Karen Whiddon - Lone Wolf (Harlequin Nocturne)

started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amidst the Catskill Mountains of New York, then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty of the rugged peaks and spun stories of love that captivated her familys attention.

Karen now lives in north Texas, where she shares her life with her very own hero of a husband and three doting dogs. Also an entrepreneur, she divides her time between the business she started and writing the contemporary romantic suspense and paranormal romances that readers enjoy. You can email Karen at KWhiddon1@aol.com or write to her at P.O. Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182. Fans of her writing can also check out her website, www.KarenWhiddon.com.

Dear Reader,

There is much to celebrate in life. Often, caught up in the daily hustle and grind, we lose sight of that. Sometimes it takes a miracle to make us recognize how truly lucky we are. I try to count my blessings dailyhourly if I remember. Even the smallest thingsa perfect butterfly, a blooming flower, the way the sun colors the clouds ocherare causes for celebration.

Its not always like that, nor will it be. I know into every life occasionally comes darkness, sweeping in and throwing a black cloak over the sun. Such is the case with my Lone Wolf, Pack Protector Anton Beck. Still mourning the loss of his sister and having given up searching for his mate, an unlikely Vampire Huntress named Marika, Beck is living a solitary life when he is granted a miracle. A daughter. Now, not only are vampire/shape-shifter matches frowned upon, but since they are technically dead, Vampires are unable to bear living children. That Marika not only does this but raises the miracle child in secret is another thing to marvel at. That is, if Beck could see past his rage at being lied to.

Of course a child who shouldnt exist is very valuable and is hunted, and Beck and Marikas journey to not only protect her but find and stop the ones who want to take her is in itself something to celebrate. Love can clear the blackest darkness and bring a spectacular ocher sunrise, if only you let it into your heart.

I hope you enjoy reading Lone Wolf.

Karen Whiddon

To my husband, Lonnie, and my daughter, Stephaniemy own two miracles.

H is dashboard clock showed one minute after midnight. The patrons spilling from the doorway of Addies Bar were well into their partying, reeling around the parking lot laughing and shouting.

Anton Beck parked his truck and turned the ignition off, feeling the loud bass thump of the music all the way out here. Smoke curled from the open windows, a blue haze that reminded him of the morning mists of Vancouver Island, one of his favorite places on earth.

But this was Alpine, Texas, and even at this late hour, heat still shimmered from the dry earth in muted waves. Now that his air conditioner no longer blew, the heat made beads of perspiration break out on his forehead. He needed to get out of the truck and begin what hed come to do.

Still he sat, unwilling yet to take the steps necessary to take him inside. A headache had begun to throb behind his eyes, the kind that promised to explode into a full-blown migraine if he wasnt careful. The noise level inside the bar just might be enough of a trigger to send him staggering for a quiet place to lie down. He hoped not. Not tonight, of all nights. Such a thing was not possible.

Swallowing, he hesitated. Once he stepped onto the gravel, he knew the memories would swirl around him, haunting him with the aching familiarity of grief. Stark contrast to the riotous nightlife going on in and around the bar.

A bar was the last place he wanted to be tonight, any night, actually. But this was a special night, and this was Addies Place. Addie was the nearest person he had to family, and this was the closest thing he had to home. He needed to say hello to her, to let her wrap him in her flower-scented arms and hug him, while feeding him tortillas and tamales. As though her rich, sinful food could help him begin healing the scars that pockmarked his soul.

But first, he needed to focus on his sister. This night, he had a ritual to complete. He had made a small cross outside the bar, near the rise and the twisted tree. Every year he came on the same date to light a candle and stand guard over the marker that noted the spot where his baby sister, Juliet, had been killed. Hed never forgiven himself for her death. Shed been here to meet him, after all. And hed been running late.

Growing up, hed always wanted to watch over her, keep her safe. Being taken away by the Pack to become a Protector had made this impossible. But hed done what he could. In this instance, hed failed tremendously. His own mother hadnt spoken to him since.

Now, three years had passed, and each year he felt the burden of guilt heavier on his shoulders.

A group of vampires strolled past his truck, laughing quietly amongst themselves. Their pale skin gleamed in the moonlight, beautiful and icy. Beck couldnt help but admire them, even knowing that at one time in the distant past, theyd been his sworn enemy.

And, as had become habit now, he searched all their faces, compulsively seeking one that was less than perfect, yet still lovely. Marika, his sisters best friend. Shed disappeared after Juliet had died, making him wonder if shed had something to do with her death. If he ever saw her again, he planned to ask her.

Though hed not yet found her, he hadnt given up hope. Vampires these days humored him. Once, staring too long would have been seen as an insult and caused a battle.

Juliet had endured a lot of flack for her friendship with Marika. Shape-shifters and vampires just didnt mix.

Beck had proven this even further by his one misstep with his sisters best friend. Though Juliet had never known about their brief affair, hed never forgiven him self. He and Marika had been together when Juliet had been killed. The memory, even now so ragged and painful, made him flinch.