Three blazing hot stories of werewolf packs in the wilds of West Texas.
Beg: Tala runs to Sin City the second she turns eighteen, refusing the alpha her pack has contracted her to, but somehow instead of her freedom she finds herself with not one but three were males who are hungry to make her their mate.
Heal: Arlin doesn’t want the responsibility of being pack Alpha. Ruth’s really cramping his style. How can a woman so cold smell so incredibly hot?
Carry On: Ned really doesn’t expect to fall for Frank, a cold-blooded hired gun, or MaeBelle, the owner of the speakeasy where Ned works. Now he has a bigger problem — keeping his lovers safe from the were killing anyone connected with the club… especially when Ned may just be the killer.
Copyright ©2022 Treva Harte
Excerpt from Beg
“You’ve been drinking.”
“It’s my birthday.”
“Your eighteenth birthday, Arlin. Not legal drinking age.”
“For non-weres, maybe. But when did you turn into a member of the Temperance League? Ohh. I get it, cousin. You’re jealous. After all, I am one day older than you. I always will be.”
“Shut up. And I’m not your cousin. In fact, I’m really glad I’m not your cousin.”
“Cousin? We’re almost twins, babe. Is it the longest day of your life? You’ve been like this for every birthday since I can remember. You’d think you’d outgrow it.”
“And button up your fly, Arlin. You’ve been out sexing too. What type of bar did you go to?”
He smiled, his patented lazy smile, and took his time about obeying the order. He deliberately left the top button open.
“A sex bar, of course. C’mon, Tala. You’re so jealous you’re just about crawling out of your skin. It’s okay for me to have sex, you know. I’m not a minor now. Of course, you can’t have it even when you do turn eighteen. You’ve been sold off to the highest bidder. I bet he wants a virgin bride. How quaint.”
“If you’d been born female, it would have been you on the auction block. It’s at least one good reason to be male.” Tala stood up and began to pace. “I suppose he’ll summon me as soon as I hit the right age. I don’t even know if he’ll do that. Everything is up to him. It’s disgusting. It’s archaic.”
“Jealous and scared as hell.” Arlin grabbed her by the shoulders, halting her in midstep. “I didn’t think anything scared you, Tala. Not our little Miss Smartass.”
“Nothing does.” She looked him in the eye when she lied. “Nothing will.”
Arlin’s expression softened and his grip on her changed to a soft slide down her shoulders. “Can I help?”
Help? Arlin was male and the presumptive Alpha of his pack. And she — almost cousin, almost twin, almost part of Arlin and his family — wasn’t. No. There was no help for it.
“You’re so predictable. You and your so-called help.” She leaned forward to nip his chin.
He tweaked one of her nipples and she sucked in a breath. “You don’t like it? I can stop.”
“Shut up, Arlin.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Treva Harte has always been an overachiever. She also collects things. First it was degrees. First a B.A. in English, then she decided to go back for a Master’s degree. Not content with that, she added a J.D. Since then she’s added a husband, also an attorney, and two children to her collection. She’s continuing her ways as an overachiever, writing her wonderfully offbeat tales of passion and possibilities — in her spare time.
Visit her website at www.trevaharte.com.