Published: February 4, 2016
There’s no pause button in life? Ha! She’s just the fabulously fluffy werefeline to create one.
Hannah Buchanan is the oldest daughter to the Buchanan werelion clan leader, twin to Katie Buchanan, and… and blah, blah, blah. Hannah is a lot of things, but she refuses to be defined by her family and their connections. She’s more than an honorable, fertile womb destined for a political mating.
So she’s pressing the paws button and retreating to Deals Gap, North Carolina. Her adopted werebunny sister calls the small town home and it’s the perfect place for Hannah to hide. Then she meets the gaze of one green-eyed, black-haired, sexy as all get out werelion-wolf hybrid. He calls to her lioness like no one before. And, well, he should since… he’s her true mate!
Too bad for Hannah, her contracted mate followed her to Deals Gap and is determined to have her—even if it means murdering her true mate first. Will her mixed-breed mate be able to take down a pureblood werelion? Or will Hannah end up in a political mating after all?
Read an Excerpt
The thing about small towns is that a person can’t always find a fabu place to get a mani/pedi. Which… sucks. Don’t get Hannah wrong, Deals Gap, North Carolina was a great place to lay low, but it’d be perfect if they had a rockin’ nail salon. Oooh, maybe a spa that could handle fingers and toes and give her a facial. Her skin was getting all kinds of ick with the summer humidity. She needed her pores cleansed and skin buffed and—
A bee buzzed past her nose and she jerked back, waving her hand to brush the bug aside. That movement managed to do two things—get the thing away from her face and fling droplets of the best nail color known to man (PIO’s I’m Not Really a Streetwalker) across the porch. Those little bits of liquid gloriousness flew through the air, metallic sparkles glinting when struck by the sun’s bright rays, and finally splatted on the newly refinished wood. There it sat, bright red against the sanded and sealed natural beige.
Her sister was gonna kill her. Hell, her sister’s mate was gonna kill her. Deader than dead. Especially since Carter had spent four Saturdays grumbling and growling while he worked. But it’d made Bethany happy so he’d done the work. Random drops of I’m Not Really a Streetwalker all over the ground would not make Bethany happy.
Now Hannah had circled back to the deader than dead aspect of her day.
“Shit. Fuck. Damn,” she mumbled and then winced when her lioness snarled and clawed at her mind. The feline hated Hannah’s cursing habit and let her know. Often. More so now that Bethany had a Technicolor baby—who knew if it’d shift into a bunny, a tiger, or a wolf—in the oven. The lioness assured her she had to set a good example. Especially if she was going to be the alpha bitch of—
Hannah stomped on that thought. Stomped and pounded and pushed until it was out of her mind. Traveling to Bethany’s cabin—housesitting while her sister and Carter were on their honeymoon—was supposed to be an escape from responsibility. She could think about becoming the alpha bitch of Jeremy Lachlan’s pride later. Like, when they were at the mating gathering and about to say their vows.