Love & Lycanthropy

By Em Nevern

She came home to escape heartbreak. He's the town's most eligible bachelor. 

After a brutal breakup and a serious case of writer's block, romance author Ren Matthews retreats to her hometown of Port Haven—a place known for nosy neighbors, good pancakes, and zero romantic distractions. Or so she thought. 

Enter Bodhi Tanner: local police chief, certified grump, and annoyingly attractive. He's got secrets, a jawline that should be illegal, and a habit of showing up exactly when she doesn't want him to,  Also? He seems weirdly invested in her safety. Especially after she stumbles on a slashed tent in the woods… and people go missing.

Now Ren's stuck in a place where everyone seems to know something she doesn't. The woods feel wrong, her instincts are on high alert, and Bodhi's quiet protectiveness is starting to feel like something more than small-town courtesy.

She didn't plan on flirting with danger—or with the hot cop who might be hiding a few secrets of his own.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Em Nevern
• Release date: Jun 23, 2025
• ISBN: 9798231057283

Book preview

​Chapter One

The welcome sign for Port Haven flashes by in my peripheral vision. Population: small. Economy: fishing, hiking, and nosy neighbors who know everything about you whether you like it or not.

I crank up the pop music station on the radio, drowning out the sound of my phone vibrating in the cup holder. I already know who it is.

Edith. My editor. The woman who simultaneously believes in me and wants to strangle me.

Another call. Then a text. Then another text.

Edith: Ren. Answer your damn phone.

Edith: I know you’re reading this.

Edith: I will book a flight and drag you out of whatever shit hole you’ve decided to move to.

I toss my phone into the passenger seat of my Jeep. Out of sight, out of mind.

It’s not like I don’t want to write. I do. But it’s hard to write a romance novel when your heart feels like a chewed-up piece of gum stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe.

A familiar ache stirs in my chest and I do my best to shove it down.

It’s been three months since Ethan left. Three months since I walked into our apartment in Portland and found him sitting on the couch, hands folded in his lap like a job interview was about to happen. He told me he needed to find himself.

Translation? He found someone else.

A semi-famous actor dumping his semi-famous writer girlfriend is not the worst scandal, but it still stings. Especially when I spent an entire year thinking he was the one.

Joke’s on me.

But the worst part wasn’t losing him. It was the echo that came after. This awful silence in my chest where words used to live. Like he didn’t just leave me, he left a hole where my voice used to be.

And maybe that’s what really keeps me up at night, not that Ethan didn’t love me, but that he saw something I’ve known for a long time...That I’m not really lovable at all.

Port Haven’s main street unfolds before me—quaint shops, a general store, the same diner that’s been here since the dawn of time. Nothing’s changed, and yet it all feels smaller than I remember.

I grip the wheel tighter, ignoring the weird mix of nostalgia and resentment curling in my stomach.

When I left for college ten years ago, I never planned on coming back. I swore I wouldn’t. I was supposed to be a city girl now, living in a high-rise apartment with a successful career and an unbothered, glamorous life.

Instead, I’m here. In a town where my biggest accomplishment isn’t writing a bestselling romance novel. No here, it’s surviving being that girl who never knew her dad.

Not that I care. My mom is more than enough. She raised me on her own, worked her ass off as a teacher, and gave me everything.

I’ve made peace with never knowing who my father was. And honestly, it’s not like I’m eager to meet the kind of man who walked away from his pregnant girlfriend. If he didn’t want us then, I sure as hell don’t want him now.

Still... sometimes I wonder if he left because he saw something in me—something broken, something worth running from.

But I’ve learned to live with not knowing. Some mysteries feel safer, unsolved.

A familiar number flashes on my screen. This time, I pick up.

Before you yell, I’m alive, I say.

My mom sighs. I know, sweetheart. I have Find My Friends on. You could try texting back, though.

I was driving.

Uh-huh. And the last four times I called?

Also driving?

She laughs. Fine. I’ll let it go. For now. Are you coming straight here?

Nope, I say, steering toward the tiny apartment I rented. Going to the apartment first.

Ren.

Mom, I mimic.

I don’t see why you won’t just stay with me. I have plenty of space at the cottage.

I need creative space, I lie. I’m here to work, remember?

A pause. Then: You’re here because you need to get your head on straight.

I rub my temple. She’s not wrong. But she doesn’t need to say it out loud.

I know things have been... tough, she continues, carefully, like she’s walking across thin ice. With the breakup. And the book deadline. Edith called me, by the way."

I groan. Of course, she did.

She’s worried about you.

She’s worried about getting a manuscript.

Well, that too. But she also wants you to call her back.

I sigh. Did you tell her I’m in town?

Absolutely not.

Relief floods me. Thank you.

She hums. You’re welcome. Though, if she asks me again, I’m legally allowed to crack. That woman terrifies me.

I’ll handle it, I promise.

A beat of silence. I know she wants to say something else, something comforting, probably, but also something that will make me want to drive my car off a cliff.

I’ll see you tomorrow, I say, shifting the conversation before she launches into her spiel.

She clicks her tongue. Fine. But before I let you go. At least promise me you’ll go say hi to the new police chief.

I groan. Nope. Hard pass.

Ren.

No.

He’s a very nice young man. And just about your age too. He just turned thirty-three.

I’m sure he is. And he’s five years older.

I roll my eyes. Besides, why would I need to befriend the police chief?

Another pause. Then, a little too innocently, Well, you never know when you’ll need protection. And he’s wonderful company.

I snort. I think I’ll be fine. It’s Port Haven we’re talking about.

Her voice turns suspiciously casual. Well he’s also very handsome.

Ah. There it is. The real motive. I smirk. Mom, if you’re about to pitch me on some weird Hallmark-movie small-town love story, I’m going to drive back to Portland right now.

She scoffs. I would never. A beat. But if I were, it wouldn’t be weird. Or Hallmark-y. And, honestly, you could use a little romance—

Nope. Hanging up now.

Ren Matthews, don’t you dare—

I love you. Bye

Click.

I drop my phone onto the passenger seat, exhaling.

Bodhi Tanner.

I’ve heard the name before. Small-town gossip travels fast, even when you’re miles away. Supposedly, he’s the most wonderful person (my mom’s words, not mine) who moved to Port Haven two years ago. According to my mom, everyone loves him. She’s described him as; reliable, strong, emotionally available and a real catch.

Good for him.

I have exactly zero interest in meeting him. Or anyone, really.

Instead I map out my grand plan for the rest of the evening.

Step one of my plan: Drink an entire bottle of red wine.

Step two: Read the filthiest romance novel I can find.

Step three: Absolutely, under no circumstances, think about my failed relationship, my missing book draft, or the Good Samaritan my mom is determined to set me up with.

Piece of cake.

I pull up to the apartment I’m renting, a small studio right off Main Street. The building itself is old, with weather-worn wood siding and a narrow staircase leading up to my door. But the real selling point? The view.

Also, the price. Mr. Hayes gave me a solid deal on a month-to-month lease since it’s the off-season—probably because I used to be his number one customer at the bookstore downstairs. I spent half my teenage years curled up in the reading nook, devouring every romance novel I could get my hands on while he slipped me free bookmarks and extra store credit.

Beyond the rooftops and winding streets of Port Haven, the Sound stretches out, vast and endless, shifting shades of blue and gray beneath the overcast sky. Seagulls wheel above the water, their cries sharp and distant, and a salty breeze sneaks through the slightly cracked window of my car.

It’s peaceful. Almost too peaceful.

I cut the engine and step out, stretching my legs before grabbing my bags from the passenger seat. As I make my way up the narrow staircase, I glance to the side, noticing another door right next to mine. The curtains are drawn, the unit dark and silent.

Vacant, maybe? Hopefully.

The last thing I need is a nosy neighbor while I’m in full hermit mode.

At the top of the stairs, I shift my bags to one arm and fumble with the key. The door sticks for a second, the old wood swollen from years of Pacific Northwest dampness. I shove harder, and it finally gives, swinging open to reveal my tiny home for the foreseeable future.

Inside, the studio is quaint. A little too rustic for my usual taste, but it’s got charm. Exposed brick walls, creaky hardwood floors, and a massive window that looks right out onto the Sound. The kitchenette is small but functional, with a vintage stove that I’ll probably never use, and the bed is tucked into a cozy nook near the window. It smells like lemon-scented cleaner and fresh paint, like someone actually tried to make it nice for me.

It should feel like a fresh start. A blank slate.

Instead, a tight, uncomfortable pressure builds in my chest.

Panic.

No. Nope. Not happening.

I grab my phone, flick through my playlist, and blast the most upbeat pop song I can find. Anything to fill the silence. Then, I march to the kitchen and pour myself the biggest glass of wine humanly possible. Priorities.

The microwave hums as I toss in a bag of popcorn, the artificial buttery scent filling the air. The tightness in my chest starts to ease. This is fine. This is good. I just need to—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

I jump, nearly sloshing wine all over myself. The hell?

Frowning, I march to the door, yank it open, and—

Oh.

Standing in front of me is possibly the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in real life. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Tan skin, dark tousled hair, and a sharp jawline.

He’s wearing a plain white shirt and jeans, and of course, because the universe hates me, both fit him annoyingly well.

His green eyes flick down, eyeing the wine glass in my hand and suddenly, I am very aware of how much of a mess I look.

My outfit? Screaming reclusive goblin woman.

My hair? A disaster.

My face? Bare.

But just as fast as the embarrassment comes, it’s replaced by something else.

Annoyance.

Because this Adonis in a leather jacket isn’t looking at me with appreciation. No, he looks beyond irritated.

Can I help you? I ask, crossing my arms.

He jerks his chin toward the open doorway. You mind turning the music down?

I blink. Excuse me?

It’s loud.

I glance back into my apartment, where Taylor Swift is belting her heart out. Okay, maybe I got a little carried away with the volume knob, but still.

Oh. Sorry, Dad, I didn’t realize there was a curfew.

His jaw ticks and he sighs, shifting his weight. Look, I get it. New in town, settling in. Just keep the volume reasonable, alright?

I tilt my head. What are you gonna do if I don’t? Call the police?

A pause. His lips press together like he’s debating something. Then, in the driest, most unimpressed voice ever, he says, I am the police.

I freeze.

Oh. Shit.

I just want one quiet night to myself.

One night to sit on my couch, drink a beer and zone out. Forget about work.

But after the last few weeks, it feels like that’s asking too much.

I’ve been working double shifts at the precinct, going over endless paperwork, and still have made zero progress on my cases. Two missing hikers in three months. That’s not just bad luck, it’s a damn problem. I can’t shake the feeling I’m missing something. Something I should’ve caught by now. But all my leads have just led to dead ends so far. 

And if that’s not enough, there are rumors floating around town that a wolf is responsible for the disappearances. It’s not exactly the most reassuring thing for a wolf shifter like myself.

What I don’t need is people spooked by the idea of a wild animal roaming around making it harder to keep my own nature under wraps. Last thing I need is for some idiot to spot me and