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Midlife Christmas Vigilante

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Book Cover: Midlife Christmas Vigilante
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You can call me the spirit of hot flashes, fangs, and vengeance.

Just before Christmas my life underwent a major change. And I’m not talking about the fact I hit menopause hard—I mean, we’re talking night sweats and hormones gone wild. Nope, it was worse than that. I almost died, and would have actually been six feet under if I’d not been transformed into a vampire.
You heard me right. At the ripe age of forty-seven, I became a blood-guzzling, sunlight-hating, fanged menace with an insatiable appetite.
Thankfully, criminals taste delicious.
But the wicked aren’t the only people I’m nibbling on this holiday season. When I’m not taking a literal bite out of crime, you will find me unwrapping the handsome vampire who gave me the best present of all.
Love.

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Available on: 2025-12-11
Genres:
Holiday Romance, Holiday Romance, killer heroine, older heroine, Paranormal Romance, paranormal women's fiction, pwf, vampire romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

Multicolored lights twinkled, softened by the dusting of falling snow. Wreaths abounded, not all of them fake, and the scent from the boughs of the real ones partially masked the exhaust of cars chugging along with their heaters on full blast.

Christmas Day would shortly arrive and children would wake and race excitedly to see what Santa brought them, sometimes followed by disappointment as the spoiled and entitled grubby crotch goblins grumbled they didn’t get more. Or at least my nieces and nephews used to. Was it any wonder I bailed on family functions?

I’d not been to a holiday dinner or birthday celebration in years. Didn’t miss them, to be honest, as they usually included a criticism of my life choices, such as the ever popular, “why don’t you get married?” or “How could you skip having kids? You’re going to end up being the spinster cat lady on your block!” As if that was a deterrent. I liked cats.

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What I abhorred? Predators of the human variety.

I didn’t know who lived in the bungalow on the quiet side street. So why then, you might wonder, did I skulk atop the roof of the house, crouched in wait like a skulking vulture?

The reason arrived on foot, wearing a ski mask and nondescript clothing, the kind easily ditched and forgotten. I watched as he sidled right up to the window he’d unlocked earlier in the day when he’d entered the home to check the water meter. The homeowner didn’t notice his subterfuge. Then again, why would they suspect someone who claimed they had municipal authority to enter their house?

He didn’t, actually. The work order, the uniform, everything was fake and all part of how this predator operated. You see, Simon Petrie was a pervert, and tonight his reign of indecent exposure would come to an end.

As to how Simon came to my notice? The police issued a warning. Over the past few months there’d been several reported incidents of a man illegally entering homes via an unlocked window, waking the victim and threatening them with a knife if they screamed. Once the victims promised to behave, Simon then proceeded to jerk off his small cock to a slimy conclusion. He didn’t rape, didn’t even touch—not yet at least. However, Simon the pervert needed to be handled before his crimes escalated. Already he’d gone from exposing himself once every other week, to four times in the past eight days. It was only a matter of time before the thrill of tugging himself to climax for a disgusted audience was no longer enough to satisfy. I planned to end his jizzing career before that happened.

With that mission in mind, and little clues to go on—because the cops couldn’t find a match for the DNA left behind—I visited a few crime scenes. I questioned the victims, then ensured none would remember seeing me. Got a description and a scent. Once I had those, it took me five days of wandering my city before I tracked Simon down, during which time he traumatized two more women.

His terrorizing of women ended tonight. My Christmas gift to the world.

Now, I could have confronted Simon at his apartment. After all, I knew his name and where he lived, but honestly, I found it much more satisfying to stalk and swoop into the rescue before my target committed their unholy crime, and lucky me, he’d dumbly left the address of his next victim written on a pad of paper that also listed future potentials.

Giddy with anticipation, I allowed Simon to reach for the window he’d unlocked and stifled a giggle as he found it latched. My doing. I’d ensured Martha Stewart—no relation to the household goddess!—fastened it shut earlier that evening.

“What the fuck,” Simon muttered as he strained to no avail. The annoyed and stymied perv kicked the snow as he turned around and headed for the sidewalk in a full-blown sulk. Boohoo, I’d ruined his plans.

Quietly, I leapt from the rooftop and shadowed Simon as he made his way to his car, which he’d parked close to the park. Smart on his part, given how many people strolled, jogged, or dragged a dog to do its business through the myriad trails. No one would give the plain sedan a second glance.

Lights blinked as he unlocked his car, my cue to announce my presence.

“Going home so soon, Simon?” I purred.

At the sound of my voice, he whirled and frowned. “Who are you?”

“Given I’m feeling rather festive, let’s go with the Spirit of Christmas Past, Present, and Future.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I know what you’ve done and what you were about to do. I am also going to make sure it never happens again.” Said with a lilting tone, because I truly was feeling merry about the situation.

“Fuck off, bitch.” He took a menacing step in my direction.

Old me would have been intimated by a six foot three-ish man with at least two hundred plus pounds of muscle and a scowl.

New me laughed. “Oh, Simon. Do you think you scare me? I’ve handled bigger with ease,” I taunted. But I could understand why he thought I’d be an easy target, seeing how he topped me by a good eight inches and outweighed me by at least sixty or seventy pounds.

“How do you know my name?”

My lips curved. “Because I’ve been following you. You’ve been a bad boy, Simon. Congrats on making my naughty list.”

“How dare you spy on me!” He spat as he lunged for me.

A simple sidestep, an extended foot, and oopsies, down went the perv.

Simon hit the cold asphalt face first and immediately popped to his feet yelling. “You fucking cunt. I am going to mess you up so bad.”

“I’d like to see you try.” I crossed my arms and arched a brow. “Come on. Let’s see what you’ve got. Or maybe not. I’ve heard it’s rather small, and I wouldn’t want to pee my pants laughing.” It used to be a problem when I hit menopause and my body suddenly stopped working the way it should.

"Bitch! You are going to regret messing with me." Simon’s sudden courage came from his less-than-subtle reach for the switchblade in his pocket. He extended it and growled. “On your knees where you belong, whore.”

“You really need to look up the definition of whore because I’m pretty sure the fact I only screw one guy makes me the opposite.”

“Whatever, slut. I said kneel.” He waved his puny blade, and I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

“I can’t believe your knife is as small as your dick.”

His eyes narrowed in rage. “We’ll see if you’re still calling it small when I choke you with it.” He lunged for me and swung. Rather than dodge, I leaned in so that the tip of the blade slashed open my cheek.

Yes, I let him injure me to prove a point. The cut barely bled and immediately sealed shut without leaving so much as a dimple. Pretty cool, huh? Super-duper healing would have been handy when my appendix blew up a few years back and I ended up in intensive care for a week eating shitty hospital food.

“What the fuck? Who are you?” Simon gasped. Nothing like seeing the wide-eyed look on the face of my prey when they realized just how screwed they were.

I tossed my hair as I posed. “Take a wild guess. You may have read about me in the news.” While Simon had been given the title, Midnight Diddler, mine ended up being much cooler.

“You’re the Vigilante Vampire,” he exclaimed.

“I am.” And I quite approved of my social media name, especially since they also called me a hero for taking out the trash.

No longer as confident, Simon suddenly decided to bolt.

Silly man. I let him get a head start and watched as he sprinted into the woods, then I did the slow villain stalk. The trail meandering through the suburban copse of trees was pretty. Softly falling snow passed through the bare branches and dusted the ground, a blanket of white that clearly showed Simon’s shoe prints.

Not that I need those to find him. Like a certain famous toucan, I followed my nose.

I allowed Simon to run until he thought himself safe. When he slowed to a walk, I tackled his ass and flipped him onto his back.

He squeaked, like a mouse caught by a cat.

I knelt on his chest and smiled. “Did you really think you could escape me?”

“Leave me alone.”

“The same way you left those poor women alone? I think not.”

“I didn’t hurt them,” he huffed.

“Mental trauma counts.” Some of the victims required counseling afterwards, not to mention poor Sue-Ellen, the virgin, whose first experience with a dick would leave her unprepared for the fact they were usually much larger and more fearsome.

He had the nerve to beg. "Don't kill me. I'll give you anything you want."

“There’s only one thing I want from you, Simon,” I stated, licking my lips as the pulse in his neck fluttered rapidly, teasing and tempting me.

“I won’t do it anymore. I promise,” he blubbered.

“No, you won’t.” I made sure of that. I struck quick as a viper, my fangs penetrating his flesh, letting his blood flow. I gulped to quench my thirst, and didn’t stop until Simon’s heart ceased beating.

I could have stopped before he died, but better to have one less pervert walking the streets. Santa could thank me later for clearing the backlog on his naughty list.

You might wonder how I went from a menopausal, dumpy, perpetually single, aging poorly data manager to a crime fighting cougar—with fangs.

My story, make that my second chance at life, began two years ago around Christmas…

COLLAPSE
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Book Cover: My Boyfriend Bites
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Part of the A Moonstruck Mating series:
  • My Girlfriend is a Werewolf
  • My Boyfriend Marks Trees
  • My Boyfriend Bites
  • A Moonstruck Mating Books 1 – 3

She’s not the only one who likes to nibble.


Selene’s spent her entire life keeping her emotions in check to avoid wolfing out in public. She’s single, but not by choice. Not many men can handle a woman who turns furry on the full moon—and every time her adrenaline gets pumping. She’s just about given up on love when she meets Dante.

The insufferable man is on the same cruise as her and, for some reason, pursues her. As if she’d ever date a womanizer. Despite her issues with keeping her lycan side leashed, Selene is holding out for love with a nice guy, not some rich Italian playboy with suits that cost more than her entire wardrobe. However, Dante is tenacious, and when pirates board the ship, he proves to be more courageous than expected.

Those scurvy scoundrels chose the wrong Valentine’s Day party to crash, and as the bodies begin to pile up, it soon becomes obvious that the ferocious Selene isn’t the only one chomping on bad guys.

Here’s to hoping by the time the cruise ends, Cupid gives her the one thing she’s been longing for; a lover who won’t mind if she growls—and bites—in bed.

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Published: 2025-02-06
Cover Artists:
Atra Luna's Book Cover and Logo Art
Genres:
Holiday Romance, Holiday Romance, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, Shapeshifter Romance, vampire romance, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Chapter 1

To-Do Day 1: Get to the airport. Remember to go potty before the flight. And don’t wolf out on the plane, even if the person beside you manspreads.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else? I think you forgot to pack the kitchen sink.” Selene’s brother, Ares, teased as he lugged her overstuffed carry-on roller to the curb at the airport departures drop-off area.

“You’re the one making me go,” she grumbled.

A year and a bit after a holiday trip found itself cancelled due to inclement weather, Selene was finally going on her cruise—minus her mother. Not her choice. She liked hanging with her mom, but apparently, as a new grandma, her mom had a duty to spoil. Selene argued an aunt had the same right; however, her family insisted she go and booked her into an adults-only voyage that coincided with Valentine’s Day.

“It will be romantic,” big sis, Athena, claimed.

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As if Selene needed help getting laid. Men hit on her all the time, but Selene had a secret, a big hairy one, that tended to poke its nose out when she got aroused, making it almost impossible for anyone to get close.

Mom kept saying one day Selene would meet “the one,” and she’d know. She sure hoped so because she was beginning to feel like a third wheel every time she hung out with her siblings, who’d both found their perfect mate.

“This will be good for you. You’ve been spending way too much time cooped up on the farm,” Ares stated, not for the first time.

Apparently, her family noticed she’d been going out less and less. Not her fault. She’d been finding it harder of late to keep the positive attitude that kept her wolf inside her skin.

“Not true. I went into the city just last week.”

“To pick up some supplies for your rabbits. A trip to the store and back isn’t going out.” Ares shook his head.

He probably had a point, but Selene wouldn’t admit it. “I’ll miss you, guys.” Her family was her entire world. She lived on the farm with her mom and brother, as well as his new wife and daughter, whom he’d adopted. Her sister, Athena, visited often with her hubby, Derek, along with their little bundle of joy, Apollo, a chubby-faced baby with a dark tuft of hair.

“We’ll miss you too. And don’t worry, we’ll text you every day.”

“To harass me and make sure I’m socializing,” she grumbled.

“Yup.” He didn’t even deny it. He dragged her in for a hug, and her eyes misted. She’d never traveled alone before. Never actually travelled, truth be told. But she could do this. People boarded planes and went on cruises all the time.

It would be fine.

She hoped.

The plane to Orlando took just under four hours, and lucky her, the guy beside her slept the entire time and kept his limbs to himself. Once she collected her luggage, she boarded a shuttle bus the cruise provided, which brought them to port just before sunset. The ship wouldn’t be sailing until seven, a late departure compared to most itineraries. She wondered if it had to do with the recent rumor about another cruise line. According to social media, a ship with more than a thousand souls had run into pirates.

Actual pirates! The miscreants were said to have not only robbed the passengers, but they’d supposedly killed a few, too. Or so it was assumed, since the ship appeared to be missing some people when it docked, including the captain.

True? Hard to know since the news media outlets didn’t appear to be carrying the story. It didn’t deter Selene, though. After all, in the books she read, pirates could be dashing heroes who swept a woman off her feet. And if it turned out to be the other kind… He’d soon regret his life choices when her wolf bit off a body part.

As she stood in line with her luggage, doing that slow shuffle as each person in front of her fumbled to put all their items on the security belt, it struck her that most of the passengers milling about were her mom’s age. Or, in other words, more than twice Selene’s. That didn’t bode well, especially since she noticed the elderly couple standing behind had pineapples and unicorns plastered all over their carry-ons. Nervous for her first single’s cruise, she’d done her research ahead of time and learned that there were ways people advertised what they were looking for in a potential hookup. The pineapple and unicorn specifically indicated the over-sixties pair sought a female to join them for adult fun. When they smiled at Selene and asked if she’d like to meet them for a drink that evening, she politely declined. Yikes. Was this a cruise for older swingers?

Maybe she’d just stay in her room with a book and order in food. Of course, the moment she thought it she remembered her mother’s rebuke, “Don’t you dare hermit yourself on board! This is your chance to let loose. Go a little wild.”

Mom meant well, but she had no idea that if Selene went wild, people might get hurt. Then again, Mom didn’t know how bad the problem had gotten. Selene’s control over her lycan side had gotten worse in the past few years, but she’d kept it to herself, not wanting to worry her family.

As she hefted her roller bag up for screening and placed her purse and shoes in a bin, she noticed a pair of large German shepherds sniffing people and their bags. Drug dogs. She didn’t have any narcotics but, given her lycan heritage, wasn’t surprised when she stepped through the metal detector and was met by the dogs barking in her direction. Even worse, one of the canines broke loose and ran at Selene, snarling and snapping.

As the dog neared, Selene crouched and met its gaze with a firm one of her own. It skidded in surprise, trying to halt its momentum before dropping to its belly. It crawled forward, whining, and Selene cooed, “Who’s a pretty puppy?”

The shepherd rolled to its back and lolled its tongue.

The dog’s handler snared the leash but, rather than thinking the belly rubs were cute, snapped, “Ma’am, are you carrying any illegal substances?”

“No, sir.” Selene remained polite. “Dogs just have a thing for me.”

“This unit is specially trained to detect contraband,” the agent barked.

“Oh, I don’t do drugs. At all. I don’t even like taking Tylenol,” she gushed, trying to keep her anxiety in check.

“In that case, you have nothing to worry about. If you’ll step over here for a moment so we can search your person and belongings to be sure.” The dog handler inclined their head in the direction of a cubicle set up to provide privacy for those pulled aside.

Holding in a sigh, Selene collected her belongings and resigned herself to being strip-searched and questioned. Hopefully it wouldn’t involve latex gloves and probing.

To her surprise, before she’d taken a step, a deep voice with a slight accent said, “That won’t be necessary. She’s with me.”

The agent scowled. “We’re supposed to thoroughly check over anyone that triggers the dogs.”

“Just mention in your report that the dog went to her because she had treats in her pocket.”

“She had treats,” muttered the handler.

Selene blinked, because she most certainly didn’t. However, whoever this guy was, he obviously had some clout since the man with the dog went off to inspect those farther down the line.

She glanced at the handsome man in the posh suit. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not carrying any drugs.”

“I didn’t figure you were. However, no one wants to start their holiday molested and put through the wringer.”

Her lips twitched. “Don’t be so sure. It would have been the most action I’ve gotten in a while.”

Her riposte had him smiling, and damn, he certainly was attractive. “A lady with a sense of humor. I look forward to getting to know you better once we’re on board,” he said with a smile and a wink.

A shiver went through her. Maybe this cruise wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Might as well introduce herself. “I’m Selene.” She held out her hand.

He clasped it, his grip firm, if chillier than expected given the warm climate. “Dante.”

“As in The Inferno?” she quipped, having read the poem by Dante Alighieri while in college.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. My mother quite liked Dante’s poetry and named me after him.”

“My mother preferred gods and goddesses.”

“So you are Selene, deity of the moon.”

“Correct.” She cocked her head. “And you’re on this cruise?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because this doesn’t look like your type of crowd.” She waved a hand at the people waiting to check in for their voyage.

“And what type of crowd do I belong with?” he asked with an arched brow.

“Sorry. That came out wrong. It’s just, you’re in a nice suit, and well, the rest of us are dressed like the tropics puked on us.” She gestured to her white capris and flowered blouse.

The comment made him laugh. “While I’ll admit my wardrobe is not as flamboyant, I do enjoy a nice ocean cruise from time to time. It’s a change of pace from my daily life. What of you? Why are you going? Romantic getaway?”

“Goodness, no. I’m here because my family is hoping I’ll meet someone.” She rolled her eyes. “Only, the odds aren’t looking too good, given a good chunk of the passengers are around my mom’s age.”

“You don’t date older people?”

“There’s a few years older, and then there’s decades.”

“Age is but a number. I’d think that common interests and attraction would be more important,” he stated.

“This might sound rude, but I’d prefer to be with someone who won’t call my generation’s music noise and who doesn’t need to pop a pill for sexy times.”

His laughter brought more shivers to her body. He flashed white teeth, the front canines more pronounced than the rest as he said, “You are quite frank.”

“A fault of mine,” she chirped. “Probably why I’m still single.”

“More likely the men you’ve met have been idiots.”

“Are you here with your partner?” she asked.

“Nope. Single like you, but perhaps this cruise will change that.”

“You’re too pretty to not have a girlfriend,” she blurted out. Blame her racing pulse for being flustered.

“I could say the same of you. You are also very attractive.”

“I am”—she wasn’t about to be coy—“but I don’t get out often. When you live and work on a farm, it’s hard to meet people.”

“Whereas I am usually surrounded by those impressed by my wealth. It makes for less than authentic relationships.”

“You’re rich?” Again, her mouth ran away before her brain could stop it.

“Very,” his dry reply.

“And you’re on this cruise?” She glanced at the banner of hearts hung over the check-in desk. Tacky to the extreme.

“As are you.”

“Only because I can’t afford anything better. Shouldn’t you be on, like, one of those luxury yachts?”

“Surrounded by snobby elites?”

“As opposed to swinging grandmas and grandpas?” she countered.

Once more, his deep laugh emerged. “Please say you will join me this evening for a drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“It doesn’t have to be alcohol.”

“I’d planned to stay in my room tonight and relax. It’s been a long day. Perhaps we can meet for breakfast when I’m refreshed.”

“Doubtful, as I’m more of a night person. Shall we say, dinner tomorrow?”

Dinner with a stranger? Her first impulse? Say no. But that would defeat the purpose of the cruise. “Sure. Why not.”

“The line’s moving,” he stated. To her surprise, he lifted her suitcase, and in doing so, she noticed his lack of one.

“Where’s your stuff?” she asked as he carried it by the handle rather than rolling it.

“I left it with the porter.”

“I’d hate that.”

“Why?”

“I just like knowing where my stuff has been.” She’d rather not have to wonder who might have opened her bag and touched her undergarments.

“What stateroom did they assign you?” he asked.

“Something on the seventh with a sea terrace.”

“I’m on the twelfth.”

“Those are the luxury suites with deluxe verandahs,” she commented, her eyes widening. Yeah, this guy had money. She’d seen those rooms on the cruise website and the price tag had blown her mind.

“Ah, no verandah. I’m in an interior room.”

“As in, no windows?” She shuddered.

His lips quirked. “A cruise is about spending time out and about.”

“Says you. I brought a few books to tackle.”

“And you don’t plan on taking them with you to a nice chair near the pool?”

“I’d rather read in peace and quiet.”

“What about your family’s decree you find a romantic partner?” Dante asked as a check-in agent called him up.

“I’m not thinking I’ll have much luck given the demographics,” she answered as she stepped up to the agent next to his and handed over her ticket and passport.

“Should I be hurt you’re not considering me?”

She blinked at Dante. “Um, no offense, but it’s quite obvious we’re not in the same league.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Fairly sure your suit costs more than my entire wardrobe.”

He glanced down. “What can I say? I like quality.”

“And I like stuff on sale,” she stated as the crew member handed her a bracelet that would give her access to her room plus the amenities included with her ticket.

“Why do I get the impression you are the type of woman that, on a date, would insist on paying for her portion?”

Her cheek dimpled. “Depends on the man I’m having dinner with.”

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind about joining me this evening?”

Tempting… but at the same time, there was something a little odd about Dante. Mainly his interest in her. The man oozed charm and wealth and had looks galore. Why would he be so focused on her? She might be decent looking, but they were obviously vastly different and not just in social status. It didn’t help he came across as a womanizer. What other kind of man flirted with a woman waiting in line? He’d soon forget about her once on board and got to pick from a wider assortment of ladies.

“Not tonight. Sorry.” She apologized, not because she truly regretted, but because it was the proper Canadian thing to do.

“Then dinner tomorrow for sure. Say seven p.m. in La Maisonette.”

“I don’t think my cruise pass will let me.” She’d paid for the basic meal package, meaning no reservations at the upscale restaurants.

“Just tell the maître d’ that you’re dining with Dante. They’ll allow you entry.”

“Bending the rules before we’ve even left shore?” she stated as they bypassed the embarkation photographer and scanned themselves through the covered gangway to board.

“Always.” He smiled, and if she were any other girl, it would have likely charmed the panties right off her. As it was, he certainly had her blood heating. Not good, as it had her wolf stirring.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at seven then.” Not entirely a lie. She might go, she might not. He’d more than likely forget about her by the time dinner rolled around.

“I shall count the hours. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some matters to attend. But it was a distinct pleasure meeting you, Selene.”

“Ditto,” she chirped.

As Selene stepped into the glitzy lobby of the ship, she parted ways with Dante, resisting the urge to look back. She wasn’t the type of woman who cared if a man checked her out. Usually.

This time, though, something about Dante had her more flushed than usual. Her heart raced, and she found herself inwardly grinning.

After all, who didn’t like a handsome rich man flirting with them?

It sure beat the couple across the hall from her, who leered as she let herself into her room.

True to her word, she unpacked, enjoyed a room service pizza, read her book, and didn’t emerge again until breakfast.

Chapter 2

Through the fiery caverns tumultuous seas we sail.

Dante eyed the change to the poem. It flowed nicely and seemed more apt than the original words to Inferno. Although, the seas had yet to toss them about. But his emotions were certainly aroused.

When he’d skulked about the port, he’d done so observing those boarding. He’d certainly not expected to meet the delightful Selene. A charming woman in her mid-twenties, with a trim figure, pert attitude, and a scent that had him salivating.

Despite his intrigue, he couldn’t forget his real reason for being there. The cruise wasn’t about pleasure but business, a reminder that didn’t ease his distraction. Especially since the lovely Selene had rejected his offer to meet for a drink. Unheard of. Usually, Dante only had to ask and people simply obeyed. But then again, Selene wasn’t like other folk. He could smell the special difference, hence why he’d intervened in the security area.

“Sir.” His assistant cleared his throat. “The passenger list, as requested.”

A smart and focused Dante would have told Renard to take the list away. Instead, Dante held out his hand for the printout. “Thank you, Rennie.”

“May I ask what you’re looking for?”

“I met a passenger.”

“That does happen on a cruise, sir,” his assistant’s dry retort.

“I’m aware. She’s different.”

“Oh. How so?” Rennie asked, entirely too casual. He’d been with Dante long enough to know it took much to pique his interest.

“Let’s just say she and I have some things in common.” Like the fact the humans aboard would arm themselves with pitchforks and torches if they found out who they sailed with.

“She’s a vampire?” Rennie couldn’t hide his shock.

“No. A lycan.” Almost as rare as his kind. Being eternally hunted had a tendency of causing that. Never mind the fact humans had most aspects about his species wrong. Kind of like they misunderstood werewolves.

“A wolf on board? I can see why you’re concerned. Do you want me to handle it?” Rennie often dealt with small threats on his own, despite knowing Dante could protect himself perfectly fine.

“She has no idea what I am.” Lycans could and did pass him in the street, never realizing Dante’s difference. It took a very fine nose to scent his state of being, let alone recognize what it meant.

“But you’re worried she’ll figure it out.”

“Not really. Even if she figures it out, so what? She won’t out me, not without worrying she’ll reveal herself.”

Rennie frowned. “Then why are you checking her out?” Asked because he could see Dante on his laptop doing a search.

“I’m curious about her. She claims she came alone.”

“Wait, you’re interested in her as a paramour?” Rennie gasped.

“She’s very attractive,” Dante stated as he found her name on the list and poked it. “There she is. Selene McMurray, deck seven, just as she said.” It was nice to know that she hadn’t lied, though he wouldn’t have blamed her for not wanting a stranger to know where she slept.

“Making her a commoner.” Rennie almost sneered saying it.

“So are you.”

“Not trying to bang you, sir.”

The riposted curved Dante’s lips. “Neither is she. She refused to meet me for a drink tonight.”

“The horror!” Rennie mocked. “Maybe she’s not into sausage.”

The term had him snorting. “Oh, she likes men, no doubt about that.” The pheromones she’d oozed during their encounter made that very clear.

“She’s married then.”

“Nope. Single and on this cruise to meet guys.”

“Then I don’t understand. Why did she say no? Is she meeting up with some girlfriends?”

“Apparently, she wanted to unpack and read.”

“Read!” Rennie blinked and laughed. “Rejected for a book. Guess you should have whammied her. Then again, you weren’t expecting her to say no. Don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

No, it didn’t, but even more astonishing… “I did try and persuade her after she first turned me down. It failed to have any effect.” A vampire, much like a Jedi, could play mind tricks. Although, the stronger the mind, the more effort it took. In Selene’s case, though, it didn’t matter how hard he pushed; she simply did not fall under his spell.

“She’s immune to vampire charm?” Rennie didn’t hide his astonishment.

“She is.”

“I didn’t know the lycans had that ability.”

“They don’t.” He’d encountered enough of them to know.

“Are you going to tell her what you are?”

“No.” He’d learned his lesson a long time ago. While many women romanticized the notion of a vampire, most couldn’t handle the reality of it. AKA his diet. Unlike some of the modern adaptations, he couldn’t drain animals alone to sustain himself. He needed human blood. That said, though, he still could partake and digest human food. It just didn’t provide the nutritional value he required. That, and he hated vegetables.

“Sounds like you’re planning to spend time with her.”

“She’s meeting me for dinner tomorrow.”

Rennie arched a brow. “Since when do you go on dinner dates?”

“Since she doesn’t drink.” A surprise. It was rare to find someone who didn’t.

“You do realize it’s going to look odd if you order your food rare with minimal side dishes.”

“Not these days. The carnivore movement is gaining momentum.”

“You seem very set on seeing this woman again.”

“I am.”

“Might I remind you, we came on this trip for a specific reason.”

“I can investigate while still indulging in my curiosity about Selene.”

Rennie sighed. “If you insist.”

“You’re awfully impertinent this evening,” Dante pointed out.

“Aren’t you the one always telling me to speak my mind?”

He had. “Sometimes you do that a little too well,” Dante grumbled.

His assistant grinned. “Only because you taught me how.”

Renard had been introduced to Dante at a young age, and he’d taken a shine to the spunky young lad who’d survived some horrific abuse before Dante rescued him. Dante had been after a meal, and he’d feasted on what should have been a childless couple, only to find Rennie locked in the basement. Chained to a wall, half-starved. When Dante removed him, he’d meant to drop him off at a police station. Instead, he’d brought the young boy home, had him educated, bathed, and then trained to be his assistant when Rennie grew to be a young man who refused to leave his side.

“I’m going to take a walk and familiarize myself with the ship.”

“No spying on the woman,” Rennie warned.

“Would I do that?”

“Yes,” the blunt reply. “There’s a difference between flirting and creeping. If you want this woman to like you, then you don’t want her to catch you playing Peeping Tom.”

“As if she’d catch me,” Dante scoffed.

“She’s lycan, meaning she’s got more acute senses, so don’t be stupid.” A pause. “Sir.”

“Impertinent. I don’t know why I pay you,” Dante groused as he slid on a woolen sweater. The evening air at sea could get cool.

“You pay me because I am awesome.”

“And not conceited one bit.”

“That’s priceless coming from the master.”

Dante shook his head as he opened the door. “It’s not conceited if it’s true.”

With that, Dante left his stateroom and stepped into the hallway. Some might find it odd that a luxurious suite existed without outdoor access. However, it was the safest way for him to enjoy the ship, and vampires did so love to cruise. An all-you-can-eat buffet at the fang tips.

Drunken passengers never remembered the guy who’d had a suckle on their neck or nipped an inner thigh. When they woke weak the next day, they assumed a hangover and not blood loss.

Dante strolled from his floor to the section of the ship with all the nighttime action. Music blasted, the pulsing beat monotonous even when the song changed. A brief moment in the first club, which encouraged dancing, showed a good-sized crowd, many of them with flushed cheeks and too-bright eyes.

Despite a good many patrons being of a more mature age, there still remained plenty in their twenties and thirties of both sexes. When it came to food, Dante didn’t have a gender preference. However, with sex? He was as straight as they came.

A stroll through the party area showed a few prospects, but no Selene. Had she truly gone to her room for the night and not just fed him that line so as to avoid him?

With Rennie’s chiding ringing in his ears, Dante stalked to the seventh, his pace slow and measured as he neared her door.

From across her room, a couple exited their chamber, the wife biting her lip. “I don’t think she’s interested, Harry.”

The corpulent fellow blustered, “Please. I saw how she looked at us. She’s hot to trot. Why else would she be on an adults-only cruise?”

“She doesn’t have any stickers on her door,” the woman pointed out, unlike theirs covered in pineapples and flamingoes and unicorns plus a few that were definitely meant to be provocative. Dante shook his head. If a guy ever ended up with an eggplant-looking dick, he should see a doctor. Although, women’s peaches were sweet.

“Can’t hurt to ask.” As the man lifted his fist to knock on Selene’s door, Dante pursed his lips. It wouldn’t do to be caught in the hall by Selene. She’d think him a creeper for sure. At the same time, he wondered if she would even reply.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

No one came to the door, and Harry, of the red-veined nose and heavy gut, huffed, “Guess she’s out partying. Come on, Mary. Let’s go get ourselves a drink.”

Harry lumbered off, and Mary followed, moving past Dante, who oozed a don’t-look vibe.

Once they left, he headed for Selene’s door. She’d gone out. Where? Could he pick up her trail?

A vampire had a decent sense of smell. He could pick up aromas, pheromones if you will, that others couldn’t. It allowed him to recognize a human versus other preternatural beings.

As he neared her door, he had trouble splitting Selene’s scent from all the others that passed through. Meaning either she’d not left, or she’d exited her room a while ago.

He stepped silently to her door and put an ear to it.

Light music played, and he heard a sigh. She remained in her room, but was she alone? For some reason, he had to know.

Dante could have knocked and had her ask how he knew where to find her. Or… He made his way to the far end of the hall, exiting and then emerging on a tiny section of deck at the aft of the ship. Stairs went up and down. He went over the railing, holding tight, mind you. Even he had no interest in landing in the cold dark ocean below. And, no, he couldn’t turn into a bat. A shame. Flying would have been a useful trick.

He slid his way along the outside of the railing, counting terrace doors until he reached one with a light that should be Selene’s. He hopped onto her balcony and clung to the shadowy partition that separated her outdoor space from the cabin alongside. She’d only partially drawn the drapes, allowing him to peek inside.

An all-alone Selene lay on the bed on her belly, reading a book. No glass of booze nearby, just a bottle of water and a bag of cheese puffs.

Hunh. He’d not seriously expected her to do exactly as she’d claimed. Who came on a cruise to stay in their room and read?

Apparently, this woman did.

Abruptly, she rolled and stretched before rising, her skimpy shorts revealing lean legs, her T-shirt clinging to her braless breasts. As she approached the sliding door, he silently cursed before flinging himself over the rail and quickly slipping onto the terrace next door. He stood and listened as she exited, heard her exhale, and then draw in a deep breath of night air.

But it was her murmur that excited.

“Even out here, it’s like I can still smell you.” She sighed. “Maybe I should have joined you for a drink.”

Yes, she should have.

“Bah. I’m a fool. Talking to myself about a guy who probably forgot me the moment we met.”

As if she could be so simply discarded.

“Question is, do I go to dinner tomorrow?”

Yes.

“I’ll feel like a fool if I show up and he’s surprised to see me.”

How could you think that?

“He’s way too pretty.”

Thank you.

“Probably better if I forget about him.”

Um, no.

“I don’t think my family meant for me to hook up with a womanizer.”

Yeah, I have no argument for that.

“Would it be so bad to let loose and have a little fun, though?”

You really should try it.

She inhaled deeply. “Why can’t I stop smelling his cologne?”

Shit. He’d forgotten about her sharp sense of smell.

The light came on in the room whose terrace he’d borrowed. He shot a glance at the gap in the curtain to see a couple entering, their voices muffled but clear enough he heard, “Join me outside for a nightcap?”

He had to leave. Now. But Selene remained on her terrace, and worse, leaning on the rail, she’d see him for sure if he climbed over.

Just in time, she returned to her room, and he swung over the rail and slid sideways a moment before the couple emerged.

He made it safely back inside the stairway, his mind full of Selene until he heard a raspy whisper from below.

“I can’t wait to ditch this job.”

“Fucking rich, entitled Westerners,” replied a heavily accented voice.

“Not for long,” cackled the other.

Those suspicious words reminded him why he’d come aboard.

With Selene in her room for the night, Dante decided to go find himself some supper—and answers.

COLLAPSE
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My Boyfriend Marks Trees

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Book Cover: My Boyfriend Marks Trees
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Part of the A Moonstruck Mating series:
  • My Girlfriend is a Werewolf
  • My Boyfriend Marks Trees
  • My Boyfriend Bites
  • A Moonstruck Mating Books 1 – 3

For her, he’ll wear a leash.


Ares never planned on settling down, not with his secret. How can he explain why he turns furry on the full moon and likes to mark his territory? But he changes his mind when he meets Charlotte and her daughter at an outdoor market.

It’s Christmas time, and this single mom is just making ends meet however she is less than impressed when a handsome stranger tracks her down to share some holiday cheer. A good thing this tenacious wolf isn’t easily deterred. Ares sets out to win the heart of the woman who makes him want to howl.

Only, she’s not interested in a relationship.

Turns out Charlotte has her own secrets, and when her past comes hunting and threatening, Ares will do anything to keep them safe.
But when the snowflakes settle, will Charlotte be able to accept a man with wolfish charm?

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Published: 2024-11-28
Cover Artists:
Atra Luna's Book Cover and Logo Art
Genres:
fated mates, Holiday Romance, Holiday Romance, Paranormal Romance, Shapeshifter Romance, single mom, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Skree!

The brown squirrel with a white streak on top of his head—which Ares and his siblings had nicknamed Skippy—had plenty to say about Ares sawing the tree.

So did his wolf.

One bite and it will be quiet.

His reply to his furry other half? You know how I feel about ingesting raw meat in this form.

I’ve seen how you eat your steak.

Difference is steak isn’t covered in hair and is delicious.

On that, at least they agreed.

“Sorry, little fellow, but this sucker is slated for the market,” Ares told Skippy. The entire field had been originally started by his dad more than two decades ago. When his father passed, Ares took over the planning and maintenance of the fir, spruce, and pine trees that people coveted for the holiday season.

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The worst part of the squirrel’s harangue? It didn’t even have a nest in that particular fir. None in the other three it freaked out about, either. It would seem Skippy had claimed the entire field as his own.

Ares crouched and continued sawing.

Grack. The agitated squirrel yelled before it dumped snow on Ares’ exposed neck.

“Bloody hell!” He rolled to his back and gave it a glare. The critter didn’t seem impressed, as it continued to harangue him.

Bullied by a rodent. The humiliation, his wolf lamented.

Honestly, more annoying than embarrassing. Ares bared his teeth and growled.

The squirrel proceeded to let loose a stream of pee, and Ares only barely managed to avoid getting drenched.

“Keep it up and I will eat you,” Ares warned. The squirrel gave him the critter equivalent of a “fuck you” and leaped to another tree, one better suited for the creature since it hadn’t yet reached the proper size for selling and Ares had no plans to take it down yet.

Once more, Ares crouched under the lowest boughs and finished cutting. Then, because there lurked a little boy inside him, he yelled, “Timber!” as it fell onto the frozen ground, puffing the thin layer of snow.

He got caught. His younger sister, Selene—who could sneak like nobody’s business—chirped, “For a second, I thought you might start singing that Timber song by Pitbull and Ke$ha.”

“Never. You know I don’t do that modern-pop shit,” he grumbled.

“Or Christmas music or anything with a fun rhythm,” his sister complained.

“I like the classics.” The classics being Kiss, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC. He’d grown up listening to it because of his dad and found it more satisfying than anything put out today.

“You’re like an old man stuck in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Not old, more like an enjoyer of the classics.”

“No wonder you’re still single. Maybe you should try hitting up the retirement homes. I’m sure someone there will appreciate your taste in music.”

“Ha. Ha. So funny. What’s up? Did you need something?”

“More like wondering if you need a hand at the market?” she asked.

“Depends. Are you going to complain it’s cold and wander off buying everything in sight while I do the work?”

Selene’s cheek dimpled as she smiled. “Probably. But I wanted to be polite and offer.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just about done loading the truck, and the site is already prepped.”

“Sounds like Skippy is not happy with you,” Selene remarked as the squirrel dangled from a branch and shook a fist while chattering.

“Skippy needs to find another grove of trees to claim.”

Selene giggled. “I think it’s a game to him. Every year, you two have the same fight.”

They did. And every year his wolf wanted to eat Skippy. It should be noted, on the full moon, when he did run on four feet and in fur, his wolf didn’t come near Skippy’s field, nor did he eat squirrels, although he did like chasing them up trees.

“You and Mom ready for your trip?”

“Yes!” Selene clapped her mittened hands. “The countdown is on. You sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Ares had scored a last-minute cruise deal for his mom and sister that he informed them about early since it was their Christmas present.

“But you’ll be all alone for the holidays.” Selene’s perpetual smile drooped.

“Hardly alone. Athena will be around, and I’ve got an invite to spend Christmas Eve and Day with the Kennedys.” Athena’s new boyfriend, Derek, came with a set of grandparents that, while slightly crazy—and no he didn’t exaggerate, they had a full-on apocalypse-ready bunker and enough ammo to start a war—were actually pretty fun to be around.

Good treats, was his wolf’s addition.

“I’m a little jealous. Grams is probably going to have the best feast.” Selene rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “Those sugar tarts she sent over were divine.”

“I wouldn’t know. You ate them all.”

“You snooze, you lose,” she sang.

“You ate all twelve before I even got home from work,” he complained.

“Oops. Anyhow, since you don’t want my help, I’m going to pop out for a bit. Got a few bunnies to deliver.” His sister raised rabbits both for chasing and selling to restaurants. Mom was the honey and pie queen, whereas Ares, who worked as a mechanic, spent his spare time crafting cheese and growing Christmas trees. Only Athena chose a job that didn’t involve the farm, working as a lab tech.

With a cheerful wave, Selene skipped off, a happy woman despite the recent trauma of being kidnapped by a mad doctor who wanted to announce to the world the fact they were werewolves—as in, all three siblings changed on the full moon into four-legged furry beasts.

A good thing Selene came out of it unscathed, or Ares would have found a way to kill the doctor a second time. Don’t mess with his family.

Ares twined the last tree before loading it with the others. He’d have to hustle. The market would be opening shortly. At least he didn’t have too far to go. Arnprior and the church hosting the holiday fair was just a short ride away from the family farm in Calabogie.

The parking area bustled with some vendors setting up outdoors, while others were inside the church with their tables. Ares had a section already roped off, and it didn’t take long to throw up his sign, Christmas Trees for Sale, with the pricing by height. Then he lay the bound trees against the sawhorses he’d set up the day before. In the past, Ares used to allow people to come and choose their own tree at the farm. However, there’d been too many incidents with idiots who didn’t listen to instructions and proved scary with an axe. Much better to provide them ready to go at the market. The quick and easy cash was for spoiling his mother and sisters. A little extra would come in handy as well, given Athena looked to be expecting a child with her firefighter boyfriend. Not that she’d announced it, but Ares smelled the change in her during their last moon run.

As Ares whirled from his leaning stack to grab another tree, he startled at the sight of a little girl eyeballing him, her cheeks rosy and framed by a woolen red hat. Her matching mittens clashed with her light blue snowsuit.

“Hi,” chirped the kid.

“Hey.”

“Your trees are squished,” she observed.

“They’ll fluff out nice once we undo the twine.”

The child cocked her head. “Mama says real trees are messy.”

“Sometimes, but they sure smell good.” Good enough he’d apparently pissed on them when he was little with no regard for the fact they sat in the living room. Drove his mom nuts, whereas dad always laughed and claimed, “Boy’s just marking his territory.”

“Greta, you better not be bugging that man,” a woman called out as she bustled over, her bright pink earmuffs holding back her dirty-blonde hair. She had smooth features, pink lips that matched her rosy cheeks, and bright brown eyes. Nice figure, too, the jeans hugging a curvy frame.

Mmm, she smells nice. His wolf approved.

“He has real trees, Mommy.” Greta pointed. “They’re squishy now, but he says they smell good and get fluffy. Can we have one?”

“We can’t get a tree this year, munchkin.”

The tyke’s lips turned down. “I know. ‘Cause we need food and not fri-vol-ussy things.”

Ares found himself tightening as the child inadvertently revealed the real reason they didn’t have one.

“One day, I’ll get you the biggest tree you ever saw,” the woman murmured as she crouched by the child.

“Okay.” Greta didn’t have a tantrum like some kids. She took it like a champ.

Mom leaned close to whisper, “I saw a snowman wandering.”

“Snowmen can’t walk,” snorted the kid.

“Well, this one is, and he has candy canes!”

“Oooh.” Greta glanced left and right before spotting the suited character. “I see him!” She bolted for the snowman with candy.

The woman rose. “Sorry if she disturbed you.”

“Nah, she was fine. Cute kid.”

Fine pup, wolf agreed.

“Precocious with no filter, you mean.”

His lips curved. “She is. She mentioned you guys don’t have a tree. Why don’t you take one, on the house?”

She eyed him, her expression suspicious at the offer. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Hardly charity. I already know I won’t sell all of these. Therefore, you taking one now saves me carting it back to my place.”

Her lips pursed. “While your offer is kind, I’m afraid I don’t have a way to get it to our place. But thank you.”

With that, the pretty woman turned, that sweet ass of hers mesmerizing—good enough to bite—and headed after her daughter.

Ares found himself glancing at the woman often as she strolled the Christmas market, not buying anything but managing to give her kid a fun afternoon that included face painting, a visit from Santa, and, of course, a fistful of candy canes. He even spotted her walking away, holding the tyke’s hand as they sang carols, not heading for a car but moving out of sight on foot. Probably lived in the area.

When Ares closed up, toting five trees back onto the trailer he’d used to haul them, he noticed a red mitten lying on the ground. A woolen one he recognized with a name stitched inside.

Greta Dawson.

The kid would need it with snow in the forecast and mom tight on dough.

With a tree over his shoulder, and the mitten in hand giving him a scent, he retraced their footsteps. He almost missed the turn onto a side street. His wolf didn’t, though.

They went that way.

He pivoted and kept strolling, wondering what he’d say. After all, she’d probably wonder how he found her. He couldn’t exactly say he had a super sense of smell. What would sound plausible, instead? It hit him then. He’d seen her filling out a giveaway ballot with the lady who knitted stuffed animals. With the last name on the mitten, he could have easily matched them up.

Excuse found just in time as his wolf huffed, Here.

The townhome, which probably had seen better years since it had been built fifty years ago, looked tidy compared to its neighbors. The walkway clear of snow and ice. A wreath, which had obviously been made by a child using colored construction paper, hung on the door. The front window glowed, highlighting the hand-drawn picture of Santa—with a toothy smile a wolf would envy—taped in it.

Ares knocked and stood waiting, slightly nervous. Blame the fact he’d never done anything so bold before, but he couldn’t help himself. He could claim he did a good deed returning the mitten, but in truth, he kind of wanted to see the kid’s mom again.

When the door flung open, the woman exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

Ares held up the mitten. “I found this.”

Before the woman could reply, there was a blood-curdling scream from inside.

The woman turned and bolted inside the house.

Save the pup!

Ares didn’t think. He dumped the tree and followed.

Chapter 2

“What is it?” Charlotte yelled as she rushed to find her daughter. Greta stood on a kitchen chair and pointed.

“Ugly bug!”

“Seriously?” huffed Charlotte, only to recoil as she caught sight of it. The bug truly was a hideous thing with many legs and waving antennas. And it moved fast.

“Kill it!” screamed Greta. “It’s getting away.”

Charlotte hesitated. The idea of squishing it with her sock-covered foot had her cringing.

It scuttled in Charlotte’s direction, and she yelped before leaping onto a chair.

The bug knew it had them cornered and stopped between the chairs, wiggling all its nasty body parts.

Stomp. The Christmas tree man, who’d somehow managed to find her, took care of the bug, then apologized. “Sorry for barging in with my boots. I heard the kid freaking and didn’t think. Just kind of acted.”

Before Charlotte could order him out of her home, Greta literally threw herself at the man, who luckily caught her. Greta wrapped her legs around his torso and hugged him around the neck, crooning, “My hero!”

“Uh…” Tree Man stood there awkwardly, looking unsure of what to do.

“Greta, get down. You can’t just maul people. Remember, we talked about personal space,” Charlotte chided.

Her daughter leaned her head on his shoulder. “But he saved me and he smells good.”

“Greta!” She injected a warning tone.

Did munchkin listen? “He doesn’t mind, do you?” Greta turned her gazillion-watt gaze on him, and no surprise, he couldn’t escape the cuteness, as evidenced by the smile he returned to her.

“It’s fine. I’ve carried much heavier, and I’m always happy to rescue ladies in need.”

“Ladies.” Greta giggled. “I’m a little girl.”

“Yes, you are. And I think you forgot this.” He still held the red mitten, which Charlotte had thought lost since they arrived home with only one.

“Ooh. Thank you.” Greta snatched it and waved. “See, Mama, not lost.”

She rolled her eyes. “You got lucky. Now say thank you to the man and goodbye, as I’m sure he’s got somewhere else to be.”

“Does he have to go?” asked Greta, using her best pleading voice and big, big eyes.

“I wasn’t planning on intruding. Just delivering the mitten and one other thing.”

“What other thing?” Charlotte asked suspiciously.

“I brought you one of the leftover trees.”

Again, Charlotte had no time to reply because Greta squealed. “A tree! A real one! For me?”

“Yes, for you.” He laughed. “If you give me a second, I’ll bring it in.”

“I don’t know if you should,” Charlotte stiffly replied. “I don’t have anything for it.” Not a pot, or a stand, or even decorations.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.” He winked at Greta. “You let me know where I’m putting it.”

Pretty much anywhere, seeing as how they lacked furniture, the love seat in the living room being the only thing of size. Their small television sat on a battered dresser she’d grabbed from the curb on garbage day. Charlotte kept meaning to paint it.

Greta bounced and clapped in the small entryway. “Oh, Mama. Look. A tree. A real one. It’s a Christmas miracle.”

While Charlotte hated charity, and the fact this stranger had somehow found them, she wasn’t about to crush her daughter’s happiness. Time enough to put this man in his place. And if he tried anything… She wore a switchblade on her beltloop for a reason.

A woman couldn’t be too careful. Having been a survivor of violence, and hating that helpless feeling, she’d taken self-defense classes. She also went on YouTube and studied how to fight with more than just her fists. Because if he ever found her, she needed every advantage she could get.

“Where am I putting it, little princess?” asked the man as he returned with a tree much bigger than the scraggly remnant she’d expected.

“Right there. In front of the window.” Greta pointed.

“A most excellent spot. Let me park it here for a second, though, while I grab the stand. I’ll be a few minutes. It’s in my truck parked at the church.”

He must have jogged there and back because it took him less than five minutes to arrive with the stand. It proved to be a metal basin placed within a cube built of two-by-fours.

“How fortuitous you had all those things in your truck,” Charlotte drawled, not hiding her suspicion he’d carefully plotted his invasion of her home.

“Some people like the idea of a tree but don’t have the stuff to put it up. So I always make sure I’ve got a few stands and buckets just in case,” he tossed over his shoulder as he planted the tree in the contraption. “Fill the basin with water to keep it lasting longer. If it gets dry, the needles will start falling.”

“I’ll get some water!” Greta ran to the kitchen.

It gave Charlotte a chance to ask questions. “Exactly how did you find us?” Because she was unlisted for a reason.

“Once I found the mitten, Carrie, the lady doing the giveaway for a stuffie, kindly let me sift through the ballots to see if I could match the name. Didn’t find a Greta Dawson, but there was a Charlotte Dawson.”

A plausible explanation and more trouble than she’d have expected a man to go through just to return a mitten. What did he really want?

Greta returned with a bowl full of water, which slopped despite her careful steps. Charlotte used her socks to mop the spill rather than leave him alone in the room with her daughter.

The tree man helped Greta pour it in. “Okay, stand back now.” He pulled a knife, and Charlotte stiffened. The guy grinned at Greta. “Ready for the fluff?”

“Yesss.” Greta rocked on her heels with excitement.

The knife slashed the twine, and while it wasn’t a window-smashing event like seen in movies, the tree definitely exploded, branches springing out, bulking the tree.

“Oooh.” Greta’s eyes went wide, and Charlotte wished she could have been the one to bring wonder to her face. They just couldn’t afford anything more than rent and food right now. Given she couldn’t afford daycare, she could only work while Greta went to school or when the elderly neighbor next door watched Greta in exchange for Charlotte cleaning her house. She’d been scrimping just to make sure she even had a present for Greta on Christmas morning.

When they’d fled, it had been with nothing to their name. Charlotte hadn’t dared to hit her place to pack a suitcase of clothes. She’d left her furniture and life behind. Hightailed it clear across the country, from the Rockies to Ontario. She might have gone farther, only she had limited cash left by that point. Only enough to put down a first and last months’ rent. Hence why they stayed on the outskirts of Ottawa, in a small town called Arnprior, where a person who wasn’t too picky could rent a place that only took two weeks of pay to cover. The other two weeks went to food, which had gotten astronomical in price, plus essentials like clothes for a growing kid and a small emergency fund in case they had to run again.

Greta chatted with the man as he showed her how to fluff the branches. It was when he asked for paper and scissors, which sent Greta scurrying, that Charlotte crossed her arms and said, “What are you doing?”

“Bringing joy?” he offered with a crooked grin.

“Seriously?” She arched a brow. “Exactly what is your game? I have nothing to give you.”

“Not asking for anything.”

“I’m not putting out either. So if you’re expecting any favors because of that”—she pointed to the tree—“then you’ll be disappointed.”

His lips pursed. “I’m not that kind of man. Listen, I know this might be hard to believe, but I genuinely just wanted to spread some happiness. It’s how I was raised.” He stood and held out his hand. “It occurs to me that we’ve never properly met. I’m Ares McMurray, and before you think I’m lying or a serial killer, here’s my card.” He handed over a black-embossed business card with the title Ares Artisanal Cheese, a website address, and a phone number.

“You make cheese?” She couldn’t help sounding a little incredulous.

“Yeah. The best you’ve ever had,” he boasted. “But since it’s not exactly bringing in the big bucks, I also work at a garage.”

“How do I know this is real?”

“Google it. I’m legit. If you want, you can call my mom and sisters too. They’ll vouch for me.”

Greta returned, waving paper and scissors, the paper technically already used; one side had flyer info on it. Charlotte’s work had printed too many for a sale they were having, and rather than dump them in the garbage, she’d brought them home for arts and crafts.

“I gots it!” Greta squealed. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“Well, this tree is kind of naked, little princess. What do you say we give it some snowflakes?”

“Yesss.” Greta plopped down and watched as Ares joined her, showing her how to fold the paper accordion-style before trimming bits and pieces and then expanding it with a “Ta-da!”

“Pretty.” Greta fluttered it to the tree and draped it. “Let’s make another.”

“Your turn.” He guided Greta without touching, which Charlotte appreciated, and soon her munchkin had her own snowflakes on the tree.

It led to Charlotte murmuring, “I think we have some popcorn we can string too.” Might as well join in since the tree was staying.

An hour later and the tree had paper snowflakes, macaroni and popcorn garland, and Greta’s prized knock-off Cinderella princess sitting at the very top, courtesy of Ares, who finagled a way for her to stay up there. It was just missing lights, and her work had those for five bucks a strand. She’d just skip buying meat for a few days.

Greta rubbed her tummy. “I’m hungry, Mama.”

The late afternoon had turned into dinnertime, and Charlotte gnawed her lower lip because the right thing to do would be to invite Ares to stay for dinner, only the leftover casserole was barely enough for two.

“Why don’t you wash up, munchkin, and Mama will fix something.”

As Greta skipped out of the room, Charlotte’s cheeks heated as she mumbled, “I’m sorry, but I haven’t done groceries and—”

“No need to apologize or explain. I know I’ve overstayed my welcome, or should I say, barging in? You’ve got a sweet kid.”

“I know.”

“Thanks for not poking me with your knife. I know I kind of took you by surprise.”

Her eyes widened. So he’d noticed it. “Thank you for not being a psychopath.”

His lips curved. “Just a weird dude who sells Christmas trees and makes cheese. I should get going now. Mom’s usually got dinner on the table by six-thirty, and it will take at least a half-hour to get home.”

“You live with your mom?” It came out a little judgey.

“Me and my baby sister. We don’t like Mom being alone, especially since the farm always needs something done. My older sister, Athena, moved out, but she comes by often.”

A man close to his family. Sweet and rare these days.

Greta skipped back in and saw Ares putting on his coat. “You’re leaving?” Her lips turned down.

“Yeah. But I had a fun time. Thanks for letting me help decorate your tree.”

“You’re welcome. When are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure, princess. I think that will depend on your mom.”

Charlotte hadn’t been interested in any man since the sour experience with Greta’s dad, so it surprised when she muttered, “Maybe he can come back for dinner another time.”

The smile he beamed her way almost impregnated her. Her ovaries certainly did a little jiggle. Jeezus, no way was he single. Or if he was, definitely a player.

“I would love to come back for a visit. ‘Til next time, little princess.”

Greta threw herself at his legs and squeezed. “Bye, Ares.”

Charlotte saw him to the door and murmured, “Have a good evening.”

“You too, Charly.”

Wait, Charly?

She was still blinking at the nickname as he crossed the street to a pickup truck. Stared at his ass in his snug jeans and wondered why a man like him would even be interested.

At twenty-five, with a six-year-old, and a few pounds too many—"you fat cunt, you disgust me”—she had no illusions about how men saw her. Maybe he really just was a nice guy trying to spread joy.

Not that it mattered. She’d most likely never see him again. Still, she didn’t toss his card but stuck it to the fridge. After all, she did love cheese.

COLLAPSE
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Big City Collection Two : Books 4 – 6

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Book Cover: Big City Collection Two : Books 4 - 6
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Part of the Big City Lycans series:
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Heroes that howl.

It’s time to cozy up with some werewolves who might be fighting for their lives but are still managing to find love.
Three previously released titles in one handy collection.
Werewolf Bodyguard ~ On a mission to protect, this tough werewolf forgets to guard his heart.
Werewolf’s Princess ~ When a werewolf falls for a princess, he finds out he’s not the only one who likes to bite.
Werewolf Noel ~ His second chance at love needs a holiday miracle.

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Published: 2024-05-02
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, Holiday Romance, older hero, older heroine, Paranormal Romance, second chance romance, Shapeshifter Romance, vampire romance, werewolf romance
Tags:
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Dating Cupid

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Roxanne knows where she’d like to shove Cupid’s arrow.

Tired of cheating men and false promises of love, Roxanne launches a campaign against Cupid’s Dating Service. But it’s hard to smear a company when you’ve got the hots for the owner.

Maverick Eros is more than the CEO of CDS, he’s Cupid himself. However, forget the media images of a chubby diapered cherub because the god of love is actually six feet plus of yummy, muscled male.

When they meet, sparks fly–the lusty kind–but they both know from experience, love hurts. Can they learn to trust again?

Published: 2011-02-11
Genres:
god romance, Holiday Romance, Holiday Romance, Paranormal Romance
Tags:
english
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