Book Hero: She-Wolf (The Blood Series Prequel)
I first met Owen through Brendan Daniels who is also a Werewolf. I wrote Brendan and Heather's story first - Cranberry Blood (Book 1 in The Blood Series) - and Owen was a secondary character who came in to play in the second half of Cranberry.
When I was developing the world of "The Blood Series" I spent a little time with each character so I could figure out who they were, their own personal history etc. and Owen was a lot of fun in terms of his background.
He's the Alpha's son - only son - and he is second in charge of the Pack. He is a total ladies man; charming, confident. He has a temper and can get quickly pissed off, and he is overprotective of people he cares about; especially his mate. He is all about action before questioning. Very active. Very sexy.
The only reason I ended up writing his and Clare's story - which I had planned to do eventually - was because the idiot barged into my head and basically demanded I write it. He was irritatingly determined, and eventually I caved and got to it.
Too me Owen is very Alpha, but not in an over the top kinda way. He is quite down to earth, but has no problem stepping into that role within a blink of an eye. He can be very cocky about things, very sure of himself, and has a tendency to basically do things without thinking to much about the consequences.
Owen was a lot of fun to write, and as annoying as he can be, I totally fell for the pain in the ass. I personally don't think I could deal with an "Alpha Male" but I have to admit there is something very appealing about having such a man.
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(Erotic Paranormal Romance)
Book: Prequel to Blood
Dealing with the Rogue werewolves terrorizing his Pack? Simple. Trying to convince his mate he does want to be with her? Bloody impossible.
Owen MacLaren is the Alpha's son and the Pack's second, and he has never been one to let anything get to him. So when a bunch of Rogues begin purposely dumping mutilated bodies around the Pack Keep, he is more than ready to deal with the Werewolves responsible. But one trip to a local strip joint for a colleague's stag night changes things, and Owen soon discovers he isn't immune to everything . . . .
After five years away, Clare Walker finds herself back home in Scotland, working in a strip club. The tips are decent, and she gets to dance, but it isn't a place she thought she would ever be, let alone Owen, her Pack second and the Werewolf who broke her heart.
Although Owen is determined to prove he wants to be with Clare, things can't go smoothly between them, not when they have past issues to sort out and a bunch of unusual 'Rogues' to deal with.
This title contains explicit language and graphic sex.
Length: Novel| Content: Erotic Romance| Publisher: Noble Romance Publishing
Purchase: Noble Romance Publishing| AllRomanceEbooks| OmniLit| Amazon.com| Amazon.co.uk| Amazon.fr| Amazon.it|
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He straightened, a ridiculously huge smile on his face. "It's really good to see you."
The tension in my muscles vanished and my body froze on the spot. "What?"
He laughed, as his right hand rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'm getting the impression the feeling isn't mutual."
It was good to see him, better than I could have dreamed.
"What the hell do you expect, Owen?" I forced myself to walk away, to create distance. "We haven't seen or spoken to each other in five years, and then you breeze in here and start drilling me with all your stupid questions. I don't have to answer to you. I never have."
I turned to find him looking at me. "Then don't patronize me, I am not a child anymore."
"Believe me, flower,"—I watched specks of silver dance across his irises—"I'd noticed."
My stomach flipped as his energy brushed against me, causing goose bumps to rise on my arms. I tried not to shiver. "Then what the hell do you care about what I‘m doing?" I stepped back as he stalked slowly toward me. "We might be Pack but . . . butting into each other's business was never mentioned in the initiation."
"You're right. I'm sorry." He didn't look sorry. "But seeing you was a shock to the system. Especially seeing you here."
"Likewise," I mumbled.
"And watching them put their hands on you. Smelling how they wanted you . . . ." A growl emanated in the back of his throat, possessive and deep.
My Wolf stirred.
"It's all part of the job," I told him.
He took another step closer; all humor had drained from his face.
"What the hell‘s wrong with—" The breath caught in my throat as my back hit the wall.
The scent of mowed grass and tangy cologne wrapped around me, and flooded my senses. His metallic eyes studied me for a moment. His jaw was tense, his brow creased, as if he was suddenly lost in thought.
"I don't like . . . the idea of—of other men . . . touching you."
The confusion in his voice matched my own. "W-why is that?"
He pressed his hands flat against the wall, caging me with his body. "I don't want anyone touching you, except me."
He sounded as shocked as I felt.
Nervous laughter slipped through my lips. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"No." There was a lot of weight in his simple answer. "It really isn't."
"Who I let touch me is none of your—" The wall of his chest crushed my breasts. Tension wound through my body as his left thigh slipped between my legs
His gaze locked with mine, the familiar metallic sheen of his eyes darkening. "I. Don't. Want. Anyone. Touching. You," he repeated. His energy wrapped around me, strong and hot. "And I don't want you touching anyone."
I snorted, squashing my sudden arousal. "Get lost, Owen." I pushed against his chest. "What I do, and who I see, isn't up to you."
The muscles in his neck flexed.
He didn't move.
"Did you hear me, MacLaren? I told you to move."
Move. Move before I do something I might regret.
"I'm going to kiss you, Clare." His nostrils flared.
It took me a second to remember how to speak. "You've gone bleedin' mad."
"That's damn obvious, but I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you. Wanted to touch you." He cupped my chin with his right hand, his gaze fixed on my lips.
"You-you don't know what you're saying. You're—"
"I'm aware of what I'm saying." He brushed the side of my neck with his fingertips. "And what I'm saying is, I want to kiss you, Clare. To taste your lovely lips."
I couldn't breathe. My breasts felt swollen, and each ragged breath he took caused his chest to brush roughly against them, the friction making my nipples harden. His energy . . . his body . . . hell, the sheer awareness of him burned me. A searing caress, which fueled the flame inside me.
This was what I had always wanted. I had wanted to seduce him, to torture him. It was never supposed to happen, and yet here he was, right in front of me. The only difference was that he was the one seducing me, torturing me.
He wants me. He actually wants me. My Wolf whimpered.
Confusion left me. Excitement and lust replaced it, canceling out all sense and reason, and all because of the way he looked at me. Because I could smell his arousal, feel his body trembling against mine; see the desire in his eyes.
"I-If you don't want me to . . . you better fucking say something, otherwise—"
The option surprised me. I knew I should say no, nothing good could come from what we were doing, because nothing was simple with our kind. I knew that—whether he did was another thing. I knew I should be smart, and ignore the urges running through me, but my Wolf demanded I claim him. It was as if I suddenly had no control of my body.
The next thing I knew, my hands were in his hair, and I was biting and nipping at his luscious bottom lip, like I'd always wanted to do. He growled, and his hips smashed into mine as he pinned me tighter to the wall. He gripped the back of my head tightly with his right hand as he kneaded my thigh with his left hand. His kisses bruised me. His tongue was hot and demanding as it licked my bottom lip, ordering my mouth to open to him, wasting no time.
I wanted to tease, to push him away, but I had waited far too long to find out what he tasted like.
I stroked his tongue playfully with my own, and slowly let him in, loving the way his tongue eagerly brushed and explored every section of my mouth. Loving the masculine taste of him, the taste of meat and beer, strangely delicious. Arousing.
It was heaven.
He let go of my head and grabbed my other thigh. He pulled me up until I straddled his hips. My dress rode up, until it circled my hips.
This is crazy!
Heat pooled between my legs as his hands clutched my ass painfully. I moaned as he rubbed against me; the feel of his rigid cock against my panties was almost too much. I suddenly hated underwear. Hated anything and everything that prevented him from driving into me, hot and hard.
I wanted him. I wanted him so much it hurt. I wanted him to rip off the dress that clung to my body. I wanted him to fuck me up against this wall. The thought alone caused me to whimper, caused my Wolf to howl. Caused my brain to turn into slush and made me melt into him . . . .
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