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His She-wolf

Amy Redwood

Ropes, guns, secrets—and one overprotective hit man. Sometimes, only life-

changing sex will do.

It’s nothing personal, it’s just sex. At least that’s what I thought, meeting Seth. You

see, I have a personality problem every full moon. My shifter genes urge me to hunt.

And to mate. It’s an itch I can’t scratch during business meetings, obviously. What I

want is my name on a lucrative contract, but this is where my life really takes a turn for

the worse. The last thing I need is a hero, risking his life to save mine, but that’s exactly

what I got.

Seth, hit man-cum-journalist, is on the run after securing a crucial piece of evidence

against a known kingpin. Still trying to figure out how Candace is involved, he is even

more puzzled at her strength, fast reflexes and appetite for sex. But he’s ready and able

to save her—even if he has to tie her up to make her see reason—and heal her heart

along the way.

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

His She-wolf

ISBN 9781419927737

Edited by Mary Moran

Cover art by Syneca

Electronic book publication March 2010

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in

part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing,

Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales

is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

H IS S HE - WOLF

Amy Redwood

His She-wolf

Chapter One

The moon was already rising in the east—the tingling in my bones was a telltale

sign—and the last rays of sunlight flickered like flames into my small apartment. I

squirmed on my desk chair, my shifter genes willing me on to hunt and prowl and

mate. Especially to mate. While I had mastered the urge to shift involuntarily—

mostly—I was helpless to the unquenchable desire within me each full moon.

Embarrassing but, thank goodness, preventable.

I brushed my index finger over the top of a picture frame, removing a thin layer of

dust. “Miss you, Tim,” I whispered, almost hearing him say Love you, honey. Looking at

his blue-eyed face, I expected my heart to hurt, but the pain was muted, less sharp.

Sighing, I opened the desk drawer and retrieved a small paper sachet from its

depths. I made a mental note to stock up tomorrow, ripped the sachet open and poured

the finely ground powder into a full water glass. Stirring with my finger, I stifled a gag

as the faint aroma of rotten fruit reached my heightened senses.

If given the choice, I’d prefer to be tied down to rail tracks with a train approaching

before I was caught without my drink on a full moon night.

Still, I eyed the glass warily—it needed to steep for full potency—and fished a

praline from the open box sitting on my desk. I’d made them yesterday. Coated pecan

in white chocolate. Closing my eyes, I savored the buttery crunchiness while the loud

humming of my outdated computer drilled a hole in my head.

Drink in one hand, mouse in the other, I clicked the browser window shut, which

had educated me about the maximum sentence for arsonists, and tried not to think

about the gasoline canister hidden in the basement.

If tonight’s meeting went well, I wouldn’t need to follow in Nero’s footsteps—not

that my conscience would ever let me do it anyway.

Amy Redwood - His She Wolf.pdf

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