months.
Hallucinations. Was this the beginning
of the end?
Well, if this was what going crazy felt like,
maybe he should have tried it earlier. He lay there, actually enjoying himself,
not worrying about the implications of what a final descent into
madness meant for him. He’d been expecting it for a long time. He was
an Alpha Prime without an Omega or a mate to absorb his dark, angry
energy, and that only ended one way.
Idly, in no great hurry, he considered the
situation. He was nude, of course. He always slept nude. She was wearing
something that felt silky.
He heard a faint snore. She was asleep. Funny thathis
dream should have designed it so she was wearing clothing. And why
did his dream include her snoring?
After a minute, the snoring stopped and he
felt his dream woman slide out of bed. His body cried out in protest at
the loss of her warmth, but he still lay there with his eyes closed, willing
her to come back. It was his dream, damn it – why couldn’t he control
what happened in it? The woman should be back here nuzzling him, kissing him,
touching him…
But instead she walked out of the bedroom. She wentinto the
kitchen, and he heard her opening the refrigerator.Then he heard eggs cracking. He
smelled butter sizzling on the skillet. Then the tangy scent of cheese. She
was making a cheese omelet for breakfast, and she’d put on coffee.
He rubbed his hands over his face, his palm
running over the scars that slashed through his left eyebrow and ran down his
left cheekbone.
He could hear her talking to someone in the
kitchen. “Don’t worry about it, Grammy Edith, I’ll explain it to him when he
wakes up.”
But he couldn’t scent anyone else, just her. What
a weird dream.
And it could only last so long, of course.
His enhanced shifter hearing picked up the
sound of a car rolling to a stop near the front of his house, and then the
stealthy tread of four men heading his way.
His eyes flew open instinctively, and
he leaped out of bed and ran into the main area of the cabin. It
was open, with only a waist-high counter separating the kitchen from the living
room. There was a pile of empty beer cans and several empty liquor bottles
lying near the garbage can.
There were four male wolf shifters standing
on his front porch, and they’d pulled the door open. The coolMay air
swept in. A woman was standing at the stove,stirring up a cheese
omelet and looking at the doorway in alarm. She quickly pulled the
frying pan off the flames and set it on another burner.
He quickly took in her appearance.
She had thick, curly dark hair, light brown eyes the color of amber
jewels,a round face, and broad, generous hips. She was wearing a pink
button-down pajama top and matching pajama bottoms.
This was no dream after all. It was
just anexceptionally weird way for his morning to begin, even considering
that he lived in the wild, undeveloped territory of Greenlands.
The men crowded together in front of his
doorway, looking as if they wanted to barrel in, but hesitating. As
shifters, they’d be able to sense Creel’s power, and storming into an Alpha
Prime’s home uninvited was an excellent way to commit suicide.
“She belongs to us!” one of them yelled,
pointing atthe woman.
“No I don’t,” she said defiantly, glaring at
them. “I left the pack, and I belong to Creel. You’re
interrupting our honeymoon, Terrence. Get out.”
“Honeymoon?” Creel echoed dumbly. He stared
at her.
She gave him an indignant look. “Well
yes, since we only mated last night, we are still on our honeymoon.”
“Miranda’s your mate?” Terrence said, glancing
questioningly at Creel. He was a tall, hawk-faced man with a long nose and
dark, narrow eyes.
“No, she’s not,” Creel said. He scowled
at the woman. “Is this a practical joke? Because playing a practical
joke on an Alpha Prime never ends well. This was Douglas’s idea, wasn’t
it?”
“Who’s Douglas?” one of the other
shifters said.
At the same time, Miranda smiled
and said, “Oh Creel, you are such a joker.” Creel
could hear the nervousness underlying her attempt to sound playful.
She glanced at the group of shifters.
“Really, Creel Jenkins and I are mated. You need to get out now.”
“I’m pretty damn sure that I’d remember
if I’d claimed a mate,” Creel snapped at her. He was starting to get
really mad now, and he hated to admit to himself that part of what was making
him so angry was waking up from that delicious dream, which had been
the only peace he’d known in so long. And now it was all turning
into either a terrible misunderstanding or somebody’s really stupid idea
of a prank.
She shrugged and poured a cup of coffee.
“If he’s your mate, where’s
your claiming mark?”Terrence said to her, peering at her neck.
She took a bottle of milk from the fridge and
stirred some into the coffee.
“We were busy doing other things last night.”
The shifters sniffed at the air. “This whole place
should smell like you been fuckin’ all night long,” one ofthem said. “But
it doesn’t.”
“Eww, Clegg. How rude. Not that it’s any
of your business, but we did it outside,” she said, flicking him a
glance of annoyance.
Creel glanced around the cabin. He could not
for the life of him figure out what this woman’s game was. Some Alpha Primes were
rich and had huge packs and lots of power and prestige. Creel, by choice,
wasn’t one of those.Creel was a carpenter. He worked enough to keep
him in beer and groceries. He had built his small log cabinhimself.
It was certainly high quality, but not something that would attract a
gold-digger.
Miranda gestured at the pile of empty beer
cans and liquor bottles. “I know you were really drunk last night,
but you said that you were claiming me. I hope you’re not the kind of
Alpha who goes back on his word.”
If he’d told her he was claiming her, he
would have honored his word. But he knew that he hadn’t.
“Listen, woman, I’m an Alpha Prime, so
unfortunately it takes a shitload of alcohol to even get me buzzed. I
have never in my life come close to being so drunk that I lost my memory.” He
glared at her. “So I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull here,
but it’s not going to work.”
“If we didn’t mate last night, then how do I
know about the little birthmark on your inner thigh?”
Momentarily speechless, he stared at
her. How didshe know about the birthmark? It was high up and
not easy to see. This was bizarre, because he was a hundred percentsure
that he had never had sex with this woman in his life.Could someone else
have told her? It seemed like a strange thing to tell another woman. “Oh,
yeah, I did it with an Alpha Prime named Creel six months ago, and by the way,
he had a tiny brown mark on the inside of his left thigh.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “You tell me.”
Terrence interrupted her as she was
about to speak. “You’re saying that Miranda Weaving of the Coldwater Pack is
not your mate, and you have no claim on her, is that right?”
She looked at Creel nervously.
Sign up for Georgette's weekly newsletter if you'd like to get
a free shifter romance, latest news about books that are
coming out, freebies, contests and more! My sign up form
is at my blog. Georgette St. Clair is the New York Times,
USA Today, Amazon and Barnes & Noble bestselling
author of paranormal romances. As a woman of a certain
size - okay, 14 - she particularly likes to write stories with
a BBW/curvy theme to them, because she can relate to
them a lot better than she can relate to romances
featuring pencil-thin supermodels.
Georgette loves to hear from readers at mailto:
Georgettewrites@gmail.com.
Suggestions, comments,critiques, tips on how to housebreak
middle-aged Chihuahuas...email away, folks! Mwaaah!
(air-kissing sound effect.)
Georgette is hard at work on her imaginary journey into the
land of hot Alpha males, but will be frequently checking her
email, sales reports, and supply of dark chocolate, while
continuing to refer to herself in the third person. come friend
me, I hope to hear from you soon!
Email Her at
Georgettewrites@gmail.com
Georgettewrites@gmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment