Introduction
Yet that cloying sweetness couldn't mask the near-frenzied hunger of women crowding Grandma's shop—pushing, shoving, desperate for a slice of peach pie priced at ten thousand dollars.
I never understood why this tiny shop drove countless women into such frenzy, even to their knees, begging.
Until that summer night, when Auntie slipped into the basement.
Through the darkness came her muffled moans, mingled with strange wet sounds...
Chapter 1
Elowen's POV
In the southern summer, the air hung heavy with the scent of overripe peaches.
Yet that cloying sweetness couldn't mask the near-frenzied hunger of women crowding Grandma's shop—pushing, shoving, desperate for a slice of peach pie priced at ten thousand dollars.
I never understood why this tiny shop drove countless women into such frenzy, even to their knees, begging.
Until that summer night, when Auntie slipped into the basement.
Through the darkness came her muffled moans, mingled with strange wet sounds...
By 8:00 AM, the line outside The Peach Pie was already winding down the block.
"Strictly one per customer." That was Grandma Theodora Ashford's golden rule.
I always thought it was just a clever marketing gimmick—because I saw a wealthy socialite step out of her Rolls-Royce, practically throw herself onto our floor, and cling to Grandma's legs.
"Please... just one more piece! Name your price! Ten thousand bucks! No—a hundred thousand!"
Grandma didn't even glance at the trembling check in the woman's hand.
She just looked down at the sobbing wreck with the detached gaze. Mild, but absolute.
"Show her out."
A sharp honk sliced through the muggy morning air.
An out-of-state black pickup threw gravel as it jerked to a stop. A striking man stepped out.
Early thirties, sharp, put-together. Notepad in one hand, DSLR camera in the other.
Thaddeus Whitmore. A hotshot food critic who thought he could dig up every dirty little secret in our town.
He strolled to the back of the line, flashing a charismatic smile at a freckled woman. "Ma'am, standing in this line just for a slice of pie... is it really that magical?"
The woman looked him up and down. Her gaze hungrily traced the outline of his chest under his button-down before she let out a flirtatious, mocking scoff.
"Sweetheart, let me give it to you straight," she purred, licking her lips with a crazed look in her eyes. "Even if a prime piece of meat like you was stripped naked in my bed right now... it wouldn't give me a fraction of the thrill that pie does."
The crowd erupted into laughter.
"I'd rather lock myself in a room with that pie than get a damn coffee with you," another woman chimed in mercilessly.
Thaddeus’s smile stiffened.
He walked to the end of the line without another word. The only male outcast in a sea of obsessed women.
The line inched forward.
Finally, he reached the counter.
I kept my eyes down, reaching for the last two peach pies in the glass display.
Suddenly, a hand—bony but gripping like a steel vice—clamped down on my wrist.
Grandma had materialized behind me like a ghost, her weathered face entirely unreadable.
"Sold out for the day," she rasped, her voice like sandpaper on glass.
I blinked, instinctively arguing, "But Grandma, there’s still—"
"I said. Sold. Out. Elowen." Her dead eyes were locked on the man on the other side of the glass.
Thaddeus’s face darkened. He slammed his notepad on the counter. "I have cash! Whatever you want! I'm the lead reporter for Southern Gourmet, let me get an exclusive—"
"We are closed. No interviews."
Grandma didn’t even look at him. Without a tremor in her fingers, she slammed the blind shut, completely cutting off his bewildered face.
"We're shutting the doors starting today," Grandma said, turning to me with an eerie calmness. "Tell them I’m unwell and need to rest."
Staring at her rigid, unyielding posture, a sudden chill crept up my spine.
News of Grandma’s failing health reached the bloodsucking leeches almost instantly.
By dusk on the third day, my Aunt Delphine clicked through the courtyard gates in her expensive heels.
She was as glamorous as ever, draped in a black silk slip dress, playing the part of the tragic, suffering woman. Too bad her oversized sunglasses couldn't hide the ravenous greed in her eyes.
"Mom—"
Delphine bulldozed straight into the back room.
"Mom, you’re getting older. Your health is failing. With the shop closed, your customers are practically tearing the doors down," she cooed, her sweet tone making my stomach turn.
Grandma leaned back on the sofa, eyes closed.
"Isn't it... about time?" My aunt swallowed hard, finally dropping the act. "Transfer the shop to me entirely. And the recipe—just give it to me, and I swear I'll keep the legacy alive..."
I stood in the doorway, watching the raw desire contorting my aunt's face.
Oddly enough, I wasn't worried about the recipe at all.
Because in this town, nobody except Grandma was worthy of asking about the peach pie.
Let alone making it.
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Instead, she catches the attention of the town's most dangerous owner.
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Forced into an uneasy alliance, Talia and Alaric uncover a trail that leads back to the family she lost... and the curse she thought she'd escaped. As old enemies emerge from the shadows and buried secrets come to light, Talia discovers that everything she believed about her past was a lie.
Because the curse that stole her wolf was never meant to save her.
It was meant to lead her to him.
This is book 3 in the series, but it can be read as a standalone.
Book 1 - The Matchmaker
Book 2 - The Heir of Flame and Fang
From Substitute To Queen
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Even worse was overhearing Darrell laugh to his friends: "She's useful—obedient, doesn't cause trouble, handles housework, and I can fuck her whenever I need relief. She's basically a live-in maid with benefits." He made crude thrusting gestures, sending his friends into laughter.
In despair, Sable left, reclaimed her true identity, and married her childhood neighbor—Lycan King Caelan, nine years her senior and her fated mate. Now Darrell desperately tries to win her back. How will her revenge unfold?
From substitute to queen—her revenge has just begun!
Bella and Her Beast
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Locked in her frozen tower, Bella dreamed of warmth, of touch, of freedom and of love. Cursed with the power of ice and snow, she’s spent her life alone. A secret they tried to protect the world from. Her only escape comes in the form of the books she reads. Stories of heat, desire, and the kind of love that could melt even her frostbitten heart.
Damien is the Beast. A dragon King with a temper forged in flame and a soul hollowed by duty. The world fears him. The people call him a monster. But beneath the scales and the rage lies a man who has never been touched by love.
When frost meets fire, the world shatters. She was never meant to leave her tower. He was never meant to find her. But destiny doesn’t bow to kings or care for cages and now the question burns through them both: Can Bella have her Beast? Or will the girl of snow melt in the heat of his desire?
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Before I can react, he scoops her up. Her small body fits easily in the cradle of his talons. For a split second, she looks startled, but not afraid. Her hand rests against one scaled finger, and she stares up at him with that same curious wonder, as though she’s already forgotten she was ever meant to fear me.
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