Unnatural: Enter Chapter 2


Howdy, folks. Today I’m sharing the final Unnatural Excerpt with you, to the end of chapter 2, before it releases in 34 days!

In case you missed the first ones, you can catch up HERE & HERE, and HERE!

And if you’ve already read those, then scroll down for the last bite of chapter 2.


As Brook watched from the guest chair, her father stalked his study from one wall to the other, his eyes focused straight ahead as though she’d infuriated him too much to even look at her. Although considered quite short in the shifter world, Donald Nicholls’ solid breadth gave him an imposing presence, which made him appear so much taller than his five-eleven height.

To Brook, at her five-foot-five, anyway.

“You are being unreasonable, Brook.” He halted, and his amber stare—common amongst feline shifters—glowed golden as he turned it on his daughter. “Must I make my requests into orders before you will comply?”

Brook fidgeted in her seat. “I don’t believe I’ve been unreasonable. You asked me to be polite, and I have.”

“No. I said you owed it to yourself to get along with Clive. That it would be easier if you accepted your future—which you cannot do without first learning to at least answer him with words instead of the glares and tantrums you seem so insistent on sharing.”

And what then? she wanted to ask. Who would he expect her to cosy up to next?

He sighed and paced to the window, shoulders high with tension. “You promised me you would try, Brook.”

“That was before I realised life exists beyond these four walls,” she said before she could stop herself, “and whatever four walls you choose to deposit me in for the rest of my life.”

Donald whirled, his growl deep as his fists clenched. “How dare you disrespect me in that tone, young lady!”

Brook stiffened her spine in a refusal to cringe. “I mean you no disrespect, Father. But I am an adult and—”

“An adult with responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities to whom?”

“To the Coalition.” His finger shot from his fisted hand and poked at the air.

“Maybe I do not wish for this role into which I am being forced.”

Donald roared, the sound vibrating the frames of the pictures hung about the paisley décor’d walls.

That time, she did cringe, her shoulders hunching over until she had no choice but to peer up at him through her draping hair.

“It is not entrapment, Brook,” he said, his voice a gravelly tenor. “It is your birthright. And you will honour the Nicholls name.”

“But, Daddy—”

“This discussion is over. Go to your room. And when Clive or Stefan—or anyone else for that matter—calls to show an interest, you will be polite. I shall not have you bring embarrassment upon my corner of the Coalition. Do you understand me, young lady?”

A singular tear broke past her lower lid—one of frustration for her inability to fight against the cause her father seemed so bent on adhering to.

“Brook?” Donald asked, his tone stern.

“Yes, Father,” she whispered. “I understand.”

“Good girl.” He crossed the room, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her forehead with such tenderness the past ten minutes might never have happened—except Brook knew they had. “You may go.”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to utter any thanks, instead dipping her face in acknowledgement of what he would consider to be his generosity. The instant he stepped back, she pushed up from the chair, taking great care to measure her steps so as not to run from the room. Her fingers shook as she reached for the handle and swung the door inward.

“Oh, and, Brook?”

She closed her eyes for a split second before she opened them and turned back to him.

“If you lock yourself in the guesthouse again when you have visitors, I shall ground you.”

Aaarrgh! She spun and raced from the room before the scream could be vocalised. What sort of twenty-four year old woman ended up grounded by her parents?

Clive straightened from where he leaned against the hall wall like he’d been waiting for her. “Brook?”

Heedless of her father’s demand spoken only moments before, she shoved past him, rounded the banister, and raced up the stairs.

“Go after her,” her father said from below. “She’ll be nice.”

Like hell. Swinging around the top banister took her to the first door tucked into the left hand corner of the landing. Beyond that, her bedroom. She barged in, slammed the door, and tossed herself down on a bed that resembled a giant doily.

Footsteps ascended the stairs.

She pressed her face into the white lace bedspread. Folds of the fabric gathered within her fisting hands as she forced back the shift poking at the edges of her mind. No doubt, her inner animal sensed her distress and wanted escape. Brook had never been so trapped within her own life. Not even when she had been kidnapped and caged a few months before.

A double knock sounded through her door.

Go away! she wanted to scream, but knowing her father would be listening in, likely stood at the bottom of the stairs awaiting proof of her compliance, she lifted her face from the bedding and forced out a sweetly spoken, “Come in.”

The handled twisted and the door opened.

She smelled Clive before he even entered the room. “Please shut the door behind you.”

The click told her he had.

With her face still close enough to the bed to suck up dust-mites, she flopped her arm out to the side and extended a finger toward her vanity dresser. “Please, have a seat.”

When the mattress depressed beside her, her head shot up.

Looking far too at-home with his back against her headboard, Clive gave a smile of satisfaction as he swung his legs up onto her bed.

Brook pushed to her knees, shoving at his feet. “Shoes off my bed.”

“Feel free to remove them for me.” He reached out and twined his fingers in the ends of her hair trailing on the mattress. “Maybe if you prove you can be amicable, I could convince Don a long-term mating might be a better option for you.”

“Ha!” She knocked his hand aside. “In other words, kiss your behind and you will put in a good word?”

“Would it kill you to try and get along?”

Kicking back, she landed on her rear and crossed her legs, the stubborn set of her jaw all but giving her answer.

“You’ve gotta realise I’m a better option than Andrew … or Chris … or Ray …” He ducked toward her a little as he ran through some of the other male Coalition members. “Please tell me I’m a better choice than Stefan.”

“Every choice offered to me stinks of petty politics I want no part of.”

Pain flittered across his features like a passing shadow. “What happened between us that you started hating me so much?”

She had known Clive for a lifetime. Since the day she had left her mother’s womb. “I do not hate you.”

“You think you’re the only one backed into a corner here?”

She knew she wasn’t. Clive probably had as many bruises from the manipulative nudges as she did. “But I am not the only female in the Coalition, Clive.” For decades, though, the male shifter population had outweighed the females by at least seven to one.

“I know that.” His golden gaze settled on hers, something akin to yearning glossing the orbs. “But you’re the only one I’m interested in.”

Brook didn’t need to ask him for what. The males in the Coalition chased the females for one reason only: the creation of successors.

“Well, maybe I …”

He toyed with her hair once more until it curled around his forefinger, his warm gaze lifting to hers. “Maybe what, Brook?”

Maybe I want more, her mind said, though she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words that would hurt him. She sighed. “Maybe I do not want to speak about this anymore.”


😀 😀 😀

I hope you guys have enjoyed reading along on your early peeks at Unnatural. Remember, you’ll all be able to grab your own copies come April 7th (mark your calendars!!!!), and in the meantime, I’d loveyalongtime if you add UNNATURAL to your Goodreads.

Cheers for stopping by; cheers for reading.

Unnatural: Enter Chapter 2


You’ve seen the first chapter, now it’s time for the beginning of chapter 2.

In case you missed the first one, you can catch up HERE & HERE!

And if you’ve already read those, then scroll down for your next installment.


Brook smelled Clive as she descended the stairs. Past experience warned her he would be around the corner, standing propped against the other side of the wall, awaiting her covert antics that never happened, just so he could hop out and pretend to catch her doing nothing.

Sinking to the second step, she swept her still-wet hair over her shoulder and pressed her forehead to the divider. Her chest rose high with a sigh as she prepared to irk his less-than-clever mind once more. “I thought you would be gone,” she said.

“You don’t seem to understand, Brook. I’m not going anywhere.”

Beneath an impressive eye roll, Brook’s teeth ground out her frustration—though, did she have the right to blame a male whose life was as out of his control as hers had become? “You say that as though you do not have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice, Brook.” A quiet pause followed before he said, “They just don’t always like their options.”

She couldn’t dispute his words. Brook had been given a choice—one of which her father approved.

Clive or Stefan.

Stefan’s murmured threats—ones he only shared when no one but Brook could hear—had lost him her vote. At constant rebukes and her refusal to acknowledge Stefan, Clive had assumed himself the winner.

Of Brook.

“Besides,” Clive said, “I made my choice a long time ago.” A quiet scrape travelled down the other side of the wall. “I Chose you.”

“I was never an option.”

He gave a low growl. “Your father says otherwise.”

“My father does not own me.”

He chuckled. “Your father believes otherwise.”

“He has no right to dictate my life.”

“That I’m standing here at his order tells me otherwise, Brook.”

Her teeth ground again as she realised he had been sent to summon her. “What does he want?”

“He wants to see you.”

“You make that sound like an amicable request. Why don’t you quit with the falsities and simply tell me I have been ordered to his office?”

“Dammit. You’re difficult on purpose, I swear. Get yourself to the house ‘cause your dad wants to see you—now!” His feet stomped on his way to the door.


At five-fifteen, I rolled off the road that ran through Derbyshire’s Wild Woodington and pulled up onto the otherwise empty driveway outside home.

Dad, Josh and Danny would still be at the new site with the Holloway’s—the other family in our pack. I knew going straight home would get my ear chewed again, especially once Nathan caught up with me. As pack Alpha and top partner in the construction business owned by the pack, he pretty much ruled us with a firm hand.

Again, though, I’d had no choice.

No way could I have turned back up to work stinking of sex. Not when the pack had already met Brook, thanks to an incident that drew us together like a freight train collision—and not when they all knew her scent and would recognise right away who my frolicking had been with.

None of them would understand. Not in a gazillion years. I didn’t get to choose who I fell for, though. My inner wolf seemed to have taken that decision out of my hands.

With a groan, I climbed from the truck and let myself into the house. In the kitchen, I tugged my clothes off, bunging them straight in the washer, and set the details I’d grabbed for Nathan on the table. On my trek upstairs to the bathroom, I flicked on lights to brighten the dimness, like that could chase off the shadows walking away from Brook had left with me.

Water smacked the cubicle glass with a spin of the shower dial, and pummelled me once I’d stepped inside. I jerked forward with a wince when it lanced my lower back, and as my fingers grazed four parallel scores across my lumbar, the sizzling memory of the infliction blasted me in a wave of heat.

Shaking it off, I reached for the sponge and shower gel to set about de-Brooking myself—though it would take more than a shower to shift her from my mind. Damn feline had entered my life by happenstance and gotten wedged into a corner of my soul that wouldn’t let her go.

The corner probably held shackles.

Ones that had slipped around Brook’s wrists and denied escape.

My body hardened at the image of a very detained Brook, confirming the obsession I seemed to be harvesting. “Not helping matters,” I muttered, my forehead pressed to the glass like the contact could ward off the sudden overheating of my flesh. To aid the cool-down along, I reached behind and knocked the temperature dial to the left, gritting my teeth when the initial shock of cold smacked me. Releasing a long blown-out breath, I stepped back beneath the chill spray, and began the torturous task of losing the scent I’d have been happy to drown in.

Fifteen minutes later, I stepped from the shower smelling only of me and subtle musk, and snatched up a towel from the permanent pile on the hamper. My reflection rebounded off the window overlooking the back garden and surrounding forest, and I made a quick scan for damage that couldn’t be hidden as I rubbed myself down. Finding none, I secured the towel around my waist and padded from the room to go in search of sustenance.

I hadn’t even descended the stairs halfway when the hairs bristled along my nape. I froze. Inhaled.


Where the hell had my head been in the shower? Not that the question warranted an answer, but at some point, Dad and my brothers had returned home.

They’d also brought Nathan with them.

Tipping my face toward the ceiling, I released a slow exhale before jogging down the rest of the steps and rounding the banister toward the kitchen.

Propped against the cabinets, arms the size of tree trunks folded over his chest, Nathan stared my way, eyes icy blue beneath his dark hair.

I leaned against the doorjamb and nodded to him before the weight of being studied drew my attention left, to the rest of the inquisition in the form of Dad, Danny and Josh at the kitchen table.

Three sets of green eyes peered back at me from amidst two heads of blond scraggy curls and one ginger mop I’d inherited. Despite the couple of year’s age difference, my younger brothers could have been pegged as twins to any who didn’t know them. The humour-dominated curiosity in their eyes held far more appeal than the questions in Dad’s.

I turned back to Nathan. “’Sup?”

“Do you all mind if I speak with Kyle alone?” Nathan’s gaze remained on me as he made the request.

No argument. Chairs scraped back.

I stepped aside to allow my three family members past, my lips curving as Josh, the youngest of us, bumped my shoulder with his own on his way out the room.

“Close the door, and sit down,” Nathan said the second they’d gone.

I spun and reached for the handle.

“You’re injured,” Nathan said.

My shoulders stiffened as I realised I’d turned my back to him. Shit! “It’s nothing,” I muttered, ignoring Josh’s raised brows, where he loitered near the living room entrance.

“How did it happen?” Nathan asked.

Peering at him over my shoulder, I smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” With all the false bravado I could summon, I closed the door on my nosy brother and sauntered across to take my seat at the table.

Nate didn’t join me—at the table, or in my attempted humour. I’d have accused anyone else of trying to assert their superiority. Nathan didn’t need the added height for that—he had it in spades even in his sleep.

Only the slight tilt of his head told me he tracked my movements. “You have something on your mind you want to talk to me about, Kyle?”

Shaking my head, I leaned back into my chair. “Nope.”

“How about where you’ve been today.”

I stared at him. If in doubt of how to answer, stay mute.

“What about the other times you’ve headed out—voluntarily, I add—for job related trips and gone incommunicado?”

Did England recognise the Fifth Amendment? Did werewolves?

“Your dad tells me you’ve snuck out a few times of a night over the past couple of months, too.” His sharp attention could have drilled a rig into the ocean.

I shrugged. Better than lying. I had met up with Brook of a night. Five times, if memory served. One of those nights had ended with us both falling asleep in a Cheshire park and being woken by a disgruntled badger. I smiled at the replay in my head—even more so at what occurred before we’d gone for a run.

“Do you find this funny, Kyle?”

Sobering fast beneath Nathan’s glower, I shook my head.

He sighed before unfolding his arms and stepping across to the chair opposite mine. His gaze never once left me, and only intensified as he sat down and leaned forward over the table. “I know you had a difficult time with what happened last autumn …”

Difficult? That was one word for being kidnapped by vampires who forced supernaturals to cage-fight against one another. My opponent had been a vampire who’d bitten me into what should have been an early grave.

“… I also know we’re still not too sure of how being bitten has affected you …”

Yeah. I hadn’t quite figured that one out myself, either. Though, my head felt pretty fucked some days. Or confused. Probably both.

“… not to mention, Catherine is still on the loose somewhere …”

His reference to the only vampire who we knew for certain held responsibility and had escaped punishment—translated: death—had my eye twitching.

“… and all this sneaking around. I’ve got to be honest with you, Kyle. It has me worried.”

I frowned as it dawned on me. “I’m not a vampire, Nate.”

“Yes, but—”

“I have no vampire tendencies. No urge to chow on people’s blood.” Just a shitload of other stuff I’d been noticing and trying to interpret since the whole fricking shoddy affair.

Just as I’d noticed how Ethan and I seemed to be on the hotlist of ‘pack members to keep an eye on’ since we’d gotten home. Because he, too, got questioned every time he left the house. All because he’d been quieter than usual for a few weeks.

What the hell did they expect? Didn’t they get that some stuff took longer to bounce back from?

“I’m not a vampire,” I mumbled when Nathan continued to stare at me. “I can swear that on my mother’s grave.” A low blow; I almost cringed as I said it, but it was a vow I knew would never be questioned.

Nathan’s barely-there frown lined his forehead for a split-second before he gave a slow nod. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Good.” I pushed back from the table.

“I’m not done,” he said, halting my escape.

My eyebrow arched up as he extended the silence—seemed to be a favoured tactic of his. Stare us down with that steely glare until we cracked and promised him our souls on a platter if he’d only spare us. I clamped my lips shut. I suspected he wanted me to ask what else he had on his mind, but in all honesty, I didn’t want to know.

After almost two full minutes of optical penetration, however, I couldn’t take any more and ended up compromising by drawing my chair back beneath the table and sitting up straight like he had my full attention.

“We still don’t have any answers from you with regards to your disappearances,” Nate said after a few beats.

I scratched my head, which didn’t itch, to give me an excuse to avert my eyes and to grasp a moment to think up a plausible reason for my behaviour. In truth, I should have been better prepared. Should have known I’d only get away with crap for so long before the roasting arrived.

“Is it a female?” Nathan asked.

As my face lifted, the heat claiming my cheeks could have singed my lower lashes. Damn having ginger hair.

“Is it the same one each time?”

Attack! Attack! my mind screamed. I leaned back into my seat again, clasped my fiddling fingers on the tabletop in front of me. “Nate, I’m thirty-five years old. Do I seriously have to have this conversation with you?”

“Do I need to remind you of pack rules regarding females?”

I didn’t miss a beat. “No bringing them home without permission …” Although the surrounding forest separated our home from the Holloway’s, both were considered pack property, both subject to pack rules. “No long term relationships without approval.” I smirked. “But we can bonk as many ladies as we like so long as we’re cautious and don’t leave a stream of pups in our wake.”

“You have a smart mouth on you today, Kyle.” Despite the quietness of his tone, his lips twitched a little.

“Spending too many years hanging around Ethan will do that to a male.” Ethan just happened to be his eldest son as well as my best friend.

Thankfully, Nate chuckled and pushed to his feet. “I’d better be getting back before I get into trouble with Beth for being late to dinner.”

I tamped down the huge sigh of relief I wanted to draw when he headed for the back door.

“Tell your Dad I’ll speak to him tomorrow. And, Kyle?” He paused with his fingers folded around the handle, half-turned back toward me. “I’ll be watching you.”

The door swung in; he stepped out. The second it closed at his rear, my held breath gushed past my lips.


😀 😀 😀

I hope you guys enjoyed your peek. Remember to call back on March 5th for the completion of chapter 2.

In the meantime, remember to add UNNATURAL to your Goodreads.

Cheers for stopping by; cheers for reading.

Time for a little Kyle: Unnatural Excerpt #2


In December I shared the opening scene of UNNATURAL with you guys. This month, you get to see the rest of the first chapter of my soon to be released Holloway Pack tale.

In case you missed the first one, you can catch up HERE!

And if you’ve already read that one and just want me to shut up, then scroll down for your next installment.


I chuckled to myself as I mounted the wall surrounding the Cheshire property belonging to Brook’s father. One of the Toms had almost caught me as I’d hit the ground beneath the guesthouse window. I’d scarcely ducked around the corner in time—though, the crash of the door opening almost had me leaping back in there to teach that inconsiderate bastard a lesson. Instead, after pausing long enough to check Brook could hold her own, I’d raced for the perimeter.

A left scan showed the exterior to be clear and a peer to the right assured me my Mitsubishi waited exactly where I’d left it farther up the road.

Shirt and boots still clutched in my hand, I broke into a jog toward the pickup.

Before I’d taken more than a handful of steps, Kings of Leon’s Closer sounded out—from my mobile where I’d left it inside the glovebox.


I surged forward, slammed against the driver’s door, snapping at the catch to get it open, and dived across the seat to snatch up my phone. Pressing connect, I placed it to my ear. “Yo!”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Dad … um …” I glanced at the dashboard clock. Three-twenty-three. Fuck! I’d been gone the entire afternoon.

“Straight there and back, you were supposed to go …”

He meant straight to the brickyard to price up materials for the new construction project. Could I help it if Brook had worn me out?

“… this is the fourth time now you’ve volunteered for a run and taken hours over it. What the hell’s taking so long?”

“I … fell asleep?” My brows lifted as I waited for his response.

The silence on the end of the line told me, way more than any words could have, that he didn’t believe me for a minute.

“Kyle, what’s going on?” he asked.

I climbed into my seat and closed the door. “Nothing, Dad.”

More silence.

I wouldn’t have believed my lying arse, either.

Dad sighed. “Just get back here, okay? And if you don’t want Nate gunning for you, you’d better make sure you’ve actually done what he sent you out for this time.”

The disconnect tone hummed at me. I tossed my mobile down on the passenger seat and raked my fingers through my hair, closing my eyes as I leaned my head back.

I hated lying to my family.

I had no choice.

As a werewolf, the pack’d go apeshit if they found out I’d spent the last few months shagging a cat.


😀 😀 😀

I hope you guys enjoyed your peek. Remember to call back on February 5th for the opening of chapter 2.

In the meantime, remember to add UNNATURAL to your Goodreads.

Cheers for stopping by.



It’s a funny old game.

I guess some people would argue as I haven’t been on TONNES of dates myself I’m in no position to give advice. However, as I am notorious for bagging only males who stick around for a very long time, I’d beg to differ. I have obviously done something right.


And, with the global dating situation in its current turmoil, I figured the best gift I could give to the world is my learned advice.

The first lesson I’m willing to give is: how do you know when the man you’re dating isn’t human … but a werewolf?

1) The biggest tells always fall around the full moon:

       – does he always avoid dates when the lunar lantern is full?

       – does his usually deep laughter heighten in pitch at the end and linger?

       – does he have a tendency to scratch his ear with his big toe?

       – does your pet rabbit quiver in fear and c*** itself when your boyfriend smiles at it?

2) Check for unusual strength:

       – can he lift you with one hand?

       – in fact, can he lift most things with one hand?

3) Physical attributes:

       – does he have big feet?

       – do you end up in A&E (E.R.) from merely patting him on the shoulder?

       – does he eclipse you whenever he’s at your side?

       – can you play Kumbayah on his ribcage with a glockenspiel baton?

       – does he have hairs on the palms of his hands? Nah, I’m just kidding—that one’s a myth!

       – dude, how well can he growl?

       – does his skin look … um … tight when he gets mad?

4) Dodgy habits:

       – does he prefer to sleep at the foot of the bed?

       – and if you answer yes to that one, how many times does he turn on the spot before he settles?

       – when he hugs you, is it mostly from behind? *stare*

       – does he have a favourite toy that he won’t let you play with?

       – is his favourite song, Born to be Wild?


       – does he get excited when the postman arrives?

       – does he always eat his steak rare?

Okay, so those’re the most common signs.

If you answered yes to at least two from each category then, girlfriend, the chances are you’re dating a werewolf.

My advice?

Hold onto him (like you have a choice). He’s a keeper. And by that, I mean, no way in hell will he let you go.

Though … I guess the biggest question on the lips of females across the globe is: Um … does he have a brother?

How about anyone else? You got any tips for recognising when your date ain’t quite right?


Hi everyone!

Throughout the month of September, Parajunkie’s View and Dark Faerie Tales have been hosting the Supernatural Smackdown, where the most powerful supes from novels have gone head-to-head for the title.

Up today is Darkness & Light’s Ethan Holloway. You know who Ethan Holloway is, right? Sean’s brother, who all the ladies seem to have a ‘thing’ for and swoon over, despite his self-amusement and Neanderthal ‘tude.

Anyway, being Ethan he’s gonna want to WIN! Which he can’t do WITHOUT YOUR HELP!

So please, please, PLEASE head on over to Parajunkie’s View and cast your vote (for him—obviously). And whilst you’re there, you may as well read his and his opponent’s entries—because they’re fun!

Mega cheers in advance to all who play. It’s very much appreciated.