Greyriver Shifters: Complete 5-Book Series: Greyriver Shifters: Volume One

By Kristina Weaver

The complete 5-book series of Greyriver Shifters Volume One.

 

Enjoy over 400,000 words in these 5 standalone, full-length books.

 

The shifters of Greyriver are hot as hell, and nothing will stop them in their paths, so cozy up and be ready for some sexy fun!

 

Unwanted Mate

I don't want to feel this pull towards Mika Bright or the lust that overtakes me when I smell her. She's the opposite of everything I want in a female. As the next Alpha to my pack, I want my mate to be of my kind: strong, capable, and on the fringes of my emotions. But Mika isn't like that. She's sweet and soft and needs me to give her things I don't think I can. She's human to my wolf, light to my dark. She's not mine, and yet I want her, unlike any other female in this world. If I mate her, I will lose every iota of control in my life, and to a guy like me, control is power.

 

Unwilling Mate

I will not mate Hannah Seers even if destiny and my animal instincts call me to do it. She's spoilt, rude, mean, and ugly in ways that have nothing to do with her perfect form and the body that drives me crazy. I shouldn't look at her and want her, and I damn sure should not give in to her demands for mating, but she has something I need, and if I have to mate her to get it, I will. That doesn't mean I will love her, even as I take her body, and it sure doesn't mean I want her heart. Or do I?

 

Reluctant Mate

The problem with being a liar and a cheat is that, before you know it, you don't recognize yourself anymore. I've spent my life lying, living in a world where other people don't know the real me. I've lied to myself, my friends, and the one female who I should have claimed years ago. Beebee hates me, for good reason. She doesn't trust me, for good reason. She wants me because I make her believe that she should. Now it's up to me to decide if loving her is worth the risk of losing my freedom and losing myself once again when things fall apart.

 

Unlikely Mate

I'm a mixed-breed shifter with bear and wolf in my blood. I am dangerous and big and scare the females in my own pack. I prefer solitude, and I keep to myself because I doubt I will ever be lucky enough to find my true female, who will complete me. When a car breaks down on the side of the highway that borders my pack and the land I guard, the last thing I expect is to see the most petite human female staring back at me. The last thing I know is that she can never be mine...

 

Destined To Mate

I've killed. I've lied. I've stolen. I've committed every unspeakable crime, and I haven't regretted it once until the day Julia Silverton comes for me. She's my destiny, but I don't want her. I can't. She's good, and I'm not. She's love, but I've hated for so long I don't know what that means anymore. She wants me, needs me, and I will save her, but I will never give her my heart. I can't. She'd break me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristina Weaver
• Release date: Mar 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386254096

Kristina Weaver

Immerse yourself in the world of romantic comedy with Kristina Weaver. Her stories feature strong male characters and witty female leads, creating laughter and chaos before delivering a happy ending. With the added bonus of paranormal elements, her books are perfect for those seeking adventure. Start with the first book in the Greyriver Shifters Volume One series and get ready to be swept away into a world of imagination. Keep an eye out for discounts and even FREE offers on this book because this is an experience you wouldn't want to miss! For more information: Books2read.com/KristinaWeaver KristinaWeaverAuthor at Gmail dot com

Book preview

UNWANTED MATE

Chapter One

Meek

The coffee shop is doing a pumping trade by the time I’m four hours into an eight-hour shift that includes an extra four afterward—thanks to all the time off I took last week to go and see Mom in the nursing home.

I’m so tired I can barely conceive that I’m still standing, but I hustle out from behind the counter and shake a leg towards the front, where my section is crammed full of customers yelling at me to bring more sugar, milk, and cake.

Leave it to Bess to choose today to set up her specials campaign—a free slice with every large coffee that is bought—because damn, I am pooped already and I still got another eight hours of this shit before I can drag my ass home and start searching for Daddy’s old buzz saw to lop off my feet.

Yo, Meek! Table four is complaining about time! Bess yells, as I pass by, my arms groaning under the weight of a tray laden down with so much cake and coffee I am convinced I’m going to look like a body builder by closing time.

I only got two hands, Bess! It’s been like three minutes! I yell back, thanking God I braved Bess’s ire and put on a pair of sneakers instead of the heels she usually insists we all wear.

Holly stumbles by me, wobbling precariously in her four-inch heels and rolls her eyes, the bright blue marbles making me giggle when they almost reach the back of her skull.

You tell that bitch! I lost a tip cause some asshole in my section was crapping himself over a two-minute wait. What’d he think? I got the coffee machine resting on my fat ass just waiting for him to roll in?

I giggle and hear Bess cackle before the two of them start arguing in Spanish. Yeah, Bess is that kinda boss. She’s a ball buster for sure. Hell, she kicked me in the vagina one time just to prove that balls aren’t the only thing that can make a bitch win a fight, buuuuut, she’s more of a mom to us than an actual boss, which accounts for the fact that I’ve had this job for four years now.

Look, ain’t no one ever gonna keep my snarky ass around for that long unless she loves me, and even I’m big enough to admit it. I’ve been working for Hot Buns since I just barely scraped through senior year after Dad died and Mom went into her depression.

This job saved my ass, literally, when we had to bury Dad and Mom went all catatonic on me. Most days, I’m grateful as hell, seeing as I make enough on tips to afford a place with Holly and Jo—roomies are great, and even better when their half of the rent means I won’t be homeless—and I also scrape enough together to keep Mom in the assisted-living place.

Meek! Goddammit! You’ve been standing there for a full minute all spaced out, girl! Get your ass moving and deliver that coffee! Table seven just filled up.

I snap out of my waking sleep and sniff, throwing Bess a filthy look before stalking toward my table and delivering the order, letting Mister Impatience know I don’t appreciate his attitude with a look meant to kill.

Jesus, I hate college guys and their bimbos, and I hate them even more when the little shits sit at one of my tables, all puffed up with a false sense of self-importance. These kids are all daddy’s little demons, spoiled, bratty, and so high on the easy life that people like me are amusement.

Oh, come on now sweet peach, I was just teasing. The blonde behemoth I’ve been sneering at for the last half hour crows, grinning when he runs his meaty paw up my thigh while his friends laugh and hoot. How about I sweeten that sour up some and take you out?

I groan internally and keep my face devoid of all expression before turning to stare directly into his eyes, my entire body poised for all-out battle if this little shit doesn’t get his filthy act together.

Swear to God, some days—like today—I so hate being pretty.

Yeah, yeah, I get how that sounds, and yes, sometimes I can be a vain sow, but it’s just a fact, I ain’t bad looking. I have blonde, waist-length hair that is thick and shiny—thanks to Mom’s lessons on hair care when she was still lucid enough to be my mom—and eyes that are neither green or blue or grey. They’re...arresting, I guess you could say, and yeah, I get that guys like how I look.

Personally, I could give a crap since my looks don’t do jack but get me harassed by little assholes like the one I am now dealing with. Pros and cons. I swear, on days like these, I wish I looked like Amanda Plummer, or that weird chick from Teachers.

Get your hand off my ass, college boy. I warn, swiping at the offending appendage with a frown while pursing my lips and despising the short skirt and tight tank top that Bess makes us wear.

He chuckles, setting off the hyenas beside him, and I feel my hackles rise a little more when what is obviously his next girlfriend-wannabe scowls and gives me a disparaging once over.

Troy, come on, I thought you said you were done slumming.

Okay, now see, I should totally not even imagine myself popping her eyeballs out of her pinhead and smashing her face into the table a few...hundred times, I can’t help but think.

Problem is, I inherited my dad’s temper, and right now I feel as if my head’s about to blow off when she sneers at me and lets out a soft giggle.

I mean, look at the size of her ass!

Cindy, stop being an idiot. Guys like big asses. He laughs, making her scowl even deeper and hiss at me beneath her breath.

The din of the coffee shop is almost enough to drown out the insults—it’s so busy—so instead of standing around and taking the abuse and contemplating how I’d afford to keep Mom in her home if I slam a spoon into Troy’s eye—big ass, my...ass—I decide to smile, turn on my heel and walk away, not giving a shit that Troy keeps calling me back or that I’m liable to lose the tip I so badly need.

Christ in the manger! I hate college kids. I really do! Holly yells, as I pass her on my way to the table that just filled up.

I roll my eyes and grin, shaking back a laugh when she starts muttering French curses under her breath on the way to her own table of hell. This next group is...

All male, but for one tiny little redhead seated among them, and Jesus—I say it with a Mexican accent because I so do not want to go to hell for blaspheming—they are all so good looking that I stumble a little before reaching the table.

The first guy, directly to my left is...hot. Look, it’s clichéd to use that word when drooling silently, but there’s no other way to say it. He is so good looking with a head full of coffee brown, thick, lustrous, totally shiny...he’s got great hair, okay?

It’s all messy, sexy messy, falling around his face in one of those celebrity styles that men wear and can never pull off. This guy pulls it off. Hard. The sides are shaved shorter with the top just sort of falling in this messy, glossy sweep that reminds me of that guy from that Haven movie. Hot. His eyes are silver grey, intense and so mesmerizing it takes me a good long minute of totally inappropriate staring just to get my fill.

The rest of him is perfect, and I usually don’t ever think this when a guy is stacked with muscle and tall enough that I won’t reach his nipples, but it’s true. He looks like he could bench press a two-hundred-year-old tree trunk and not break a sweat.

Beside him sits the redhead, and she’s tiny in comparison. She’s got grey eyes, too. Her face is perfect in that poreless, peaches-and-cream way that only the super-rich can afford to achieve.

Something about her, maybe her kind smile, makes me feel immediately at ease. It’s only because of that smile that I don’t turn and run when I scan over the other occupants of the table.

Three more men sit around her, almost as if protecting her and caging her in, but these three are all completely different from hottie number one. They’re blonde, green eyed—except for one—and not as intense looking, as one of them proves by smiling and clearing his throat politely while my own hottie just glares and scowls at me.

Morning, sweetheart.

I clear my throat, finally snapping out of the oh my God, I am so wet daze I almost slipped into, and turn to stare at the blonde, begging Jesus not to let me blush when I feel embarrassment scorch my cheeks.

Uh, ahem, good morning. My name is Mika. I’ll be your server today. What can I get you folks?

Just five large coffees and some of the pecan pie.

Um, okay. Yeah, uh, are you aware of this week’s special? Customers get a slice of cake with every large coffee. The flavors are on the card by the sugar shaker, I mumble, doing my best not to look at the dark-haired man again—because if I do I won’t be functional.

The man smells...amazing.

I can’t describe what he smells like, but it’s just...good. So good—in fact—that I feel my sex clench and throb, heating so fast I almost gasp when intense and immediate arousal hits me.

I have never, ever felt this way before, not to this degree, so I’m holding my breath to stop a pant, as I swallow and keep my thighs squeezed tightly together, doing my best not to make a fool of myself by melting into a puddle.

My heart is hammering in my chest, my palms are sweating, and if that isn’t bad enough, when I slowly and silently let out a breath, I almost moan when that scent hits me again.

Oh sweet, sweet Jesus, help me.

My breasts, now tingling and heavy, go tight at the tips, and the heat between my legs goes molten, as arousal gushes a stream of moisture where my panties meet the heated throb at my core.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I do not ever feel this way. Never.

Not even that one time I went to a party with Holly and that model hit on me.

Jake was more than good looking. He was built like a wet dream and nice and, and all I felt when he offered to take me to dinner was a fizzle of interest because I wanted to find out what shampoo he used on his hair.

Mika? the blonde asks, frowning when I blink and look back down at him, my mind foggy and fighting against images of hot, sweaty, naked bodies writhing together on a bed.

I have to fight to clear my mind and calm my breathing, everything inside me screaming out and yelling at me to look back down at the man to my left and never stop looking. It’s so intense I almost whimper, as I force my eyes to stay on the blonde, unblinking in case I lose control.

Uh, yeah sorry. Um, so five large coffees? Would you guys like to order cake, or do you wanna forego the special for the pecan pie?

The words feel like hot coals dragging up my throat because everything has gone dry the longer I stand here and pant like a dog out in the hot Montana heat wave.

Blondie narrows his eyes at me, glances at my—No, not mine! Bad Mika, bad, bad girl!—at the man and then seems to consider me for a long minute before grunting and pursing his lips.

Pie.

Bear. Dammit. The man hisses, his nose thinning for the split second I see him, before my gaze moves to...

Bear?

Oh my God, I think I just had an O! I love unusual names.

Bear grunts, gives me one flicking glance of irritation, and then turns away as if I’m not worth his while. His tone, though unpleasant, is a rich, deep gravel that makes the lust slamming through me all the worse.

Man. Man. Man.

The man is just so, manly, I think, swallowing on a groan when that smell hits me again, this time so strong that my knees threaten to buckle.

Why are you being so rude? the woman asks, throwing me an apologetic look before frowning at Bear.

Jules, just order your pie and coffee and let’s go. I got things to do.

"Things to do! You just wanna run back to your house and sit and brood about that whore-stain Hannah! Mom made things clear this morning, and by God, I am not going back home to tell her that you were out of your house for five hot minutes before slinking back into your stinking man cave to sulk! Jesus, Vazques! What is in Hannah’s crotch, gold?" she snarls, making me puff out a whining giggle when the need to laugh overcomes me.

With the amusement, a smidge of my arousal, thankfully, dissipates, and on the heels of that relief is a hurt I cannot explain. The devastation hits me so hard I can barely breathe. I’m practically blinking to stem tears that fire my temper anew.

I have no effing idea what the hell is happening to me, or why I feel as if my heart just shattered into a million pieces. But what I do know is that this, this Bear, is being a dick, and while my emotions are out of control, I am no weakling.

No one gets away with being rude to me.

Just ask Bess how many times she almost considered firing my ass and the point is made.

Bear’s head whips around at the sound of my amusement, and I school my face, wiping it clean of whatever the heck hurt is coursing through me. He scowls, his jaw clenching, and growls when I snort. It’s a forced sound since I’m on the verge of tears.

Must be my period, has to be, I tell myself, praying that it doesn’t happen in the next eight hours because my skirt is white and I had to wear butt floss this morning because I forgot to do laundry last night.

You think that’s funny?

I should really just walk away and put in that order. I know walking away would make things easier for myself and my now unmanageable body, but as his eyes meet mine, that silver grey swirling with an almost perceptible light, I find myself caught and desperate to stay just a moment longer.

Here. With him.

Yes? Er, I mean, is that a confirmation on the pie? Okay, good.

Trying to force my feet to move, I swear on my future offspring, I almost melt into a puddle of goo when he grabs my wrist to halt me, those eyes drilling holes into my face.

I should slap him silly, leave and tell Bess to prepare for another complaint. That’s me. I don’t take shit. Instead, I sigh when his skin touches mine and sparks of awareness tear through me.

So wet, so wet, so—

Mika! Get a handle on it, my inner self-respect screams when a moan bubbles up my throat and the urge to crawl onto his lap springs up. I shake myself, forcing the pleasure that’s surging through me to the background, and grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches.

The need...

God, the need that is tearing through me is so fierce it hurts when I pull away and narrow my eyes, glaring down at him while the blondes all growl, almost animalistic, as if warning him.

Why’s it funny? Bear asks, his voice a snarl of what I can only call outrage.

This man, the way he’s looking at me, tells me clearly that he doesn’t like me. Why? I have no idea, and even worse, I can’t explain why the knowledge makes me feel so hurt, almost frantically pained.

I can see it though; it’s carved in every inch of his face when he wipes his palm down his pants, as if wiping away the touch we just shared. That makes the despair hitting me worse. So bad I have to blank my expression and hold my breath to stop the sobs that want to leave me.

I don’t know what the heck this is...?

I don’t fucking care! I need to get the hell out of here and never see him again because...I think Mom’s crazy is finally rubbing off on me.

Why’s it funny? he repeats, ignoring the other occupants of the table to bark the quiet question my way.

Whatever I answer is going to be bad. I just know he’ll use whatever I say to be ruder, so at this point, all weird-ass, completely-loco feelings aside, I may as well just say something to save myself from utter humiliation.

Lord, if today is just gonna be a pile of manure, then can I at least, just once, make it home on time to watch Antique Road Show?

I, uh, I mumble, clearing my throat when everything comes out in a hoarse bark of pain. I...it’s just that it sounds funny. You’re pining for a woman.

Which should not make me want to drop to my knees and wail. It really shouldn’t. Oh, God, what the heck is wrong with me, I ask myself, forcing my heart to stop beating so hard and attempting to breathe through my mouth to calm myself.

Right now, I feel...I don’t know how I feel, but something is wrong, definitely wrong, and I just know that getting away from this man is the only way to stop this, whatever it is. Why I feel as if I’ll die if I do...is not something I even want to think about right now, let alone understand. I need to leave, now, before the emotions winging through me overcome me.

The really cool part of me—yeah man, I have a cool part, even if I am a loser most days—snorts and lets me know, hard and fast, that I am an idiot for being this affected by a stranger.

And he is.

This Bear, I don’t know him, and no matter what the hell is going on with me right now, I don’t want to know him, I assure myself, taking a deep calming breath and making my face reflect a boredom and apathy I wish I could feel.

What I just said obviously does not go down well because his handsome features tighten into a mask of anger. Before he says anything though, the woman slaps his head, hard, and growls so low my nerves leap under my skin.

Just shut the hell up before you irrevocably screw yourself over, Bear! Christ man, even a blind man can see what’s going on here. You want her to hate you?

I don’t care. She’s nothing.

Yeah. That does not feel good, I think, but as hard as it is to breathe with the hurt slamming through me, I manage to lift my chin and shrug. Yeah, whatever the hell is going on with me I can make it, as long as I can ignore the words and treat him the way I treat most other people, like they have no meaning.

Soooo, you guys still want your order? This place is not getting any emptier, I point out, keeping my burning eyes off Bear with iron will.

The blonde clears his throat, bringing my attention back to him, and I think I see admiration gleaming in the depths of his eyes before he nods.

Thanks, darlin’. Don’t mind him.

Yeah, like that’s even possible, I grunt silently, turning on my heel to head for the counter, where Holly is hissing at the coffee machine and Bess is taking cash.

Christ, this is chaos! I wish I didn’t like money so much that I want a full shop.

I snort and giggle when Holly grins and wiggles her hips while rubbing her fingers together in the universal sign for make that money! It’s our thing, you wouldn’t understand.

I laugh outright when she semi-twerks and starts signing ‘making that dough, ho’, a song that is one-hundred-percent original, but to the tune which is all Jay Z’s New York State of Mind.

They should not sound at all in tune, my brain knows this, and yet it does, making me laugh harder because Bess let’s off a muffled yell and hurls an empty cup at Holly.

Most customers, the regulars at least, are used to this play, so I hear a few chuckles along with my own when Holly ducks the cup and shakes her ass at Bess.

You know you love me, mami, she drawls in a fake Queens accent.

You wish. Now stop teasing all the boys with that fat ass and hop to it. Swear to heaven, I don’t even know why I still keep you around! she yells, cackling when Holly grabs her loaded tray and swoops by, planting a loud, wet kiss on her wrinkled old cheek.

You love me, old lady!

I’m still giggling, as I fill out the order for a table I really do not want to serve, my mind wandering on its own accord to places I really cannot let it go. No, really, imagining sex with a horrible asshole when I haven’t had sex is not reasonable, but that’s exactly where my mind keeps going.

All I can see is a hard, muscled body coming over me, narrow hips lodged between my thighs, pumping, thrusting, filling me up where I ache with need—

Meek! Snap out of it and get to it! That little college pervert is waving at you, and that big scary bastard at your other table is glaring something fierce. He lays a hand on you, you snap off a finger! she yells, her orange hair vibrating with disgust, as she snarls and scowls my way.

See, this is so why I work here. The woman just knows me, I think.

Chuckling, I make it to my table, dodging bodies and elbows on my way, as I firmly banish the images trying to fog my brain. When I get to the table, I feel more in control and dump the tray down with a sigh.

Sorry for the wait guys. Here you go.

No one says a word as I serve them, and I ignore the discomfort of Bear drilling holes into the side of my face as I push the pie in front of him and pretend he doesn’t exist. At least I try to, I really do, but the man smells so delicious and the need burning inside me is so fierce.

Snap out of it Meek! He’s nobody, I tell myself.

And yet the harder I say it, the worse I feel.

This is bullshit!

Enjoy your coffee. Please call if you need anything else.

With that, I turn to leave and make my way towards the college students, praying like hell that whatever is going on with me today will just stop.

It’s fatigue; it has to be, I think. And yet, as I get through the next half hour in a blur, serving more coffee than is healthy, it’s with my heart aching and beating an urgent message that I just don’t get.

Bear and his friends are long gone by now, thankfully.

Yes, thankfully!

I do not feel like I have just been abandoned.

Of course, I don’t.

I don’t feel as if a part of me just walked out the door.

I can’t.

I mean, this is madness.

And yet, as the hours tick by, no matter how busy I am, the feeling doesn’t leave me.

Chapter Two

Meek

I stumble, regaining my footing at the last minute to stop myself from faceplanting, as I make my way from the bus stop and walk the few blocks it takes to get to the Rolling Hills Care Home where Mom is living.

I am so tired I feel like someone poured lead into my bones and encased my feet in concrete, but I push it all away. No matter how shitty I feel, I have to visit Mom.

I come here twice a week, no matter what the weather or how pressed for time I am. I have it in my head that if I just persevere, Mom will snap out of it and finally see me.

Most days, I know it’s all bullshit. I do. But no matter how many times I try to tell myself that it’s a waste of time, I still come, praying that one day I’ll walk through those doors and find the woman who was once such a force of life she made everything around her shine with vitality.

The doctors have told me over and over again that Mom should have recovered by now, that what ails her is all in her mind, and that if she hasn’t spoken yet the chances are slim.

I think I know that they’re right; I mean they so totally are. Mom’s been what you could call catatonic since dad passed away. Well okay, not since, but as close to as all get out.

At first, it was the constant crying and grief, the despair that you feel when you lose someone you love so fiercely, but when she’d cried herself sick, for weeks, well, it got worse.

I thought, stupidly, that she would get better after she stopped crying, that like me the tears had healed some part of her, and that while it would take time, we could help each other get through our mourning.

I was so, so wrong. After the tears stopped around week...I don’t even know when they stopped...everything about that time is just so jumbled with my worry and heartache.

Well, they stopped. From there, it was like living with an automaton. Mom would hardly get out of bed, and on the rare days that she did, she’d walk around the house aimlessly in her dirty nightgown just staring blankly at Dad’s things in his office.

I found her in there many a time, just staring, her body not moving for hours, as I watched and prayed for something, anything to change. When nothing did, I slowly started to realize that any hope I had of having my mom turn to me and comfort me was, well, hopeless.

She looked awful, thin, dirty, and so lifeless that I used to stand in her doorway at night and watch her because I’d become convinced she’d go to sleep and never wake up.

It got so bad that by the time Aunt Ruth came around, I was a zombie myself. Too scared to sleep. Afraid Mom would kill herself or give up and slip away.

I lost weight, too. A lot of weight. So much so that Ruth lost her marbles and finally threatened to have Mom committed. I was so mad at her at first, but I very quickly started to agree with her on the last day I can remember holding out hope for a change.

I’d just graduated, officially, even though I didn’t attend the ceremony because I couldn’t bring myself to leave Mom. It was a Monday morning, around eight, and I was rifling through the pantry—which was scarily bare since I wasn’t making all that many tips at the coffee shop—and trying to figure out what I could do with flour, one egg, and a nub of butter.

I’d long since lost that hungry feeling, something I didn’t even see as unhealthy, because yeah, it was better not to feel anything than to have to go to bed with my stomach in a knot of starvation.

So anyway, there I was, trying to pretend I could make something for Mom and I to eat when suddenly she was there in the doorway. She didn’t smell bad, thanks to a sleeping pill I’d crushed into the water I was still forcing her to drink, which allowed me to strip her and wash her down.

That had been, unpleasant. Not that I don’t love my mother enough to care for her that way, but by then Mom had started soiling herself and the things I had to clean off her were.... Trust me, it was bad.

I did it though. I washed her, moisturized her once-glowing skin, changed the linens, and even got her hair somewhat clean with dry shampoo.

When she appeared in the doorway to the pantry, I was so taken with the smile she gave me. It was blinding, so like the soft, loving looks she used to give me. I thought for sure she’d come back to me.

What happened next killed everything I was feeling though. I will never know how she got Dad’s gun out of the safe; I’d changed the combination—just in case—weeks ago.

She had it though. She had the gun, and the way she held it, coupled with that smile...

I still want to cry just thinking about that day, when I allow myself to think about it, because I don’t know what she was thinking. All I know is that...

No, Meek, that time is passed, I tell myself harshly, shaking my head to rid myself of the horrible memory.

It fades, slowly, and I concentrate on walking, needing to get into the doors, not knowing if I have much left to give Mom today. The last two weeks have been a nightmare of pain, sleeplessness, and these emotions that just won’t go away.

It’s become so bad that lately I am terrified that I’ve finally started to lose it. I don’t go out with Holly and Jo anymore, no matter how much they yell and fight with me. I just don’t want to.

I can’t say why, just that for the last two weeks the emotions that I still can’t explain have gotten so intense that most days I can barely function. I cry, for nothing. Yesterday, a guy came into the shop and ordered pie—chocolate pie for God’s sake!—and I cried for almost an hour.

I don’t sleep. I hardly eat, but when I do, I am so starved I’ve managed to pick up two pounds. The longer this goes on, the more I fear that whatever Mom’s going through is not about grief or anything to do with Dad...but maybe some fucked-up family-crazy that I am destined to go through, too.

I can’t allow that. I am not nuts. At least I can’t afford to be nuts yet! I don’t have any other family but Ruth, who for all intents and purposes isn’t much family at all.

Sure, she got me to see that Mom needed help, and I know she cares enough that when she saw me so thin and beat down that it upset her, but I haven’t heard from her in three years.

It’s just me and Mom now, and for Mom to have care, I need to work. If I go crazy too, Mom will be shoved into one of those state-run homes, where people go to die, not heal, and I’ll be right there with her, drooling and letting porridge dry in my lank, dirty hair.

I don’t have kids who love me. No family to have my back unless I count Bess, Holly, and Jo. Not that I don’t—but come on! There’s no way would I ever want my two best friends and Bess to have to look after me that way.

Mika?

I jump, stumbling back when that soft voice penetrates my conscious. I blink, realizing belatedly that I am now inside the care home, standing in front of Mom’s door, and I have no clue how I got here.

My mind feels fuzzy and heavy, so heavy and slow that it takes way longer for me to recognize the face staring at me, the grey eyes so familiar I have to blink and make my mind latch onto the identifying features.

I know this woman, I...

God Mika, honey, you look... she trails off, her grey eyes losing some of that inner spark that makes them seem as if they’re swirling with a life of their own.

Recognition hits me hard and so forcefully that I gasp, moving back a step when the redhead who’s name I don’t know, or recall, reaches out to touch me. The move is defensive, something I usually wouldn’t do because I may be a bitch, but I am a bitch with manners, who truly likes people—most days—but no matter how guilty I feel for the rejection or the confusion and hurt that springs into the woman’s eyes, some part of me knows that if I let her touch me, something is going to happen.

It could be good. I don’t know, but right now, I can’t...can’t understand myself. I am so tired, confused, afraid that I’ve become paranoid and twitchy and anti-social.

Even Holly was shocked when she tried to hug me a few days ago. For some reason, one I can’t explain, I freaked the hell out. The thought of being touched, having someone’s skin against mine made my body go into fight-or-flight mode.

I had to apologize and lock myself in my bedroom just to stop the shit beating inside me, and by then, I fully acknowledged that I wasn’t coming down with something or in need of a good sleep. I think I knew then that I was going nuts.

Mika.

Don’t! Please. I-I’m sorry. I don’t know why.... Something’s wrong with me, and...and you shouldn’t touch me. Please, I don’t... I trail off, not knowing what else to say through the anguish that assails me.

Everything is confusion. I have this feeling, all these emotions bombarding me, and I can’t explain them, never mind make enough sense to tackle the problem head on. I am exhausted, antsy, panicked all the time, and I feel so sick and disoriented that it was all I could do to go to work today and actually function.

I keep telling myself that if I just keep going, things will get better. That I’ll sleep, get over whatever is happening to me, and it will all go away. It’s how I’ve lived this long without falling apart so far, how I made it when I had to sell the house to pay for this place in the beginning, how I stopped myself from crumbling for the last few years while I begged Mom to come back, gave up hope, and then started hoping all over again in a vicious cycle.

Soldier through.

Never quit.

There’s a silver lining on a cloud somewhere punkin’, you just gotta wait for the cloud to find you.

I recall all the things Dad once told me, his enthusiasm and positive thinking an innate part of me since I was a little girl. Lately though, I feel...nothing.

The once happy thoughts I used to get through my days are all gone. I either feel desperate, confused, or terrified—I swing from emotions so rapidly I can hardly keep up—or I feel as if everything is numb and heavy.

Mika? the woman says again, pulling me from the emptiness I feel engulfing me piece by piece. Honey, are you okay?

No. No, I am not. I feel broken. I don’t say that though because I don’t know this woman, and besides, how do I explain it without sounding like a crazy person? I feel crazy, no need to prove it to other people.

I’m fine, I say, the scratchy monotone making us both wince because I sound like a cross between a drone and nails on a chalkboard.

Honey, no offense, but you don’t look it. Look, she says and sighs, looking around before looking back down at me again. Why don’t you come outside with me and have a soda? We can talk.

I’m here to see my mom.

Okay. Uh, well I mean you can see her anytime, honey, but maybe...maybe not in the state you’re in, she says slowly, taking in the creased jeans I pulled out of the dirty laundry, my rat’s nest hair that I put up in a bun this morning because I didn’t have the energy to bother brushing it, and the coffee stain that dried down the front of my white shirt hours ago.

I look like shit. I can’t deny it.

The absolute worst part is I don’t smell much better either. I haven’t brushed my teeth because I couldn’t find my toothbrush, and what little bathing I did in the shower consisted of dumping shampoo on the mess that is now my once-luxurious hair and not much else.

I don’t think I even picked up the soap or razor to clean up. Just didn’t feel it this morning.

I don’t know you, I point out, sounding dead, as I sigh tiredly and glance at Mom’s room where she’s in her usual spot in the comfy chair by the window.

She looks like I feel, empty, so I guess the saying is true: Like-mother, like-daughter.

Mika...dammit! Look, I, uh, my name is Julia. You met me a few weeks ago at the coffee shop. Remember?

Yeah. I think. I don’t know, I admit, the dull void inside me washed away as panic and desperation hit me again.

The feeling is so strong I double over at the hips and gasp, gritting my teeth when tears start streaming from my eyes.

I don’t want to cry! But I can’t really call what I am now doing crying since I have no sounds to go with it.

My tears just flow, as if my heart is breaking, and I have no control over it.

A noise disturbs my self-pity, and before I know what’s happening I am wrapped in a pair of surprisingly strong arms and being herded outside, back into the fading afternoon light and towards the big oak tree, where a picnic table is sitting in the shade.

Julia helps me sit with a tenderness that makes the tears come faster and turns away, almost running for the home. I don’t move. I can’t, I am so drained, and I sit silently for what must be mere minutes before a can of soda is placed before me and she forces me to drink.

I don’t stop until the can is empty, thanks to the hard glint of her eyes, and strangely enough that revives me somewhat, at least enough that I feel stronger and my tears stop.

Mika? Look at me please. What’s going on? You look awful; you’re practically dead on your feet, and I watched you stand outside your mother’s room for almost twenty minutes without you batting an eyelash, Julia says softly, the concern I hear making me blink and replacing the despair with confusion.

My mind, sluggish and at odds with the way I usually am, struggles to clear, but eventually I manage it. I meet her gaze, blinking when her eyes swirl an almost-silver right in front of my eyes.

I... Why do you care, you don’t know me?

That startles her, and I imagine that I see guilt flash in her eyes before she reaches over to take my hand. I go to flinch away, afraid of the touch, but Julia grasps my hand firmly and refuses to let go, going so far as to pull when I try to tug away.

I know you. I know that I met a bright, sassy girl two weeks ago, who gave those college kids hell, slapped a man for grabbing her ass, and managed to look like a million bucks in a short skirt and sneakers. I know that I liked you when we met, and I know that you are not the same girl. What happened?

I don’t know. I just...feel, I whisper hoarsely, my eyes tearing again when her face falls and something flits across her expression.

Feel what, Mika?

Everything. Nothing. Scared. Empty. Broken, I admit, even though saying it makes it all so much more real.

I am terrified to give voice to it, and yet, for some reason, I blurt it out there, the need to unburden myself strangely freeing. I don’t know this woman, and yet, from one barely-recalled meeting, I know that I liked her...still like her.

She’s not my friend, and yet, the touch of her hand and the calm swirl of her eyes settle me. That settling is so profound I sigh loudly and almost slump with relief, the tension that had my lethargic body strung tight dissolving as if by magic.

Oh Mika, I am so, so sorry, she says, her own eyes going wet when I blink and moan to clear my head.

Why? You can’t help it if I am a nutzo. I should have known I was going to lose it just like Mom, I say, shaking as the sugar from the soda hits me and injects a jolt of energy into me.

Honey, uh, I need to ask you a few questions, she says hesitantly.

Sure, I say, disinterest lacing my tone.

Er, uh, this...feeling, when did it start?

I tilt my head, trying to think, but whenever I think too hard, I get so dizzy and bewildered I end up having a mini-panic attack.

I don’t know...I get so confused when I try to think about it.

Julia frowns, her eyes narrowing, and curses under her breath before stroking my hand soothingly to stop the frantic spate of thought that assails me again.

Shh, shh Mika, it’s okay. You don’t have to think about that now, honey. Just breathe with me and clear your mind.

I obey, almost automatically, and feel the calmness that seems to flow from her envelop me again, stilling the mad rush of confusion.

Now, uh, I know that you’re not feeling great, Mika, and I know that you’re confused, honey, but can you remember anything about the day we met? she asks.

I frown, the wispy tendrils of disjointed images pouring through my mind. I remember Holly dancing, Troy the frat asshole and his stalker Cindy or Cinnamon, or whatever her name was leaving me a quarter for a tip. I remember working until my feet felt like meat slabs in my sneakers and then finally getting a break around four when Jo came in to take over, and Holly stayed an extra thirty minutes to give me time to eat and drink...something.

Everything before that, at least some parts are a blur, as is everything after. I remember going back inside and feeling strange, working through the rest of the shift and going home in a daze of fear and sadness.

I didn’t sleep that night, no matter how tired I was and instead sat on the window seat and stared out at the dark street below while silent tears gripped me. The rest, the last two weeks was just as bad because while I don’t have memory blips, I do have this strange veil over everything I’ve done since. As if my mind isn’t working and can’t retain it all in detail.

Crazy. I really am going crazy.

Uh, I remember three blondes? I say, the statement a question because I truly can’t tell if that was real or not.

Julia nods, closing her eyes.

Logan, Banner, and Rafe. Good. That’s good. You remember anything else?

I squint, trying to dig deeper only to have my head burst with splitting pain that leaves me gasping and clutching at my skull to stop the pain.

Stop! It’s okay, Mika. You don’t have to think about it if it hurts. Just breathe, honey. That’s it, Mika, breathe slowly and let it go. That’s a good girl, sweetheart, she croons, stroking my hair tenderly.

Part of me is still, me, so I’m slightly ashamed and embarrassed that this beautiful woman is currently running her clean hands through my filthy hair, but I can’t deny that I lean into the touch and moan at the cool comfort she offers.

I’m losing it. I can’t...the longer it takes to think, the more I lose time and...and I just... I trail off, sniffing and fighting against tears when I look into her eyes and feel—

As if I know them.

Only it’s not her eyes that I know. It’s another pair of eyes just like hers that belong—

Another shaft of pain hits me, and I shrink away from the thought fast, knowing from experience that all I will feel if I keep going is pain and the strange desolation that’s had me in its grip for weeks.

I had to put my mother in here for losing her mind. I can’t...they’re gonna lock me away if I can’t get a handle on myself, I whisper hoarsely, swiping at my eyes because they’re streaming again.

Julia’s mouth goes thin, and she blinks, as if trying to stop herself from crying. Seeing that wracks me with guilt and also gratitude because no one ever cries for me anymore. Jo and Holly are my peeps, but lately all I’ve had is their yelling and criticism. Not that I blame them or anything. I mean they love me, so seeing me board the kookoo choochoo must be hard on them.

Having this pretty, clean, nice-smelling woman, who would so be a crush if I was into vag cry for me is...nice. It means at least one person cares about what a freak I am compared to the well put-together person I was before.

No one is locking you away, Mika, I promise you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again, she says fiercely.

Her words confuse me, but oddly give me hope, something I have had in very short supply lately.

Thank you.

Don’t thank me yet, honey. Now, look into my eyes, Mika, and hear me...

Chapter Three

Bear

You fucking pig! You intolerable, cruel asshole!

I don’t blink, as Jules hurls yet another spate of curses at my head, her eyes flashing with so much anger I feel it lick across my skin where I’m sprawled across the couch in my father’s den.

Mom is still pacing and wringing her hands while dad keeps sighing and throwing me looks of clear confusion and disbelief. I’d clarify things for them all, maybe put Mom’s anxiety to rest, if not for the fact that Jules hasn’t stop screaming at me for almost forty minutes since I got Dad’s summons and came over.

Before his royal decree, I was happily lounging in bed with Hannah, listening to her gripe about her father cutting her extravagant allowance and some new bag she had her eye on that she can’t afford. I was just about to assure her I’d supplant whatever Greg cut when the phone rang, cutting her tirade short.

I should not have answered the fucking phone because by now I’d be balls deep in Han again and riding myself to an orgasm that I sorely need. The last three years, ever since I came into my prime as most wolves do at thirty, I have been restless, and no matter how I slake myself on Hannah, I can’t calm the need burning inside me.

I love Hannah. I have since we were children and she told me that she’d mate me when we grew up. Even then, with her soft blue eyes and flowing black locks, I knew she meant it, and I haven’t ever wanted anything else.

I’ve fought for it since I turned eighteen and petitioned my dad to let us mate, only to have him refuse, stating that the next Alpha of the Greyriver could not mate a female that is not his Fated.

The refusal has angered me for years because the longer I go without mating Hannah and filling her with my young, the more restless I become. Not that I really want young right now, not until Hannah is ready, if that will ever happen, but I do want the possibility that one of the times I come inside her, it will result in my seed taking root.

For a wolf, especially one with as much alpha in him as I have, it is a biological imperative to reproduce and see the next generation swelling in my female’s belly.

I want it so badly that sometimes it’s all I can do not to say screw it and just mate Hannah, even if that would result in banishment for us both. The only thing stopping me is the certainty that it would make us both unhappy. And a niggling unease that somehow stops me whenever I tell myself I can risk it.

A little voice in my head is always there, whispering insidiously that mating is for life and that with our longer life spans I would be stuck with my decision for more than a few years. I could live to two hundred, well into old age, in misery if things between Han and I don’t work.

Not that they won’t. We love each other. But still, it would kill Hannah to be banished and separated from the life she knows among the pack, and I can’t say honestly that I would be okay with that either.

I love my people, and I love my family, and the thought of banishment and never seeing them again, of Mom never calling to ask about my day or Dad never swiping me upside the head...I hate the thought.

Not to mention losing Jules. She’s my younger sister and a pain in the ass, but I adore her and losing her would hurt a lot.

Bear, Goddammit, are you fucking listening to me, you asshole?! she rages, taking me by surprise when her fist hits my face with enough force to snap my nose.

Blood gushes from the broken lump, and I growl in pain as she screams invectives at me and her silver-grey eyes flash with wrath.

Goddammit, Jules! That fucking hurt.

Not as much as it did for me to see Mika Blithe walking around looking like death. She’s broken, Bear. Goddammit, what did you do to her? she yells, her body going stiff as she fights the change her temper is trying to bring on.

If she didn’t have so much control over her animal, I know Jules would already be shifted and trying to rip my throat out.

Her words have me stilling, and I groan, ignoring the looks of disgust that all three throw at me when I pinch the bridge of my nose and twist, resetting it before the healing can start and the thing sets crooked.

Broken? Dad asks, eyes narrowed on me in a way that has me sweating.

Not that I am afraid of my father, I’m not. He’s my alpha, and I love him, but he has absolutely no say in my life, and can’t do shit to me with regards to Mika.

I’ve made my choice, and they’ll have no choice but to respect that. The disappointment though, that’s something else entirely, and I know that when my parents hear what I did, they’ll be disappointed.

Christ, I hate that. The last time this happened was the day I supported Hannah’s refusal to accept Logan’s rightful claim and almost lost my best friend because of the love I feel for her.

Honestly, and not that I want to be a dick, but biological selection of mates isn’t something that Han or I adhere to, and as such, I don’t believe that Logan has a claim on her.

Fuck, he doesn’t even love Hannah, and from what he said the day we mended fences, he doubts that he ever will. Good for me, because I’d have to kill Logan if he ever came near Hannah.

I love her, or at least I feel for her what I think love is. I can’t really say since the both of us don’t absolutely believe in all that eternal love shit either. We’re compatible, great in bed, and we fit. That’s all I need to know that she’s right for me.

She does her own thing, I do mine, and we meet in the middle, usually for sex.

Bear! Explain! Dad growls when I remain silent, his eyes flashing when my mouth hardens and my shoulders go tight.

I chose, I say simply, ignoring Jules’s shriek of fury and the curses she keeps muttering.

At me. Personally. And trust me Jules can get very personal when she’s pissed.

Explain, boy.

Christ.

We went out for coffee a few weeks ago—

Oh yes, Nick. Remember when I was so happy that Jules and the boys managed to drag him out of his house after that dreadful Seers girl dumped him? Mom trills, glaring at me because it turns out that me being out and about actually facilitated me and Han getting back together.

Dad grunts, smiling at Mom’s happiness before scowling when her lip trembles.

God save me from that Fated mates shit.

See, this is why I don’t want that crap. My mom and dad are so bonded that he feels her emotions and vice versa, something that they seem to treasure—when to me it just seems unhealthy.

If Mom is happy, Dad is happy—but if so much as a sniffle comes out of her, my dad is ready to rip apart anything or anyone that so much as upset her. I can’t do that out of control stuff, and I won’t, not ever.

Nah, what me and Han have is controlled and familiar, and I like not having to lose my shit if the female gets a hangnail.

Fated? It’s more like doomed if you ask me.

Bear!

Christ! Fine. I met...her, I say reluctantly, sighing heavily when Jules lets out a scream before stalking over to Dad’s desk to swipe his drink and down it.

The old man frowns, but shrugs it off, rolling his eyes when she looks at the empty glass, drops it, and swipes the bottle before stalking to a seat and falling into it.

She slouches there, making me grin because her posture is at odds with the designer suit she’s wearing and her manicured nails. Jules is a girly girl, just like Mom, but that ends at appearance. Inside, the two are trash-talking ballbusters, who don’t give a damn about opinion.

"Her? Mom asks, her eyes going narrow before they widened, and she smiles so brightly I groan in response. You mean her? Oh Bear! Oh, my son, I prayed for this for so long. Who is she? Is she beautiful? I just bet she’s beautiful! Oh Nick, it’s finally happened," she says on a joyous sob before flinging herself at him.

The idiot grins, sweeps her onto his lap, and chuckles when she squeals and claps her hands excitedly, dancing on his lap. Yeah, fucking great.

Mom—

Oh, there is so much to do! I have to inform the council and call Madeline to start the arrangements for the mating ceremony, and we need to get a cleaning crew over to your house to have it fumigated. God help me, you’d think that Seers girl could at least clean the place up a little if she’s going to leech off you. Oh! And a dress.

Mom keeps mumbling about arrangements while Jules glares and Dad’s eyes narrow. The fact that I’m not elaborating is making his natural suspicions rise to the fore.

Prissy, darlin’, I don’t think he did anything about it.

What! But, but she’s your Fated.

Mom—

And that is so rare. Most wolves have to wait at last a hundred years before they find their Fated and...and you’re only thirty-three. Do you have any idea how lucky you are, Bear?

I snort, rolling my eyes, and ignore Jules’s continued insults.

Mom, you know I don’t believe in that shit. I am with Hannah, I say firmly, getting a gasp of outrage from both Mom and Dad.

They always take offense when I say this, because yeah, according to them it’s an insult to suggest that their union is anything but loving and heaven on earth. Not that I don’t think they’re happy because the truth is that my parents have never had anything but pure bliss since I was old enough to remember.

Unfortunately, I had years to witness what pure bliss entails, and I can do without the emotional need that such a union requires.

Yeah, no.

But she’s not your Fated, Bear. You know she’s Logan’s, Mom begins, making me growl and slam a fist down onto the table beside me, the blow cracking it in half with the force of my anger.

She is mine! We love—

You cannot possibly love that, that grasping little tramp! Be reasonable, Bear.

I am, Mom, I snarl softly, attempting to rein myself in when Dad growls threateningly.

I may be his kid, but no one uses anything less than a civil tone with Nick Silverton’s mate, not even his own offspring.

Look, I just...the whole Fated thing is not for me. I respect the bond you guys share, and I get it, okay. It works for you, but I don’t want that for myself. Hannah and I are good together.

So good she refuses to accept banishment to officially mate you, Jules snorts in a snide tone that has my hackles rising.

Shut up, Julia.

Why should I? You’re so blinded by that bitch you don’t even realize what you’re doing anymore. You think being loved and mated to your Fated is going to fuck you up, Bear, but the truth is that you already are because you are so stubbornly determined to prove to everyone that you don’t want that life that you don’t care about anyone else! she accuses, making me wince guiltily.

Jules—

And you know what’s worse? It’s not just that you’re apathetic to other’s and their needs, Bear, which in and of itself is bad enough. Oh no, the problem that you have now, big brother, is that you’re willing to hurt others to get what you want.

Her disgust and the anger she’s carrying are more than evident, so much so that I blink to dispel the pain I feel when she sneers at me, patently despising me in this moment.

"I have never hurt another person in my life, Jules, and I do my best not to. I may be an enforcer for the pack, but I do things as peacefully as I can if the situation allows and—"

And I don’t give a fuck about what you do as an enforcer, even though you’re not being truthful are you, Bear? You got cited twice last week for unnecessary force on a call out.

That young hit his mother!

Because she was beating him. The kid is nine years old, Bear, and he has a right to defend himself against some whore bitch who decides to take a belt to him the way Marla does.

I can’t argue that, not at all, except to say that the kid is almost six feet tall already, and while he hasn’t transitioned, he’s strong. Much stronger than his mother, who is five one and thin as

Reviews for Greyriver Shifters

[Crush · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed this set of books. some was better than others but a truly a pleasure to read.

[Sharon Hartsoe · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Honestly, the first book is tough. I hated Bear and Hannah. I still don't like Bear because his stubborn actions nearly killed his mate. The second book actually had me beginning to love Hannah. From this point on, the books get better. Even though Bear is better, I hold a grudge! Lol. The series is worth reading. The author is great, and her writing style, I do love. Do read the first book, though,because it sets up the rest. Volume 2 of this series is also good reading.

[Victoria Clark · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Some of the books were better than the others, but I definitely recommend they’re a hilarious, spicy, heartwarming and just all around a wonderful read.

[Bobbie Mancell · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was a fantastic read, I have laughed so hard. The situations great and thought out, but freaking hilarious!!!!! Loved this book!!!

[Gemma R · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Enjoyed every book and can't wait to read series 2!

[kt03 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was an amazing read. Each character dominated their personalities evenly. There were some moments that did leave us teary eyed. I do fully recomend this book.

[Stacy Beesley · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

loved this! fell in love with all the characters... laughed , cried and even wanted to throw my computer!!

[Ανθή Λάκκα · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Δεν μου αρέσει η γλώσσα που χρησιμοποιεί, σε μια σελίδα μόνο η λέξη fuck υπάρχει 3 φορές και άλλες 3 η λέξη shit. Σ΄ έναν διάλογο, αυτές οι δύο λέξεις είναι αυτές που διαβάζεις συχνότερα. - I do not like the language she uses, on one page only the word fuck exists 3 times and another 3 the word shit. In a dialogue, these two words are the ones you read most often.

[Paula Piper · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great story.loved all the charactors,even Hannah.especally Lync.good job at tying it all up please post it

[Jessica McDonald · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved every single book on this series. Each having their own emotions that throw you through ups and downs in such a good way.. i hope there are more in the future!!

[Joy rose · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

These books was Really good I could not put it down

[Emp Kai · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Funny, romantic and varying degrees of heat!!! Read volumes 1 & 2. Guarantee you won't regret it!! ?

[jenn · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

In the first book, I was very uniterested i almost stopped reading - BUT I am glad to say I stuck to it and LOVED the other books on the rest of the couples. I wish Banners story had more development as I was really hopeful for his story, and it was good, just not great. Still 100% worth the read if you can make it past the first book. Would love to get more in this series.

[Rayna Westwood · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Omg! I haven't cried or laughed my self silly like that in.... forever, the mind of this writer is frigging astronomical!! And what can i say, i hated hannah sooooo much, but the bitch most definitely grows on you like fungus (giggle giggle) so I'm now 5 books in and oh boy i can't wait to read the stories of the other one's, i NEED to read lync's one!! I will not sleep until it's finished !

[Supernova · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The best of the genre! I hope you've got more stuff for us!

[dana · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Bullet point review:
A. Love that all books are together no need to wait or hunt for next book.
B. Great storyline carried well throughout series.
C. Characters with varying depth which kept entertained- absolutely love Hannah and Cass characters. So hilarious I was actually laughing out loud.

My only ? Is I need to find out about Jock and missing girl.....so I need to see if there’s more books.