For Heaven's Cakes

By Diane Saxon

Twelve years of living in Ireland smoothed Beau’s rough edges, and hard work as a construction worker made him a wealthy man. The call of his pack is stronger than he can resist though, and he isn’t averse to returning to show his small home town in America what he’s made of himself.

What he doesn’t anticipate is meeting the local pharmacist’s daughter - in his wolf form. By day, he renovates the pharmacy, and tries to cajole the lush assistant into having dinner with him. By night he watches Catherine bake her fantastic creations and blossom through her art.

Sleeping on her bed each night in his wolf form isn’t exactly ideal, but how does he tell her the wolf she’s come to love, is the man she lusts over?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diane Saxon
• Release date: Apr 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311855121

Diane Saxon

Diane Saxon lives in the Shropshire countryside with her tall, dark, handsome husband, two gorgeous daughters, a Dalmatian, one-eyed kitten, ginger cat, four chickens and a gorgeous black Labrador puppy called Beau – a name she’s borrowed for her hero in For Heaven’s Cakes.After working for years in a demanding job, on-call and travelling great distances, Diane gave it all up when her husband said “follow that dream”.Having been hidden all too long, her characters have burst forth demanding plot lines of their own and she’s found the more she lets them, the more they’re inclined to run wild.

Book preview

For Heaven’s Cakes

Diane Saxon

Copyright 2014 Diane Saxon

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction.

While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Diane Saxon

All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Blurb

Twelve years of living in Ireland smoothed Beau’s rough edges, and hard work as a construction worker made him a wealthy man. The call of his pack is stronger than he can resist though, and he isn’t averse to returning to show his small home town in America what he’s made of himself.

What he doesn’t anticipate is meeting the local pharmacist’s daughter - in his wolf form. By day, he renovates the pharmacy, and tries to cajole the lush assistant into having dinner with him. By night he watches Catherine bake her fantastic creations and blossom through her art.

Sleeping on her bed each night in his wolf form isn’t exactly ideal, but how does he tell her the wolf she’s come to love, is the man she lusts over?

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter One

Reluctant to wake, he cracked his eyelids open and squinted through the dark veil of his lashes. He almost snorted in disgust, as huge silver orbs stared with wide-eyed appeal at him.

Fuck off Zeke.

Zeke blinked twice. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head enquiringly to one side.

Beau sighed and stopped trying to feign sleep. It was too late. Zeke knew he had him.

Hot dog-breath wafted over his skin as Zeke tilted his head to the opposite side in small ratcheting motions, tongue lolling drunkenly from his mouth.

Jeez, you definitely need to brush your teeth more often.

Zeke’s wide smile bared enormous fangs. His dog-breath came in short, fast puffs.

Beau struggled to release himself from the restraint of the covers, but Zeke’s weight pressed the duvet down on either side of his shoulders.

Come on, Zeke. Stop pissing about. I said fuck off, now do as I told you, and let me up.

The animal’s low pitched snarl bumped Beau’s pulse up a notch, and flicked him into fully awake mode.

With a sudden jerk, Beau tried to flip Zeke off the bed, but his opponent’s muscles were too well honed, and Beau found himself anchored to the bed, the duvet serving to make a prisoner of him. A slobbery wet tongue slavered over his cheek, the rough swipe of it almost taking off the top layer of his skin.

Zeke. For Christ’s sake. When will you grow up?

Beau managed to release his arms from the covers. He grabbed one of Zeke’s soft, furry ears, and twisted with all his might until the loud yelping, whimpering noise almost burst his ear drum.

Beau relaxed his grip, but refused to let go. Zeke was not to be trusted under any circumstances.

Shift, you little shiteface.

The seriousness lacing his Irish curse seemed to have the desired effect and within moments, the abundantly furry creature transformed into a slender young man, his thick chestnut hair reaching his shoulders. His translucent eyes remained the same. Ice blue irises with an outer ring the color of dark steel, so close, they almost burned into Beau’s mind.

Zeke grinned. You’re no fun.

And I imagined you’d have grown up in my absence, but it appears you have not.

Beau loosened his grip. His brother rolled out of his reach, got to his feet by the side of the bed, and stared down at him. It’s good to have you back. Unfortunate you’ve turned into an Irishman. You’ve lived there so long. It’s good to see you again.

You’re no less an Irishman than I am; you just haven’t taken the opportunity to visit your place of birth, yet you still manage to keep the Irish tongue.

Zeke ducked his head in an unfamiliar shy move and made his way to the door, before he glanced back to speak over his shoulder. If you get dressed, I’ll show you around. Nothing much has changed, but you might want company. We can grab some breakfast and have a wander. It’s been a long time, but not much has changed.

A quick glance at his watch told Beau it was six thirty. His wild brother had only just returned from spending the night on the very same town. With a heavy sigh, Beau thought if it hadn’t been for the jet lag caused by his long flight from Ireland, he may well have joined him the night before. He was still tired. If he could just cajole Zeke into letting him have a few more hours of sleep. Wouldn’t you rather go to bed?

With a sly grin, Zeke leaned back against the door jamb. No chance. I’m not going to miss the opportunity to witness your welcome home reception.

Beau flung back the covers, leaped out of bed, a snort of disgust accompanied his jerky moves. No-one will welcome me home.

Montgomery will.

Beau slanted Zeke a crooked smile. Of course he will. He’s our brother. All three of us back in the same town at the same time. What are the chances of that?

Until a few years ago, he’d never have thought he’d want to return home. He’d left the small town, just outside of New York, a poor teenager. He’d had no intention of coming back when he worked his way to Ireland to find the roots of his Irish American family. He’d used his hands and his skill to earn his money, his brain to figure out a way. When he couldn’t scrounge a lift or pay for a fare, he’d used his feet to cover the miles. It had taken time, and grueling, unforgiving work to get to where he’d believed the grass was greener. And it had been, for twelve years almost, it had been exactly where he’d wanted to be.

Then one day, the urge to return to his homeland had become too strong to resist. One more phone call to Zeke, the discovery that Montgomery had arrived home with vengeance in his heart, had moved Beau, stirred the beast in him. He’d tried to ignore it, but the beast had won, and Beau had returned. The call of the pack stronger than his own need. This time his head would be held high and his mode of transport wouldn’t be shank’s pony.

****

The cracked, peeling paint looked different from the way it had twelve years earlier when Beau had been a regular visitor to the pharmacy. His younger brother obviously still was from the way he strode inside, allowing the door to bump against the stopper and bounce back. It creaked and groaned at the stress, and almost hit Beau in the face. He shot his arm out to stop the door with the heel of his hand, feeling the crackle and splinter of the paint against his skin while he observed the quick grin on his brother’s face as Zeke glanced over his shoulder at him. Bloody kid, never would grow up. Zeke would have just laughed if he’d managed to break his nose for him. Always one