Freakn’ Out (Freakn’ Shifters #7)

He’s broken in body and spirit, but she’s not giving up.

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Leave me the hell alone. Is that so freakn’ hard to grasp?

Yeah, Derrick is angry, and bitter, but with good reason. His army buddies should have left him to die instead of dragging him out of the rebel camp—and he meant drag. Shrapnel to his back ensured his legs are useless hunks of meat. Everything below his waist is useless—limper than an overcooked noodle. Whimper.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, fate just has to kick a wolf when he is down and send him the curvy and luscious Janine. According to his inner beast, she’s his mate. Not happening. There will be no claiming because Derrick isn’t about to saddle anyone with half a man. I don’t want her pity.

Problem is, Janine, with her fiery red hair and tempting curves, won’t leave him the hell alone. She thinks she can fix him. And a part of him, the part that refuses to give up hope, is tempted to let her try.

Can she teach this broken wolf new tricks—including bedroom ones—that will make him howl once again?

Freakn’ Shifters series (each can be read as a stand alone):

Excerpt (18+):

More than once he wished the infidels had killed him. Killed him so he wouldn’t have to live like this. A burden on everyone.

I won’t do it to them. I won’t do this to my family. He spared them that chore by throwing himself at the mercy of the military who had a place for guys like him, some kind of rehab center for broken soldiers—many of them shifter ones. Derrick thought of it as the farm people sent their broken pets to die.

Not exactly the most uplifting place. A handful of angry men, frustrated men with wild eyes and, in some cases, snarling beasts. Throw in the occasional livid woman sporting sharp claws. They were supposed to support each other, and some of them did, but Derrick kept himself apart, segregated because he wasn’t like them. Something was missing inside him. He knew it. He hadn’t completely come back from that rebel camp.

Within, his beast paced, caged and yet pushing to get out. Pushing to take over. It would be so easy to let him take over.

And tear off the face of the guy who is practically doing cartwheels in his new prosthetic. Show off. Derrick envied him so hard. He could have handled having metal limbs. Better than what he got stuck with.

He thumped a closed fist down hard on Meat Snake One and then on Meat Snake Two. Didn’t feel a thing.


“Should you be doing that?” a dulcet voice asked. Stupid lack of privacy. The open door to his room at the rehab center didn’t prevent anyone entry, nothing to stop the stranger from simply strolling in and bringing a tingle of awareness with her.

What’s happening?

Every small hair on his body lifted, and he sniffed.

Smells good. Real good. I want it. Have to have it.

Not it. Her. Want her.

No. Oh hell no. Disbelief swelled within as he smelled her.

It wasn’t that the woman who entered smelled bad. On the contrary, she was beyond divine. Flowers was his first thought. Springtime tulips, red ones with the bright yellow centers exuding a spot of brightness in the dreary and breathing freshness into the world. She smelled of renewal. Life.

She’s smells like mine.


Lifting his gaze—which the mirror showed still glinted more wolf than man—Derrick leered at the chubby redhead in the ill-fitting blouse and slacks. Such a delectable morsel. A sweet thing sent in to collar the beast. Didn’t those treating him and keeping him caged know better than to put someone so innocent, so delicate, so human, within reach?

Grab her. She’s ours to take.

How long since he’d taken a woman? Long before the accident even, probably not since his last leave home, as fraternizing with the local girls was frowned upon.

So a long time since he’d fucked. He obviously suffered from overfull balls—balls he could no longer drain—and here the administration sent temptation—and a reminder of his impotence—to taunt him.

Did they want him to snap? Was that their plan? Did they know how much it would hurt to see a woman, such a desirable woman, and know he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it?

Cruelty to animals. Bite their face off.

Used to the violence, he ignored the suggestion, but knew he had to do something to get the woman out of here. Since the shrinks wouldn’t do the right thing and lock him up—they kept insisting he could adapt when all he wanted to do was chase them through the woods—then Derrick would have to do the next best thing and scare her off before he did something he could never take back. Like tear the clothes from her succulent body and dive between those creamy, curvy thighs.

The erotic visual served only to remind that licking was all he’d ever do again. His days of fucking and satisfying a woman were gone.

I am not a man anymore. And he was never more reminded than when the woman who could have been his mate—and lover—entered his room. She needed to go. Now.

“Hello, darling,” he drawled. “How nice of the military to send me a snack. I’ve been ever so hungry for a woman.” He snapped his teeth at her and rumbled, a low, menacing, and, yes, slightly inhuman sound.

To his surprise, she didn’t recoil from his threat. Instead, she leaned forward and smacked him on the nose with a rolled-up folder. To add insult to her ignoble act, in a no-nonsense tone she said, “Bad wolf. Behave yourself right now, or there will be no treats for you!”

Say what?


Content Editor: Devin Govaere
Copy Editor: Amanda L. Pederick
Line Editor: Brieanna Robertson
Cover Artist: Amanda Kelsey