Love short stories? Check out Alpha Heat. These 21 shorts are sure to leave you breathless and wanting to see what comes next in Alpha Fever.
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Grab your copy today and heat up your night with these quick, sexy reads.
Best of all... It's FREE! Now that's hot.
Amazon US Amazon UK
Check out this taste of
Mating Mr. Right Now: A Bearfield short
by Jacqueline Sweet
The Growler was
Bearfield’s finest and only roadhouse. They served food that stuck to your ribs
and drinks that knocked you on your ass. Even the homemade root beer was good.
His aunt ran the place with the help of a team of orphaned werewolves. It was a
long story. Sebastian spent most of his time at the Growler, propped up on a
stool, chatting with the wolves or reading a book. He enjoyed the way the
mountain light shone through the stained glass windows and painted the long
wooden table in dappled reds and oranges.
Tomorrow he’d be
at his father’s side, walking the Conclave to meet and greet the far flung
clans of bears. And each and every Alpha would look upon him with pity in their
eyes, knowing that he should have been born a shifter. It wasn’t his fault of
course. These things happen. But that didn’t soften the blow. He’d be at his
father’s side, running a gauntlet of recrimination, right up until the
ceremonies began, and then he’d be barred with all of the other bear-blooded.
Shifters only. No humans allowed.
He sighed into
his drink, wishing again it was something harder and more alcoholic. And braced
himself for what was to come.
The saloon doors
to the Growler swung open. Sebastian glanced over, expecting to see one of the
lunchtime regulars like Sheriff Pete or Eddie Chigliak from the movie theater.
But instead what he saw took his breath away.
A woman stood in
the doorway. Light from the stained glass windows flowed over her, casting her
in a golden glow. She was damn near as tall as he was, with wide shoulders and
thick thighs. The woman wore motorcycle boots with spiderweb stockings, cut off
jean shorts that hardly covered anything, a ripped t-shirt advertising some
band called The Furies and a leather motorcycle jacket. Her head was shaved on
one side and the other side was spit curled like some 1920’s flapper. To
Sebastian, she looked like post-apocalypse Beyonce. The woman had serious eyes
and wide full lips painted bronze. She scanned the room as if looking for
someone to kill. Her eyes took in each and every person, weighing them and
judging them, until they focused on Sebastian.
One she saw him,
she strode over to him.
He couldn’t
decide if he should fall to his knees and beg forgiveness or leap out the
window, so he did neither.
“You, are we
related?” she asked in a voice like a hand stroking fur.
“No,” Sebastian
said, his voice almost breaking. “At least, I don’t think so. My name is—”
She put a finger
on his lips. “No names. Follow me. I have need of you.” She turned and strode
from the restaurant. Sebastian couldn’t tear his eyes off her wide, shapely
ass.
Two of the
werewolf busboys laughed at Sebastian and pushed him from the chair. “Have
fun!” they called.
What else could
he do? It beat sitting around feeling sorry for himself in the Growler.
Sebastian hurried after her, emerging into the bright mid-day light and
blinking at the sight of the woman sitting astride her motorcycle.
“You are young
and strong,” she said.
Sebastian stared
at her.
“That was a
question.”
“Yes? Yes, I am.”
“No heart
conditions?”
“Nope.”
“No illnesses?”
“None.”
She sniffed the
air, taking his scent. “Are you a virgin?”
“Not since
Halloween,” he grinned. “It’s a funny story actually,” he began, but then
stopped once he saw her expression.
“Very well.” She
patted the seat behind herself. “Come with me.”
“Where?” It
wasn’t his habit to run off with the first amazingly hot woman that asked him
to. But on second thought, it didn’t sound like a bad habit to have.
“I have a cabin.
Up in the woods where my pack is staying. They are all at the campground now
and the place is deserted. I’m going to take you there and you are going to
make me cum. A lot. Do you understand?”
Sebastian’s cock
answered for him, rapidly hardening in his jeans. The woman smiled at him and
his heart crashed in his chest. If she was gorgeous when she looked like she
wanted to kill everyone in the Growler, she was doubley so when she smiled.
“Why me?” he
asked, throwing a leg over the back of her bike.
“Because you are
pretty and strong and I have a desperate need to get laid.”
“Fair enough,”
Sebastian said as she gunned the engine and took off like a bat out of hell.
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