My Experiences with J.R. Dunsworth: Silver Foxes, #4.5

By M.R. Anglin

Dear Diary,

 

I've known J.R. Dunsworth all of my life. He's always been someone I can talk to–even if he is a bit mysterious. But now I hear he's back on the Isle. And he has kids! Of course you know, I have to get to the bottom of this. But don't worry; I'll tell you everything I find out. No one–certainly not J.R.–can pull the wool over my eyes–particularly because I prefer cotton.

 

Keep you posted.

 

Mira

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.R. Anglin
• Release date: Jun 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781393289197

Book preview

Dear Diary,

I remember the first time I met J.R. Dunsworth . . . oh, wait! Actually, I don’t. The first time I met him was the day I was born. He waltzed right into Mama’s hospital room as if he owned the place. She promptly kicked him out.

Or so I’ve heard. And I believe it. That’s the kind of relationship they have. Mama doesn’t want anyone to know that he has any connection to us. But he’s part of who I am, so . . .

Back to the point. What I do remember is the next time I met him. I was only two or three at the time, so Mama says I couldn’t possibly recall the incident. But I do. I remember everything.

It was my birthday. Mama was too busy hosting her guests to notice I had wandered outside. All my presents were out there, you see, and I didn’t want to wait until she ushered all of us outside for me to open them. The house my mom grew up in—the place where we were having the party that day—is perched right on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. The Isle de Losierres has the most beautiful, luxurious oceans and beaches in the world so such a view is coveted and admired. Of course, there is a fence around the property with a childproof gate preventing adventurous toddlers from plunging over the cliff, but that day there were chairs and tables set up all around, encouraging climbing and exploration. At least to a toddler, it did.

I love the ocean. I always have. So when I climbed on the table to get to my presents and saw the ocean down below, I couldn’t help but lean over the edge to look at it. I leaned too far. Just as I toppled over, I felt the powerful grip of a hand catch me by the scruff of my neck. I was lifted up and held face to face with the most piercing set of brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Those eyes belonged to a wolf with scruffy, brown facial fur, a square and set jawline, and whiskers that he obviously hadn’t clipped in days. It gave him a rugged look. And yes, I did manage to catch