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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Aimee glanced down at her outfit before knocking on

the door. It hadn’t taken her long to get ready. It was

either jeans, or…jeans. She hadn’t exactly had an excuse to

dress up lately. But she wished again that she had something

nicer for tonight’s visit, even if it was just supposed to be a


Looking up, she smoothed her hair away from her face.

Here goes everything…

She knocked and stood back to wait. Already dark, the

evening settled clear and cold around her. Sounds of the

forest surrounded the cottage, which sat tucked inside the

clearing like a little dollhouse.

Tilting her head, she looked up at the stars that glittered

against the night sky. She’d never been much of a nature girl

growing up. But now she found that it suited her, like the

color blue or singing along to her favorite music. It was just

a part of who she was.

Hugging herself, she exhaled slowly, watching the cloud

of breath float away and disappear. She felt good. Better

than she had in a while. She wondered how much of that had

to do with this visit. She’d been looking forward to seeing

Jake tonight. To seeing his son, and getting invited into a

warm house, with furniture and a TV, and the smell of dinner

still hanging heavy in the air. She’d missed this. A lot.

Just as that thought settled in, she heard someone small

running toward the door. Then a male voice telling him to be

careful or he’d slip in his socks.

The deadbolt unlocked with a thwack, and the door

swung open wide. She looked down to see Daniel standing

there in Spider Man pajamas. They were too small, frayed at

the neck and wrists. Probably his favorites. She remembered

having pj’s like that as a kid. Her mother had finally snuck

them in the garbage, a monumental tragedy to her six-year old


She grinned. “Hi there. Remember me?”

“Yup. You rescued Dante.”

“The one and only.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

She wished she’d brought him a little something. Kids

loved surprises. Maybe if there was a next time…

“I’m sorry I’m late. I’m glad I’m here now, though.

How’s Dante?”

“Good. He’s eating dinner.”

“He’s always eating dinner.” Jake appeared behind

Daniel and smiled, ruffling his son’s hair. “I’m glad you could

make it. Come on in.”

She stepped past them, her senses in hyper-drive. Daniel

smelled of little boy. Jake smelled of man. Really, really

hot man. Musky and warm. Faintly sweet. Her stomach

tightened. The acute sense of smell was one of the hardest

things she’d had to get used to. But sometimes, like now, it

was comforting. She could tell a lot about the world around

her because of it. And with people…with people it was more

like a fingerprint than anything else. Everyone had their

own scent—unique, special. Jake’s was no exception. It did

something to her. Something that made her heart race.

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.

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