It has been said that Bailey Bryant lives with her middle finger up in the air. She can agree with that. But there's one thing she fails to be breezy about: her unrelenting attraction to fellow enforcer Deke Hammond. Broad, inked, and ruggedly masculine, the grumpy cat shifter could attract a stone. He's also currently riddled with touch-hunger and much crankier than usual. So she should probably stop poking at him for fun—he already despises her. Or so she thinks . . . until one of their disputes leads to an explosive kiss and an exchange of truths. That lip-lock creates a major issue—she now wants more. And there seems only one thing for it: She'll have to kiss him again.
Deke is a man of logic. He doesn't like what he doesn't understand. And he cannot explain why Bailey compels him like no one else. Constantly teasing and provoking him, the snake shifter drives him nuts. She takes nothing seriously—him included. Yet, he's often come close to ravishing her mouth. When touch-hunger comes calling, he loses the strength and will to fight his attraction to her. The more time he spends with Bailey, the more he realizes he's made many incorrect assumptions about her. There's much he doesn't know. Much to admire and respect. Much he truly likes. And there seems only one thing for it: He'll have to just keep her.
Contains mature themes.
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Suzanne Wright can’t remember a time when she wasn’t creating characters and telling their tales. Even as a child, she loved writing poems, plays, and stories. As an adult, Wright has published Here Be Sexist Vampires, The Bite That Binds, Taste of Torment, From Rags, Consumed, and the first three books of the Phoenix Pack series. Her only rule in writing a book is that it has to have a happy ending. Wright was born and raised in England and now lives in Liverpool with her husband and two children.
Samantha Cook is a bookaholic obsessed with novels about strong, sexy, smart women. Audiobook narrating was as natural a choice as breathing. When not recording in her LA studio, she can be found wandering the museums of Paris, imagining herself as a Degas dancer, Chateaubriand’s Atala, Canova’s Psyche, David’s Josephine, or Venus (preferably with arms intact).