Authors: Sasha Livingston
Tags: #werewolf romance, #bbw werewolf, #bbw paranormal werewolf, #paranormal romance, #Romance BBW, #erotica werewolf, #werewolf erotica, #werewolf bbw, #bbw billionaire, #alpha male erotica, #alpha werewolf
Howling at the Moon : Complete Series
(A Werewolf/ BBW Romance)
By Sasha Livingston
Published By Sasha Livingston
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author Sasha Livingston.
For a single notification upon a new release, sign up for the
Also by Sasha Livingston
Drunk In Love
Drunk In Love: The Complete Series
Drunk In Love: Part 1
Drunk In Love: Part 2
Drunk In Love: Part 3
Drunk In Love: Part 4
Howling at the Moon
Howling at the Moon: Part 1
Howling at the Moon: Part 2
Howling at the Moon: Part 3
Howling at the Moon: Part 4
Mile High Series
Mile High Affair: Part 1
Mile High Seduction: Part 2
Mile High Menage: Part 3
Mile High Climax: Part 4
Voluptuous: Part 1
Voluptuous: Part 2
Voluptuous: Part 3
Voluptuous: Part 4
Voluptuous: Part 5
The Billionaire Series
How to Meet a Billionaire
How to Date a Billionaire
How to Keep a Billionaire
How to Marry a Billionaire
Voluptuous: The Complete Series
Mile High Complete Series
The Complete Billionaire Series
Howling at the Moon: The Complete Series
ecky was dying. Her death rattle rumbled through her tail pipe and the smoke from her hood signaled her final goodbyes. I sang along to the old country song on the radio, hoping this wasn’t her final song.
“You got to know when to hold 'em... Know when to fold ’em...” I sang the words at the top of my lungs, filling Becky with my lackluster voice. She and I were headed to the middle of nowhere, and I thought a song might help her get us there. Ironically, I was living the words of the song today. I had folded my cards on a whim and decided to run away from my old life. I just hoped I was making the right decision.
“C’mon, Becky old girl. You can do it.” I rubbed the steering wheel and continued to sing to her. We were close to our destination, about thirty miles out, and I couldn’t have her dying on me now.
My mind drifted to the cost of fixing the old girl if she did go kaput on the side of the highway. Whatever the price, it wasn’t in my tight, jobless budget anymore and I needed to conserve every penny. Dammit, every time I thought about my lack of money a cloud of depression seemed to appear.
Ever since I was sixteen, I had always worked or had some type of job. From shelving books at the library when I was in middle school to waiting tables in high school, I always had to depend on myself. When I lost my job last week, it was like my heart stopped. It was a layoff, not like getting fired, but it felt the same to me. I was sent away from my office with a box of my belongings and a severance check. The only problem was that I wasn’t good at dealing with rejection.
Now I was acting on impulse, leaving my whole life behind to live in some town that had a population smaller than my high school.
My car that was now sputtering and seizing down the highway was packed with all my earthly belongings. With my severance in hand, I decided to take a year and find myself. I’d conserve my money by living in a small hick town and maybe write the novel I had put off writing for years.
It was an easy decision since no one cared about me in the city anyway. All I had there was bad luck. Leaving was an easy decision.
Hillston was the first town on the map that caught my eye; an old vacation town that my grandmother had taken me to when I was a teenager. A few calls and I found a perfect house for a fraction of what I paid for my apartment. At this rate, I could live for at least a year without having to work.
Everything looked fine until Becky’s temperature gauge slowly spiked into the red. The plumes of smoke she coughed up from under her hood were so bad I was forced to pull over. Beating on the steering wheel and rubbing the dashboard were not sufficient coaxing methods anymore. Becky needed help, and just my luck, I was nowhere near being a mechanic.
I opened the hood and peered inside as if I knew how to fix her. Water was shooting through some hose and green goo was oozing from the radiator. I’d fed Becky some water and coolant at every gas stop but it must not have been enough.
I should have known better. Becky was thirty years old and was more like an heirloom than a means of transportation. She had belonged to my mother, and her mother before that. Still, after all these years, I didn’t have the guts to get rid of Becky. She had to be my companion on this trip, but this excursion was killing her.
I looked down the road. Nothing but hills and trees. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw a house, gas station, or a rest stop. There was no one to call. Everyone I knew was a thousand miles away.
You gotta know when to walk, know when to run.
The lyrics played in my head as I looked around. There was nothing left for me to do but walk down the highway for help.
I took inventory of my personal belongings. My purse, cell phone, and laptop needed to come with me. I didn’t want to leave those things just sitting in the car for some looter. Grabbing my purse and stuffing my valuables inside, I was about to put one foot in front of the other toward my new town when I heard it.
The rumbling of an old engine and the smell of exhaust made me turn around. Sure enough, a truck was headed my way. My initial glee was followed by the memories of a warning from my grandmother years ago when I went on one of these missions to find myself.
“Don’t get kidnapped out there by some sex-crazed farmer!”
I had always laughed at her suggestion that a sex-crazed maniac farmer would want a curvy girl like me. My thighs would only remind him of one of his cows.
Actually, meeting some strong farmer with a high libido would have piqued my interest. I fanned myself, watching the truck as it eased down the road toward me. Looking over myself in Becky’s side mirror, I thanked God my hair didn’t look like a crow’s nest. Today, my long braided mane was kept in check. I smoothed my dress and wiped my face, hoping I didn’t look too bad after being confined in an old car all day.
Grandma was still right to caution me. Keys in hand, I gripped the knife that I kept on my key ring. If this person was going to hurt me, they would have to take me kicking and screaming.
The black 4WD truck pulled over behind my car. It was a man, alone, and I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or relieved. I put on my poker face, looking calm but not mean as I waited for him. Just in case he liked curves, I turned away and pushed my girls up to attention. I didn’t want him to think I was a ditz he could throw in his truck and carve up for dinner, but there was nothing wrong with using my womanly attributes to encourage a little favor.
He emerged from the truck wearing a pair of sunglasses, a baseball cap, and a dark shirt with jeans. He reeked of a working man, and speckles of dried white paint were ingrained into his clothes. His boots were scratched and worn, and as my gaze traveled back up his body, it led me to his brute forearms and big, tough hands. This man was a farmer or worker of some sort all right, but I didn’t know they made them this handsome.
“Your name wouldn’t be Jaime, would it?”
Now how would he know that? I clutched my small knife tighter in my hand.
“Your car fits the description you gave on your application. I’m Warren,” he said, smiling and taking off his sunglasses.
“Oh yes. Nice to meet you.” I was staring at my new landlord. He removed his hat, revealing jet black hair. He stepped closer and put his hand out to shake mine, but I found myself lost in his eyes; hazel brown with rims stitched in gold.
“Glad I saw you out here. You having some car trouble?”
I couldn’t speak. My brain was fogged up by the hot sexual energy he exuded with every gesture. How the hell did they breed such sexy men out here in the sticks?
“Um, yeah. Becky is giving me problems. She’s pretty old.” I looked away, trying to hide my flushed red cheeks. I’d imagined my landlord would be some fat aging man with overalls and a social security check. His deep, tenor voice had fooled me over the phone, and I didn’t expect this young, muscular Adonis that stood in front of me.
“Well, it doesn’t help that you have so many boxes in there. Probably put too much on the transmission.”
He brushed past me, walking toward the hood. He tinkered with some things, pushing stuff aside with his bare hands while all I could do was watch him work. He even bent under the car in search of something, which gave me time to stare at his perfect ass.
“Looks like a busted hose. I can tape it up. That’ll get you into town where I can take a better look later.”
He didn’t give me much of a choice in the matter. As soon as he said it, he was jogging back to his truck and rummaging around in the flatbed.
He came back with a jug of water, some duct tape, and a small tool box. Then he went right to work. I watched in amazement as he moved around the overheated car like he knew it better than I did. He peeled off his shirt, revealing a white tank top and an explosion of muscles. I was overcome with heat, fanning myself as he laid his shirt down on the ground to get under the car.
A sentence finally escaped my mouth a few minutes after he disappeared under the front of the car. “It’s not too bad, is it?”
“Nope, I’m done.” He scooted back from under the car, a few specks of black soot on his arms making him look even more rugged and sexy. Pouring the jug of water down the radiator spout, he motioned for me to start her up.
Sure enough, Becky rumbled awake with her temperature gauge now out of the danger zone.
“Good girl.” I rubbed the steering wheel as if she could hear and feel my affection.
Warren slammed the hood shut and then sauntered over to me at the driver’s window.
“When you get settled, I can take another look,” he said, putting his hand on my arm as he leaned on the door. “Follow me. I’ll take you right to the house.”
He flashed a smile, then walked away with his tool box in hand and his shirt slung limply over his shoulder. I didn’t find my voice to say “thank you” until he was almost at his truck. He winked at me, hefted himself into the cab, and then pulled out in front of Becky, leading the way.
His wink made me blush. I used my stack of directions as a fan with one hand and steered with the other. I couldn’t keep letting this man affect me like this.
“He’s your landlord, Jaime—not a boy toy or fuck buddy,” I told myself loud enough for Becky to hear as I followed Warren down the highway. As good as he looked, I would have followed him to the ends of the earth.
he pictures I’d seen of the house did it no justice. It was a beautiful cottage with a garden filled with various flowers spouting along the front of the house and what looked to be a white gazebo out back. I loved the house from the moment Warren and I pulled up and could easily see myself living there for the next year, although I was so desperate to leave the city that I would have just as gladly slept in a vacant house on a floor with rats scurrying around.
I felt the first fluttering wing beats of anxious butterflies in my stomach as I pulled into the driveway. I got nervous as I pulled into the driveway. How was I supposed to talk to Warren when he looked as handsome as he did? Being around him made me nervous and I somehow lost my ability to speak when he was close to me. Moving to this town was supposed to eliminate the distractions in my life. But if I had to see this gorgeous display of testosterone every day, then I might not do so well here after all.
Don’t fuck your landlord.
My conscience was in overdrive as I watched Warren exit his truck. He probably didn’t like curvy girls anyway, so I wouldn’t have much to worry about.