Tori and her Wolf.

The New York City Werewolves.

I’m approximately 90% certain my mate, Hunter, is going to reject me. Apparently the pain is unbearable. So I do the most sensible thing any sane woman in my position would do. I run, in my beat up Toyota. I hide, in Scranton. I Google Hunter, while I ignore the world. The internet says around 200 attractive, rich, suitable females want Hunter.

Good. They can have him. So long as he doesn’t formally reject me.

My life changes for the better when I’m in New York City with an unexpectedly generous new job. There’s no way Hunter will find me in the masses, right?

Wrong.

I stumble upon him, literally, in a gym. I try not to ogle his wide shoulders and muscled pecs. But my traitorous eyes obey my ovaries, not my brain.

Tragically, the gym is in my new job’s building. I don’t want to be unemployed but, and I can’t stress this enough, Hunter is not only my boss, he owns the company.

I’m positive I’ll be fired and rejected by him. And it’s only Saturday.

I should be able to avoid Hunter because the company is huge. I’ll hide in the bathroom if need be.

Hunter’s an arrogant, rude, and absolutely, gorgeously frightening werewolf.