Dany Rae Miller
One smart witch and three sexy wolves tell a story of love, lies and rejection.
All Shavone Gentil wants is to find her runaway sister. When witchcraft fails to provide the answers, she resorts to the last resort -- getting a job at the Denver Dollhouse. Shav gets answers, but to questions she didn’t even know to ask.
In love and in lust with Shavone since childhood, all Nash LaFontaine wants is her safety, her body and her heart. Responsible and noble, the giant alpha waited so long. Did he wait too long?
All Ben LaFontaine wants is to do his duty as a French wolf. He comes to Denver to do just that. His first assignment is to help his cousin Nash protect the witch. Little does he know the power she'll wield over him.
All Enrique Cruz wants, all he’s ever wanted, is Shavone. There’s a night from hell that the Native alpha will never forget, the horrors of which his obsession is just beginning to remember.
Who will get they want and whose heart will shatter?
Note: Due to strong language and mature content, this Wolven Moon Novel is recommended for adults ONLY.
My hands over Shavone’s, I tighten my hoodie around her. She needs to keep it on — cover that beautiful, tempting ass of hers.
I indicate the dart board with a nod. “Are you an ace at that, too?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’ve never played darts before.”
“Hallelujah.” I throw my head back. “Maybe I can win a portion of my pride back.” I run my hands up her waist and around to her back. “Will you let me teach you?”
Yes, kitten, that was an innuendo. I want to teach you a lot of things.
The increase in feminine pheromone and blushing smile means she got my drift. Fuck. My dick twitches. I don’t know how much more of her I can take.
“Okay,” she’s says, eyes on my mouth.
I lick my lips. You want some of this?
Dilated eyes say yes just before they glance away.
“Sir?” She calls across the bar and once she has the old man’s attention, motions that the pool table is all his. He waves his thanks.
Touching her back, I usher her to the dartboard.
“I love this song.” She rocks her shoulders.
There’s music? I pause to listen. Sade softly sings something about giving the kiss of life.
“You like this old shit?” I tease her, pulling the darts from the board.
“Hey.” She giggles. “Yes. I like soul — old and new.” She throws out that bottom lip, again. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“Never, kitten. You have excellent taste in music.”
The broad grin that spreads across her sweet face wraps another string around my heart. And her swaying hips? Those put another quart of blood in my dick.
She is something. Beautiful and sweet and sensual. I wonder how she’ll react when she finds out I’m lying to her just as Nash is. And she’ll find out. No doubt. She’s digging in the right place. She’ll be angry. I have no doubt about that either. That we’re doing this to keep her out of the clutches of the hunters won’t make a bit of difference. How strange to feel remorse before the fact. The only chance I’ll have is to get under her skin and fast.
“Why the sad look?” She asks me.
I affect an exaggerated shocked expression. “You gotta ask, lady who handed me my ass in pool?”
“Sorry.” She exaggerates a giggle into her hand. She isn’t sorry at all. “Well, now you can trounce me.”
Fuck. Was that a euphemism, kitten?
“At darts,” she quickly adds.
“I wouldn’t be very gallant, using your word, if I did that.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” She gives me her coquettish smile.
“You think batting those lashes at me will save you?” I laugh.
“A girl can hope.”
“You showed no mercy. I show no mercy.” I grin. “That’s the way the game works.”
I move behind her, and, with a hand at her hip, begin to murmur the rules into her ear. Jesus. Her scent. I inhale a lung full of it.
“This” — I toe a length of tape on the floor — “is the throw line. You cannot step over it when you throw.”
“What about my arm?”
“Good question.” I playfully squeeze her bicep, again. “Yes, your buffed arm can cross it.”
I feel her smile. “I prefer the word ‘toned’.”
“Kitten, you are so toned.” I nuzzle her hair. “Now, stop distracting me.”
She giggles and I grin. This is fun. She’s fun.
The rest of the rules, what there are of them, are fairly simple. I run through them quickly. “Let’s do a few practice throws.” I motion her aside and, when she’s safely out of the way, throw my darts. One lands dead center of the bull’s-eye and the other two in the interior ring, quarter inch from the bull’s-eye.
She laughs. “This is going to be bad.”
“Aw, c’mon. Positive thinking.” I move out of the way and bow for her to take my place at the line.
Lifting her chin, she shakes her hair out of the way and narrows her eyes at the board in concentration.
Hot and sexy, smart and sharp. No man can resist that. Sorry, Nash. I glance over at him. His eyes pierce me with an anger he normally saves for enemies and rival packs. Cherie grins at me.
Shavone’s first throw lands on the board, but in the number ring. No score. The second lands in the fat single score ring and the third misses the board completely.
The music clicks over to a sexy strong drumbeat that Shavone seems to like, too. I walk to the board to extract our darts. Ah, it’s John Mayer. I almost laugh out loud at the lyrics. I’m not the man I used to be either, John.
Shavone smiles at me as I walk back to her. Rocking her hips, she sings along to the music.
“Not bad.” I hand her her darts. “You’ve got pretty good form for a newbie. Can I show you a better way?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please.”
I lay my darts on a nearby table.
“Let’s work on your stance, first.”
Stop writhing that body, kitten.
“Okay.” She stands still.
Taking my sweet ass time and with a caressing touch, I position her body — feet there, hips like this, shoulders like that, hands like this. I’m disappointed when I’m done arranging her.
She looks up at me through her lashes, a flirty smile on her lips. I stifle a growl.
Moving back behind her, I drag my hand down her arm to her hand. “Holding the dart is an art,” I whisper in her ear — trying hard not to imagine her soft hand gripping my dick. “Two fingers forward on the stem, like this.” I manipulate her slender fingers. “And your thumb here near the back of the dart.”
Understanding, she nods. Her brow furrowed, she concentrates so hard.
“You want to extend your arm, pointing the tip of the dart where you’d like it to stick.” Placing my cheek directly on her temple, my hand over hers, I raise the dart in front of her face. “Stare down the tip and bring the dart straight back in front of your face,” I say. “Don’t hold it here, by your ear. You can’t see where it’s going if it’s beside your head.” I let go of her hand and hold her at the waist. “Do it now, but don’t throw it yet.”
While she lines up the dart, I dip my nose into her hair and inhale deeply — not caring if she hears it. My voice is thick when I speak again. “We’ll do a couple of practice movements. Don’t let go of the dart, though.”
“Okay,” she says softly.
My left hand glides from her hip to ribs while my right hand wraps around hers and the dart.
My wolf wants you so bad.
Ten Fun Facts about Dany Rae Miller
1. Aside from The Hubs, no one else close to me (friends, family, coworkers) knows that I write paranormal erotic romance as Dany Rae Miller. Shhhh.
2. My paternal grandmother was Amish. When she met my grandfather during her Rumspringa, she left her family and community for him.
3. When I was eight, Highlights magazine published a story I wrote about my grandparents’ love story. It was my first published romance!
4. Back in ninth grade, my science teacher assigned homework by telling us to “write a ten page paper on dinosaurs.” I raised my hand. “What kind of paper?” I asked. “Any kind you want,” he said. So, I went home and wrote a short sci-fi story about dinosaurs. I got an A, my first A ever in any science class.
5. I’m a published young adult fantasy/sci-fi author under a different pen name.
6. In the early 2000s, I won the grand prize in an international screenplay competition with my very first script.
7. I’m a Joss Whedon groupie.
8. I fantasize about Whedon reading and liking my work. Do you think he reads erotic romance?
9. After a concert and before he was famous, I made out with Keith Urban for about ten minutes. A band member pulled him away to get on the bus.
10. My Hubs kisses way better than Urban.
The sweet scent that I have been looking forward to is not what walks into the Dollhouse.
Rage seizes my wolf, his internal roar louder than the music pounding through the lounge. Three young wolves sitting at the bar wisely get up and move away.
“Leave, Enrique.” Antonio insists.
Shavone’s luxurious essence steeped in French stench. My beast bays a forlorn cry, a true physical agony joining the fury.
How is it possible? What happened to the spell?
“Enrique,” my brother hisses. “Go.”
It’s too late to escape. I feel, and smell, Shavone behind me.
Steeling my heart and keeping a tight hold on the angry beast, I spin the stool from facing the bar to facing the little witch. She correctly gauges my wrath and steps back.
“You’re too early,” I say, careful to control the volume and tone of my voice.
“Oh.” She frowns, confused, her eyes dart between mine. “I came in early to do makeup. I assumed I had to be ready to work at four, but I can wait in my car.”
“That isn’t necessary,” I growl, attempting to squash the burning jealousy.
“Hi, Sara.” Antonio, using her Dollhouse name, draws her attention away from me. “Welcome to your first night.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
Antonio babbles some encouraging words while she nods and converses with him.
My wolf identifies the male odor on her skin as belonging to LaFontaine.
I’m going rip him to shreds.
Never mind that he somehow got around a spell crafted by a powerful family ally. The detective took advantage of his official protector status while my wolf remains sidelined by the Alliance. It boils my wolven blood violently, muscles coil ready to shift. I use every ounce of control I have to contain my beast.
You are mine,the wolf bursts into my eyes.
Shavone chooses that moment to return her gaze to me. With a sharp inhale, her eyes widen.
Antonio bugs his eyes out at me. “Have you ever tended bar?” He attempts to draw her attention back to him, but her gaze is locked on my angry wolf.
I force him back, fight to get him into his cage and lock the door. Am I an alpha or an omega? The animal shreds my insides.
“Hello?” Antonio waves his hand in front of the witch’s face.
Shaking her head and turning it toward my brother, her pink lips part to speak. Before she can, the night shift manager joins us.
“Is this our newest doll?”
“Yes,” I say. “Tanya, Sara. She’s sharing a dressing room with Paulina who is also her trainer.”
Shavone offers a hand to shake. The movement sends more French stink up my nostrils.
Hands in fists, I stand. “I have personally selected several costumes for you, Sara. Choose one of them to wear tonight.” It is not a request. “And put on some damn perfume.”
“This way, Sara.” Tanya turns.
The little witch blinks at me a few times before following the manager across the lounge. No surprise that practically every pair of eyes follows. Shavone in jeans is more enticing than the naked woman writhing on stage.
Just as she goes through the curtain, Shavone glances back at me, head tilted, brow creased.
“You haven’t been a monk either.” Antonio slings a towel over his shoulder.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Restraining the wolf burns my eyes.
“Don’t expect a healthy young woman to be a nun.” He puts a glass under the tap and draws a beer.
My beast snarls.
“Go punch something and cool off.”
I flip him off on my way to the door.
Outside, the fence behind the Dollhouse takes my wrath.
I recall the last time I found Shavone with another — the night I discovered her and Monbeau. The bastard heard my growl, smirked at me, taunted me as he fondled between her legs.
“No, Enrique!” Only Agustin tackling me mid-charge prevented me from ripping Monbeau’s dick off at that moment. Uncle had followed me, apparently had done so since the first of my visits to check on my witch.
The noise of our scuffle alerted French sentinels. Uncle, with his superior speed and strength, got us out of the canyon before they arrived. Once on our own territory, Uncle cuffed me to a granite wall.
“Enrique, the Monbeau clan has an impressive record. They’ve not lost a creole witch in the past 100 years,” he had said.
“Because of his heritage, I should let him fuck her?!” I pulled at the chains, altering between human and wolf so quickly my muscles ached as badly as my heart.
“Yes. If her well-being is a priority to you. Is it?”
The beast in me roared, torn by the damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don’t options.
“With him by Shavone’s side day in and day out, you’re assured of her protection. The Alliance chose him for a reason.”
“What if she mates with him?” I had gritted out between my teeth as my beast once again twisted my bones.
Days later uncle returned with a family friend, a witch. I lay on the ground, naked and limp from shifting uncontrollably.
“Help him, Kennedy,” he begged her.
She performed a spell relieving my wolf of his jealous agony.
As it were, uncle’s faith in Monbeau was well placed. The punk saved her — rescuing her from the fire. I was on the other side of the state, called to Durango by my sister for an emergency that wasn’t as dire as she had made it sound.
Had Monbeau not been in Colorado Springs with Shavone, she would have perished, the thought more unbearable than my own death. For that, the French wolf reluctantly earned my gratitude.
Nevertheless, upon his death, I went to the Alliance, pleading for the assignment as Shavone’s protector. They refused, bringing LaFontaine back into her life even though the bastard had abandoned her once before.
I threatened to challenge him, was on my way to do so. Kennedy convinced me otherwise. She used witchcraft to limit Shavone’s sex drive.
“It’s better than a wolf war,” Kennedy had said. “And drawing attention to a Soft witch.”
The fence in ruins, I call Kennedy now. “What happened to your spell?”
“You’ll have to be more specific, Enrique.”
“Shavone let LaFontaine fuck her.”
“What?” Kennedy gasps. “I bound your touch as the terminus. Either she discovered the hex and removed it or” --
When I interviewed her. “You didn’t tell me I couldn’t touch her.”
Kennedy hisses. “In order to have touched her you needed to have been in contact with her. Which, of course, is completely against Alliance orders.”
The fault is mine. I did this. I released her libido. Now there is only one remedy. I have to make her mine.
“Fuck the Alliance.” I hang up on Kennedy.
Soft Shatter Playlist
The Flaming Lips - Fight Test
Kiss of Life - Sade
I Don’t Trust Myself - John Mayer
Al Green - Tired of Being Alone
Rufus - Tell me something Good
Earth Wind and Fire - Greatest Hits, Sing a Song; Reasons
Corinne Bailey Rae — Trouble Sleeping
Leela James - Music
Kristina Train - Dark Black
Corinne Bailey Rae - Put Your Records On
About Dany Rae Miller
I’m Dany Rae Miller and I believe in the power of love.
I believe that love ~ real, unconditional, soulful devotion ~ can change who you are as a person. It can change you from shy to open, wary to trusting, scared to brave, running in circles to holding on to your rock.
Young and naive, believing I was in love, I married right out of high school. Three years later, I was a brokenhearted, single mom of a toddler. Fast forward two more years to another sweetheart turned asshole and my faith in love was lost.
Done with boys, I built a life for my child and me by myself. It wasn’t easy, but I grew up and learned how to stand on my own two feet. I didn’t need a man, I reasoned, I’ve got my confidence.
In my mid twenties, I wanted to up my earning power and decided to go to college, setting my sights on journalism school. It was then, when I wasn’t looking for him, that the love of my life walked into a college speech class and sat down next to me.
The right person at the right time changes everything and mends even the most shattered trust. I am living proof. That’s what I try to put into my novels.
When I’m at the computer writing, life is golden. It just doesn’t get any better than weaving sometimes euphoric and sometimes gut-wrenching tales of erotic romance.
In former lives, I was an advertising rep, then, a property manager. After college, I became a TV producer, and an award-winning screenwriter.
Now, I conjure sexy love stories from thin air. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it. I do it from my home in spectacular Colorado (a location featured prominently in my stories) where I live with my wonderful husband and two affectionate kitties.
Contact Dany Rae
Newsletter signup: http://eepurl.com/TnoF5 You’ll want to sign, because starting in February, I’m posting book two in the Wolven Moon series on my website for free. You’ll need a password to access it.