Fireborn Wolves, #1
by Genevieve Jack
Date of Publication: September 13th 2016
Publisher: Carpe Luna Publishing
Cover Artist: Steven Novak
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Some cravings can’t be denied.
Werewolf Laina Flynn longs to break from the patriarchal expectations of Fireborn pack. A successful entrepreneur, she doesn’t have time to be bossed around by her alpha brother, Silas, let alone to act as a proper werewolf princess.
But when a wolf is found murdered on Fireborn shifting grounds, Laina will do anything to protect her pack, even if it means posing as a waitress at a club that flies in the face of her feminist ideals. Unfortunately, her inner wolf marks the club’s owner, Kyle “The King” Kingsley, as her vice—her metaphysical addiction. He becomes a hunger she can’t ignore…one that could threaten her life, her family, and her pack.
A camera crew had gathered in the foyer, a girl with a shield-sized reflective disc jogging up the grand staircase as if she were late for a meeting.
“What’s going on?” Jason asked from behind her.
“There’s a camera crew. They must be interviewing Kyle about the shooting yesterday,” she said.
A man with a fistful of cables paused, having overheard her comment and shook his head. “Nothing that exciting. Just a routine photo shoot for the magazine. Do you want to come up and watch?”
She exchanged glances with Jason. “After you,” her brother said warily. She followed the photographer up the stairs, navigating cords and a crowd of assistants and bystanders gathered in the hall outside Kyle’s room.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Jason said, grabbing her arm. His expression confused her. Embarrassment? Yes. That was it. But not for himself. Jason was embarrassed for her. But why? She shrugged off his hand.
The two workers in front of her parted, and she turned her head to look straight into Kyle’s room. Her breath caught in her throat and ice water poured into her veins. Kyle lay in the middle of the bed, his head resting in a nest of his fingers. A rail thin redhead with creamy skin curled against his right side, her perky rose-colored areolas staring over his chest. A platinum blonde, tucked into his other side, had her back to Laina, while a brunette with a complexion the color of a weak latte, kneeled in front of him, straddling his legs.
“Lower your face to his lap, Bailey. I need to be able to see Kyle’s face over the top of your head,” the photographer said. Wesley. He squinted into the camera viewer as the brunette spread her knees and lowered her chin toward Kyle’s crotch. The sound of the shutter clicking preceded Wesley saying, “That’s it. That’s it. You look beautiful.”
Laina took a step back and crashed into a girl with a nightmarish tray full of sexual props—dildos, floggers, a leather dog collar.
“Hey!” the girl yelled.
Kyle’s eyes caught hers in the doorway.
“Excuse me,” Laina said, navigating around the girl. Jason was right behind her, trying to calm her with a flurry of words she couldn’t hear through the pounding in her head.
“Wait!” Kyle called.
“Kyle, we don’t have the shot!”
Genevieve Jack is a registered nurse turned author of weird, witty, and wicked-hot paranormal romance. Coffee and wine are her biofuel: the love lives of vampires, shifters, and witches her favorite topic of conversation. She harbors a passion for old cemeteries and ghost tours thanks to her years at a high school rumored to be haunted. Although she calls the Midwest home, her heart belongs to the beaches of the southeast, where she spends her days with her laptop and one lazy dog.