Hope Glassy and Godfrey Meyers are on a mercy mission. Their friend Isabelle has been attacked by a rogue werewolf and is in the throes of lycanthropic fever. With their respective partners out of town all Hope and Godfrey can do is get Isabelle to the safety of Little Dip and the Garoul clan before her sire comes to claim her. In a desperate race against time, with the hounds of hell snapping at their heels, can they save herand does Isabelle want to be saved?
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Third in the Garoul Series. The thing with the Garouls is you never get quite what you think you will. They really are something else. Hope Glassy loves her job at Ambereye, Inc. Jolie is a moody workaholic. She is awkward, contrary, and on occasion just plain mean. Hope is hardworking, popular, and in recovery from a serious illness. She doesn't need a bizarre boss. She doesn't need office politics. And she doesn't need to work over Thanksgiving either.
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- Silver Collar (Garoul, book 4) by Gill McKnight.
Nevertheless, that's what she and Jolie end up doing in Little Dip, home of the Garoul clan. An important meeting brings them to the valley where it's assumed Jolie has brought her chosen mate to meet her pack. Much to her consternation Jolie finds she likes this idea, but Hope has no time for romance. She is eager to get her life, health, and career back on track, nothing more. Jolie is determined to change her mind, but how does a lycanthrope woo a human? A small and super-efficient, bossy boots human at that?
When Amy Fortune returns to her childhood home, she discovers something sinister in the air—but is former lover Leone Garoul stalking her or protecting her? Amy Fortune and Leone Garoul were teenage lovers. Now, years later, Amy returns to Little Dip, the Garoul home valley, to help her aunt finish a botanical project. Except Little Dip is no longer the happy place of Amy's childhood memories. There's something sinister in the woods.
And why hasn't Leone moved on? Why does she still dog Amy's every move? As more and more of the Garoul family arrive for a special hunting weekend, parts of the puzzle come together and Amy's fears escalate as she moves closer to the truth—and the secret that has eluded her since childhood. Fated love? A destiny in the stars? Together for all eternity? It doesn't work like that. At least not without a lot of blood, sweat, and tears behind the scenes where the Soul Selector spins her magical trickery.
It is her job is to identify soul mates as they enter this world and somehow get them to fall in love. Aphrodite and all the other gods need this purest love of all.
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They feed on it. But soul mates are notoriously difficult to work with, and the Soul Selector has just found a particularly stupid pair. Till Death Us Do Part Clara Dearheart works in a funeral parlor and talks to her clients. Her friends and family have watched her suffer after the loss of her partner and urge her to move on, but all Clara wants is to stand still.
Bebe Franklin writes terrible soap episodes and needs a career change. I am not a huge fan of the covers for this series. The font used for the title reminds of horror or vampire lore, more than the witty supernatural romance that this is. Not only should you read this book but you should read the entire series.
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Luc rose to her full height of almost eight feet and sniffed the damp air. It was full of possibilities. All she needed was luck…and some easy careless, half-dead prey. She padded through the undergrowth on her huge clawed feet, crushing everything in her path. Trees swayed and blurred before her. Her ears rang dully, and sweat prickled uncomfortably under her fur. Her tongue lolled from her muzzle, and she used it to wipe her snout clean.
Then the scent came again, fresher, stronger. She staggered on, lengthening her pace, eager now. A small clearing opened up, and there it was, a skinned rabbit, slick and pink in the fine misty rain.
Silver Collar by Gill McKnight: Book Review
It hung from a wire from a cottonwood limb. Her mind snapped around the word. She raised her snout to the air. It was useless; she could barely smell the raw flesh, never mind any nearby human. She circled the clearing with leaden feet. She used to be so fast, so clever. She used to be dangerous. Now she was nothing more than a lump of granite thumping through the forest, waiting for the inevitable. She hunkered down and thought about the rabbit.
Her careful examination detected no booby traps or ambush. The immediate area was clear.
So the bait itself had to be poisoned, and that confused her. That was not the Garoul way. She shuffled closer, always alert.
Nothing happened. Inches from the rabbit, she gave a cautious sniff. No poison that she could smell, but could she trust her blunted senses? Even small game managed to elude her in this weakened state. She sniffed again. Rainwater moistened the flesh. She licked it clean using the flat of her tongue.
A low growl reverberated in her throat and she lunged.
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