Samuel is playing his part in this parent trap spectacularly.
From the text messages of Tristan Whitland, aka Farm Boy, and Samuel Boland, aka Mr. Serious- Mr. Serious: Farm Boy. Are you awake? Farm Boy: Barely. What’s up? Did something happen? Mr. Serious: Your dad. My mom. Kira took over last night. Farm Boy: Wait. WHAT? Details. Now. Mr. Serious: Just what I said. Kira took control of my mom while she was asleep. Kira wanted/needed to see your dad. So I helped her get out of the room. Farm Boy: I’m screaming. Please tell me there’s more. Mr. Serious: I don’t know what happened at your house between them, but your dad brought my mom back to the hotel, and she was Freaked out about my safety because I was “alone in the hotel.” Farm Boy: Aw, poor Mr. Serious was left alone. 😂 So what happened? Mr. Serious: I convinced her to let him stay here. I could not let them make it awkward and send him off. Farm Boy: You’re a hero. Let me guess: she gave him the floor? Mr. Serious: Nope. I forced them to share her bed. Farm Boy: 🤣🤣🤣 STOP
My mind couldn’t grasp what happened last night. Between the nightmare of Nigel turning into Alex, my freak out, that voice saying “a life for a life,” Kira taking control, and then waking up naked in Alex’s lap, it was overwhelming. I saw the picture of us on his nightstand, and that kiss—don’t get me started on that kiss—then he kissed me again before leaving my hotel room. I don’t think there’s enough coffee to process all of this. Thankfully, I would have some quiet time today working at the farm. That will give me some breathing room, and as long as Kira doesn’t get on my nerves, I’ll be able to think straight and plan how to deal with all of this. It would be just Samuel and me working around the farm. With everything in probate, all the employees, werewolves and humans, have been put on a leave of absence. I sure can’t afford to pay people to work the farm. I won’t ask Logan to do it for me. Until I can sell the farm, it would be a lot of legal hassle and paperwork to let Lo
I had to hand it to our boys. They had played us, more so Holly, perfectly. I couldn’t complain about their plans. I was one hundred percent behind Samuel and Tristan working together to get Holly and me together. It was honestly the best outcome for our situation. We could’ve had an issue with our boys being against us being together. It would have been impossible to be with Holly if her son was against it. Mate bond be damned, Holly wouldn’t have entertained my existence if her son said he didn’t like me. I had never had to herd cattle, but I liked it. I liked it even more that I was working alongside Holly. It felt right. Any time I was with Holly, it felt right. But this was up there. Working together on the farm… it felt like where we were supposed to be. I had always felt at home on a ranch riding a horse, with my dream of having a rodeo that included working with other animals like bulls—not the complacent kind like the Boland herd—but still, being there felt like fate. While
I hated being emotional—it was never who I was meant to be. I might have burst into tears more easily as a child, but that was long ago. The day my parents died, I built walls around my heart, shuttering away anything that resembled vulnerability. Aunt Donna once told me that I must have shed a lifetime’s worth of tears in the wake of that tragedy, and I believed her until Nigel’s death shattered that belief. After losing him, the tears came pouring out for the first time in years. I had cried for each miscarriage, but not like this. I mourned them in a muted way, feeling shattered inside yet unable to let more than a tear or two out. There was a deep sadness for the lives that could have been but remained unfulfilled. Yet here I was, crying—again—in front of Alex, a humiliation that both angered and terrified me. The first two moments of weakness felt justified; they were driven by grief over losing Nigel and the brutal acknowledgment that no amount of wishing could alter our shar
I was flabbergasted by what happened in the pasture. I knew the conversation would be heavy, but I hadn’t expected Holly to break down crying. It was a deeply emotional subject, and I told her I love her this soon to reassure her that her inability to have children doesn’t change my feelings. I’ve waited years to be with her, and we already have two boys who are more than enough for me. While the thought of having a child together was interesting, it’s not crucial to our future. It was always about us and our boys when I imagined what lay ahead. I didn’t expect her to respond or say she loved me—my heart might’ve stopped! What shocked me most was that after that emotional moment, it was Holly who kissed me first. Let me repeat that for the people speed reading. Holly Boland KISSED ME! HOLLY BOLAND KISSED ME, ALEX WHITLAND! Let that sink in. I know it’s still sinking in for me, and we’re already back at the barn, about to sit down and enjoy the lunch my mom packed us. I’d played
What I wouldn’t give for a long, hot, soothing bath right now. The thought of warm water enveloping me, with fragrant steam wrapping around me like a comforting embrace, was almost tantalizing. I could picture myself sinking into a deep tub, letting the day’s stress melt away. However, disappointment washed over me when I remembered that my hotel room only had a shower, robbing me of that tranquil escape. Exhaustion from farm chores was compounded by emotions I thought I had tucked away since Nigel passed. I hoped today would allow for quiet reflection on my budding relationship with Alex. Wow, I really had come a long way if I was starting to think of it as a relationship. Instead, I had an emotional breakdown in his arms, leading to an unexpected kiss that stirred feelings I hadn’t anticipated. Returning to the boys was meant to lighten my mood, but learning that Samuel and Tristan had arrived in the house filled with memories of Nigel dampened my spirits. Now, I faced the worry
Tristan practically vibrated with excitement in the passenger seat, his smirk stretching wider by the second. I braced myself. “So,” he started, dragging out the word. “You and Holly, huh?” I kept my eyes on the road. “What about me and Holly?” He scoffed. “Oh, come on, Dad. Samuel and I totally set you two up. And might I add—Operation Parent Trap: Werewolf Edition was a huge success.” I shook my head. “That’s what you’re calling it?” “Yup. And it worked. You walked away with a date. A real, actual date. On Friday. That’s four days from now, in case you forgot.” I smirked. “I can count, thanks.” Tristan leaned back, looking far too pleased with himself. “So… you love her.” I sighed. “I always loved Holly.” His smirk deepened. “Then you know what comes next.” I frowned. “What are you getting at?” “The new moon,” he cut in as if I was a slow student missing an easy answer. “That’s when you and Holly are supposed to complete your bond.” I gripped the steering wheel a little t
I hung up the phone, my heart racing as Alex’s voice echoed in my mind, filled with concern. It felt good to be cared for, but also unsettling—especially after being alone since Nigel. The memory of him tugged at me, but I fought it back, focusing on the warm glow of the lamps in the hallway of Davis and Loretta’s home. Charles and Sybille were in the living room, sorting through boxes after the couple’s recent passing. I could hear their muffled voices, but every glance at those boxes tightened my throat. I wasn’t ready to face the objects that reminded me of the couple who had taken me in, or worse, memories of Nigel. So, while they packed, I lingered in the hallway, pretending to make calls. I had updated Alex about the break-in, but deep down, I knew I was hiding. I wasn’t ready to sift through the memories. Not yet. Sybille’s voice drifted over from the living room. “Holly? Everything alright?” I forced a smile and stepped into the doorway. Charles was lifting photo albums wh
To all my incredible readers, Thank you for being part of this journey. From the moment Alpha Logan was written to the final chapters of Her Second Chance Mate, it has been an unforgettable ride. This 12-novel, 9-short-story series has taken us across the world, showing that love and family come in many forms. No matter race, gender, or sexuality, everyone deserves love, a place to belong, and the freedom to define what family means to them. Writing the Bloodmoon and Incubi series has been a labor of love over the past four years. Somehow, it feels both longer and shorter since I first started. These characters, their struggles, their victories, and their love stories have become a part of me—and I hope they’ve become a part of you too. While this generation of stories has reached its conclusion, my writing journey is far from over. A next generation lingers in the back of my mind, waiting for the right time to take shape. But for now, I’m stepping away from the supernatural a
I took a deep breath and tried to remebrr whag i had written down. “Holly… if you’d told me years ago that every twist, every wrong turn, every moment I thought was leading me nowhere was leading me straight to you—I don’t think I would’ve believed it.” A soft smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “But standing here now, looking at you, I know that every detour, every heartbreak, and struggle brought me here. To you. To us. And I wouldn’t change a single step of that journey because every single one led me home.” I swallowed hard, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I love you not just in the big, obvious ways but in all the small ones. In the way, you stand strong even when you’re exhausted. In the way, you let the boys win just enough times to keep their confidence up but still remind them who the boss is. In the way you look at me like I’m worth something more than I ever believed I could be.” My voice wavered slightly, but I kept going. “I promise to walk beside you wherever
I woke before dawn, the soft glow of morning stretching across the horizon outside my window. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass and damp earth, grounding me as I sat up, rubbing a hand over my face. Today was the day. Today, my last boyhood fantasy about Holly was coming true. ‘You nervous?’ Leo’s voice slipped into my mind, steady as ever. Three years later I was still getting used to him. Having a wolf spirit tethered to me when I wasn’t born a werewolf was an adjustment, to say the least. Gifted to me by Nigel the night Holly and I marked each other, Leo wasn’t just some supernatural extension of myself—he was a reminder of everything that had come before—a reminder of the man Holly had loved first and the one she had chosen now. ‘I'm not nervous,’ I answered silently. ‘I'm just… letting it all sink in.’ Leo let out a low huff. ‘You’re lying to yourself. You want this more than you’ll admit.’ I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. Leo wasn’t wrong. To the supernatural world
Alex’s hand found mine as the noise of greetings faded into the background. His warm, calloused fingers provided reassurance amid the chaos. I turned to him, noticing his softened expression contrasting with the bustle. Rather than being overwhelmed, he radiated a quiet contentment that comforted me. At that moment, it felt just like the two of us, surrounded by the noise yet wrapped in our own calm. “Come with me,” he murmured, voice low enough that only I could hear. I didn’t question it, feeling a mix of anticipation and reassurance. With a final glance at our boys—Samuel expertly engaging with his Folsom cousins while Tristan animatedly introduced the D’Amore quadruplets—I could sense that new friendships were about to blossom. The excitement in the air was palpable, and I did not doubt that their spirited energy would lead to endless plotting on how to push their limits tonight. With a quiet sigh, I allowed Alex to lead me away from the bustling crowd, trusting that our boys wer
Two years. It didn’t seem possible that so much time had passed, yet here I was, standing beneath the glow of the arena lights, watching as Alex’s dream unfolded before me. Whitland Rodeo was no longer just a hope, a distant goal we whispered about late at night when exhaustion threatened to steal our resolve. It was real—alive, bustling with excited voices, the scent of fresh hay and leather thick in the air, and the rhythmic hum of country music blending with the distant sound of hooves against packed dirt. I squeezed Alex’s hand, feeling the rough callouses that had formed from endless days of labor. “You did it.” My voice was quiet, meant for only him, but the way his fingers tightened around mine told me he heard every ounce of emotion in those three simple words. He let out a long breath, which I knew had been held for too long. “We did it, Wildflower.” His eyes swept over the scene before us—the grandstands filled with people, the livestock pens lined neatly, the banners pro
I… I have a wolf. I, Alexander Michael Whitland, the HUMAN among werewolves, have a WOLF! My mind was blown at the thought of being anyone’s mate, let alone Holly’s second chance, and now this. Everything about last night still feels surreal, from the marking, seeing Nigel, to him giving me Leo because the Goddess lost a BET, and shifting for the first time. My brain is still overloaded. ‘You’re the excitable sort still, I see.’ Leo commented as Holly and I returned to the farm after packing camp. ‘Oh, come on, dude. You barely knew me before you died. I’ve totally grown up since then. You’re in my head; you have access to my memories. You should know I’m not the same boy that had a crush on your mate,’ I huffed. ‘Uh-huh. I don’t know how much has changed from what I’ve absorbed from your memories. You dipped your dick in crazy and lucked out to get a good kid out of the deal.' He snorted. 'I’ll give you credit, though. You’ve put in the work to train hard and to raise your boy. Yo
I gasped as reality slammed back into me. The weight of my body pressed into the earth, and Alex on top of me, his skin damp with sweat against mine. His breath was hot and ragged against my throat, his chest rising and falling in uneven shudders. We were back. The air was thick with the scent of earth, pine, and sex. The cool night breeze contrasted with the burning intensity inside me, but I barely noticed. I could still feel the bond between us—woven into our very beings, humming beneath our skin, connecting us in an ancient, irrevocable way. I sensed the swirl of emotions stirring in Alex’s mind through our bond. Alex groaned, his forehead pressing against mine as he exhaled a shaky breath. “Holy shit.” His voice was hoarse, rough from what we’d just done. I swallowed hard, my arms still wrapped around him, clinging to him as if letting go would break the spell. Our mating had been anything but ordinary. What we’d just done wasn’t ordinary, even with Alex being human. It wa
Holly’s lips were fire against mine, burning away every hesitation, every lingering doubt. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t fragile. Not here, not with her. None of the chaos that’s happened recently mattered. Tonight wasn’t about any of that. Tonight was about us coming together and making this official. Or at least official in the eyes of the supernatural community Her body pressed against mine, soft curves molding against me, igniting something primal, something I’d kept buried for too long. The kiss deepened, tongues tangling, teeth grazing, breathy little sounds escaping her lips between each hungry meeting of our mouths. I wanted to hear more of those sounds. I shifted, rolling her beneath me, the thin sleeping bag doing little to shield us from the cool bite of the earth beneath it. The rough texture of dirt and grass pressed against my forearms, grounding me in this moment, this night, this woman. Holly’s hands slid beneath my shirt, her nails dragging lightly along my stomach, se
The evening air carried a whisper of cool and crisp autumn against my skin as I fastened the leather straps on my saddle. The scent of pine and earth wrapped around me, mingling with summer’s faint, lingering musk. As the sun dipped lower toward the horizon, the sky stretched wide, painted in gold, orange, and deep purple streaks. We had enough time to reach our campsite before nightfall, where we’d picnic under the new moon. Tonight, everything would change. ‘Stop overthinking,’ Kira’s voice purred through my mind, firm but affectionate. ‘It’s happening. It’s always been meant to happen.’ I exhaled slowly, steadying my hands against the saddle horn. Had it? It had only been a little over two weeks since the fight—two weeks since Benton was finally dead. Since the war he had waged against me, my pack and my family had come to a brutal, bloody end. But the fight wasn’t over. Brendán O’Brion was still out there. And we were no closer to knowing who had sent Benton after me. I cle