Mostrando resultados por autor "Riley Harp" en Todas las categorías

Gracie is a professional disaster. When she drunkenly crashes a lavish wedding to save her best friend from a bad match, she trips, bites the groom on the neck, and passes out. Oops. In werewolf law, a bite is a Claim. The groom is Nikos, the Alpha Prime of Europe. He was dreading this arranged marriage, and Gracie’s teeth just gave him the perfect out. He declares the chaotic, hungover human his "True Mate" to escape pack politics. Now Gracie is whisked away to a private Greek island with a man who looks like a pirate and growls like an engine. The deal? Play the doting mate for a month....

Arthur Whitlock is a terrifying Alpha werewolf with a spotless suit, a ruthless reputation—and an anxiety disorder that makes him one bad day away from shifting during a tax audit. In a world where werewolves are heavily regulated, Alphas like Arthur are legally required to hire an Emotional Support Human to keep their wolf under control. Chloe Hart just needs extra cash. A laid-back kindergarten teacher with zero knowledge of pack politics, Chloe treats Arthur the same way she treats her most challenging students: snacks for bad moods, a stern voice for growling, and firm boundaries when...

Charlotte signed up to foster a scruffy rescue dog—not a naked, dripping-wet wolf shifter with the body of a fallen god and the manners of a feral stray. One accidental mid-bath shift later, her “dog” is now a very grumpy, very territorial man camped on her couch and growling about a “life-debt” he insists on repaying… preferably in ways that make her blush. She just wants her living room back. He wants her—all of her—especially after she innocently nursed him through a heat cycle that definitely did not stay PG-rated. Now there’s only one bed, a whole lot of unresolved ...

I teach yoga, not anger management for feral men with eight-packs and boundary issues. My “Full Moon Flow” class was supposed to be harmless—stretching, breathwork, maybe a little spiritual howling for the tourists. I didn’t expect the sexy guy in the back to actually grow fur mid-downward dog. One second he’s locked in Eye of the Tiger pose, the next he’s got claws, a tail, and absolutely no pants. Now I’ve got a real, live werewolf in my studio—hot, cranky, and very naked. He says he’s “new to this shifting thing” and needs help staying grounded. I say he should stop...

Mick is a werewolf on the edge. His pack is pressuring him to settle down, his inner beast is restless, and his current job is wearing a humiliating Badger mascot suit for a grocery store promo. Then he sees the competition. The Hot Dog. Inside the foam wiener suit is Kimberly, a struggling actress who hates everything about this gig. Especially the Badger who keeps sniffing her neck. When a robbery goes down in the store, Mick rips off the mascot head—and shreds his clothes—to save the day. Kimberly watches the Badger turn into a Beast, and suddenly, the Hot Dog is very interested. Now...

Twenty-six dates. Twenty-six alphas. What could possibly go wrong? Apparently everything. My pack signed me up for “Alpha-Bet”—a matchmaking service where I’m supposed to meet one eligible alpha for every letter of the alphabet. I figured it’d be awkward, maybe hilarious, and at worst, mildly bitey. Then Date A showed up. A is for Alec. Arrogant. Addictive. Alpha as hell. One smirk and my heat hit like a freight train. I ghosted him the next day. Panicked. Logical response, right? Except now he’s showing up at every date. Staring down the competition. Growling. And claiming me ...

I just wanted a quiet corner to ugly-cry. Instead, a dusty old book ate me. Now I’m flat on my back in a fancy throne room, staring up at the kind of fae lord who should come with a warning. Aedrin: tall, smirking, magic curling around him, and eyes that say he’s already undressing me. Apparently, I’m “the Reader” he’s spent centuries summoning. Flattering. Except I have no idea how to get home, and he keeps calling me my little human in a voice that makes me melt. He says he needs my help to restore his power, but every touch and wicked smile feels less like a quest—and more ...

A grumpy fae with a fatal allergy to sweets. A baker who can’t stop tempting him. After my life implodes, all I want is quiet—just me, my aunt’s bakery, and endless buttercream. Then Cieran walks in: all storm-grey eyes, razor-sharp cheekbones, and a growl that sends shivers down my spine. He glares at my pastries like they’re his mortal enemy, orders black coffee—no sugar, ever—and everyone whispers he’s not human. Sweets are poison to the fae, they say. But one night, he gives in. One bite of cake—and the sound he makes is pure sin. Now he keeps coming back, staying late, ...

A powerful fae lord who's never lived without servants. A human who refuses to be anyone's maid. Aureniel has never done a chore in his life. Food appears, clothes arrange themselves, baths are drawn. Then he’s banished to the human world—and I’m apparently his only lifeline. He stares down my coffee maker like it’s a riddle. Floods my kitchen with dish soap. Tries to “summon” clean clothes by glaring at my washing machine. He’s proud, completely clueless, and somehow manages to look regal even while hopelessly out of place. Every time I try to help, he acts personally ...

I moved to the middle of nowhere for one reason: peace. Instead, I got him. Lorian is every forbidden daydream made flesh—a dangerously handsome Fae lord who thinks a leaf blower is a weapon and unleashes swarms of mischievous pixies on my lawn. He’s chaos in tailored clothes, a walking disaster for my sanity, my garden gnomes, and—thanks to him—my toaster now only speaks in riddles. All I want is for Lorian to leave me alone. But when his magic traps us in my tiny cottage, the air turns electric, and every glance crackles with temptation. Beneath his infuriating glamour is a lonely...

When a six-foot-something fae warrior stomps into my coffee shop demanding “gainful human employment,” I think it’s a joke. But apparently he’s been banished from his realm, stripped of magic, and this is the only place desperate enough to hire him. The problem? He thinks customer service means challenging rude patrons to duels. He tries to froth milk with a battle cry. He insists loyalty cards are a form of fealty contract. And every time I tell him to smile at the customers, he flashes the kind of grin that makes knees buckle and cappuccinos spill. Now I’m stuck training him—...

A vacationer desperate for rest. A silver-haired fae bound to serve her every pleasure. All I wanted was a week away from real life. Sunshine, cocktails, and maybe a little umbrella in my drink. So when I order room service at my Airbnb, the last thing I expect is a six-foot-something man with silver hair and a wicked grin appearing in my kitchen. He swears I “summoned him” by invoking some ancient hospitality pact. Now he’s determined to serve me—anything I want, anytime I want it. Breakfast in bed? He’s on it. Back rub after a swim? Already waiting with scented oil. A casual ...