Dany Rae Miller
One smart witch and three sexy wolves tell a story of love, lies and rejection.
All Shavone Gentil wants is to find her runaway sister. When witchcraft fails to provide the answers, she resorts to the last resort — getting a job at the Denver Dollhouse. Shav gets answers, but to questions she didn’t even know to ask.
In love and in lust with Shavone since childhood, all Nash LaFontaine wants is her safety, her body and her heart. Responsible and noble, the giant alpha waited so long. Did he wait too long?
All Ben LaFontaine wants is to do his duty as a French wolf. He comes to Denver to do just that. His first assignment is to help his cousin Nash protect the witch. Little does he know the power she’ll wield over him.
All Enrique Cruz wants, all he’s ever wanted, is Shavone. There’s a night from hell that the Native alpha will never forget, the horrors of which his obsession is just beginning to remember.
Who will get they want and whose heart will shatter?
Note: Due to strong language and mature content, this Wolven Moon Novel is recommended for adults ONLY.
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My hands over Shavone’s, I tighten my hoodie around her. She needs to keep it on — cover that beautiful, tempting ass of hers.
I indicate the dart board with a nod. “Are you an ace at that, too?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’ve never played darts before.”
“Hallelujah.” I throw my head back. “Maybe I can win a portion of my pride back.” I run my hands up her waist and around to her back. “Will you let me teach you?”
Yes, kitten, that was an innuendo. I want to teach you a lot of things.
The increase in feminine pheromone and blushing smile means she got my drift. Fuck. My dick twitches. I don’t know how much more of her I can take.
“Okay,” she’s says, eyes on my mouth.
I lick my lips. You want some of this?
Dilated eyes say yes just before they glance away.
“Sir?” She calls across the bar and once she has the old man’s attention, motions that the pool table is all his. He waves his thanks.
Touching her back, I usher her to the dartboard.
“I love this song.” She rocks her shoulders.
There’s music? I pause to listen. Sade softly sings something about giving the kiss of life.
“You like this old shit?” I tease her, pulling the darts from the board.
“Hey.” She giggles. “Yes. I like soul — old and new.” She throws out that bottom lip, again. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“Never, kitten. You have excellent taste in music.”
The broad grin that spreads across her sweet face wraps another string around my heart. And her swaying hips? Those put another quart of blood in my dick.
She is something. Beautiful and sweet and sensual. I wonder how she’ll react when she finds out I’m lying to her just as Nash is. And she’ll find out. No doubt. She’s digging in the right place. She’ll be angry. I have no doubt about that either. That we’re doing this to keep her out of the clutches of the hunters won’t make a bit of difference. How strange to feel remorse before the fact. The only chance I’ll have is to get under her skin and fast.
“Why the sad look?” She asks me.
I affect an exaggerated shocked expression. “You gotta ask, lady who handed me my ass in pool?”
“Sorry.” She exaggerates a giggle into her hand. She isn’t sorry at all. “Well, now you can trounce me.”
Fuck. Was that a euphemism, kitten?
“At darts,” she quickly adds.
“I wouldn’t be very gallant, using your word, if I did that.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” She gives me her coquettish smile.
“You think batting those lashes at me will save you?” I laugh.
“A girl can hope.”
“You showed no mercy. I show no mercy.” I grin. “That’s the way the game works.”
I move behind her, and, with a hand at her hip, begin to murmur the rules into her ear. Jesus. Her scent. I inhale a lung full of it.
“This” — I toe a length of tape on the floor — “is the throw line. You cannot step over it when you throw.”
“What about my arm?”
“Good question.” I playfully squeeze her bicep, again. “Yes, your buffed arm can cross it.”
I feel her smile. “I prefer the word ‘toned’.”
“Kitten, you are so toned.” I nuzzle her hair. “Now, stop distracting me.”
She giggles and I grin. This is fun. She’s fun.
The rest of the rules, what there are of them, are fairly simple. I run through them quickly. “Let’s do a few practice throws.” I motion her aside and, when she’s safely out of the way, throw my darts. One lands dead center of the bull’s-eye and the other two in the interior ring, quarter inch from the bull’s-eye.
She laughs. “This is going to be bad.”
“Aw, c’mon. Positive thinking.” I move out of the way and bow for her to take my place at the line.
Lifting her chin, she shakes her hair out of the way and narrows her eyes at the board in concentration.
Hot and sexy, smart and sharp. No man can resist that. Sorry, Nash. I glance over at him. His eyes pierce me with an anger he normally saves for enemies and rival packs. Cherie grins at me.
Shavone’s first throw lands on the board, but in the number ring. No score. The second lands in the fat single score ring and the third misses the board completely.
The music clicks over to a sexy strong drumbeat that Shavone seems to like, too. I walk to the board to extract our darts. Ah, it’s John Mayer. I almost laugh out loud at the lyrics. I’m not the man I used to be either, John.
Shavone smiles at me as I walk back to her. Rocking her hips, she sings along to the music.
“Not bad.” I hand her her darts. “You’ve got pretty good form for a newbie. Can I show you a better way?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please.”
I lay my darts on a nearby table.
“Let’s work on your stance, first.”
Stop writhing that body, kitten.
“Okay.” She stands still.
Taking my sweet ass time and with a caressing touch, I position her body — feet there, hips like this, shoulders like that, hands like this. I’m disappointed when I’m done arranging her.
She looks up at me through her lashes, a flirty smile on her lips. I stifle a growl.
Moving back behind her, I drag my hand down her arm to her hand. “Holding the dart is an art,” I whisper in her ear — trying hard not to imagine her soft hand gripping my dick. “Two fingers forward on the stem, like this.” I manipulate her slender fingers. “And your thumb here near the back of the dart.”
Understanding, she nods. Her brow furrowed, she concentrates so hard.
“You want to extend your arm, pointing the tip of the dart where you’d like it to stick.” Placing my cheek directly on her temple, my hand over hers, I raise the dart in front of her face. “Stare down the tip and bring the dart straight back in front of your face,” I say. “Don’t hold it here, by your ear. You can’t see where it’s going if it’s beside your head.” I let go of her hand and hold her at the waist. “Do it now, but don’t throw it yet.”
While she lines up the dart, I dip my nose into her hair and inhale deeply — not caring if she hears it. My voice is thick when I speak again. “We’ll do a couple of practice movements. Don’t let go of the dart, though.”
“Okay,” she says softly.
My left hand glides from her hip to ribs while my right hand wraps around hers and the dart.
My wolf wants you so bad.
About Dany Rae Miller
I’m Dany Rae Miller and I believe in the power of love.
I believe that love ~ real, unconditional, soulful devotion ~ can change who you are as a person. It can change you from shy to open, wary to trusting, scared to brave, running in circles to holding on to your rock.
Young and naive, believing I was in love, I married right out of high school. Three years later, I was a brokenhearted, single mom of a toddler. Fast forward two more years to another sweetheart turned asshole and my faith in love was lost.
Done with boys, I built a life for my child and me by myself. It wasn’t easy, but I grew up and learned how to stand on my own two feet. I didn’t need a man, I reasoned, I’ve got my confidence.
In my mid twenties, I wanted to up my earning power and decided to go to college, setting my sights on journalism school. It was then, when I wasn’t looking for him, that the love of my life walked into a college speech class and sat down next to me.
The right person at the right time changes everything and mends even the most shattered trust. I am living proof. That’s what I try to put into my novels.
When I’m at the computer writing, life is golden. It just doesn’t get any better than weaving sometimes euphoric and sometimes gut-wrenching tales of erotic romance.
In former lives, I was an advertising rep, then, a property manager. After college, I became a TV producer, and an award-winning screenwriter.
Now, I conjure sexy love stories from thin air. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it. I do it from my home in spectacular Colorado (a location featured prominently in my stories) where I live with my wonderful husband and two affectionate kitties.
Contact Dany Rae
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