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A Wolf's Tale [MultiFormat]
eBook by Honey Jans
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eBook Category: Erotica/Romance
eBook Description: Gina Sinclair is trying to look after her grandma's best interests, and the family estate, as she fends off attempts to drive her out and send grandma to a rest home. Mitchell Wolf is a creature trying to uphold his clan's blood oath. When Gina's grandmother secretly hires him to protect her granddaughter, he can't believe his luck. Protecting Gina will absolve his clan from a centuries old bond, and the estate is said to hold the key to his survival. Posing as a mild mannered accountant, he moves into the estate to conduct an inventory, and finds his hands full trying to protect Gina from danger while trying to surreptitiously search for the key. From the moment they meet, Gina is suspicious of him, and at the same time attracted to him. For his part, Mitch doesn't want to want this woman but she fires his senses like a human woman shouldn't. The more time they spend together the hotter it gets. She realizes he's not all he seems. Find out if red riding hood can turn the tables on the big bad wolf by reading A Wolf's Tale.
eBook Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press, Published: 2005
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2006
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [657 KB], eReader (PDB) [134 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [97 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [89 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [137 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [153 KB], hiebook (KML) [288 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [183 KB], iSilo (PDB) [82 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [114 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [163 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [132 KB]
Words: 30206
Reading time: 86-120 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 1-59374-485-4
 
Chapter 1 Mitchell Wolf sat up straight in the swivel leather chair inside his rundown office at Wolf Investigations and gazed at the photograph that Libby Sinclair had sent him. A summons from the society matron wasn't something a PI who wasn't quite human could ignore. She wanted him to go undercover and protect her granddaughter, Gina, not that he thought the girl actually needed protecting. The Sinclair family matriarch couldn't possibly know about the debt his pack owed her clan, so why seek him out? Why not go to one of the high-priced, high profile firms like Garret Lamont's? And she sure as hell couldn't be aware of his predicament; the key to his survival was tied to Xanadu, her castle on the hill. Even now, he could feel the weakness creeping over him, the difficulty changing shape. He'd thought the family curse was just an alpha male's raving when his grandsire had told it to him, but when the stain appeared on his feet two weeks ago, he'd known it was all too true. If he didn't find the key to the Lupine Treasure in two weeks time, a month from the time the stain appeared, he'd permanently turn back into a wolf and die. He'd attempted to buy the estate through a third party, planning to tear the place apart stone by stone until he found salvation, only to be rebuffed. Just a few days ago, his broker told him there was renewed interest in selling, but wanted to keep it very hush-hush. And now, Libby Sinclair had sent for him. It seemed like the answer to a prayer, but he didn't trust his luck. To have the solution handed to him in such a neat, if convoluted, package, made him wary. Suspicion was healthy; it kept his pack alive through the centuries. The image smiling back at him from the photo was electric. The full-length photo of Gina Sinclair, taken at the pool, left little to the imagination. Twenty-eight years old with long red hair and sparkling green eyes that tilted up at the ends, she was a natural beauty. Her eyes held a teasing glint that stirred his animal senses, along with his libido, but he ruthlessly tamped the sensation down. He'd gone too damned long without mating, making him vulnerable to a bodacious pair of tits. She was human, not his for the taking, he had to remind himself of that pertinent fact. Did Libby Sinclair have any notion of the beast she was unleashing with her request? No matter, he had to keep his head on straight, and his dick in his pants, it was the only way for him to survive. * * * *Gina Sinclair cursed her poor time management skills as she tore down the lane on the back of her red custom-made Harley toward Xanadu, her grandmother's mansion. She took her family obligations seriously and she was late for a meeting with Granny's business manager, Harold Baker. She wrinkled her nose as she thought of him, finding his sudden urgency suspicious. All his moves lately had one aim, stick Grandmother in a nursing home and sell the estate. He wasn't fooling her one bit with his supposed concern over Gram's health in the somewhat drafty old manor house. She was concerned too, but not enough to push Gram out of the castle she'd moved into as a bride. Unfortunately, her Grandmother's brother, Bart, seemed to agree with Harold Baker, so they were at a stalemate. As the three remaining members of the Sinclair dynasty, she thought that she, Gram, and Bart should stick together. Bart however, seemed too self-centered to give a damn. She and Gram were made of sterner stuff, but was Gram strong enough to thwart their continued assault on the estate? She slowed to turn into the gate, the bike bumping over the cobblestone drive, and winced as pain shot through her sprained ankle. It hadn't been back to normal since her fall two weeks ago. She'd tripped, rushing down the path from her cottage to Xanadu, and then there was her wipe-out on the bike a few days later when her brakes failed. All in all, she seemed to be getting more accident-prone lately. As she rode through the garden gate, she was sure she heard a wolf whistle. It so startled her, she slowed, and her bike sputtered to a halt as she looked around. No lascivious man was lurking in the vicinity. No hunky gardener, no cute pool boy, just her and the chipmunks. Too bad, it had been six months since her last date, and she couldn't even remember the last time she'd had sex, not that she'd ever found it that satisfying. Men were either after her for her money, or put off by her somewhat unconventional ways. A year ago when Charles Roark, a family attorney and her sometimes beau, broke her heart, she'd concluded that romance wasn't in the cards for her. Instead of romance, her focus had been totally on her art of late. Still, she could have done with a sexy distraction, she decided, restarting her Harley. She rode up to the house and came to a halt under the portico. Taking off her helmet, she shook out her tangled red hair in a last ditch attempt to look presentable. It was then that she noticed her jeans were splotched with paint. She stifled a groan. Damn, it was too late to change. She'd been in such a rush to get to the art supply store after she realized her paints were ruined, that she hadn't noticed her disarray. How two hundred dollars worth of oils and acrylics wound up being smashed by a packing box she still didn't understand. It didn't make sense but now wasn't the time to fret about it; she had Grandmother's interests to uphold.
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