A Slice of Honeybear Pie (BWWM Paranormal BBW Bear Shifter Romance) (Bearfield Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Sneak Peek

  Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Recipe: Honeybear Pie

  Excerpt: Tiger Billionaire

  Excerpt: Taken By My Shifter Billionaire Stepbrother And His Motorcycle Club (Of Vampires)

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  About the Authors

  A Slice of Honeybear Pie

  By Eva Wilder & Jacqueline Sweet

  Copyright © 2015 Eva Wilder

  Cover design by Jacqueline Sweet

  All rights reserved worldwide

  No part of this book may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this book at the authorized online outlets.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

  Sneak Peek

  Matt Morrissey is a bear shifter with a sweet tooth, an easy smile, and muscles for miles

  When Mina Brooks' dreams of opening her own patisserie go up in literal flames, she has no choice but to run. Bad men are after her and they won't stop coming until she's silenced for good. It's hard to escape though when you roll your car off a mountain road and get tangled up with the local police. Trapped in jail with her enemies closing in, Mina is all but done for.

  Matt Morrissey expected the call would be just another drunk who needed a lawyer he couldn't afford, but when the big shifter laid eyes on his client and her sweet curves, he knew his life was about to change. Mina was his fated mate, he could feel it in his blood. How could he convince the terrified woman that they were destined for each other, that he could protect her, without scaring her off?

  As fate pulls the two of them closer, and the dangerous men close in on Mina, Matt has to prove he's got what it takes to defend the woman he loves from the mysterious forces pursuing her.

  * * *

  “No weapon forged by man can pierce my skin or rob me of my breath,” Matt intoned with a voice like a cartoon wizard. “At least that’s what they say.”

  “I’ll aim for an arm,” Mina said. “That way if you’re crazy I at least don’t kill you.”

  “If you kill me, the house is yours though.”

  “Maybe I should aim for your head then.”

  “Please do, it won’t matter.”

  “I’m really not comfortable with this, Matt.” Hearing her say his name put a fizz in his bones. He could listen to his name on her lips for the rest of his life, especially if they were parted and slick and moaning it over and over again.

  Matt shook his head. The mating impulse was overpowering. “Wait, before you throw it let me change out of these clothes. Michael would be pissed if I got a knife wound in his Pooh Bear shirt.” He peeled off the shirt and stood half naked and exposed in front of her. Mina stared at him like he was an oncoming train.

  “Okay, throw the knife.”

  Mina stared, eyes wide. The knife dangled absently from her fingers.

  “I’m ready. Throw it!” Matt jumped up and down, excited to show off his trick. But Mina was frozen. He sniffed the air, and caught her scent. Lust, overpowering, knee-shaking lust. Her heart raced in her chest. Her breath came quick and shallow. Her pupils were dilated so that her warm brown eyes were almost entirely black. Every one of his heightened animal senses told him that she was ready to mate, that her body was making itself ready for him, that she craved everything he had to offer.

  He could take her. Right then, on the polished wood of the kitchen island, he could sweep the food to the floor and spread her open on the table. He could lick the honey from between her legs with long slow deliberate licks until her toes curled and she cried out his name. How would she sound when her pleasure took her? Would she scream or whimper? Would she moan low and deep? Would she be one of those quiet girls who came in a chirping squeak? He needed to know.

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  Chapter 1

  Bearly Escaped

  “Ma’am, you are in a heap of trouble.”

  The officer leaning over the car was bleary-eyed and resembled nothing so much as a wrinkly faced mutt stuffed into a uniform. His short collar was buttoned too tight around his neck and folds of flesh hung over on all sides. At least he had kind eyes.

  Mina tried to focus on his badge, to read what it said, but her eyes couldn’t resolve the words. They seemed to be upside down. She blinked and tears rolled up her forehead. She was crying she noticed.

  Also she seemed to be upside down.

  “You mind telling me what happened?” The officer stooped down. He was peering at Mina through the window of her car, but the angle was all wrong.

  Suddenly it came to her.

  “I flipped my car,” she said, her voice making clear she’d only just realized it.

  “Yeah,” the cop said with a drawl. “I sorta figured that part out. We have a wrecker on the way to tow it up out of here.”

  “Where am I?” She wanted to ask how long she’d been out, how far she’d made it outside of San Francisco before her accident. If she’d gotten as far as Oregon, maybe she’d be safe.

  “You’re in Bearfield, about two hours north-ish of the city.” The cop’s face came into focus. It was possible Mina had a concussion. She remembered the crash hazily, as if it was a dream that evaporated upon waking. She’d been fleeing the city. The whole business deal had collapsed. She was broke, sure, but also with what she now knew about her business partners she was also in terrible danger.

  She recalled gas station coffee. A packet of those foul yellow pills her sister called Trucker Speed that gave her jittery nerves and a sour taste on her tongue that didn’t even keep her awake as she drove. There’d been winding mountain roads with a suggested speed limit of 30. She’d been doing nearly twice that.

  She was lucky she wasn’t dead.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?” The cop was wearing slippers, she noticed. They were red flannel and worn around the toes. In a flash she knew she could trust this bumpkin sheriff with her life, but that he’d be no match for the men who were after her. He’d do the right thing, sure, and file an accident report and contact her emergency numbers and a file would be made in his system.

  And the men who were after her would see that file and know where she was. And she wouldn’t live another night.

  “I need a lawyer,” she said. Nothing seemed to be broken. Her chest hurt like hell where the belt had ca
ught her, but she was otherwise unharmed as far as she could tell. But what did she know? She was a baker, not a doctor.

  “There’s no crime as far as I can see. I just need to file a report and have you blow a breathalyzer, but it’s just a formality. Unless of course you decide to be belligerent and I really wish you wouldn’t. It’s four in the morning and my shift doesn't technically start until eight. I’d much rather be at home keeping my wife warm.”

  “I can’t give you my name,” Mina said. “And I won’t give you a fake name. That’d be a crime.”

  “I need a name for my report, girl. So either you give me yours right now, or I arrest you for unsafe driving and obstruction of justice and resisting arrest and a few other things that I’m sure I’ll think of on the way to the station.” He kicked some of the car wreckage farther down the mountain where it bounced off a tree with a thunk. “Littering, maybe.”

  It sucked that she had to inconvenience this poor guy. He was just trying to do his job. But if he did it by the book, they’d find her.

  “I’m sorry about this, but as far as you’re concerned my name is get me a lawyer.”

  # # #

  Matt Morrissey didn’t want to answer the phone. Good news never came at five in the morning. Well, except birth announcements. But since he’d never gotten anyone pregnant and his brothers—as far as Matt knew—had never knocked up any of their tourist hook-ups, it seemed unlikely. But it was the work phone. You don’t get to ignore the work phone.

  There wasn’t a lot of work for a backwoods attorney, so whatever came his way he had to jump on it. If he didn’t, Arnold Pimsler would. And no one deserved representation by Arnold Pimsler, no matter how guilty they might be.

  The bear in Matt wanted to sleep until noon. It wanted pancakes and three cups of coffee with plenty of milk and sugar before it even considered having contact with normal humans. If the bear was in charge though, Matt never would have made it through high school, let alone law school.

  “Pete,” he said. “You got something for me?” Matt fought to keep the growl out of his voice.

  “How’d you know it was me?”

  Matt sighed. Why couldn’t he just be asleep? “Caller ID, Sheriff. What’s up?”

  “Oh right,” the old sheriff chuckled. “Well, anyway, we got a wreck up here on Strawberry Road and the lady involved is asking for a lawyer.”

  “You charged her?” Pete never charged anyone he didn’t have to, especially not women.

  “She really forced my hand on this one. I tellya, she’s either guilty of something awful or running from something twice as bad.”

  Mysterious women wrecking their cars sounded like a lot of billable hours to the man in Matt, but to the bear it sounded like a whole lot of work.

  “Get Jolene to put on a fresh pot, willya?” Matt grumbled. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Hey Matt,” Pete said, just as he was about to hang up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Dress nice for this one, kid.” There was a knowing tone in Pete’s voice that Matt didn’t like.

  Life in Bearfield was never a particularly formal affair. The town was too small and too sleepy for anyone to get too bothered about anything. They were just far enough away from San Francisco and Sacramento and Napa to get the weekend tourist trade, but also to be completely ignored by most of the world. With a population hovering somewhere around four thousand souls, spread out over twenty-five sprawling miles of forest and mountain and stream, Bearfield was a quiet place to live. Matt wore suits to court when he had to—but only because the local court was run by the neighboring town of Poppy Valley. If the court had been in Bearfield, the judge would have shown up an hour late for everything, dressed in a flannel shirt over yoga pants. It was just that kind of place. Foggy in the morning, sunny in the afternoon, and with a night sky so full of stars that it felt like you could jump off the mountain and catch them—Matt loved Bearfield with every inch of his skin. His family had been settled there longer than the place had a name.

  Driving in to the police station, the curving mountain roads were empty. Later in the day there’d be delivery trucks bringing fresh food to the Lodge and to the quaint bed-and-breakfasts nestled in the bosom of the mountains. Then there’d be the tourists flooding the roads as they sought out hiking trails and wineries and cool clear brooks to swim in. Matt knew the rhythms of Bearfield like he knew the the sound of the breath in his lungs. He knew everyone who lived in the town and many of the regular tourists as well. They all agreed it was a magical place to live or to visit. They had no idea just how magical it was.

  Matt pulled his battered Jeep into the police station parking lot alongside Pete’s cruiser and Jolene’s sporty little coupe. The sun still hadn’t risen yet and the morning fog hung on the tree tops thick and white. His bear rolled over and grumped. Matt should have been asleep, but he had a job to do and so he was doing it to the best of his ability. The station had the classic look of an early seventies A-frame repurposed into a civic building, because that’s what it was. When the town decided ages ago they needed an actual police force (aka, Pete) to deal with speeders and the occasional Lodge guest who got a bit too ripped on local wine, they took an empty house and converted it into the station. It was cozy, like everything else in Bearfield, but also a little odd.

  The master bedroom of the A-frame was Pete’s office and the living room was Jolene’s. The sassy woman was Matt’s distant cousin, like half of Bearfield, and she ran the 911 board, the police station, and half of city hall out of the little house. The second bedroom was the holding room and jail cell, though it still had the ornamental rug and off-white walls of the pre-police station home. They never really needed to hold anyone and so hadn’t bothered putting in bars or even a door that locked.

  “Matthew,” Jolene said, peering at him over her cat’s eye glasses as he entered the station. “Fresh pot on for ya. Got some leftover crullers from the Lodge, too.”

  “No bear claws?” Matt joked as he took two of the stale donuts. Jolene was one of the few people in town who knew his secret.

  Jolene rose from her desk with a serious expression and walked over to Matt. She was half his size and twice his age. “I thought Pete told you to dress nice?”

  “Hey, this is my second best suit.”

  Jolene sighed in exasperation and shook her head. She buttoned Matt’s jacket and stepped back, examining him.

  “What’s going on with you two?” Matt asked.

  “Straighten your tie.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Matt grinned.

  “Would it kill ya to shave before seeing a client?”

  “Pete said to hurry.”

  “And shaving takes an hour?”

  Matt shrugged. He thought he looked good with a little stubble.

  “If your daddy could see you now.” Jolene’s wrinkled expression implied that he’d be less than impressed.

  Matt wished his father had been able to express his disappointment, but the man had been hibernating for ten years now, stuck in bear form after a vicious hunter attack. He slumbered deep in the mountains, in a cave that stretched for miles underground, next to dozens of other werebears that were probably Matt’s extended kin. Matt and his brothers had carried his dad down there, sweating and straining under the weight of the big animal. They said that you couldn’t kill a werebear, that they were immortal. But do enough damage and the big men just went to sleep as their bodies and minds knit themselves back together. Every few decades one of the old bears woke up and had to be reintroduced to modern society. Matt’s dad could wake up tomorrow or in twenty years. There was no way to tell.

  Matt didn’t like thinking about it.

  “She give a name yet?” Matt asked, nodding at the interrogation room.

  “She says her name is get me a lawyer.” Jolene pursed her lips in annoyance. “City girls.”

  “Well, if I find out I’ll let you know, ‘kay?” Matt stuffed one whole donut in his mouth and wa
shed it down with an entire cup of coffee. The bear wasn’t remotely satisfied, but it was a start. He’d have to swing by the Lodge after the client meeting to get the biggest spread he could find, otherwise the bear would be grumbling all day, putting Matt in a sour mood. He wiped the crumbs off his face and poured another coffee and one more for the client then backed into the room, using his butt to push the door open.

  He turned, and nearly dropped both cups. Sitting at the table, with her hands folded politely in front of her, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She had warm brown skin like sunset shadows on the face of the mountain, and soft curly hair that framed her face perfectly. She wore a leather jacket over a red cotton dress that outlined her ample curves. Matt wanted to bend over and look under the table to see what kind of shoes she was wearing but he decided that’d be inappropriate. He was so used to the sporty, tanned, skinny tourist girls with their spandex or lycra or whatever leaving nothing to the imagination. Those kinds of women may have driven his brothers crazy, but they did nothing at all for him. Matt craved soft curves he could bury himself in, a woman with substance. And here she was.

  His bear stopped grumping and sat up inside him and then roared. This one, it said. This one is your mate.

  Chapter 2

  Bearly Legal

  Mina could not believe the police station. It was just someone’s home, with the furniture removed. There was no security. Hell, she didn’t even see a gun in the place. How could these people protect her? What use would they be if Harker came around?

  The holding room was tidy at least, even if was just a rustic bedroom with a desk in the middle. The old cop, Pete, hadn’t even bothered handcuffing her. Mina was fairly certain she could have walked out whenever she wanted without him stopping her. But then what? She’d wrecked her car. It was a miracle she wasn’t more hurt from the accident. Aside from the bruising in her chest where the seat belt had caught her and a bump on her head, she was fine. But with no car and no money and the evidence she had on Harker still in the glove compartment, she was thoroughly screwed.