Aimee did look wild and raw
though, like she’d been living on her own longer than
Jim had let on. But there was also a vulnerability about
her that wouldn’t allow him to leave. She was his patient, regardless of whatever her troubles were now.
“Mmm.” She frowned in her sleep
and turned toward him. Her eyes remained closed,
her lashes dark smudges above her cheekbones. She
mumbled something else and he scooted his chair closer. “His paw.” Her hair was still damp from the
bath, and he brushed the long bangs away from her
forehead.
“Aimee?” “His paw.” Her brows came
together and she turned away. “See? There.” Jake checked the IV drip and
felt her forehead again. Her dreams would be strange
because of the fever. But it
“He’s upright,” she said. “Who’s upright?” She turned toward him. Her eyes
still closed, her face
crumpling as if she were crying
in her dream. “The wolf.” Jake watched her, feeling an
inexplicable urge to shrink away. The room was chilly,
silent except for the unconscious murmurings of the woman beside
him. The light on the bedside table was dim, mingling
with long, black shadows that stretched across the ornately
carved vaulted ceiling. From somewhere downstairs he heard
footsteps and wondered if anyone else knew that Aimee
Styles slept above them now.
Jake hesitated a second, then
reached for her hand. When his fingers met hers, she
held on tight, as if he’d be able to pull her from whatever
tormented her in the dream. Gently, he brought her hand to
his chest, something he’d never done with a patient
before. Something he wouldn’t have done if she’d been awake.
But instinctively, he felt like she needed to feel his
warmth.His presence. “Shhh,” he whispered. “You’re
okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“The wolf,” she repeated. But
this time softer.
He rubbed the backs of her
knuckles and watched as her face relaxed. Then she grew
still again. Jake looked down at her hand.
Her nails were ragged but her fingers were long and
graceful. Just like the rest of her.
The wolf.
Despite his jacket, the cold and
damp of the surrounding woods seemed to seep into his
very bones. How many times had he himself dreamed of a
wolf? Too many to count. A wolf so huge, so vicious, that
it had ripped away one of the most important things in his
life in nothing more than a heartbeat.
Studying Aimee’s face, he
wondered what exactly she was running from.
And if it would eventually catch
up to them both.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To the citizens of Wolfe Creek, Aimee Styles is dead. What they don’t know is she’s alive...and
a werewolf. After she was bitten two years ago, Aimee isolated herself away from the town,
determined to keep them safe. But all it takes is an icy winter evening—and an incredibly
virulent flu—to interrupt her self-imposed exile.
Nothing prepared doctor and single dad Jake Blackstock for the sight of Wolfe Creek's missing
girl, or her delicate beauty. He's instantly and fiercely attracted to her, despite her secrets and
the shadows in her near-black eyes. Jake's falling hard. He knows nothing about Aimee...or
what she really is.
But something else lurks in Wolfe Creek's shadows. Something malevolent. Something that
won't hesitate to rip apart their life and new love…
Purchase your copy of THE MOONSHADOW'S
DAUGHTER:
About the author:
Kaylie Newell was born in the great state of Oregon, where she was raised alongside rivers and
lakes and scruffy dogs that chased their tennis balls as far as Kaylie's noodle arms could throw.
As she grew, so did her imagination, and it didn't take long to realize she was a romantic at
heart. She began to fancy herself the future wife of a cowboy, the likes of which graced every
paperback novel she could get her hands on. She decided to go to college in Oklahoma to snag
herself one, but irony won over when she fell in love with a hippie in sheep's clothing instead.
Together, they came back to Oregon, started a family and watched their dreams unfold. Kaylie
wrote her first book when her girls were toddlers, editing sex scenes with The Wiggles on in the
background. She's proud of many things in life, among them the fact that she can still recite her
lines from Romeo and Juliet from her seventh grade play, the fact that she can set a grilled
cheese sandwich on fire faster than most people can make one, but mostly she's proud of the
stories blossoming inside her noggin on a daily basis.
Connect with Kaylie Newell
Stop by tomorrow to read my review of The Moonshadow's Daughter by Kaylie Newell
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