ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dylan Newton was born and raised in a small town where the local library was her favorite hang-out. Plus, it was the only place after school open until her single mother got off from work to pick her up where she didn’t have to stand in the perpetual snow of Upstate New York.
After earning a degree in English Literature, Dylan spent more than a decade sidetracked by an executive position in corporate America where she swears she contracted testosterone poisoning from working with all men. She figures that explains all of the estrogen-rich activities she’s done since leaving the banking/finance industry: heading up PTA, Girl Scouts, being a beauty consultant, having a baby, and writing a romance novel.
DESPITE THE FANGS
Workaholic werewolves have such awesome perks.
Just ask Aribella Lupari, whose hectic schedule tracking missing people in the snowy Adirondacks allows her benefits humans can’t appreciate—wolves never return unopened wedding gifts, never gain weight from late night doughnut binges, and never worry over their encroaching uni-brow. For Ari, walking upright is overrated.
Then she tracks a hiker whose delectable scent calls to both halves of her werewolf self. Not only does Mason Gray look as good as he smells, he may be the only man who can love the beauty behind the beast. Ari should know better than to trust a human, especially after Mason blackmails her into tracking his kidnapped son. But her attraction for the mysterious single father has Ari ignoring her animal instincts.
Can the big, bad wolf live happily ever after, DESPITE THE FANGS?
“Aren’t you curious to know what I’ve decided to do with you?”
Mason turned his bronze gaze on her, and Ari’s pulse doubled even as she scoffed.
“Let’s see…either more dart gun practice with me as your target, or you’ve got some misguided fantasy that if I bite you, you’ll become a werewolf like me—”
Ari stopped speaking, but it was too late. Now her plan to protect Mason from knowing too much was shot to hell. She might as well parade around shouting, ‘I’m here. I’m were’. Get used to it!’
Mason grinned. “Two options I hadn’t considered. I don’t need target practice. However, a little biting might be nice.”
His words rolled over her like a pheromone-scented wave. Ari opened her mouth to reply, yet produced only an airy squeak. Mason’s eyes were doing that intense, dark glittering thing again—the look that made it difficult to concentrate. Or breathe.
With a gasp and a shudder, Ari managed a shaky laugh.
“Watch out. I’m not up to date on my shots.”
Mason voice danced along her spine as he leaned in.
“I like to live dangerously.”