Beauty And The BBQ (The Feminine Mesquite Book 2) by Sable Sylvan

Author:Sable Sylvan [Sylvan, Sable]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fairy Tales & Fated Mates, Romantic Comedy, BDSM, BBW Romance, MFM Ménage, Paranormal & Contemporary Romance, Women's Fiction, Forever Love, Adult Themes, Shifters Mate, Supernatural Fantasy, Protection & Safety, Life-Changes, Second Chance Reunion, Multicultural & Interspecies Relationships, Romantic Schemes, Dangerous & Deadly, Romantic Suspense, Mystery & Intrigue, Mythical Creatures, Action & Adventure, Violence & Crime Story, SciFi Fantasy Romance, Hearts Desire, Futuristic, The Feminine Mesquite Series
Publisher: Sable Sylan
Published: 2017-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

Clove. Clove. The times Abigail had called his name haunted him like a ghost as he wandered the snowy hills and valleys of the estate, formed by the mounds of icy rain as if he were Heathcliff wandering the moor in ‘Wuthering Heights.’ How could Abigail haunt him, even here? He could escape his human form, but he could not escape his human feelings.

Clove. Clove. It was like he could hear her calling his name, in real life. Clove. Clove. He had to get her voice out of his head. He roared, trying to block out the sound that was coming from inside his head.

Clove? Clove! Even though he roared, he could still hear her calling him. He roared again, louder, as if he were a wolf shifter baying at the moon, except Clove was roaring for fate, begging for a release from the feelings inside his heart.

Clove lowered his gaze and saw something moving. Was there somebody else out there? There couldn’t be. If he had seen another shifter, that would’ve been one thing, but a human? In this weather? No way, no how…

But his eyes couldn’t deceive him.

A figure, petite, but with layers covering its curve, was there. Its scent was blown toward him, and he recognized the scent. Human. Female. Scared, but not scared like prey was scared. Scared like humans were scared, scared of something emotional, not something physical.

And the figure was calling his name.

“Clove! Clove!” shouted the girl. “Where are you?”

Clove roared and walked over the dunes of snow to the figure, through the blizzard, and the figure’s face came into view.

It was her. Of course it was her, how had he not scented her before? She had been calling his name, and there she was, her cheeks pink, her hands nearly blue, shouting his name as tears streamed down her face, freezing to form a necklace around her décolletage.

“Is it you, Clove?” asked Abigail.

Clove nodded and motioned to his back.

“You…want me to get on?” asked Abigail.

Clove nodded.

“I’ve never done this before,” said Abigail, getting on Clove’s back gingerly.

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