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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

The News

The TV drones on in the background as I randomly change the channel again. Now it's some perky host extolling the virtues of a miracle kitchen gadget that can apparently dice, slice, and julienne your life into perfect order. If only it were that easy.

I grab my phone again, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Everyone else seems to have their lives together. Posts about promotions, engagements, vacations to exotic locales. And here I am, on day one of my forced vacation, contemplating the merits of competitive napping as a hobby.

I've spent so long defining myself by my career that I've forgotten who I am outside of it. Without the structure of work, without the constant demands on my time and energy, I'm a lost little lamb.

It's a sobering thought. And more than a little terrifying.

I grab the remote again, flipping through channels with renewed determination.