Release Date: December 1, 2012
Target Reader: Adult
Heat Level: 4 of 5
Paperback: 978-1-937744-16-8, $15.99
ebook: 978-1-937744-17-5, $5.99
Someone is watching the Holloway pack, and this time, the female isn’t the target.
Life with a group of seven male werewolves worries Jem Stonehouse not one bit. She is engaged to the Alpha’s son Sean Holloway after all. So what has Jem’s territorial instincts on high alert?
The pack’s latest addition. Both of them.
None of the men think there’s a problem with the new girlfriends. Jem's intuition tells her otherwise—that and a nagging suspicion the new females aren't there to partake.
Jem believes they’ve joined in to take.
The question is ... What?
As the eve of the blue moon draws ever closer, Jem’s running out of time to find the answer and outwit a thief of the worst possible kind.
A woman who believes she can’t lose.
The Porsche purred beneath my palms. Wind whipped through the gap in my window, stirring my hair into a halo. In the passenger seat beside me, my best friend Poppy sat, shivering. “You sure you’re warm enough, Pop?”
“I’m good.” She pulled her coat a little higher around her wild red curls and re-aimed the vents her way for the twentieth time.
She’d never complain anyway, not when she understood being a werewolf notched up my regular body temperature enough that sweater and scarf compensated for the chance at fresh air. At least she had the burgers for warmth. Brown paper bags filled with lunch pressed against her lap. I’d already eaten one whilst driving, but the wafts of fat-scented steam continued to entice.
Rounding the corner, I turned onto the road to the site of the pack’s latest property development. Although tempted to squeal through the gates, and announce my arrival in style, I figured it best if Sean continued to believe I drove like a snail when in his car, and shifted down the gears one by one. .
I spun the wheel left for the turn and braked hard at a woman standing in the middle of the gatepost.
She whirled, lids narrowed over irises of bright blue until she settled into a look of bewilderment.
If she thought I’d missed the fleeting irritation in her expression, she was mistaken. I stuck my head out. “Can I help you?”
From beneath a full head of black waves, her cool stare trained on me as her hands faux-flapped in front of her. “You scared me out of my wits, flying round the corner like that.” The chill in the woman’s tone matched her expression.
I scowled. “Five miles an hour is not flying.”
“She trying to put out a fire, or something?” Poppy mumbled.
She turned from me to Poppy and quit with her hands before circling toward the almost completed apartments.
Near the entrance, Ethan, Sean’s older brother by two years, had his head in close to Connor Larsen’s ginger curls, but her focus only swung round as far as Connor’s son.
As though aware of the attention, Josh lifted his chin. His gaze shifted from the Porsche to the stranger. After he mumbled something to Connor and Ethan, the three men headed our way.
I glanced back in time to see a smirk cross the woman’s face.
“What’s she playing at?” Poppy hissed.
Shrugging, I stuck my head back out the window. “I asked you what you wanted.”
She glanced back to me. “I was just admiring the apartments.” At the arrival of the three men, she gave them her full attention, complete with winning smile.
“She switched that on pretty quick for them,” Poppy murmured.
Josh smiled at the young female as he strode past her. Arms coming to rest against the window ledge, he planted a kiss on my cheek. “You’ve been ages, Jem.”
“Well, I’m here now.”
He thumbed over his shoulder. “Who’s your friend?”
“She’s no friend of mine.” My lip curled. “She looked like she was spying.”
One day, a character and scene popped into J. A. Belfield’s head, and she started controlling the little people inside her imagination, as though she were the puppet master and they her toys. Questions arose: What would happen if …? How would they react if …? Who would they meet if …? Before she knew it, a singular scene had become an entire movie. The characters she controlled began to hold conversations. Their actions reflected the personalities she bestowed upon them. Within no time, they had a life, a lover, a foe, family … they had Become.
One day, she wrote down her thoughts. She’s yet to stop.
J. A. Belfield lives in Solihull, England, with her husband, two children, three cats and a dog. She writes paranormal romance, with a second love for urban fantasy.