The Werewolf Cowboy
There’s a new threat in town… and she’s sexier and more dangerous than this sheriff can handle.
Small town sheriff, Allan VonBrandt, would like nothing more than to focus only on his work and not on the leggy and irresistible brunette who won’t take no for an answer. But when fate steps in and his inner wolf won’t refuse the magick pull she has on him, Allan must confront his animalistic desires–whether he wants to or not.
Reyna DuBois has never met a man–or wolf–she can’t tame, but Allan just might be the stubborn exception to the rule. Refusing to give up, Reyna enlists the help of her inner wolf to seduce the ever-reluctant sheriff, promising this particular cowboy the ride of his life.
Five big cowboys in flannel shirts and Wranglers traded punches under one of the flashing beer signs. Allan whistled, and the cowboys looked up, drunk questions on their lips.
“What the damn hell is goin’ on here?” Allan asked, but punches kept landing from some other dark corner. He turned in a quick circle, looking for the source of the noise.
Suddenly, a Wranglered body flew over the mechanical bull and crashed into one of the dimly lit cowboys, knocking him to the ground.
“Stop!” Allan moved around the bull, into the half-dark just as the legs of a chair whipped into the air and another Wrangler-clad ass went sailing out the other side of the mechanical bull.
Allan took a deep breath and growled, “I said stop.”
Out of the shadowed corner, the figure froze, but the chair continued to move. It sailed out of her hands, out of sight, and off to his left, he heard the unmistakable crack of something giant and glass shattering into a thousand pieces.
How had he known it was a woman? Scent?
She’s the wolf.
Maybe he’d known since he first smelled her, but he had also seen curves and
the briefest flash of hair, moving in a way only a woman’s could.
The inhale of her breath broke their silence. “Shit.” She dropped her hands. All of the cowboys clamored at once. Various rounds of “I didn’t do it” and “It was her.”
Allan couldn’t take his eyes off the wolf. His heartbeat crept up, faster and faster, until he felt his breath coming quicker. “Everyone shut up.” He backed out of the circle, keeping his eye on the wolf. “Or you’re all going to jail.”
She matched his slow steps, coming toward him and into the light. Her dark hair swayed behind her, side to side, almost past her waist. Her white-blue frostbite eyes pinned him and her nostrils flared.
The strong spice of magick snaked through the air and caught him by the throat. He swallowed against his response, against the coursing blood and the heated breath, against the loss of control.
Allan broke the stare-down and snarled at the cowboys, “Someone tell me what the hell happened here. Right now.”
Cowboy One pointed at the wolf. “She started it.”
“She broke a bottle on me.” Cowboy Two swiped at the glass Allan had walked through, then flashed a bloody gash on the side of his hand.
“All he did was ask her to dance,” said Cowboy Three, nodding at the jukebox. “Skynrd was on. It’s our thing.”
On top of the jukebox, the discarded chair rested in a pile of glass shards. Something had been hanging up there, and the chair had obviously shattered it and brought it crashing down. Allan couldn’t remember what had been there—life didn’t take him to Joe’s very often. He’d have to ask the proprietor what had been damaged in the fray.
And at the center of that fray was this raven-haired beauty with the icy gaze, crossing her arms under her breasts and holding his eyes in a fearless dare.
“So it took seven of you to teach her a lesson?” Allan raised an eyebrow.
“We’re not with them.” Cowboy Four pointed to Five, Six, and Seven. “When I heard the bottle break, I stepped in and they jumped us.”
“It sort of escalated from there,” Five said.
Krystal Shannan, also known as Emma Roman, lives in a sprawling ranch style home with her husband, daughter, and a pack of rescue Basset Hounds. She is an advocate for the American Society of Autism and shares the experiences and adventures she’s been through with her daughter whenever she can.
Needless to say, life is never boring when you have an elementary-aged special needs child and half a dozen 4-legged friends roaming the house. They keep her and her husband busy, smiling, and laughing.
Krystal writes magick and Emma doesn’t. If you are looking for leisurely-paced sweet romance, her books are probably not for you. However, for those looking for a story filled with adventure, passion, and just enough humor to make you laugh out loud. Welcome home!
Author of hot historical romance with paranormal elements and co-author of the Moonbound series--a spinoff of the VonBrandt Werewolves from Somewhere, TX.
Loves Florentines and lightbulbs. Writes about cowboys who cook and demons who captain airships and werewolves who save the world. Once met Queen Elizabeth. Can swallow a sword. Eats jalepenos by the handful. Former chef, turned writer. Currently living in Canada. Owns a falcon. Not all parts of this bio are equally true.