Send help before I’m prick-matized…
My next big mistake has a name.
Warren Ford. Best kept secret in this weird little town.
An alpha’s alpha. Spartan abs. Too blunt for everybody’s good.
Moody, broody, mysterious, and totally up in my business.
I thought Heart’s Edge would be safe.
No two timing exes. No pink slips. No hulking, loud, inked up –
Oh. Right.
Leave it to a badass to bring the drama piping hot.
Then he goes and saves a cat who means the world to my little niece.
Making me a mushy little puddle of wishes.
Wishing I didn’t know his savage kiss like my own reflection.
Or how erasing tears must be his superpower.
Wishing I’d never poked his scary past.
Or heard him growl when he swears it’s not our future.
There’s no way this works.
He’s no white knight. I’m no princess.
I need to go. He says stay.
Even our sheet-ripping nights can’t work miracles.
Only an answer as the danger closes in.
Is Warren my perfect slice of hero?
From Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow – a twisted small town love story. See how far a damaged alpha goes to claim the feisty damsel in distress under his skin. Full length romance novel with a rollicking Happily Ever After.
(Haley)
The worst part is, Warren isn't even trying to deliver these torrid, ridiculous feels.
He's just too intense. It radiates from him in this aura, this energy field of crackling lightning.
Stand too close, and he’ll catch you up in it and consume you.
As he stares down at me, something in his expression changes. Something tense, something hot, and then I can feel it in the charge pulsing through me, starting in my lips and centering lower. I feel it in every tiny hint of space vanishing between us as he leans closer.
Only for the sound of a stomping foot to cut us off as Tara shrieks from the open back door of our duplex.
“You leave her alone!” she shouts, rocketing out, all pint-sized fury, her little fists clenched and beating ineffectively against Warren’s thigh. “Don’t you hurt my auntie!”
That's our cue to break apart, end whatever weird, layered thing keeps almost happening but doesn't.
Warren holds both hands up, breathing shallowly, looking down at Tara with wide blue eyes. “Whoa. Hey. Hey, now. Slow down, kitten. I wasn’t hurting nobody.”
Tara glares at him, shoulders scrunched up, her face twisted in a mask of protective ferocity. I’d hug her if I wasn’t so shaken, trembling, pressing my hands over my face and trying to calm the racing of my heart.
“Liar!” she accuses. “She’s gonna cry.”
I shake my head quickly, dropping my hands and forcing a smile. “No tears here, Tara. I’m okay. Just a little startled. Warren surprised me, that’s all.”
Warren stares between us, hands still held up like he’s facing down the cops.
“For the record, munchkin...” He licks his lips, then says, “I wasn’t gonna hurt your aunt. I was gonna kiss her.”
What?! I'm physically rocked back by his words.
He slowly lowers his arms, and darts me an uncertain glance before looking back at Tara, offering a reassuring smile. “I just wanted to hold her because I wanted to kiss her.”
Instead of slowing down, my heart nearly does a full somersault. I stare at him, my mouth dry.
He’s joking, right? Just trying to calm Tara down and explain without frightening her?
But after that charged moment where our eyes locked, Warren leaning closer...
I’m not sure of anything.
And I’m not sure what I would've actually done, if that domineering, stubborn jackass had kissed me.
Tara frowns, tilting her head, her scowl easing as she looks at Warren, puzzled. “You...you like Auntie Hay?”
Warren grins, easy and warm. “Yeah.”
“Like...boy-girl like?” she whispers.
“Like boy-girl like.”
“Oh,” Tara says, before her face lights up and she blushes, giggling and covering her mouth. “Ohhh. Wow.”
Nope.
Oh, God.
I have to end this.
It's bad enough that I'm sitting here, wondering how much hot blood can flow into my cheeks before I either pass out or burst into flames.
It keeps getting better.
Now my ten-year-old niece thinks the dick next door has a crush on me. Stifling my groan, I run my fingers through my hair, glancing back at the horizon and the beautiful sunset I’m missing, when I’d wanted to at least capture the general feel of the color palette on canvas.
“Go back inside so Warren and I can talk, kit,” I say, managing a smile for Tara. “I’ll be in soon to make dinner.”
Tara bites her lip, bouncing on her heels. I just know I’m going to have to field a thousand questions over dinner about whether I like Warren and if we’re going to kiss and be boyfriend-girlfriend.
No. No way. Abso-freaking-lutely not.
Damn that munchkin for even putting the thought in my head.
But she smiles too brightly to stay mad at, tumbles over, and tackles me with a quick hug, before pulling back and, with another little giggle, darting inside.
She’s humming under her breath. It's thirty seconds before I recognize the tune. It’s Haley and Warren, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
Meanwhile, Warren just stares, scratching at his neck like it's the most natural thing in the world to have my kid niece thinking we're a thing. And to have him standing here, as beast-like as ever, a storm in his eyes hinting at a conversation that might be the last thing on earth either of us need.
Somebody, please.
End me.
The worst part is, Warren isn't even trying to deliver these torrid, ridiculous feels.
He's just too intense. It radiates from him in this aura, this energy field of crackling lightning.
Stand too close, and he’ll catch you up in it and consume you.
As he stares down at me, something in his expression changes. Something tense, something hot, and then I can feel it in the charge pulsing through me, starting in my lips and centering lower. I feel it in every tiny hint of space vanishing between us as he leans closer.
Only for the sound of a stomping foot to cut us off as Tara shrieks from the open back door of our duplex.
“You leave her alone!” she shouts, rocketing out, all pint-sized fury, her little fists clenched and beating ineffectively against Warren’s thigh. “Don’t you hurt my auntie!”
That's our cue to break apart, end whatever weird, layered thing keeps almost happening but doesn't.
Warren holds both hands up, breathing shallowly, looking down at Tara with wide blue eyes. “Whoa. Hey. Hey, now. Slow down, kitten. I wasn’t hurting nobody.”
Tara glares at him, shoulders scrunched up, her face twisted in a mask of protective ferocity. I’d hug her if I wasn’t so shaken, trembling, pressing my hands over my face and trying to calm the racing of my heart.
“Liar!” she accuses. “She’s gonna cry.”
I shake my head quickly, dropping my hands and forcing a smile. “No tears here, Tara. I’m okay. Just a little startled. Warren surprised me, that’s all.”
Warren stares between us, hands still held up like he’s facing down the cops.
“For the record, munchkin...” He licks his lips, then says, “I wasn’t gonna hurt your aunt. I was gonna kiss her.”
What?! I'm physically rocked back by his words.
He slowly lowers his arms, and darts me an uncertain glance before looking back at Tara, offering a reassuring smile. “I just wanted to hold her because I wanted to kiss her.”
Instead of slowing down, my heart nearly does a full somersault. I stare at him, my mouth dry.
He’s joking, right? Just trying to calm Tara down and explain without frightening her?
But after that charged moment where our eyes locked, Warren leaning closer...
I’m not sure of anything.
And I’m not sure what I would've actually done, if that domineering, stubborn jackass had kissed me.
Tara frowns, tilting her head, her scowl easing as she looks at Warren, puzzled. “You...you like Auntie Hay?”
Warren grins, easy and warm. “Yeah.”
“Like...boy-girl like?” she whispers.
“Like boy-girl like.”
“Oh,” Tara says, before her face lights up and she blushes, giggling and covering her mouth. “Ohhh. Wow.”
Nope.
Oh, God.
I have to end this.
It's bad enough that I'm sitting here, wondering how much hot blood can flow into my cheeks before I either pass out or burst into flames.
It keeps getting better.
Now my ten-year-old niece thinks the dick next door has a crush on me. Stifling my groan, I run my fingers through my hair, glancing back at the horizon and the beautiful sunset I’m missing, when I’d wanted to at least capture the general feel of the color palette on canvas.
“Go back inside so Warren and I can talk, kit,” I say, managing a smile for Tara. “I’ll be in soon to make dinner.”
Tara bites her lip, bouncing on her heels. I just know I’m going to have to field a thousand questions over dinner about whether I like Warren and if we’re going to kiss and be boyfriend-girlfriend.
No. No way. Abso-freaking-lutely not.
Damn that munchkin for even putting the thought in my head.
But she smiles too brightly to stay mad at, tumbles over, and tackles me with a quick hug, before pulling back and, with another little giggle, darting inside.
She’s humming under her breath. It's thirty seconds before I recognize the tune. It’s Haley and Warren, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
Meanwhile, Warren just stares, scratching at his neck like it's the most natural thing in the world to have my kid niece thinking we're a thing. And to have him standing here, as beast-like as ever, a storm in his eyes hinting at a conversation that might be the last thing on earth either of us need.
Somebody, please.
End me.
Since then Snow aims for the very best in growly, heart-of-gold alpha heroes, unbelievable suspense, and swoon storms aplenty.
ANNA
The worst night of my life just got worse. Nobody explained why I've been dumped in this run down house, or who this hulk with the filthy mouth is. All I know is he wants me, he says I'm his, and I'm ignoring my instinct to run like hell.
When he pulls me into his embrace, I want to push closer to his warmth, his strength, his vicious tattoos.
Can I trust him? Can I trust myself? Or will obeying his wicked words confirm all my worst suspicions?
DAVID
So sweet, so pure, so confused...I almost feel bad about claiming her. Almost.
Too bad she's a Rossini, and I don't regret making her old man sign her over to me for one second. I was born a Strelkov, a killer and an outlaw, and I second guess nothing.
The instant my hands are on her, I know I've made the right choice. The crazy ache in my lips when they're not on hers doesn't lie. Revenge is a dish best served hot, sweaty, seething with passion, and Anna's tonight's special.
Yeah, she's gonna flip when I shove the wedding contract in her face. But I'm gonna make her my wife in every nasty, beautiful, permanent way I can, even if it means adding a few more scars to my skin and Anna's heart...
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