To the citizens of Wolfe Creek, Aimee Styles is dead. What they don’t know is she’s alive...and a werewolf. After she was bitten two years ago, Aimee isolated herself away from the town, determined to keep them safe. But all it takes is an icy winter evening—and an incredibly virulent flu—to interrupt her self-imposed exile.
Nothing prepared doctor and single dad Jake Blackstock for the sight of Wolfe Creek's missing girl, or her delicate beauty. He's instantly and fiercely attracted to her, despite her secrets and the shadows in her near-black eyes. Jake's falling hard. He knows nothing about Aimee...or what she really is.
But something else lurks in Wolfe Creek's shadows. Something malevolent. Something that won't hesitate to rip apart their life and new love…
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“We might get more than a foot tonight,” Jake said,looking out the window. “Maybe two.”She nodded, not liking the thought of what else mightbe out there in the darkness beyond the cottage. Tonight, shewas glad to be sitting in Jake’s living room, so close to himand Daniel. If there was something watching in these woods,it’d have to do it from a distance.“Why are you here?” he asked.She glanced up to find him studying her. She could tellthe beer was having the same effect on him that the winehad on her. His gaze dropped to her chest for a moment,then her thighs, before coming back to rest on her face. Hisexpression was bold, unapologetic.“Why? Can you tell me that much?”She took an even breath and put her glass down. Sheknew she’d have to give him some kind of decent answer.He deserved one. But she couldn’t exactly tell him thetwo biggest reasons why she sat here now. That, one, shewas pretty sure something was stalking his little family inthe woods of Wolfe Creek, and she had to watch over thishome and the people inside it. And two, she was completelyattracted to him and lonelier than she’d ever been in her life.“I’m…tired,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Ofbeing alone. It’s hard.”She let her gaze shift back to him, afraid of what she’dsee there. It was more than she’d intended to say, mainlybecause it was so true. She hadn’t really meant to open up toJake Blackstock, but she guessed she could thank the winefor that. She’d always had a problem with her filter, but addany kind of alcoholic beverage to the mix, and forget aboutit.His eyes didn’t hold any kind of pity. Nothing to makeher feel like some kind of charity case. Instead, she sawempathy, a kind of connection that touched her deep down.“Me too,” he said simply. “I am, too.”She watched him, studying his features. As beautiful asthey were, they were unable to mask the pain that lay behindthem.“I guess we have something in common, then,” she said.Her heart tumbled as his gaze dropped to her mouth.He sat only a few feet away and she could almost feel hisbody heat against her skin. The wind continued to howloutside, impatient, lustful. The fire burned, but it was dyingdown now. Only the embers remained, an aching memory ofwhat blazed there only an hour before.“Why won’t you come back?” he asked. “You have somany people who care about you. They must love you verymuch.”“I can’t. Maybe someday, but not yet.” Her voice hitched,surprising her. Tears filled her eyes. She hadn’t let go andcried for so long. But since meeting Jake, she’d done a lot ofthings that she hadn’t in a while.
About the author:
Kaylie Newell was born in the great state of Oregon, where she was raised alongside rivers and lakes and scruffy dogs that chased their tennis balls as far as Kaylie's noodle arms could throw. As she grew, so did her imagination, and it didn't take long to realize she was a romantic at heart. She began to fancy herself the future wife of a cowboy, the likes of which graced every paperback novel she could get her hands on. She decided to go to college in Oklahoma to snag herself one, but irony won over when she fell in love with a hippie in sheep's clothing instead. Together, they came back to Oregon, started a family and watched their dreams unfold. Kaylie wrote her first book when her girls were toddlers, editing sex scenes with The Wiggles on in the background. She's proud of many things in life, among them the fact that she can still recite her lines from Romeo and Juliet from her seventh grade play, the fact that she can set a grilled cheese sandwich on fire faster than most people can make one, but mostly she's proud of the stories blossoming inside her noggin on a daily basis.