Black Hills Wolves #50
By Merryn Dexter
Releasing June 17th2016
Publisher: Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Word Count: 30,000
Cover Art: Fiona Jayde
The Matrons of the Tao Pack are on the hunt, seeking out unmated couples who would be a perfect match – even if they don’t know it yet.
Sander Burrows is a wolf with a broken spirit. Thirty-five years from home and pack, he made a life for himself amongst the humans. Tragedy and a sense of failure drive him home into the loving arms of his family.
Aurora ‘Rory’ Hanson hates Sander almost as much as she loves him. Humiliated at seventeen when he stood her up at the annual Spring Dance she has lived a life of relative solitude on the fringes of the pack.
When Sander catches sight and scent of Rory, feelings run hot. His wolf recognizes his mate and he’ll do just about anything to overcome Rory’s dislike of him. Even accept the assistance of four interfering busybodies.
The matrons want the old Spring Dance revived and what better way to ‘help’ two fated wolves to happiness than to force them to work together on the organizing committee.
Rory and Sander discover that finding love doesn’t get any easier even when you’re in your fifties. Misunderstandings, old hurts and the sharp edge of Miss Kathy’s tongue must all be overcome if two old friends are to achieve true happiness.
About the Author
Merryn Dexter is a military spouse who, after a varied employment career (from selling sandals to old ladies with bunions to being a health and safety coordinator for a construction company), is thrilled to be pursuing her dream career as a romance writer. She likes The Winchesters, Spike, Hotch, Loki and watching complicated European Noir. Her hobbies include crying at books, crying at movies, crying at tv serials (there’s a theme!) and believes all stories should have a Happy Ending.
Familiar aqua eyes peered up from beneath scowling brows as he studied the source of the alluring scent. Wild blonde curls snarled around her head, her curves emphasized by the simplicity of her clothing, a white T-shirt covered in dirt and boot-cut jeans. Tiny feet clad in practical sneakers added nothing to her five foot five height. A warm smile curled his lips as he recognized the little hellion beneath the womanly guise. “Hey, Rory, it’s great to see you again.”
The scowl didn’t soften in response to his greeting. If anything, it deepened as the small woman reared back as though struck. “I’ll see you later, Margie.” The words were a direct snub, and he moved away from Marjorie, blocking Rory’s path when she would have retreated.
“Hold up a minute, honey. I haven’t been back in town five minutes. What can I possibly have done to upset you?” The restraining hand Marjorie placed on his arm should have warned him, but the fragrance that was uniquely Rory, fried his brain. The irrational anger she projected at him added a sharper undertone to her sweetness and rocked him on his heels. Rory Hanson was all grown up and Sander’s wolf was very happy about it.
“What can you have possibly done to upset me? I see age hasn’t lessened your arrogance, honey.” The sarcasm dripping from her lips made him grin. Far from being deterred by it, Sander’s natural dominance rose to the challenge of her glare. He wanted to scoop the scruffy little woman up and turn her over his knee until all her anger melted into sweet compliance. He stepped closer, deliberately putting himself within her personal space, knowing she would feel the heat boiling off his skin. He wanted her to know his scent, yearn for it the way he suddenly yearned for hers. He wanted to rub all up against her until forest green and sweet fruit intermingled.