Werewolves Prefer Shortbread

By Dakota Issacs

Callum McAllister is not a bad guy. Not really. He doesn't want to evict the nice old lady who lived on his property for the last forty years. But he has to. Trust me. He can't explain his reasons because they involve things like Werewolves. And now everyone in town seems to hate him. Especially the beautiful young baker, who under any other circumstances, would be his kind of girl. Except now that's never gonna happen because that 'nice old lady' he's evicting...that's her Grandma. He knows he's not welcome but he's finding it awfully hard to stay out of her kitchen.
The last thing Lily Harris wants for Christmas is a man who cares more about things than he does about people. But Santa has other ideas and Lily's about to wind up with one very handsome, Scottish Werewolf under her tree. If she's willing to risk her heart she may wind up with the best Christmas gift in the world: true love.

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Oct 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781509238507

Dakota Issacs

I live in Manhattan with my husband where I drink too much coffee and read too many books. I love all sorts of romance from Historical to Contemporary. I write Contemporary and Paranormal Romances that are sweet with heat. You'll always find a happy ending with no cliffhangers. If you want to talk books drop me a note at [e-mail]. I would love to hear from you.

Book preview

I catch a glimpse of denim-colored curls and my heart tugs strangely in my chest. When the woman stands up, my suspicions are confirmed. I’m staring into the face of Lily Harris, the woman who hates me. She gives me a glare that says she’s recognized me as well. I think about turning to leave, but I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t know she worked here. And any opportunity to give the girls a little joy is one I’m going to take. I put a neutral expression on my face and start to scroll through the messages on my phone. I can answer a few emails while I wait. I try to focus on the words in front of me, yet I can’t help sneaking glances at her. Even with the troubled look on her face she’s lovely. She’s a tiny thing but even in a pair of overalls you can catch a glimpse of her curves. She’s a fearless looking lass with her wild blue curls, and exquisite sleeves of floral tattoos on her forearms. She looks joyfully alive, free. Like a woman I’d want to get to know. If she didn’t hate me. And if I had the luxury of dating anyone right now. Which I don’t.

Even if she wakes my wolf. I’ve turned the problem of her hatred over and over in mind, trying to think of ways to explain myself. I can’t think of any lies that would make her like me and I certainly can’t tell her the truth. Even if my wolf cried out mine the first time she walked into the sitting room. It’s not her.

Werewolves Prefer Shortbread

by

Dakota Issacs

Christmas Cookies Series

This is a work of fiction. 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.

Werewolves Prefer Shortbread

COPYRIGHT © 2021 by Dakota Issacs

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Diana Carlile

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Edition, 2021

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3850-7

Christmas Cookies Series

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

For my Mom and Dad, who shouldn’t be surprised I write love stories, because I grew up watching theirs.

Chapter One

Callum

I have a list of more things than I could possibly accomplish today. All of them require my immediate attention, yet I find myself standing outside a bakery window mesmerized by the shortbread cookies on display. It sounds cliché even to me, but they remind me of home. And these cookies don’t look like pale American imitations. They are stamped in the traditional manner and have a nice golden edge, and I can see the butter glisten. Someone with business sense has propped the front door open. The smell is a powerful lure: a perfect blend of cinnamon, smoke, and fresh vanilla. Sweet but not cloying.

This is no time for indulgence, but I find myself walking through the door anyway. It’s probably too quiet a town to have a decent espresso, but a cup of coffee will do me good, and I can bring some treats home for the girls. They are in desperate need of spoiling.

The line for the counter snakes all the way back to the door, but I can’t leave now. I’ve spotted cupcakes all