Brogan James came to Los Lobos for a quick, simple
meeting with Ryker, but things get complicated when the town is rocked by their
Alpha being shot and the human mate of one of their pack members murdered. One
of three wolves cleared of the crime, with Ryker at the time of the murder,
Brogan sets out using his skills as a tracker to catch the killer.
Natalie Gabbin accepted her destiny when her one
true mate chose to walk away years ago. Now that he’s back in town, will she
have the strength to turn away from him or give in to the desires of one more
night in his arms?
With Brogan close by, a murderer on the loose, and tensions
in the pack rising, will Brogan forget the past and claim the other half of his
soul?
Kindle: http://amzn.to/1ldxeu9
Nook: http://goo.gl/PuHJ1W
Kobo: https://goo.gl/CVwJg3
iBooks: https://goo.gl/nLfnKb
ARe: https://goo.gl/QuQby1
Nook: http://goo.gl/PuHJ1W
Kobo: https://goo.gl/CVwJg3
iBooks: https://goo.gl/nLfnKb
ARe: https://goo.gl/QuQby1
Excerpt:
Scent.... One of the
few senses with the ability to take you back, transport you to a different time
or place. Sometimes to a good place, others to one you would rather forget, or,
more often in his case, a place you tried to forget but your mind refused to
let go. His lungs filled with all the scents of home.
He turned slightly and
inhaled. Sharp and spicy pine. A scent which brought back memories of a
childhood long forgotten. Games played that made a young boy into the man he
was today. Another scent caught on the breeze. Earthy, musky. The moss he knew
could be found near the forest floor, covering the rocks and boulders never
touched by the light of the sun.
Scent.... Pungent.
He would have laughed at the scent under different circumstances. Only one
place in Los Lobos offered it up. Gee’s diner and his damn fried pickles.
Nothing reminded him more of home than that specific scent. He scrubbed a hand
down his face, catching the next one as the breeze shifted a bit.
Scent.... Sweet,
fresh. “Fuckin’ wildflowers,” he murmured to himself. As always, he could be
anywhere in the world and the scent brought a specific image to his mind.
Sometimes it felt more like a damn vision quest he refused to take. For years,
he’d tried to forget the image and failed. It didn’t live in his mind; it had
been burned into his soul. Hazel eyes, tipped-up nose, hair as dark as the
midnight sky. One thought of Natalie Ann Gabbin, or Gabby as most of the pack
called her, caused his chest to tighten. His alpha lay near death, and
yet the thought of her caused his jeans to tighten and his heartbeat to grow
stronger. He was kidding himself. The damn thing beat a rhythm more powerful
than any shaman’s drum. He groaned and pressed the heel of his hand against the
growing tightness. He could waste his time and come up with reasons he didn’t
live with his pack. When, in truth, it only took one word: Gabby. He groaned on
the exhale and discovered, much to his relief, the wind had changed.
Unfortunately, now the breeze told a new tale. One no longer belonging here.
Scent…. Heady,
metallic. One that caused the hair on the nape of his neck to stand on end. The
scent of blood…Drew’s blood. Whose blood wasn’t even a question that needed to
be asked; any member of the Tao pack would know it was the blood of the alpha.
At one final scent, his
body tensed, on alert. Fetid, repulsive. It clogged his throat, threatening to
choke him. It seemed to seep into his soul and refuse to leave. The scent of
death.
Other titles from Decadent: A Wolf Awakens. http://www.amazon.com/Wolf-Awakens-Black-Hills-Wolves-ebook/dp/B00W848DS2/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
Author Bio:
Who is Cam Cassidy? Born and raised in a small farming town in
northern Ohio Can had plenty of time on hands.
Mother of two boys 18 months apart, that she always referred to as more
wolf cub than human, and her daughter the princess of casa de Cassidy. The
cup of coffee in her hand is a trademark. She works full time in the medical
field. In her spare time, she spends every minute reading and writing. Watching
her children ride horses, dirt bikes with a notebook in hand to never miss
jotting down that next all important story idea.
Was it sitting beside the fire drinking a glass of wine (more likely Fireball and tea), or was it between loads of laundry? Her dream of becoming a published author have come true.
Was it sitting beside the fire drinking a glass of wine (more likely Fireball and tea), or was it between loads of laundry? Her dream of becoming a published author have come true.
Catch me where ya can!
Thanks so much for blogging with us today!!
ReplyDelete