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Cursed By Love

Cursed By Love

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Book 1 of the Wolfed Series ★

Following a trail of blood into the woods isn't the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but when I find an injured wolf, I can’t bring myself to leave him behind.

That decision might end up being my last because when a pack of wolves tries to attack us, it looks like we won’t make it out alive. The next day when I wake up in my bed, it all feels like a dream… except for the bite mark on my arm and the fever.

When a mysterious guy with searing blue eyes comes into my bar, hovering around me all night, I’m more than a little creeped out. He’s hot as sin, but also super possessive with legit stalker vibes. I’m convinced my instincts are right when I black out and then wake up in his arms, limp, feverish and dying.

But it turns out I’m not dying, just a newly turned werewolf. And the guy from the bar? Well he thinks I’m his reincarnated soul mate, but if that’s true I’m screwed, because according to him that only leaves me with one choice: to drop dead on my twentieth birthday.

Chapter One Excerpt

I finished wiping down the bar and then walked to the back office to clock out.

“See you tomorrow, Ronan.” I peeked my head into my boss’ office. It was three a.m. and fatigue was pulling at my limbs. Ronan was leaning over a stack of invoices, glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he stroked his red bushy beard.

“Night, lass. Be safe,” he called out in his thick Irish accent.

I tapped my purse and the Walther P22 that I carried. “Always am.”

Ronan was a motorcycle-driving, forty-five-year-old buff dude who drank more scotch than he did water. He was like a father to me, especially considering I never knew my own father. My mom and Ronan grew up together and had known each other since kindergarten. He always checked in on our family to make sure things were okay. It was just me and my mom and our little house on Lake Pend Oreille in Sandpoint, Idaho. Sandpoint was basically a tourist stop for out-of-towners and “locals” coming up from Coeur d’Alene and Spokane. It had a San Diego beach vibe without all the parking issues and nineteen-dollar margaritas.

I’d started out cleaning tables at the Rusty Spoon when I was sixteen, but this January I’d turned nineteen and Ronan let me bartend.

The tips were way better.

When I stepped outside into the cool night air, I hopped on my bike and pulled up the kickstand. My mom owned the little house on the corner of Larch Street and 3rd Ave. She’d bought it twenty years ago for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but with the hot market we were in now she could probably get half a million for the tiny two-bedroom. As if I’d ever let her sell. I wanted to be buried in that beach house.

I pedaled past McDuff’s and waved to Nik, who was just getting off his shift.

“Hey, beautiful. Good tips tonight?” he hollered.

“Not bad!” I called back as I rode by.

Nik was the bartender of McDuff’s; we flirted often but nothing ever happened. He was a manwhore and I didn’t mess[…]

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