Celia Kyle Plays Favorites
Normally, I don’t play favorites with my characters and books. Honestly, if you ask me which book is my favorite, the answer will be: what I’m working on now.
Except… Except the Wickham triplets in the Alpha Marked series do hold a special place in my heart. They’re three curvy chicks who deal with what furry wolves throw at them and still manage to remain snarky, demanding, and absolutely gorgeous.
I think this excerpt from the final book is the perfect representation of the girls as a whole. They chow on yummies, give as good as they get, and manage to hand over a bit of advice at the same time. They’re sisters, and this tidbit really shows the love they share and blatant honesty that can only exist between siblings… and best friends who are willing to go to jail with you.
Thirty and single? Well, getcha ass to the Gathering!
Whitney Wickham is at the darned annual werewolf Gathering all right. Only there’s one problem: she doesn’t belong there. Her sisters carry the Mark indicating they’ll mate an Alpha Pair of wolves, while Whitney does not have that lovely, swirling scar. She’s been hauled half way around the world to be stared at, and not-so-covertly sniffed, for no reason. Unfortunately the gorgeous, drool worthy, magic-mojo-wielding Wardens don’t know why she’s been summoned to the Gathering any more than she does. Which sucks. But at least they’re hot.
Emmett Greene and Levy Walters are Wardens—keepers of the law and embodiment of the magic of the werewolves. They can never mate, never marry, and never form a lasting romantic relationship. It’s a hard and fast law that keeps their powers pure of outside influence.
Rules are going to be broken.
One look at Whitney, one hint of her scent, and they realize their immovable laws might have to jiggle. She’s got luscious curves, a wicked smile, and a mouth that would make a thousand men weep. No matter the rules, their inner wolves will claim her. The only things standing in their way are the Elder Wardens who will do anything… anything… to keep Emmett and Levy from discovering the truth: the laws are wrong. And being with Whitney Wickham is so very, very right.
The interior looked much like Whitney’s room, the entryway leading into a massive living room and two bedrooms branched off from the main space. Following the trail of clothing that led to the room on the left, she soon slipped into the trio’s bedroom.
And way too much skin was exposed for her liking.
“Gabby,” she whispered. Nothing happened. “Gabs, wake up.” The damn woman slept like the dead.
Seeing a couple of socks nearby, she snared and balled them, slipping one inside the other. She hefted the light weight. It was just heavy enough to be thrown and hit her sister. Perfect. At least her time playing softball while her sisters studied wolf-land was good for something.
Taking aim, she tossed it at Gabby, smacking her right in the face.
“Wait, wha—” she snuffled. “No more. Tired.”
God, she didn’t even want to know why Gabs was exhausted. Probably for the opposite reason Whitney wasn’t tired. “Gabby. I need you.”
Her sister finally raised her head, hair sticking in all directions and squinting eyes met hers. “Huh?”
“Come on,” she waved her hand, gesturing for her sister to get outta bed.
Groaning, Gabby dropped her head back to the pillow and whispered into the room. “You so owe me. Breakfast. Lots. Coffee. More.”
“Done. Come on.”
Like a fluffy ninja, her sister wiggled and twisted her way from between her men, similar to what Whitney had done. Several tense seconds later, a very naked Gabriella was free of her sheet-prison. It wasn’t until her sister tumbled from the bed that she got an eyeful and Whitney whirled with a squeak. She loved her big sis, she just didn’t want to see all of her.
The shuffle of clothes signaled the woman was getting dressed and then they were ready to go. Nearly silent they crept up the stairs.
“Why are we sneaking away?” The whisper seemed like a scream.
Right, nearly silent.
“’Cause I said so.”
“That only works when you’re older than me.”
“That’s Emmett and Levy’s job.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
God, normal. Normal felt so good.
By then, they’d reached the top of the stairs to find a glaring Scarlet staring at them.
Whitney smiled wide. “You’re awake.”
“Under protest. The guys had some stupid meeting thing this morning and wanted a quickie before they left. Apparently baby making is number one on their to-do list.” The eldest Wickham shuffled to the large couch and flopped onto the cushioned surface. “I think my vagina is going on strike.”
“Tough.” Scarlet stuck out her tongue. “Why are you here?”
“To talk,” Whitney nibbled her lower lip.
“Come on then. Order me some breakfast and pull up a seat.”
A nearby guard stepped forward and Whitney didn’t even flinch. Crazy how, after two days, she’d already gotten used to the guards that surrounded her über important sister. She stared at the man, knowing he looked familiar. Well, more familiar than the others.
“Hello Sexy! You’re still alive!” She grinned.
Gabby nicked-named—or named depending how someone looked at it—the guard when she’d been going through the drama with her two mates the previous night. The guys had rejected her sister for some dumb reason. While Gabs had been trying to reaffirm her hotness, she hit on the guard. It’d been all fun and games until Gabriella’s mates threatened to rip the man’s head off.
The wolf blushed and tugged at the collar of his uniform. “Um, Tor, Miss Wickham. And breakfast has already been ordered. It should be arriving,” a low ding from Scarlet’s elevator flitted through the room. “Now.”
With that, the man disappeared and returned with a massive rolling cart topped with a half-dozen covered plates.
“Oh, I think I love you, Hello Sexy.” Scarlet’s words were immediately followed by a wince. “Never mind, I hate you with a passion unrivaled.” Ah, her mates had to be speaking with her telepathically. “There? Better now?” When no more grumbles from Scarlet came, Whitney figured things were good.
In moments, the Wickhams were settled and munching.
“So…” Scarlet nibbled on the only freaking cheese Danish in the whole pile of food. “I’m not seeing that well-fucked look and you’re moving a little too well for a woman who had two sets of wolfy chompers in her shoulder.”
“Yeah. We aren’t mating until ‘they’ve done some research.’” Whitney swung the air quotes, banana in one hand, squished muffin in the other. Well, brownie, but a muffin—even squished—qualified as breakfast more so than a brownie.
“No boinking? At all?” Gabby was horrified. “You three were on fire when we left. Did they even throw you a bone? Like an orgasm or ten as a consolation prize?”
Whitney shook her head. “Nope. They’re concerned about what would happen. Plus, I think they’re worried about Sarvis even though they said they’re not.”
Scarlet nodded. “Yeah, he’s evil with a capitol ass and lowercase hat.” She tilted her head to the side. “I’m actually surprised you got here. I mean, he shoulda been lying in wait to pounce and steal you away so he could kill you and solve his little problem.” She shrugged.
“Are you kidding?” Whitney hadn’t thought of that.
“Duh. He’s like the evil villain. With all that snarling and yelling about you being handled ‘permanently.’ Plus that whole abomination thing.” Gabby snorted. “Just don’t go into any basements. Or bleach your hair blonde. In the movies, it’s the dumb blondes who get killed first.” Her sister’s gaze fell to Whitney’s chest. “I’d say don’t get a boob job, but they’re already big. Yet another movie-inspired strike against you.” She sighed and shrugged. “Not much to be done about it now. I’m sure Emmett and Levy won’t let him kill you.”
“I just… But… I don’t know what to…” Whitney was sputtering, but there was so much disbelief and awe bouncing around that she couldn’t stop. She shoved her squished muffin into her mouth to keep the incoherent words at bay. Except even then, she managed to shout around the chocolate goodness. “You’re talking about me being killed like it’s nothing!”
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Ex-dance teacher, former accountant and erstwhile collectible doll salesperson, Celia Kyle now writes paranormal romances for readers who:
1) Like super hunky heroes (they generally get furry)
2) Dig beautiful women (who have a few more curves than the average lady)
3) Love laughing in (and out of) bed.
It goes without saying that there's always a happily-ever-after for her characters, even if there are a few road bumps along the way.
Today she lives in central Florida and writes full-time with the support of her loving husband and two finicky cats.
You can find Celia online at: http://celiakyle.com | http://facebook.com/authorceliakyle | http://twitter.com/celiakyle
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