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    Waking Up Were
    Waking Up Were
    Waking Up Were
    Ebook84 pages1 hour

    Waking Up Were

    By Celia Kyle

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    About this ebook

    **This novella previously appeared in the On the Growl anthology.**

     

    What's a gal to do when a dog bite isn't a dog bite and her boss makes her want to howl at the moon?

     

    When her ex dumps her, the only thing Brenna Davis can think to do is drown her sorrows in a margarita—or ten.  So she does, and all that got her was a serious headache and some weird bite on her arm.  For some reason, she isn't convinced it came from a dog...

     

    Alpha of the Swan Mountain werewolf pack, Declan Ross, has two things on his to-do list:

    1. Kill the damned rogue wolf in his territory.

    2. Find the damned rogue's newest victim before it chews its way through half the mountain.

     

    Of course, when he finally finds the tempting, deliciously curved, blue-eyed woman he adds a third item to his list: keep Brenna Davis all to himself...forever.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSummerhouse Publishing
    Release dateMar 28, 2023
    ISBN9798215539170
    Waking Up Were
    Author

    Celia Kyle

    Ex-dance teacher, former accountant and erstwhile collectible doll salesperson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Celia Kyle now writes paranormal romances for readers who: 1) Like super hunky heroes (they generally get furry) 2) Dig beautiful women (who have a few more curves than the average lady) 3) Love laughing in (and out of) bed. It goes without saying that there’s always a happily-ever-after for her characters, even if there are a few road bumps along the way. Today she lives in central Florida and writes full-time with the support of her loving husband and two finicky cats.

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      Book preview

      Waking Up Were - Celia Kyle

      CHAPTER ONE

      Brenna’s best friend, Dr. Harper Morray, had jumped off the deep end. No, she didn’t just jump. She’d sailed right over it and crashed amongst the jagged rocks of sanity. All those late nights and working twenty-four hours straight had finally broken her mind. Really. Brenna wasn’t lying.

      "Wait. What? What’s a were?" Brenna’s tone leaned toward interested, yet neutral. She didn’t want to lead her friend on, but also didn’t want to outright call her a liar. Not when it seemed she was so close to a psychotic break.

      "Not what, who. And that’s you." Harper looked so cute in her dementia. Like a little stethoscope-wielding pixie. Brenna wondered if she should call Harper’s husband before, or after, she called the loony-bin.

      "Were, what?" she tried again, gauging the extent of her friend’s delusion.

      Wolf. Harper gave a brisk nod, as if that would settle things.

      Not so much.

      Huh? You’re losing me. Back up, sweetie. Little words, and say ’em real slow. Ten margaritas makes my brain a little fuzzy. She gave her a nice, serene smile. One that said Brenna thought she was bat shit crazy, but still loved her to bits. "Now, how did you decide I’m a were… a werewolf?" Brenna raised her eyebrows, humoring Harper. Isn’t that what people did for crazy freaks? Humor them?

      That earned her an eye roll from Harper. Keith was so not worth getting drunk over. He was an ass.

      Yeah, but he was Brenna’s ass. For two years, his ass belonged to her. Or hers belonged to him. Whatever. We had a history, Harps, and I deserved a drink or two.

      Uh-huh. Her friend gave her a small, sympathetic smile. He wasn’t worth last night’s drink napkins and if I’d known what you were going through, you know I would have been there for you.

      I know. She wasn’t gonna tell Harper she was right about Keith. He really wasn’t worth last night’s drink napkins. Especially since she owned the house they’d shared and he hadn’t been working for the last six months. Now she knew why. Apparently keeping his dick hard and inside the teller at the bank down the street was really tiring. But, aside from this dog bite, I’m fine. A bite, by the way, you’re supposed to be treating.

      Harper’s pitying grin turned into an excited smile again. Damn, here came the delusions again. "I’m getting there. Let’s back up to the were thing. That’s the important part."

      Brenna did not think it was important. At all.

      Harper did not seem to care what Brenna thought and continued. You were human. She raised her left hand. And now you are a werewolf. She raised her right. Then Harper’s gaze swung back and forth between them. "Human. Now you’re a were. Oh! Once human. She lifted her left again, shaking it. Now you’re a kick-ass were. Go team furry!" Harper then raised her right hand high, fingers wide as if hunting for a high-five.

      So not happening.

      Coming to her best friend’s veterinary practice had seemed like a good idea when she’d woken with a nasty bite on her arm and a hangover to end all hangovers. Her insurance had a ginormous deductible, so the ER was out. Harper treated her for free. Score!

      But now that she was in an exam room with Harper, the woman smiling wide and her face flushed with excitement over some were thing, Brenna realized she’d made a mistake. Or rather, the state’s veterinary medical board had made a mistake by licensing the woman.

      Trapped in the small room, nothing more than a solid steel table separating her from Dr. Crazyton, Brenna sorted through her options. She could perform an awesome ninja flip move and fly over her friend. Or one of those really cool floor-roll things where she’d conveniently spin out of reach. There was also straight-up hand-to-hand combat as she fought through a war zone. Gauze would go flying to the left, cotton balls to the right, and Harper would get a box of medium-sized-dog flea repellant in the face.

      Since she really didn’t think Harper was physically dangerous, she decided to merely call in reinforcements.

      Okay, the truth was Brenna wasn’t a ninja, probably couldn’t get off the floor if she got down there, and her hand-to-hand combat skills included rapid flailing of arms.

      Right, reinforcements it was.

      Brenna kept her attention on her best friend’s smiling face while she dug into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She was quick to unlock and dial. Harper’s hubby should be in on this conversation. Especially if it ended in a new white wardrobe for Harper.

      Of course, honey. Go team furry. Absolutely. You know I came here for a dog-bite thing, honey. I really just need a few shots of whatever the hell is given to people who’ve been mauled by a wild animal. Brenna was never getting drunk again. Ever. One margarita had turned into two which had then led to a dozen more and Brenna stumbling home from the bar. Fortunately, it’d only been a block. Unfortunately, it was long enough for some animal to try and make her a midnight snack. Or a 3 a.m. snack.

      She reached up and patted Harper’s upraised hand with her own in some half-assed high-five. It kept the woman occupied.

      The low-pitched ring of her phone filled her ear and at the same time, something changed in her friend’s demeanor. Her eyes stilled, smile sliding from her face, and she cocked her head to the side as if listening for something.

      Connor Morray’s deep baritone reached Brenna when he answered. Hello?

      It was as if a switch were flipped. Just as quick as Harper’s posture had changed, she suddenly lunged for Brenna’s phone, yanking it from her hand and bringing it to her own ear.

      Bitch.

      Connie! Man the woman could squeal. And she always seemed so thrilled at talking with her husband. Guess what? She bounced up and down on her tiptoes as if she couldn’t wait to share her delusions. Bren-Bren is part of team furry!

      She winced. Because, yeah, Bren-Bren was not one of her favorite nicknames. Actually, she hated it.

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