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The Virgin and Her Wolf (1Night Stand series)

1Night Stand

Decadent Publishing Company

Heat Rating: SIZZLING
Word Count: 23,800
Available Formats
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ePub
Mobi

Luck be a lady tonight.

Claire Bannatyne is a lady, but sometimes the twenty-one-year old wolftress behaves like the indecisive virgin princess of a Grand Alpha wolf—which she is. Her father wants her to choose a life-mate, but that pesky indecisiveness to choose is about to cost her dearly. Soon, she’ll be forced to enter into an arranged marriage, with a mate of her father’s choosing, and all the wrong men are vying for her hand. Desperate for a carefree last fling, she contacts Madame Eve and pleads for a 1Night Stand. She arrives in Las Vegas expecting a whirlwind night of hedonistic lust, but those plans implode big time.

Irish charmer, Aidan Gregor has flirtatious topaz eyes and loads of Alpha confidence. He’s a motorcycle-racing thrill seeker, used to taking risks.

An irresistible attraction ignites between Claire and Aidan after he slams into her while chasing a mugger. He apologizes by wining and dining her then visiting the Romulus BDSM Club.

Naughty, naughty, somebody’s hiding a secret and that secret has big teeth. On their way to getting undressed, Claire and Aidan discover they’re in a lot of trouble. Their lust is going to burn bright for far longer than one night. But with so much at stake, there’s only one way for them to find a happily ever after, and that’s going to mean putting pack secrets and traditions on the line.

Excerpt

“I’ll be fine.” She grinned and, eager to leave her frustrations behind, darted down the stairwell, heels and all, before the others followed. Click, click click. Tenth floor. Click, click, click. She ran faster, skimming her hand along the rail. Ninth floor. The surefooted wolf in her could run in heels with agility. Some freshly painted ceiling trim assaulted her sensitive nose with its strong odor most humans would never notice. Eighth floor.

Bam! The door to the seventh floor flew open in her face. A big guy dressed in black charged through the entrance, nearly knocking her down.

“Watch it!” She reeled backward to avoid being struck, losing her balance in the process.

“Holy Mother Mary!” He grabbed her a split second before she toppled down the next flight. For a second, she dangled in midair, but his large hands held tight, leaving her breathless.

He set her down and loosened his hold. Her heels wobbled and knees buckled. She slumped against him to keep from collapsing.

“I’ve got you.” Pulling her against his broad chest, arms locked protectively around her, he pressed her face against his silky shirt. A whiff of aromatic cologne with earthy notes of amber and moss rolled off his skin. “I’m sorry about that. Are you all right?” he asked, the lilt of an Irish accent faint, but distinct.

She planted her feet securely on the concrete. “I’m okay. You can let go.”

His grip lingered. The heat of his body penetrated her dress. He brushed the tip of his nose against her hair near her ear. His warm breath bathed her cheek.

When she tried to ease away, he held her fast. She frowned. “What’s with you? You don’t just burst through fire doors like a jack-in-the-box. You could have broken my neck.”

His hand explored a bit of bare skin exposed by the plunging back of her dress. “I said I was sorry.”

Forced to pluck his hands free, she focused on him. Her first true glimpse of the tall, stunning man set her heart thumping. Cut along rugged lines, his striking good looks sent mixed signals. A glossy mass of dark curls had been partially smoothed away from his lean face, giving him a wild and worldly appearance. A few stray freckles hid beneath a healthy, sun-washed glow. The resolute jawline peppered with black stubble hinted at a stubborn nature while its neighbor, his sculpted mouth, remained purely sensual and enticed her to kiss it. Childlike mischief shone in hazel eyes that tipped up at the corners. Dazzled by his masculinity, she nearly muttered the word satyr.

Dressed head to toe in elegant black clothing, he was the living image of scorching temptation.

“I like your perfume.”

Uneased by her tormenting reaction to a stranger, she drew away. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” The perfect arch of his lips lifted to reveal glistening white teeth and an arresting smile that could bring time to a standstill.

The words, my, what big teeth you have, crossed her mind.

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