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Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha

Nicole d'Armand never expected to walk into her apartment and find her fiancé *bleep*-deep in another woman's lady bits. What's a girl to do? Well, after obliterating an 18th-century Meissen vase, delivering a punch that would make a heavyweight boxer proud, and embarking on a night of raucous drinking, Nicole figures she might as well embrace the chaos. But when alcohol and pheromones collide, her wild night spins into something unexpected... Like a ride on the Logan Everett express. Which, naturally, leads to a whirlwind of its own: She's his fated mate. Because of course she is. And he rejects her. Because of course he does. Now embroiled in a mystery bigger than her post-breakup hangover, Nicole finds herself the prime suspect in a murder she didn't commit—no matter how tempting the thought might have been. And the only person who believes her innocence? The same guy who shot down the idea of being her fated mate. Great. Just what she needed: her love life is a crime scene, and the man stupid enough to let her go is holding her freedom in his hands. DECEMBER 2024 NOTE-- Author has a broken hand and updates are slower than normal. Deepest apologies. Trying to get updates more normalized again!! -- This is a fated/rejected mates urban fantasy romance. Content warning for: Nudity, more nudity, swear words, inappropriate humor, dead people, undead people, incomprehensible amounts of magic, werewolves and all the fetishes that come with them, did I mention the nudity?, and a questionable level of sanity at times.

Lenaleia · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
130 Chs

"I Don't Like Him."

"I don't like him."

Penelope storms into my apartment later that night, apparently having spent the last few hours stewing over Marcus Ashby.

Jabbing a fork full of stir-fried vegetables into my mouth, I just raise my eyebrows at her in an invitation to expand upon her pronouncement.

"Marcus Ashby," she clarifies, like I didn't already figure that out. "That sleazy bastard of a lawyer."

Chewing methodically, I think of the man. He doesn't strike me as sleazy. Maybe a little too good at his job, but sleazy, to me, is portly old men with gelled back hair and charm at the level of creep.

"Why was he interrogating you like you're the suspect? Isn't he Logan's defense lawyer?"

I swallow the mouthful of stir-fry and shrug. "Marcus is just doing his job. He needs all the information he can get to defend Logan properly."