This one’s releasing sometime early Tuesday morning, but I thought you might like to take a peek inside first! Hope you love the excerpt! Information regarding the contest is at the bottom of this post! ~DD

Pre-order your copy here!

Read an excerpt!

When the DJ’s speaker set crashed to the floor as the first women to arrive rushed the tables nearest the stage, Tara Toomey scrambled for a replacement and chalked the mishap up to high spirits.

When one of the volunteers carrying a tray of Jell-O shots tripped, and cherry and lime gelatin slid in glistening trails down his face and naked chest, she laughed as eager women offered to lick him clean.

However, it wasn’t until one of her staff whispered in her ear that she knew she was in for a long night. The main attraction had yet to arrive.

She crushed her dog-eared copy of the “Hook-up” program in her fist and headed toward the old-fashioned, double swinging doors, ready to stomp all the way to Redbone Ranch to drag his butt to town.

As she passed excited, tittering women her smile felt strained, and her nerves stretched taut. The “Annual Honky-tonk Hook-up” had always been a good time, but this year she wished she hadn’t been so quick to volunteer her bar again. Sure, it was good for business and many of the “blow-ins” from Houston, San Antonio, and San Angelo returned throughout the year because they enjoyed the event and Paraiso’s authentic western ambience.

But Tara wished she could return home, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over her head. The last thing she felt ready to do was watch one particular cowboy strut his stuff across the stage and land in some other woman’s clutches—even if it was just one night, completely innocent, right, and for a really good cause. The fact he might blow off the auction pissed her off almost as much as the thought of the spectacle he’d cause if he did finally make an entrance.

If anyone thought splintered speaker casings or a little spilled Jell-O were trouble, they hadn’t seen a room full of women erupt in the wake of one seriously sexy cowboy. Read the rest of this entry »

Where did 2017 go? Dang, for me, it was a really short year! Must have been busy.

I hope you all stay safe tonight! I’ll likely be snoozing by the time the big apple or peach drops since I’ve been up since 3:30 AM—darn insomnia!

And just because I love to celebrate my accomplishments (who else will?!), I’ve posted last month’s releases, in case you missed them, and I’m giving you the great big list of all my 2017 stories. Prepare to be amazed. LOL!

Now, go stock up on champagne and noise-makers!! See you in 2018!

A Quick Recap of December!

Soldier Boy
Texas Cowboys, Book 3

Just home from war, Mac McDonough is in a world of hurt only a woman can cure. Her jealous stalker doesn’t stand a chance…

Fresh from war, “Mac” McDonough wants just two things: whiskey to drown the pain in his damaged leg and a woman. But one look into Suki Reese’s haunted eyes, and he knows she needs the kind of muscle only an ex-soldier can provide.

Mac’s brooding gaze and hard body leave Suki Reece breathless and disturbed. The rugged ex-soldier won’t listen to a word she says until Suki distracts him with a sexy striptease. That gets his attention. Suki may have gotten the upper hand, but Mac is going to be on top.

Get your copy here!

Wolf Moon Rising

Beaux Rêve Coven, Book 3

In Jefferson Parish, deep in the bayou, is a place called Bonne Nuit. Off the beaten path, isolated by swamp and connected to the sea, there the Beaux Rêve Coven thrives.

Five witches…Too many demons to count…

Aoife is the flightiest of the sister witches, and she has a secret, one her mother warned her to keep close to her heart. Her father was a fairy—which explains her quirkiness and her affinity for flowers. She lives in a cabin on stilts that juts into the bayou, and one of her demon guardians is a werewolf. She’s attracted, but how would he feel if he married her, fathered a child, and that child disappeared into the land of the fae?

Desperate to find a solution to her dilemma, she flees her guardian’s protection. Her last hope is to enlist her father’s help. Plead her case. Her happiness, and that of her one true love, Sigurd, depends on whether she can escape this fairy curse.

Get your copy here!

Arctic Dragon
Standalone

Escaping her destiny for a day in the human world, a snow maiden, is rescued after her horse bolts, and then is brought to an isolated cabin by a recluse—a handsome, gifted artist, living alone in an arctic wilderness…

Headstrong, and seeking a little respite from a suitor’s relentless wooing, Queen Larikke rides the arctic wind far beyond the bounds of Northland, only to have her horse bolt at a shot from a hunter’s gun. Her rescuer is a handsome, mysterious man who lives alone in the wilderness, his cabin filled with erotic images of women. Rather than fearing her fate, Larikke sets out to seduce him, hoping for one last fling before she settles down to do her duty and wed.

Thinking he was saving a life, Drake dragged a very strange woman home, stripped her, and warmed her by his fire. Now, he finds his long, self-imposed isolation may have made her allure impossible to resist, and Drake fears he’ll harm her if he shares his special kiss.

Get your copy here!

45 for 2017! Uh, actually more!

This is the list for 2017! I’ve highlighted my personal favorite stories in red. And note that numbers 29 and 30 are multiples, so my actual total sits at 51, I think. So, I don’t blame you if you haven’t caught up! 🙂

1. 01/10/17 – STEPBROTHERS STEPPING OUT: ULTIMATE COLLECTION, Box Set
2. 01/24/17 – RIDE A TEXAS COWBOY, reissue
3. 01/31/17 – SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT, Texas Billionaires series
4. 02/14/17 – HARD SEAL TO LOVE, Uncharted SEALs series
5. 02/19/17 – FUN WITH DICK AND JAYNE, reissue
6. 03/11/17 – BEGGING FOR IT, reissue
7. 03/24/17 – SWEETER THAN HONEY, reissue (Indie)
8. 03/28/17 – STEPBROTHER’S STEPPING OUT: WITH HIS SEAL TEAM-4, short story
9. 03/31/17 – SADDLED, reissue
10. 04/08/17 – RAW SILK, reissue
11. 04/11/17 – WHO’S YOUR DADDY, Texas Billionaire Club series
12. 04/18/17 – BAD TO THE BONE, Night Fall series (Indie)
13. 05/06/17 – UNBRIDLED, Lone Star Lovers series, reissue
14. 05/10/17 – STEPBROTHERS STEPPING OUT: WITH HIS SEAL TEAM-4, short story
15. 05/16/17 – UNFORGIVEN, Lone Star Lovers series, reissue
16. 05/20/17 – NERD’S BLIND DATE, short story
17. 05/27/17 – JANE’S WILD WEEKEND, reissue
18. 06/02/17 – FOUR SWORN, Lone Star Lovers, reissue
19. 06/08/17 – BIG SKY SEAL, Uncharted SEALs series
20. 06/13/17 – BLUE COLLAR, Boys Behaving Badly series
21. 06/16/17 – BREAKING LEATHER, Lone Star Lovers series
22. 07/07/17 – HEAD OVER SEAL, Uncharted SEALs series
23. 07/14/17 – FOUR-GONE CONCLUSION, Lone Star Lovers series
24. 07/18/17 – ON FIRE, Anthology with Cleis Press
25. 07/26/17 – LOVE & WAR, Texas Billionaire series
26. 07/28/17 – TWO WILD FOR TEACHER, Lone Star Lovers series, reissue
27. 08/10/17 – REINED IN, Lone Star Lovers, reissue
28. 08/15/17 – LONG HOWL GOOD NIGHT, Night Fall series, reissue
29. 08/21/17 – * DELTA BLUE series x 5, reissue
30. 08/21/17 – * DELTA HEAT series x 3, reissue
31. 08/24/17 – HANDY MEN, reissue
32. 08/31/17 – FAMILY VALUES, Lone Star Lovers series, reissue
33. 09/08/17 – FIRST KNIGHT, Night Fall series, reissue
34. 09/14/17 – ONCE IN A BLUE MOON, Beaux Reve Coven series, reissue
35. 09/21/17 – SEAL ESCORT, Uncharted SEALs series
36. 09/27/17 – THE BOUNTY, short story
37. 10/12/17 – WEARING HIS BRAND, Texas Cowboy series, reissue
38. 10/19/17 – UNDER A BLOOD MOON, Beaux Reve Coven series, reissue
39. 11/02/17 – THE COWBOY AND THE WIDOW, Texas Cowboys series, reissue
40. 11/09/17 – BIG BAD WOLF, Night Fall series
41. 11/14/17 – REAPER, Montana Bounty Hunters series
42. 11/21/17 – WITH HIS SEAL TEAM-PART 5, Stepbrothers Stepping Out series
43. 12/05/17 – SOLDIER BOY, Texas Cowboys series, reissue
44. 12/12/17 – WOLF MOON RISING, Beaux Reve Coven series
45. 12/20/17 – ARCTIC DRAGON, reissue

Just one more day until we party like it’s 2018! Woohoo! Do you have big plans? A party? We’re still on grandma duty, so likely, we’ll raise our glasses early before my dd heads to grandma’s, and I bed down on the sofa at her place to watch the kids, while my SIL’s watching over restless prisoners at the county jail. Well, they do say you should start the year the way you intend it to go. We’re thankful for jobs, thankful to still have grandma with us, and I do love spending time with the kids, so there you are!

I’m busy still looking at this last chaotic year and making plans for 2018. Plans that include new stories for you! And, hopefully, a few of trips. I’ll be in Nashville in March for a readers’ conference, Hawaii in April for a writers’ retreat (!!!), July in central Arkansas for another writers’ retreat, and lastly, I plan to be in Florida in October for a big writers’ conference. Four trips! I feel guilty about the expense and the time away—don’t most mamas feel that way, too?

Anyway, below are three stories dropping into Kindles very soon! Bound & Determined is coming January 9th! The other two are February releases. Drool away!

Click on the covers to reserve your copy!

Contest

For a chance to win a free download of one of my recent releases—your choice—tell me what your New Year’s Eve plans are!

Excerpt from Bound & Determined

When the DJ’s speaker set crashed to the floor as the first women to arrive rushed the tables nearest the stage, Tara Toomey scrambled for a replacement and chalked the mishap up to high spirits.

When one of the volunteers carrying a tray of Jell-O shots tripped, and cherry and lime gelatin slid in glistening trails down his face and naked chest, she laughed as eager women offered to lick him clean.

However, it wasn’t until one of her staff whispered in her ear that she knew she was in for a long night. The main attraction had yet to arrive.

She crushed her dog-eared copy of the “Hook-up” program in her fist and headed toward the old-fashioned, double swinging doors, ready to stomp all the way to Redbone Ranch to drag his butt to town.

As she passed excited, tittering women her smile felt strained, and her nerves stretched taut. The “Annual Honky-tonk Hook-up” had always been a good time, but this year she wished she hadn’t been so quick to volunteer her bar again. Sure, it was good for business and many of the “blow-ins” from Houston, San Antonio, and San Angelo returned throughout the year because they enjoyed the event and Paraiso’s authentic western ambience.

But Tara wished she could return home, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over her head. The last thing she felt ready to do was watch one particular cowboy strut his stuff across the stage and land in some other woman’s clutches—even if it was just one night, completely innocent, right, and for a really good cause. The fact he might blow off the auction pissed her off almost as much as the thought of the spectacle he’d cause if he did finally make an entrance.

If anyone thought splintered speaker casings or a little spilled Jell-O were trouble, they hadn’t seen a room full of women erupt in the wake of one seriously sexy cowboy. Read the rest of this entry »

UPDATE: The winner is Ronnie C!

* * * * *

Christmas is almost here! And so much is happening in my world, I’m having a hard time catching my breath.

Some of you may remember that, last year, my family was dealing with my then 97-year-old grandma who had fallen and broken her back. After spending time in rehab, she was moved home, and our family pitched in to give her round-the-clock care. Well, this year is a new crisis. Beginning about two weeks ago, her health is failing, and despite the doctor’s best efforts, and ours, she’s declining. I suppose it’s to be expected at 98, and she’s ready for it. Still, we’re all very saddened, and we’re back in “pitch-in” mode.

My dd is her nighttime care-giver now. My SIL just started a new job with the sheriff’s office and works nights. So, guess what my job is? Yeah, I’m the kids’ nighttime babysitter. They are running me ragged, and my working hours have been slashed. We’re all tired and squeezed. No complaints though. Grandma and the kids come first.

So, here’s hoping your holidays are more joyous and restful than mine!

Contest

Comment for a chance to win one of my Delta Blue or Delta Fire stories! 

Hotter With A Pole

Noah hopes buying the classic ’68 Camaro from a fellow firefighter’s widow will ease some of the grief weighing down his heart. When a noise under the hood sends him looking for a mechanic, he finds so much more. Big and burly Hoyt grabs Noah’s attention right off, and not just because of his bad-boy biker looks and ice-blue eyes. The fact Hoyt is a Dom and a member at Club LaForge certainly interests Noah.

Hoyt never thought he’d feel that rush with a man again after his partner died, but his body certainly reacts to meeting Noah. LaForge seems like the perfect place to meet and work off some energy and explore this sudden flood of desire. The heat between them starts to burn through their emotional barriers, whether the men are ready to make a deeper connection or not.

Read an Excerpt

Noah stopped before the sign at the intersection. One right turn and one block’s drive, and he’d be at the fire house.

His fingers tightened on the leather-wrapped steering wheel of the Camaro. He still didn’t think of it as his Camaro. No one at the station would either. It was Danny Truitt’s car.

And the only reason Noah was driving it now was because Danny was dead.

“Huh.” Noah rubbed the pain over his heart. It was funny, but even thinking those words still had the power to make his chest tighten. Which made driving his buddy’s car feel somehow disloyal. Read the rest of this entry »

Here’s something to fill those hours of the holiday when you need an escape from the hustle and bustle and need to claim a little “me-time”! This story is loosely based on a Russian fairytale about a snow maiden who didn’t get a very happy ending. I had to change that. 🙂

Escaping her destiny for a day in the human world, a snow maiden, is rescued after her horse bolts, and then is brought to an isolated cabin by a recluse—a handsome, gifted artist, living alone in an arctic wilderness…

Headstrong, and seeking a little respite from a suitor’s relentless wooing, Queen Larikke rides the arctic wind far beyond the bounds of Northland, only to have her horse bolt at a shot from a hunter’s gun. Her rescuer is a handsome, mysterious man who lives alone in the wilderness, his cabin filled with erotic images of women. Rather than fearing her fate, Larikke sets out to seduce him, hoping for one last fling before she settles down to do her duty and wed.

Thinking he was saving a life, Drake dragged a very strange woman home, stripped her, and warmed her by his fire. Now, he finds his long, self-imposed isolation may have made her allure impossible to resist, and Drake fears he’ll harm her if he shares his special kiss.

Get your copy here!

Read an excerpt…

A blanket of fresh powder muffled his footsteps. For a moment, the bitter-cold wind died down. The stillness invited him deeper into the clearing, but something in the air alerted him; an intuition that was part of his true nature told him to wait.

Wind had blown snow against large tree trunks, forming deep banks where the tall green sentinels stood close together. Everywhere, pure pristine white dusted the tops of branches, cloaking them in rich, thick wonder. Precious sunlight peeked from behind a dark gray cloud and refracted like a billion tiny prisms on frozen crystals that gilded the uppermost layer of the snow.

His breaths seemed loud, intrusive, and he concentrated on being quiet so that he didn’t disturb—not that anyone was would hear him this deep in the wilderness.

Rather, all was hushed, expectant. Quiet, like he preferred now. Content at last with his own company.

The first few months of his isolation had been the worst. The silence had nearly driven him nuts. Now, he barely noticed. Sounds other than voices, the hum of electricity, or the roar of a passing engine were replaced with softer, more predictable ones—the rustle of pine needles as a breeze swept through outstretched branches, the resonant creaking when snow weighed the branches down.

The rustle of animals as they scratched in the snow for food.

The voices inside his head had also faded—the strident ones that had called him a freak and the startled screams—well, they couldn’t reach him here.

If he missed the company of a woman—so be it. Other parts of his existence flourished in the solitude. Almost filling the aching void. The decision he’d made had been the right one. He’d spend the rest of his life—however long—alone.

Do no harm.

He lived by that rule now. At least, in regard to people.

For now, he had a stew pot to fill, and he’d tracked a lone deer through the forest to this spot. A soft snort sounded, and he found the doe digging with her hooves to uncover whatever she could still forage beneath the fresh snow.

Drake tugged off his mittens and raised his rifle, setting the stock snug against his shoulder. He had the doe in his sights and slowly pulled back on the trigger, when an unexpected tinkling sound, like bells carried on the wind, drew his attention. His gaze strayed for only moment. As his attention returned to his quarry, a sudden icy wind swept up snow, obscuring his view.

The shadow of the deer still in his scope, he pulled the trigger, jerking the barrel upward at the last moment when he realized he wasn’t looking at a doe at all—but a woman on a bay-colored horse.

What the hell?

The shot went wild, but the horse gave a high-pitched whinny and reared, dumping the woman to the ground before bolting.

Drake threw down his rifle, swearing silently as he clomped on unwieldy snowshoes toward the figure lying like a spill of red paint against a white canvas. Her fur-lined scarlet cloak fanned around her slender body. He knelt in its folds to reach for the woman who had yet to open her eyes.

He ran his hands over her body, checking for broken limbs, cursing himself for a horn dog for noting generous curves beneath her dark gold and blue gown. But it had been a long time since soft curves had yielded beneath his palms. Not much in the way of padded layers of clothing protected her from his inspection, just the soft fabric. What in hell was she doing wearing some princess costume in the wilderness in winter, even one made of heavy velvet?

Finally, she stirred, moaning softly.

He sat back on his haunches, noticing at last the luster of her mink brown hair and brows and the thick lashes that fanned the rims of her delicate eyelids. They fluttered then lifted, revealing gold-flecked brown eyes.

Struck by her beauty, he stared. Her eyes were wide-set and large; her nose elegant and straight. The shape of her face was slightly triangular with a small chin that took no attention away from the sweet curves of her soft, plump mouth. She was perfect. His hands itched to mold her shapes again.

“Who are you?” she asked, with a voice as light and sweet as the bells he thought he’d heard before.

He shook his head to clear away his lustful thoughts. “The idiot who nearly shot you,” he said, his own voice thick and rusty from disuse. He cleared his throat. “Can you move? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I think.”

“What the hell were you doing out here?”

She gave him a distracted frown. “Riding.” Then rising on her elbows, she glanced around her, blinking. “My horse, Windancer…”

“He bolted when I fired.”

Her confused stare returned to him. “He’s gone?” Her eyes widened until the white surrounded the brown iris. “We must find him.”

No “I must find him”. She’d included him, without even wondering if it was wise.

Snow had begun to fall again—thick, fat flakes that swirled in the rising wind, a blast of arctic chill. Knowing it was the wrong thing to do, but seeing no other choice, he said, “I’ll look for him after the snowfall ends. We need to get you inside.”

Oh, hell. He’d have to take her to his place. Something he’d sworn he’d never do. She might not be any safer there. He’d lived alone too long. With her lush beauty, she was too much of a temptation.

Her mouth opened, but then closed, her lips forming a thin line. “I have to find my horse. I can’t stay here,” she said, casting a wild glance around them.

He frowned. “In a few minutes, we won’t see more than a few feet in front of us. A storm’s coming in.”

“You don’t understand—”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. Although, it was the last thing he should do, he held out his hand. “Come. We’ll talk later. After I get you out of the cold.”

* * *

Larikke stared in dismay. She couldn’t go home with him. They’d be alone. Her, alone with a human? Unthinkable! Humans were so short-lived and violent. Think of the scandal it would cause!

“We’ll both freeze if we don’t get out of this weather,” he said slowly, as though speaking to a child—one not so very bright.

Only she knew she wouldn’t. Freeze, that is. This is what she got for her stubborn bid for freedom. Stranded in a wild land—with a man. Her mage would no doubt cluck like a hen when she recounted the tale of how she’d ridden the wind and landed on her backside in a snow bank before a human as handsome as any damnable frost faerie.

She’d only wanted to put Thure firmly in his place. Remind him who was in charge of her destiny—that she had a will of her own.

And maybe to inspire him to anger so that he might let go of the firm hold he kept over himself whenever they were together. She wanted to see the powerful male beneath his princely trappings.

Rather like the prime specimen before her.

Oh, why couldn’t this human have been as hairy as a polar bear? Or as ugly as a walrus? Oh no! His eyes were a crystalline blue. His hair was silvery blond and fell well past his broad shoulders.

Clean-shaven, his jaw was sharp-edged and strong. His brows, although drawn together in a fierce frown, were full and nicely shaped but hooded piercing eyes. Despite the layers of clothing he wore, she could tell his frame was tall and thickly muscled.

The few humans she’d met long ago, thickheaded and thick-bodied warriors stopping on their journey to Valhalla, didn’t compare. A crude, ungifted species, they’d never aroused much interest. But this one, with his rumbling voice and burly frame, nearly stole her breath away.

Perhaps she was simply addled by her spill. Or maybe she was just feeling the familiar, deepening need for something different from her proscribed future—something wicked and deplorably wrong. She cleared her throat. “I must insist we find my horse.”

He rolled his eyes and tugged her to her feet. Then before she could brush away the snow clinging to her mantle and give him the set down he deserved for daring to handle her so familiarly, he bent and swept her over his shoulder.

Larikke’s mouth gaped. Now, this was a view of the world she’d never seen.

UPDATE: The winner is Gayle Lazur!

* * * * *

Often, for me, I come up with a title then go on the hunt for images on photo-stock sites that reflect what I know about a story at that point in time. I send my images with vague editorial comments to my wonderful cover artist, my sister Elle James, and she works her magic.

Sometimes, I have to sit on that lovely cover for a while because, 1) I have to find the story to go along with the image, and 2) I have write said story. Sometimes, I don’t have choices about what comes next because I run up against deadlines.

These five covers are for works in progress I have to push out the door SOON. Arctic Dragon and Bound & Determined are stories that need a refurb/re-edit, the other three are brand new works. Arctic will release very, very soon (in days…). As will With His SEAL Team 6. Bound is up for pre-order!

Still, plenty on my plate to keep me busy through February…

Then there are these luscious covers…

Slow Rider‘s a refurb. So, that one’s fairly easy. The other three are To-Be-Written/conceived. Dagger‘s already up for pre-0rder! I do that to myself to make sure I get my butt in gear and write the dang thing. Then there are the last two… Sequels to other stories. Pleasing Sirs is a sequel to Pleasing Sir. Harvest Moon is the next Beaux Rêve Coven story.

 The Contest

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, answer these two questions!

Which of these covers do you love?
Which of the stories are you most eager to read?

Popping in just to say—Woot! WMR is out! I’m on to the next project before I can circle back and think about what happens next in the series. I kinda know now, but I’m letting it stew. There will be fairies!

I hope you love this story! One reader has already said: “It is full of surprises. Very sweet, very sexy and very mysterious.”

Wolf Moon Rising

In Jefferson Parish, deep in the bayou, is a place called Bonne Nuit. Off the beaten path, isolated by swamp and connected to the sea, there the Beaux Rêve Coven thrives.

Five witches…Too many demons to count…

Aoife is the flightiest of the sister witches, and she has a secret, one her mother warned her to keep close to her heart. Her father was a fairy—which explains her quirkiness and her affinity for flowers. She lives in a cabin on stilts that juts into the bayou, and one of her demon guardians is a werewolf. She’s attracted, but how would he feel if he married her, fathered a child, and that child disappeared into the land of the fae? Desperate to find a solution to her dilemma, she flees her guardian’s protection. Her last hope is to enlist her father’s help. Plead her case. Her happiness, and that of her one true love, Sigurd, depends on whether she can escape this fairy curse.

Get your copy here!

Enjoy an excerpt…

For Sigurd, acting as guardian to the witch, Aoife, was both a blessing and curse. A blessing, because he’d never known anyone as innocent and pure, and a woman who truly didn’t know her own allure. A curse, because he had to guard her against his own lustful nature.

And again, he was thankful two other demons were assigned the protection detail, because more than anything, he wanted her kept safe. However, he was equally annoyed at having two competitors for her affection.

Of course, many more among the demons living around Bonne Nuit aspired to hear the “echo” of their bonding with a witch. Such a bonding brought power to the lucky demon—and demons were greedy about that sort of thing. They frequented Aoife’s small cabin poised on long stilts above the bayou on the flimsiest of excuses. One needed a fragrant oil to help him sleep. Another needed a healing balm to soothe a bruise. And they were constantly underfoot in her garden and her workshop, interfering more than helping—at least, to his mind.

However, Aoife appeared blissfully unaware of the males’ attempts at garnering her exclusive attention. Her radiant smile flashed indiscriminately upon her pursuers, never mind their unsuitability as possible mates. And despite the fact they’d done nothing to earn the right to call her wife.

Unlike Sigurd, who suffered her proximity and who stood ready to serve her in any way she pleased. Who quietly stood guard over her while she slept, losing his sleep and his pride because she slumbered so soundly, completely unaware of his constant state of arousal.

Sigurd wasn’t naturally a patient man, but he had withstood the torture of being close day in and out for seven months. He was nearing his breaking point. If something didn’t happen soon, he would press their leader, Ethan, to ask his pretty wife for help. Bryn liked him well enough, always turning to give him a wink when “family” dinners took place, and one of Aoife’s admirers fought for the privilege of sitting at her side. Sigurd preferred to sit across from her at the table anyway—the better to glower at his competition. And perhaps raise a lip in a menacing snarl.

Bryn seemed to be in his corner. Perhaps she would be eager to see her sister witch settled. If something didn’t change soon, he’d speak with her.

On this evening, Sigurd wore his wolfskin and lay curled on the wooden floor beside Aoife’s bed. Just before she’d begun softly snoring, she’d reached down and scratched behind his ears. Probably not an act she was even aware of doing. She was kind to all creatures and seemed especially fond of his wolf form, sometimes taking a brush to his fur or giving him a bath in the large metal tub on the porch. He lived for those moments.

He shook his head in disgust. What a sorry excuse for a wolf he was. Wolves weren’t pets. They were pack animals who needed to belong to a family and a mate. A male needed to dominate his bitch, but he didn’t think Aoife would ever agree to be his bitch.

However, the thought did stretch his wolf’s mouth into a feral grin. He laid his head atop his paws and settled with a disgruntled whine.

Minutes passed, and he was nearly drifting off to sleep when the bed creaked and feet softly lowered to the floor. He perked his ears and pushed up to peer over the mattress, just in time to see Aoife slip through her bedroom door.

He followed, freezing when her steps paused, ducking behind corners when she glanced around. Something was afoot, and his hackles rose when she reached for her cloak and a small bag from the hook beside the front door.

Was she meeting a lover? Or were the witches gathering in secret? Somehow, he doubted the latter because Bryn was very pregnant and couldn’t slide gracefully from Ethan’s bed. And Miren would have to escape three mates, and that could never happen. Which reminded him, where the hell were the other two guards?

When Aoife opened the door and crept outside, closing it behind her, he drew up short. He hadn’t considered how he would exit the house, so he quickly shook free of his wolfskin and strode onto the porch. His glance went to the steps at the side of the porch, but then a sound, a soft splash, pulled his gaze to the canal flowing past her porch. She’d taken a boat. The fact she was already on the water meant she’d been in a hurry.

What the fuck?

Footsteps sounded from inside the house. A door creaked open then slammed shut. So much for stealth. Hamdir, also a wolf, walked to his side, scratching his chest. “Where’s the witch? I was sleeping on the couch. Thought you were watching her.”

“I was.” I watched her escape. “Go back to bed. I have this handled.”

“Sure about that?” Hamdir yawned. “Don’t know how you aren’t dead on your feet. You really ought to let us have turns inside her bedroom.” His large hand patted Sigurd’s shoulder. “Driving to New Orleans in the mornin’, or I’d join you on this hunt,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

His gaze followed Hamdir as he stepped back inside. Their group had grown complacent since Ethan defeated the council’s champion in battle and no retribution had been settled upon their unbanded group. Most presumed the mere presence of so many demons, concentrated in their small town, was deterrent enough to rogue demons seeking to steal a witch for a mate.

Sigurd was reminded he’d have to enlist another guard from among the bachelor demons during Hamdir’s absence.

A cool wind wafted against his skin, raising chill bumps. Early Winter in the bayou was mild, but he couldn’t easily follow Aoife on foot.

Instead, Sigurd shifted again and fell to his paws. With a single quick yelp, he leapt past the stairs to the bank. Lifting his nose to the breeze, he followed Aoife’s delicious witch’s scent through the murky, shadowed bayou. If he startled a gator, the bastard better move out of his way.